Dear Santa...

Christmas is approaching and as I look back at a treacherous year I would like to ask you if this next year can bring more hope and less unnecessary surprises. I know I am asking a lot of you Santa but there is just so much that I want.

First and foremost I would like a refund from CSUS for the classes that I could not attend due to furlough days and a refund for the 20 percent increase on my tuition. I deem this request fair since I was forced to attend class less and pay more.

Santa can you believe faculty was forced to take a pay cut as well so most of the semester I felt like a few Professors did not even want to be there; as if they were putting in ten percent less to substantiate for their decreased income.

There are still people on campus giving it their all. Santa, there is a man on campus that sells sandwiches in front of the most difficult place on campus, the Union. He stands in front of multiple food establishments and sells Togo’s sandwiches from a cart. He has made a great network for himself. As students pass by they give him high-fives and say their hellos. I often wonder if he can sell sandwiches like this imagine what he can do with a BMW.

This is why I think it is time to give him a Christmas bonus. Despite everything he continues to put in 100 percent.

I hope I am not getting carried away but I did say that there were so many things that I wanted.

It is hard to forget the man who plays the violin outside the quad. Through protests, bellows and roars you can see him standing alone playing his violin as if he is on stage at a symphony. Amazingly the beauty of his violin supersedes all other sounds and takes you somewhere else.

I have experienced this “take me away” moment in its entirety as people rush by brushing shoulders, disconnected from their surroundings and out of nowhere a calming sound takes over and all of a sudden everyone seems to be moving in slow motion.

I think it is reasonable to give him the opportunity to play with the best; if he can play amongst controversy with so much passion than imagine his potential on stage.

Santa I think if you can offer me a few wishes than it will help my Christmas spirit return. I know my requests might seem unreasonable but they will help bring back the spirit of Christmas and I think that we are living in a time where this needs to happen. If people can see just a little bit of magic things can begin to turn around.

As I have grown older I realize that there is little that I want that I do not have. I say that lightly because I do not have much. What I do have is two healthy perfect children and a family to be proud of and that is all I need.

We all endure the struggles of life everyday and Santa I know that you cannot change that but I think if you offered just a tad more magic this year than people will start believing again. Santa please give it your all this year, we cannot afford another ten percent decrease.

Come to think of it Santa, I hope that you are not taking any of your furlough days this month and that you will still have time to grant wishes and make magic happen.

An Italian Thanksgiving Minus the Spaghetti

Our turkey having a beer before he hit the deep fryer

Thanksgiving Day is always full of entertainment at my mom’s house. There are a total of six siblings including myself and we all have children. My Italian mother cooks enough food for an army so there are always friends that come join the chaos. This is why I saw Thanksgiving as a perfect opportunity to bring my boyfriend to meet the family.

At the time it seemed like a perfect idea. They would all be there and it would be like killing two birds with one stone. Steve is from Texas and his sister Shaunna flew out to spend the holiday with him and since they have no family in town they decided to join my family for Thanksgiving dinner. After being introduced to her we hopped in Steve’s truck with my two children and headed to the Bay Area.

Little did I realize at the time that Steve and Shaunna are two birds and my family would be the stone. Luckily for them they did survive but it would not come without paying a price, which in this case would cost a little dignity.

When we arrived I could tell that everyone was on their best behavior. The kids were all playing outside and the guys were watching football and drinking beer and the girls were enjoying a bottle of pinot grigio. I think the situation took normalcy once the effects of the alcohol began to work.

When I say normalcy I mean normal for a large, loud Italian family. The dinner table conversation is generally built around times that we all shared being intoxicated, and since the kids are at their own table there are no boundaries.

“Gina do you remember that Christmas when I got sick and you were holding my hair?”

“Gina do you remember when grandpa was dying and we drank those three bottles of wine?”

No of course I don’t remember that! Truth is I remember it very well. We were sad and thought that subjecting ourselves to three bottles of wine was appropriate. And I did hold her hair but I was only trying to help.

So my sister Bethanne decides to ask Steve and his poor sister if they knew what a double burner was. This was that point where I decided to go open another bottle of red and imagine I was on another planet.

When I returned Steve and Shaunna are laughing hysterically as Bethanne explains that after dealing with the side effects of digesting spicy food she found out that milk soothes your sore back side. This was when Steve asked, “do you soak your ass in a bowl of milk?” Looking for a distraction I asked my brother Jason to do one of his impressions to get off the topic of double burners.

Jason begins singing Barry Gibb and I know the song very well. It is a duet with Barbara Streisand. Allicyn (another sister) stands up to sing the female role and they continue on with the whole song, “What kind of fool?” We are all cracking up and before I know it is time to go.

I failed to mention to Steve and Shaunna that my family loves to embarrass the person with a new addition at the dinner table. I also failed to mention that none of us have been single in years so this was exciting for them.

Truth is I think it was fun and I was glad that they went. Although my family can be overwhelming they are fun and as long as you set your emotions aside before you sit at the table you are certain to have a good time.

I am thankful to have such a crazy but wonderful family.

When Grown Kids Move Back Home

I remember when I made my decision and the hardest part was setting aside my pride for a brief moment to muster up the courage to sit my parents down and ask if I could move in and live with them while I straighten some things out.

Straightening things out actually ended up being more difficult than initially expected; truth is things were far from getting resolved. I was a few weeks into a divorce and approaching finals at my junior college and I had two small children that were confused.

Adults moving back home has become more common with the fall of the economy and the loss of jobs. This is not just a case of “boomerang” children who move back home after college while in their twenties. According to MSNBC journalist Diane Mapes adults in their thirties and forties are moving back home sometimes with kids and spouses.

“From 2000 to 2008, multigenerational households increased by 24 percent, up to 6.2 million.”

After reviewing statistics it is comforting to know that I am not alone. I am 31 years old and I am approaching my senior year of college. Although my goal is becoming more attainable it is still distant. My initial plan when I moved in with my parents was to stay for six months, save some money and move out. It was actually their idea for me to stay longer. My dad said he would rather I stay until I am done with school so that they can help with the kids.

The perks of living at home are obvious; no rent, help with the kids, an opportunity to pay off debt, the occasional gourmet dinner and the ability to focus on school rather than bills and work. Although it seems like the benefits prevail, there are still some downfalls.

Besides the obvious downfall that I am 31 years old and living at home, I have lost privacy and control of the ways that I want my children raised. My dad believes I do not discipline enough whereas my step mom is always willing to comfort an upset child after they get reprimanded.

My kids spend their weekends with their dad and that is when I work nights as a bartender. I try and respect my parent’s privacy and I try to be non-existent, at least until the kids return. Returning home from work at one in the morning is where I face my biggest challenge at being non-existent.

Every sound is magnified at one in the morning. After I tip-toe to my room and quietly close my door, I pull a bottle of wine off the wine rack that sits on my dresser. Removing the cork in the middle of the night sounds more like opening a bottle of champaign. After the exploding sound I exhale and as I pour my much desired syrah into my glass the glug-glug sound echo’s off the walls. I am too afraid that the T.V will be too loud so I read or write while I wind down with a glass of wine that near gave me a heart attack opening.

I also became accustomed to stashing the empties in my closet. I try and remain self sustained in my room but like most women I am not too good at taking out the trash. This has made for uncomfortable situations on recycle day (which unfortunately for me is only once every two weeks).

Overall I am grateful for the opportunity that I have while finishing school. Living at home as an adult has taught me some important lessons and has offered me time to accomplish what it is that I want in life instead of settling because I have no choice.

Little Boxes on a Hillside

It is hard enough to make ends meet in an upscale suburban neighborhood but for widowed mother of two, Nancy Botwin it seems near impossible. That is until she gets the idea to sell marijuana and uses the money as a means to support her semi-dysfunctional family.

In season one of Showtime’s dark comedy Weeds, Nancy tries to manage motherhood and marijuana but she begins to realize the challenges that the two face when they fail to complement one another. She opens up a bakery as a cover up for her pot business and uses that to substantiate for her income since she is in denial about her real occupation.

“I'm not a dealer; I'm a mother who happens to distribute illegal products through a sham bakery set up by my ethically questionable CPA and his crooked lawyer friend.”

Nancy is able to form a team of valuable members of their community. This team consists of a lawyer, a congressman, a CPA, a lost brother-in-law and eventually her DEA boyfriend. She is able to remain successful because she has this support system in place.

Weeds takes an upscale suburban neighborhood and gives you a look behind the walls of these picture perfect houses and shows you that the lives of those living there are far from perfect. Even Nancy keeps her Hispanic live in housekeeper all though she is struggling financially because as Nancy says, “someone needs to do the dishes.”

The real challenge for Nancy begins when her teenage son begins experimenting with drugs and reveals that he knows that his mother is a drug dealer. Although Nancy is not your typical suburban mom she is no druggie either. Being blackmailed by her teenage son makes raising him very difficult. Her younger son Shane is too busy with his struggles growing up without his dad to realize that his mom is living this unusual lifestyle.

I began this review with the intent to watch one episode and after downloading season 1 from Netflix I stayed awake late watching episode after episode and became subdued and completely addicted. The humor and wit of the main character completely consume any sense of reality and after a while her lifestyle seems admirable and acceptable.

The most enjoyable part for me is her outlook on parenting. Being a single mom of two children I could sympathize with her situation and admire her determination to conquer her problems. The way that she handles the problems that single moms face is humorous and at times disturbing.

I highly recommend that anyone with a great sense of humor watch Weeds. I think the show is cleverly written and the characters all play their roles great. The only downside is that if you begin to watch it be prepared to be stuck in front of the T.V for a long time because like I did you too could be completely consumed.

Ready or not here it comes!

While the fall semester comes to an end, stress levels among students begin to rise.

When the pressure of school escalates it can make college life seem impossible. This is evident with last month’s on campus murder. 19 year old Quran Jones is charged with beating his roommate to death with a baseball bat. Could his act of rage been set off from the demands of school?

While my stress levels are not leading me to act out in rage, it has put a strain on my already complicated life.

Being a Sac State student is difficult enough but when I add the single mom of two small children and a part time bartender to the equation, it seems near impossible. Oh, let’s not forget that it is November and I only have a few weeks to complete 16 more units……well I hope.

My stress levels begin to escalate at 6:00 a.m. when I am lining up three lunches and begin the exhausting process of getting the three of us out the door and off to school. Getting out the door on time is difficult enough but it seems as though my stress levels begin to rise with the sun on my driveway at 7:00 a.m.

At 7:00 a.m. my blood pressure has reached boiling point and the anxiety of yet another day begins to burn through my skin. At 7:00 a.m. I am already 5 minutes late and they (my six year old and three old) should understand the need for urgency.

Unfortunately they don’t and at 7:00 a.m. this is what I may hear while trying to rush two little people in a freezing, dew covered Volkswagen.

“Hurry up and get in the car, we are late!”
“Mom I dropped my breakfast bar”, sobbing.
“Get in and buckle up, I will grab you another one”, grunting.

As I return with a freshly packaged wholesome breakfast from “Mr. Quaker”, my son stares up at me with the biggest brown eyes and says, “Mom I peed my pants.”


This is that point, you know the point where the suns excruciating rays ignite my fuse and cause it to detonate unexpectedly; the point where I follow the blast with a ten minute apology as we drive to school.


Oh wait, I almost forgot I am writing about the stress of school. As students we are supposed to have one job which is attend class and do homework. I apologize I got off track talking about the stress of life.


Truth is I know few people who are just students. Especially given today’s economy, students work and support their families while maintaining their busy school schedule.


Few professors calculate student’s personal lives when piling up term papers, long drawn out readings and the occasional “project”, which means hours of time on an assignment that serves little purpose of the class material.


Professors that understand the balance of life and school still do exist, however they are a small breed and soon will probably be extinct.


In the mean time we as students must try and not let the close of the fall semester get the best of us. No matter what happens in the last four weeks of class we will have deadlines and all nighters. The important thing is that we look ahead at the goal rather than the immediate task at hand. More imperative is to not let the stress that rises with the morning sun completely burn us out, so that we will return next semester, and subject ourselves to chaos all over again.

Welcome to 'Dowdworld'

“It's their reality. We just live and die in it.”

This is how Maureen Dowd views what has become of American politics. They(politicians) make poor choices and we like hamsters in a wheel follow the motions and live that reality.

Dowd began her career with the New York Times in 1983 when she was hired as a metropolitan reporter. She began writing on the op-ed page in 1995 and has been writing columns that have grabbed the attention of readers both supportive and appalled by her work, ever since.

Some say you either love her or hate her but if you were to talk to George Bush senior he might say he has more of an up and down relationship with her than anything else. In an interview with The Early Show Dowd described the elder George Bush’s views on their relationship, “a love/hate relationship, because he loved it when I would tweak the Clintons and hates it when I tweak the Bushes."

Truth is that Dowd has a gift of “tweaking” our countries administration in a way that can make your sides hurt from laughter.

With the release of her book Bushworld in 2004, Dowd spoke of the Bush Dynasty and made strong and often brutal comparisons of the father and son duo.

Her points of view of the Bush family could be what makes people assume that she is liberal but she does not see it that way. “"I think I'm an equal opportunity skeptic," she says. “I used to tweak Clinton just as much...(as Bush).”

It is the tweaking of Clinton (and Monica Lewinsky) that got her the Pulitzer Prize in 1999. This well known scandal was followed by viewers and Dowd was able to put a spin on it that made her stand out from the rest. She refers to Clinton as, “the animal house president” and Hillary as the “enabler”.

She creates caricatures and makes them almost seem made up even though you know that they are real. She refers to George W. Bush as “W” and emasculates Al Gore by saying, “he is practically lactating”.

She has been referred to as a “the most dangerous columnist in America”, by Ariel Levy and possesses qualities that you might find in the strongest man. She has been nicknamed by George W. as the “cobra” and when you look at her red hair and soft appearance you would not suspect that she had so much fire inside of her that is until she either opened her mouth or began writing.

"I have a fear of castration," Dowd explains. "Not fear of being castrated but fear of castrating." It is comments like this that glue her columns to my hand and make it impossible for me to put them down.

She has endured criticism on many levels and does not let it slow her down.

"When I started as a White House correspondent," says Dowd in an interview with Ariel Levy, only the second female in the position in The Times' history, "there was a lot of criticism from guys saying 'she focuses too much on the person, not enough on policy'. I never understood that argument at all.”

Dowd has a talent for taking the frightening reality of American politics and adding humor and wit to make her columns enjoyable and tolerable. It is difficult to read about the same presidential scandals over and over again but Dowd offers a different approach that makes the lives behind White House doors seem more like a T.V sitcom.

I am so relieved that I found a columnist that I can respect and enjoy as much as I do Maureen Dowd. Her strength, humor and intelligence are admirable. She shows society that women can be successful and makes it obvious the power that she has with her words.

What attracts me the most to her columns is that while she pokes fun at political officials, she never takes a stance and stands behind someone just because they lean to the left or the right. She understands that there are faults to every administration and she is not affraid to point them out.

http://www.pulitzer.org/archives/6221

Chipotle…. the new fast food?

With the price of fast food rising and the fast food quality declining, Americans are in search for a new fast food alternative. Chipotle offers customers a quick alternative to Mexican food in a hurry by giving them more bite for their money.


When Chipotle opened its first restaurant in 1993, the idea was that food served fast did not have to accompany the “fast food” experience. They did a great job sticking to this motto and 830 restaurants later they are a successful chain.


I was excited to visit the Chipotle on Sunrise Blvd. in Carmichael with my two classmates, Ana and Julia. Although I have eaten at Chipotle in the past this was my first experience dining in that particular establishment. My first thought as I entered the crowded restaurant at noon on a Saturday was, this is going to take forever. There were about ten people in line in front of me and no tables available.


The line moved surprisingly fast and before I knew it I was looking down at the variety of fresh ingredients and a conveyor belt of people all there to help me customize my very own burrito bowl. The burrito bowl is a burrito without the tortilla. This was an addition to the Chipotle menu in 2003 when Americans were feeding their obsessions with a carbohydrate free diet.


As I moved down the line I had flashbacks of ordering school lunches in elementary school. Instead of asking if I would like applesauce or fruit cocktail they asked questions like black or pinto beans, corn salsa or pico-de-gallo, chicken, shredded pork or steak? Although they have a limited menu they offer enough ingredients to enable you to tailor the perfect burrito, taco or salad. I ordered the burrito bowl to eat in and a chicken fajita burrito to bring home; surprisingly I received both in less than three minutes.


As I began to enjoy my burrito bowl, it tasted as fresh and wonderful as I remember it tasting at previous Chipotle restaurants. This consistency is one of the appealing aspects of the Chipotle chain. I have fallen victim too many times of eating at “chain restaurants” and being pleased one day and utterly disappointed the next. I have yet to be let down by Chipotle.

Julia also ordered a burrito bowl and Ana ordered three tacos. The three of us were all pleased with our selection, the quick response we received after ordering and of course the overall quality of the food. The highlight of my expereince is the way that the ingredients all accompany one another providing an undescribable taste.

The contrast of the ingredients all melting together is the alluring factor that keeps my taste buds entertained. The rice is used to cover the bottom of the bowl and the beans are placed atop of the rice. If you order a fajita style burrito the grilled veggies lay in a nice line next to the beans. Your choice of salsa is added next and the portion sizes that they use are quite generous. I chose pico and hot salsa at no additional cost to me and the two combined blanketed the beans and rice. Next piles of cheese and sour cream were added to the top and guacamole for an additional $1.75.


The $1.75 did seem to be on the expensive side for guacamole but worth it to me because the guacamole is my favorite part. The total that I spent was $17.00 for two entrees, two sides of guacamole and one medium drink. Well worth it since my boyfriend enjoyed the fajita burrito and I my burrito bowl in two separate sittings. Also not too bad when compared to Carl’s Jr.; their food is on the pricier side and cannot be placed in the same category as Chipotle. From my experience it has also been known to take twice as long.


Overall it was another enjoyable experience at Chipotle and I look forward to eating there again soon.

Swinging into Suburbia

After mixing the four ingredients that comprise a lemon drop I go to the computer to add it to the appropriate tab. When customers come into the bar we start them a tab using where they are sitting at the bar and follow the tab with a name. Most tabs will usually say simple names like “man in coat”, “couple” or “Fred”. This lemon drop was placed on the tab named “swingers”. As bartenders we all know them very well, they are at the bar a few nights a week.


Are swingers a common topic at suburban bars? At my bar we label them this because people come and sit at the bar and talk and as bartenders we listen. It was not until last Christmas that I decided to do some investigating of my own. Well I am not sure you can call it investigating since this was one Christmas party I would have been happy sitting out.


Three months into my divorce the holidays came. It was Christmas night and I was determined to spend it with one person, my bottle of cabernet. I was about into my third glass when a friend intervened and persisted that I go to a Christmas party with her and her husband. Since my “one person” was close to empty I figured I had nothing to lose. I decided it would be a great opportunity for me to do some behind the scenes investigation for work purposes of course.


Just a piece of advice to anyone who has a friend that is coming out of a relationship and feels it is their place to intervene. Do not take them to a “swingers” party on Christmas! The scene was simple, a few couples (four I think) that were drinking heavily and disappearing with the wrong spouse. It was not what I had expected. There was more secrecy than I imagined but this is what was so bothersome to me. Did they try to act like their husbands and wives were not escaping with one another and for God’s sake wasn’t it Christmas!


A few days after my investigative reporting I returned to work and no one was surprised with my results. Actually I got a lot of laughs and everyone said it was not a rumor but these couples did engage in these activities. Didn’t their kids all go to school together? Is this the new era where soccer moms are sleeping with other soccer moms husbands and it was normal? Was I completely out of the loop?


Occording to NEWSWEEK this is a more common topic than we think. In a quiet suburban Dallas neighborhood swingers get together for Cherry Pit Parties. These rendezvous occur on a quiet street by a normal couple that believes open relationships keep a marriage healthy. Jim and Julie are swingers and often host themed parties such as “Naked Twister”. Julie spoke briefly with NEWSWEEK and said that swingers do not come from troubled relationships, "Many people who are swingers believe that it saved their marriage. Now it's part of their marriage and part of who they are.”


Now that I have seen first-hand what occurs behind closed doors in small town suburbia, I am more convinced that swingers are more common than we may think. Although “swinging “is not for me I remain open minded for those who use it to keep the communication in their relationship. After all I am the one with a failed marriage; I am in no position to judge.

Once a Phoenix, Always a Phoenix?

How many times have you been the person on the other end of the phone just hoping to get connected to the right person but you wait, leave messages and eventually get no-where. The frustration grows and eventually you give up because the thought of designating all your energy to a hopeless cause is draining. Is this the future of our CSU education? Can we look forward to writing a check after being “recruited” and then receiving little feedback about the online degree we are about to pursue? According to William Tierney, a professor of higher education at University of Southern California, this could be the future of the CSU system if the University of Phoenix takes over.


A Phoenix is defined as a mythical bird that burns itself on a funeral pyre, and then rises from its ashes in the freshness of youth and lives through another cycle of years. Why would the bird want to burn itself to succeed many years later?


William Tierney is a supporter for the privatizing of public education. This is proven in his book New Players-Different Game which supports “for-profit” education. His predictions are that the University of Phoenix will buy out the CSU educational system for a couple billion dollars. Interesting thought from a supporter of private education.


My first question after hearing Tierney’s resolution for California’s educational crisis was how is he connected to The University of Phoenix? I would not be surprised if we find out down the road that Tierney is compensated in some way by the University. I find it appalling that one can deem it appropriate to offer students no academic freedom and little choice in their education. I choose to get up every day and attend class. I do not want my education cut in half by part-time employees who have no regard for my educational progress.


The biggest complaint I can find from UOP students is that they could not contact their advisors or instructors and often times accepted a failing grade because they were unable to drop a class. Consumer Affairs shows complaint after complaint with students expressing their disappointments for a poor education and the lack of mentoring that they received.


I do agree that the CSU system is flawed and is in need of repair but the answer does not rely on privatizing public education. If The University of Phoenix were to take over we would see student fees rise, educational standards decline and we would be forced to rely on a staff that was “out to lunch.” California is not in a position to begin compromising education by decreasing didactic standards.


Their business degree is an M.B.A. Lite,” said Henry M. Levin, a professor of higher education at Teachers College at Columbia University. “I’ve looked at their course materials. It’s a very low level of instruction.” According to the John Garrido News Network, UOP has very low standards when it comes to education. It could be that students are only required to spend twenty hours of instruction instead of the forty that the CSU system necessitates. This could be part of the problem that one UOP California campus has a graduation rate of 6%.


We cannot take away public education from Californians. If we let UOP takeover we would see a decline in educational standards and it would eventually cause a ripple effect throughout an already damaged economy. Tierney needs to support a public system that is working and let his ties go with a system that has proven to lack accreditation. This could be summarized for Tierney if he would look at the graduation rates for CSU schools. According to The San Diego Union Tribune, 54% of CSU students are accomplishing their goals. I will agree that 54% is not a number to brag about but it is astonishingly higher than the 6% that the UOP Southern California campus could produce.


College education is in need of improvement. USC campuses are raising rates and cutting back the amount of instruction but they are succeeding. There are problems that need to be fixed but the answer does not lie in privatizing public education.


The Phoenix chose to burn itself before succeeding. I am positive that William Tierney would not cash in his degree from Michigan State and exchange it for one at The University of Phoenix just to burn himself and have the chance to rise again. After all don’t we all want to do it right the first time?

Losing your slice of the "American Dream"

While sitting in my divorce attorney’s office he looks at me with a stern look and asks, “Who kept the house?” Looking back I respond, “There is no house to keep”. His response, “Hmmm typical!”

Californians have entered an era where losing our homes is as common a topic as what dentist we go to. We all know someone who is suffering with this loss. Although we know these people we do not know how they are dealing with this loss socially.

Living through the years where house prices rose and interest rates were almost non-existent, Californians received a huge slice of the “American Dream.” Many people began to buy homes with low “teaser” rate mortgages and the outcome was homeowners upside down in their mortgage. People also seemed to be spending more than they were making. Whether they were spending $4.90 a gallon to fill up their super-duty diesel trucks or spending $100 to fill up their SUV’s and take the boat to Tahoe, society was feeding an economy that had just been ignited.

As the flame moves down the fuse you know that it is going to discharge yet you don’t walk away, instead you stand there in your five bedroom house and wait until it all explodes. When the explosion occurs you look at your husband while holding your new Gucci purse and say, “It was your fault!”

The ramifications of the economies decline effect humanity differently. Californians continue to focus on the financial loss and aspects that contributed to their fall and ignore how it has impacted their personal lives.

When we leave simplicity and begin living an extravagant life reality gets more and more distant. As enjoyable as it may seem, when it all disappears you are left completely empty. There was nothing to compare us for the disappointment that we would face after the life that was pretty much handed to us on a silver platter vanished.

I am not saying that the people who took advantage of the economies peak were to blame, I was one of those people, but it sure was easy to get swept off our feet by a blazing piece of dynamite.

What society continues to overlook is the emotional effects that the decline of the economy has had on its victims. Whether the effects are you losing your home, your job, a pay cut or everything, it has affected each and everyone one of us differently. Socially it could be divorce, alcoholism or depression that has taken a toll on the emotional well being of the people suffering this loss. When couples begin to play the blame game it is a precursor to divorce. When a man feels like he could no longer support his family he can become depressed.

Eventually the economy will improve and people will be able to recover financially. Emotionally I am not sure that will happen so easily. When you have the “American Dream” ripped away from you it is hard to want that lifestyle back. When your status drops from middle class to lower class overnight there is no way to conquer that emotionally.

My attorney says it best when he chuckles and says, “Look at the bright side at least there is nothing to fight for.” He doesn’t understand the loss that so many of us have dealt with. Divorce attorneys are financially better than ever. His fuse has not yet been lit and for his sake I hope he escapes it but I do know that things eventually turn upside down. After all karma is a bitch.

Lost in Trainslation (take 2)

Sitting on the cold stone bench I held my son and rocked him back and forth humming the “Happy Birthday to you” song. Wide eyed and petrified I carefully observed my surroundings afraid of getting mugged or worse…...

It is ten o’clock at night in Richmond and the only people around are homeless crack heads and me, my six-year-old daughter and three-year-old son. I say that with the utmost respect for our homeless community but I was in a real bad area. A young couple with a baby approaches me and I immediately feel a sense of security. The woman comes and sits down right next to me, so close that she is touching my son. I move Rylan’s leg and I start to shake. She chose this bench not the ten other empty ones; she stares at me with the hungriest, most desperate eyes I have ever seen. I held my two babies and I stared back long and hard to let her know that I was not afraid but more important to let her know that I was not going down easy. I stared until she starting laughing out loud and I watched her push her stroller to another bench.

Rylan was shaking and Ashlyn was wrapped in a “cars” towel that Ry received a few hours ago as a birthday gift. They were shaking because they were wearing shorts and we were in Richmond where it was at best 60 degrees. How did we end up here?

It was a sunny morning in Sacramento. I was excited to head to the Bay Area and escape the heat for the afternoon. It was Rylan’s third birthday and we were going to ride a real train. His love for trains is about as strong as a teenage boy’s love for video games. My present to him was a visit to the Bay Area to have lunch with his grandparents and ride the train of course.

After our visit he was more than ready to get on the train and head back to Sacramento. As we walked up to the tracks there were three different tracks, two which occupied trains. Carrying my laptop, my sons blanket or “wooby” and about ten gift bags I decide to get on the first train to ask if it is the Sacramento train. Before the man I asked could answer the doors closed and this is where my nightmare began. By the time I got myself together I realized we were on a commuter train heading for San Francisco.

San Francisco at 5 o’clock on a Friday! Panic rushed through my body and I could feel my heartbeat pound in my head and pulsate through fingertips.

“Dear God, I know it has been a long time since we talked but I could use some help.” Unfortunately God is not as quick to offer help to those who only speak to him in pure desperation but something happened that night in Richmond as I froze to a stone bench with my children and our ten “carry-ons”.

Since I was not going to leave my fate completely in God’s hands I called a quick acting friend who guided me to a BART train and then to Richmond where our train would pick us up.

After waiting at the Richmond station for two hours we found three people from Sacramento who were all in similar situations. My son told them “Mommy got on the wrong train and I am scared.”

We boarded the Sacramento bound train with help from our new friends, and felt much relief that our nightmare was over.

Although I did want to give him a third birthday to remember, this was not what I had in mind. His love for trains faded in the last month but I am confident that it will return. More important I hope that he knows that his mom can handle anything and will go through desperate measure to assure that he is safe, and once in a while she even talks to God.

Lost in Trainslation

Sitting on the cold stone bench I held my son and rocked him back and forth humming the “Happy Birthday To You” song. Wide eyed and petrified I carefully observed my surroundings afraid of getting mugged or worse. It is ten o’clock at night in Richmond and the only people around are homeless crack heads. I say that with the utmost respect for our homeless community but I was in a real bad area. A young couple with a baby moves towards me and I feel relieved because they have a baby and I immediately feel a sense of security. The woman comes and sits down right next to me. She sits so close she is touching my son. I move Rylan’s leg and I start to shake. She chose this bench not the ten other empty ones; she stares at me with the hungriest, most desperate eyes I have ever seen. I held my two babies and I stared back long and hard to let her know that I was not afraid but more important to let her know that I was not going down easy. I stared until she starting laughing out loud and I watched her push her stroller to another bench. Rylan was shaking and Ashlyn was wrapped in a “Cars themed” towel that Ry received a few hours ago as a birthday gift. They were shaking because they were wearing shorts and we were in Richmond where it was maybe 60 degrees. How did we end up here?


It was a sunny morning in Sacramento. I was excited to head to the Bay Area and escape the heat for the afternoon. It was Rylan’s third birthday and we were going to ride a real train. His love for trains is about as strong as a teenager’s love for video games. My present to him was a ride on a real train and a visit to the Bay Area to have lunch with his grandparents. The day went well and after our visit with the family he was more than ready to get back on the train. As we walked up to the tracks there were three different tracks, two which occupied trains. Carrying my laptop, my sons blanket or “wooby” and about ten gift bags I decide to get on the first train to ask if it is the Sacramento train. I had a three year old hand in my hand but I had so much going on I assumed that my daughter was close behind since she never strayed. Before I could ask the man in the business suit on his laptop if this was the Sacramento train the doors closed and the train was on its way, I panicked because I thought my six year old was on the other side.


It took me maybe ten minutes to get it together again because the fear of what could have happened was too real and staring me in the face. I had so much in my hands I was tempted to tell my kids to wait outside so I could look in and ask if this train was Sacramento bound. By the time I got myself together I realized we were on a commuter train heading for San Francisco.


“Dear god, I know it has been a long time since we talked but I could use some help.” Unfortunately god is not as quick to offer help to those who only speak to him in pure desperation but something happened that night in Richmond as I froze to a stone bench with my children and our ten “carry-ons”. I decided that we needed to leave the underground station and go up to where the trains were departing. Although it was colder I saw no other alternative given the circumstances. Once we reached the top we found three people from Sacramento who were all in similar situations. My son told them “mommy got on the wrong train and I am scared.” Although I did want to give him a third birthday to remember, this was not what I had in mind. His love for trains faded in the last month but I am confident that it will return. More important I hope that he knows that his mom can handle anything and will go through desperate measure to assure that he is safe and that when needed she even talks to god.

The Suburban Hangover......

Living in suburbia can often lead to a sheltered lifestyle, a life that could leave you no option but exposure and loss in solitude. After all it is your next door neighbor that opened the blinds as you pulled in the driveway at two in the morning. They were not concerned about your safety but more important they were wondering what you were doing out at that hour and if someone else was in the car. If they did see as much as a shadow they might suggest he was much taller than your husband and be quick to offer any information to the members of the PTA at your child’s school. After all they were at the local bar until one and don’t remember seeing you there, so where were you?

Since I am not a member of a small community you might wonder how I would know so much about the people who reside in one. Working as a bartender has provided me with more of the suburban culture than I ever cared to know. I enjoy my job and have come to love some of the “regulars” who come in, but there is a certain stigma that is associated with a small town suburban bar. It appears as though everyone knows everything about one another and they are quick to offer any information that you might want, or not want to hear.
“Did you know Toby’s wife left him three day ago?” This is yelled in my direction as Toby sits three seats down looking very glum sipping his vodka tonic. “He has completely lost it!”

I am still unsure if people refuse to listen when they hear their friends screaming to the whole bar about their so called “private” life. From my experience you can hear a man’s brother shout out that his wife has been having an affair but the women will make quiet whispers about her boob job. Either way it is all the same because within five minutes everyone knows about it. Women are more subdued when throwing their friends “under the bus” but definitely more vicious. It could be boredom or it could be competition. I like to think it is a nicely mixed cocktail combining the two.

Women who are forty are now looking twenty and whether they are accepting compliments on their $150 t-shirt or trying to refer you to their doctor for Botox, they are all there supporting one another’s lifestyle no matter how bizarre it might seem to an outsider. They might come in after a three hour workout to enjoy a small salad and a couple cocktails, obviously using more of their daily caloric intake on drinks rather than spoil it on food.

You might hear women talking more about their divorce attorney’s than their children’s school teacher and you might fall victim to their ex-husband asking you out on a date. After all in a small town where everyone goes to the same bar, there is little variety for the single middle aged man ready to jump back in the dating scene.

For me it is a job and I cannot lie, the "regulars" do pay my bills. But for them it is much more, and although I enjoy my job it has lead me to fear a suburban lifestyle. Is this all that there is to look forward too? Will I someday join a mommies group and meet the moms for happy hour, leaving the tots at home? Is this the lifestyle that we are supposed to strive for or this just a place to cover up our true problems by pointing attention to everyone else’s?

Cut Back or Fight Back?

SACRAMENTO, Calif.,USA- "They say cut backs, we say fight back", was shouted from a group of Sacramento State students and faculty last Wednesday. Students and staff are joining together to fight the continuing fee increase that The California State University Board of Trustees imposed on them for the Fall 2009 semester. This 20% fee increase follows a 10% increase that was issued in May. This burdens students with a fee increase of $978.

Students gathered for the rally and listened to fellow students and faculty voice their opinions about the fee increase. Whether they were eating their lunch or holding a sign expressing their disappointment, they were all supporting one another and standing behind their beliefs in a system that has once again failed them.

Along with frustrated students , stood a group of faculty that were recently burdened with a pay cut and forced to teach students less by taking scheduled furlough days. So if teachers are making less, why are students paying more?

“We are in the midst of a financial meltdown and need to take immediate action in order to preserve our institutions," CSU chancellor Charles Reed said in a news release. "We have developed an overall plan to get us through the next two years that both reduces expenditures and increases revenues. Raising student fees is always a difficult decision, and we recognize the tremendous burden and challenge it places on our students.”

Does Charles Reed really see the burden that is placed on struggling students? I was worried about how my fees were going to be funded before the first fee increase. Now, as a full time student, I have to figure out how I am going to pay an additional $1000. Did I mention that I am a single mother who works four nights a week as a bartender? Why am I being taxed?

Trying to make some sense of the fee increase, I am relieved to know that almost half of the fees are going to fund financial aid. The other half will help offset part of the $584 million budget deficit. I cannot make sense out of why student fees are being used to pay back a system that is constantly letting us down and leaving education as an open target. Frustration also lies in the fact that I am not receiving financial aid but contributing to fund a system that I cannot benefit from.

Although the rally was important for students and staff, I do not feel as though our voices are being heard. We can shout as loud as we want but unfortunately the leaders of the CSU system are refusing to listen. So what do we do now? We cannot refuse to pay our fees because we will be dropped from our classes. So we come together and listen to one another and offer support to each other in hopes that our shouts will eventually be heard.