Which side of paradise?

Upon finishing "This Side of Paradise" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, there are certain themes that Fitzgerald throws at the reader that warrant further thought.
At the conclusion of the novel, Amory (protagonist) asserts that the intelligent women he meets through the course of his life are all hampered by gawking suitors and the need to 'come out' in society, and marriage.
Eleanor, one such woman with which Amory associates, at one point laments,

"Rotton, rotten old world ... oh, why am I a girl? Why am I not a stupid --? Look at you; you're stupider than I am ... you can play around with girls without being involved in meshes of sentiment, and you can do anything and be justified- and here am I with the brains to do everything, yet tied to the sinking ship of future matrimony. "

This first hint at the restrictions of marriage, which is somewhat dissolved in current society, melts into Amory's final conclusions about the good ol' "ball and chain," where his reasoning is thus:
Well-educated man marries. No matter his social philosophy, his job is to "provide and hold fast." He is resigned to life's windowless treadmill. He is no longer a help to society. This well-educated man becomes "spiritually married."
Sidenote: The "spiritually unmarried" are men whose wives have no social ambition, the ones who fell off the treadmill, the congressmen you can't bribe, the presidents who aren't politicians, etc.
So, the spiritually married man uses society as is, in all of its follies and weaknesses, to get ahead at any cost. The smarter married man can rise in the current system, and sees no reason to change it, because with its flaws he is getting ahead.
The unmarried man "seeks for new systems that will control or counteract human nature." His struggle is to guide and control life. Essentially, progress strives when men do not settle into the hamster-wheel of life's systems.
Now, Amory (Fitzgerald) takes this further into an argument for socialism, but stopping here and looking at the restrictions of the marital structure and what that yields, even today, is fascinating. For instance; how many college students take progressive statuses until settling down into conservative life, two children, white picket fence, puppy?
The phrase "getting comfy" was born from couples who disregard even physical upkeep due to the acceptance of their significant other.
Something about human nature leads to ceasing to produce anything except children and paychecks when we pair-off.
Perhaps there exists some grander feeling that can not be understood until coupled; and indeed, even early relationships have lead to a certain laziness and desire to spend every waking moment with one single person. Biology supports a natural urge to reproduce for the furthering of the race. So as animals, it makes sense. But this lull is still so hard to avoid as highly-educated (or simply educated) beings.
Personally, I fall victim to an occasional relationship desire, but at the conclusion of every single one, breathe a sigh of relief and delve into projects, both physical and mental, cast aside while under the veil of 'love' or whatever attack form it takes.
My Amory conclusion is less a conclusion than a form of questions: Solo is more productive, but how is one to avoid the relationship pull? Can sex be platonic to take care of urges while releasing one unscathed? Do we need partnership other than sex (since sex seems to be the biological necessity)? If one resolves to forever be a progressive thinker, must he/she also resolve to never be tied to another, at least in society's formal mode?
Honestly, the answer to the latter may be yes.

Change shmange

Change.
President Obama used it and used it well to get himself to the top, but now the word has almost morphed meanings.
Regardless, I find myself in a stage of change, but perhaps a better word is blindsighted. In the span of about a week I have lost a pet (RIP Patti) and gained a much larger one, I have successfully escorted my best friend out of my world until January '10 and finally, I have come across a very unintended career that leaves me with new transportation, presumably better health, a blackberry, too much money and less free time. Summer makes this explosion slightly more catastrophic, as does the jump into adulthood.
This job has been a long time coming, but in the way that the horizon over the ocean is a long time coming: I thought it would never come, and wasn't really expecting it to. I just knew it existed and admired it from afar. Now that it is upon me, I'm ready to take on its challanges, but not without a certain moral hesitation.
First, money has nothing to do with my taking this job. Note: this is actually a positive point that has enabled me to move forward with the decision. I want the challenge of the job. Plain and simple. The idea of being at the bottom of the todem pole because I deserve to be there motivates me. About this I am excited.
However, a childhood dream of becoming a journalist has been cut short when it was very close to being realized. Granted, the reason for taking an "adult" job had to do with constant frustration related to waiting around for 20-somethings to die before I could move up the journalistic ladder, meanwhile editing writing sans heart/skill. But, nonethless, I can't help but think how satisfying it would have been to move. Up.
Since the two-week notice has been placed, the decision is made and life goals will inevitably change and the sprint to the end, while done on different turf, will be just as satisfying.
After all, it's all in the challenge ... right?

A Whole Paycheck rant

Often I find myself wondering which came first, the Spot (bouldering gym) or the Whole Foods on Pearl St., conveniently located directly en route to my condo from the gym, and vise-versa.
Regardless... my name is Jessica and I am a Whole Foods addict.
I don't know when it started, but I can pin point the addiction to some time in the late summer months of 2008. Mostly this problem can be blamed, lovingly of course, on my bff who has dragged me down this slippery slope of healthy despair.
It's just SO easy. Here's how one gets stuck spending at least half of every paycheck at Whole Foods: After sitting in front of a computer all day, I practically strip clothes off as I run down the stairs to throw on running/climbing/hiking clothes to enjoy the last bit of sun. If the sun is already M.I.A., it's off to the climbing gym without fail. All of the socializing and the little bit of climbing for several hours really works up a hunger. But, looking at a large collection of extremely fit people doesn't bode well for burger joints. Therefore, making my own food is a much better choice ... or so it seems.
Whole Foods is literally a hop, skip and a jump away from the gym, and it has become a social hot spot for *ahem* Spot-goers when they can't possibly climb anymore but need yet more social interaction with the same group of people. Of course, I can't judge.
So, a simple, "Let's grab a Kombucha at Whole Foods" turns into, "The ten of us are going to Whole Foods and we're going to wander around for 30 minutes, sample everything we can find, not only buy dinner for tonight, but also pick up a few things. Maybe we can eat there too? Maybe think about the other things we forgot to get while we are eating so we can go in for round two?" You think I'm kidding, but this discussion has actually happened. Probably.
The real killer is that it is very possible to shop daily at Whole Foods and still starve to death. How is this possible, you ask? It's simple. Whole Foods is just SO big that it is easy to get overwhelmed and very excited about everything this wonderland has to offer the healthy-lifestyle-loving Boulderite. I often leave there, spending upwards of $40, with some protein powder mix (forgetting the milk to mix it in), organic hamster food, some eucalyptus face wash, a bar of XOXO chocolate with orange bits (delicious by the way) and a bag of celery. Now, as I'd love nothing more than to live on orange chocolate, one bar just won't cut it, and I hear celery actually has less calories than are necessary to eat it.
So there you have it. Because of Whole Foods, I am poor AND hungry. Neither trouble has anything to do with the economy, just the addicting natural food grocery store on my way home from the gym.

Capitalism and the art of humor

In a hilarious show of sportsmanship, The Outdoor Wire, which claims to be the largest online news source for the outdoor industry, has named President-Elect Barack Obama "Gun Salesman of the Year."
The reasoning: "It's credit where credit is due," according to Publisher Jim Shephard.
He said it is time the firearms industry recognizes the fact that without President-elect Obama’s frightening consumers into action, the firearms industry might be suffering the same sort of business slumps that have befallen the automotive and housing industries.
This is the kind of humor and good-naturedness that will get conservatives through the next four years, and I applaude their every action.
On the flip side, it must be noted that Obama, in this gun sales situation, has just been recognized for his (first?) inadvertent act of supply/demand economics. Perhaps his economic advisers should follow the scare tactic route and threaten to take away American-made cars or our homes -- through direct policy threats, not taxes this time. Perhaps pushing the American people into a 'last chance! buy now!' situation works.
Capitalism anyone?

Free Willy

In my last post, the idea of engaging in a 'no-carb' diet was a playful experiment meant to make my life a little bit more interesting. Two weeks wouldn't be that bad, correct?
Day two I went on a 5 mile run that I'd done multiple times before and found myself dogging it (if you will), and then went up the mountain to boulder around a little. After a few failed attempts at a project that I have been working on for quite some time, I just gave up and left. I called Mommy Dearest to complain about my poor performance and she asked me if I had been drinking a lot lately. I told her, "No, actually Jess and I are doing this no-carb diet." She told me I couldn't do that anymore and expect to have any sort of energy on runs/climbs.
That was all I needed to hear. Done. I went home and ate granola, happily.
However, doing further research, I found this article on low-carb dieting. The results of research on low-carb diets found that our brains do not function as well without a normal diet. So there you go ... cutting elements out of a well-rounded diet is not going to yeild any remarkable results. My findings: just eat less, play more.

The no booze cruise

The only diet I've ever been on is the "see food" diet (I see food, I eat it... ha ha, get it?). I remember eating an extraordinary amount of canned tuna during cross country in high school and calling it a high-protein diet, but in reality, I was just hungry so I ate tuna.
Today at work, I e-mailed my roommate Jess to see if she wanted to have a few martinis after work, as Tuesdays always require extra unwinding in the weekly newspaper business.
The speedy reply was... no. Jess is committing to a "carb flush" for two weeks, which includes all alcohols. Every single one of them. Even wine.
So I got to thinking about everything I'd had to eat today and realized that my daily intake is potentially only carbs (does coffee count as a protein since it comes from a bean?). This doesn't concern me in the least, but as my day-to-day life is a little boring lately, I told Jess I would join her in this self-inflicted brutality. After all, who wants to drink alone? Plus, roommates have to support each other.
Therefore, for the next two weeks I will be doing what I've never done before: restricting myself from eating an entire food group. Perhaps it will be good to test my will-power, especially when it comes to saying goodbye to granola. I may not get out of bed some mornings, as granola is my sole incentive to not hit snooze come 6 a.m., but maybe it will be easier to wake up, having not had several drinks before hitting the hay the previous night.
Will I loose weight? Probably not- I'm a health nut as is, so this might just make me miss mom's homemade bread. But it will certainly prove an interesting struggle.
As for the no drinking part... well, I will be blogging more frequently the next two Saturday nights.

Island Time

Awake to see this morning's spectacular Boulder sunrise, my body proved to me for the third day in a row that it is still on island time.
Gladly accompanying my grandparents on their 50th wedding anniversary in the form of a Caribbean-cruising sailboat, seven days were spent basking (read: getting charred) in the sun, consuming altogether way too many alcoholic beverages, swimming, eating and trying really hard to just relax. I did, however, come to the realization that the term "island time" applies to much more than what your watch says; it's a way of life.
There are a few things that especially flourish on island time, but above all the winner seems to be romance. The Caribbean caters to everyone's varying definitions of romance, and traveling through, it was almost comical to see the broad spectrum realized in so many forms.
On a very superficial level my younger sister, Liz, pointed out that on several of the islands, the male-female ratio was dramatically on her side (she has a thing for darker men with accents) to the tune of 2 to 1. I figured that the generous gentlemen leading our excursions just liked the rare blonde, or wanted a decent tip. Liz soaked up the attention and thought nothing more of it.
The next instance, which was perhaps more lust than love (but who am I to judge?) came when I was bobbing up and down in the waves off of Martinique (?) and happened to glance toward shore just in time to see one of the older crew members from our ship furiously, shamelessly and quite publicly locking lips with someone I assumed was from the island. As I debated whether this was a romantic meeting or an island booty-call, a wave knocked some sense into me and I concluded that there may not be too much difference.
Of course, 'hook-ups,' as my father so aptly coined them, are all very much a part of the cruising lifestyle for guests on the ship, as well. It is the wonderful mix of heat and booze that results in less clothing and more ambition. The sad aspect of these relationships is they seem to be short-lived, and after the seven days, ways are parted and people end up in their respective parts of the globe with only a memory and perhaps a new Facebook friend.
The true romance was found in the 50-and-over crowd; those that came together in celebration of many years spent in one another's company, through sickness and in health, through richer or poorer -- the romance 22-year-old women crave. I found myself sighing more than usual and wishing upon most of the stars in the perfectly black Caribbean ceiling for some of that to come my way.
The most heart-wrenchingly romantic story came from a German-Argentinian couple. The German (man) fell in love with the Argentinian woman, even though she was the secretary that handed him his pink slip. He left on a three week vacation, only to return a week early just to see her. When he arrived at her house, her mother informed him that her daughter had flown to the U.S. to marry someone else. In a spectacular show of persistence, the German acquired a visa, booked the only seat left on a U.S.-bound plane - first class, which he was no business to be flying - and made it to the U.S. in time. Needless to say, he somehow convinced her to marry him, and they have been side-by-side ever since.
And then there are my grandparents - celebrating, and rightly so, 50 years of thick and thin. Never have I heard my grandfather speak so lovingly to my grandmother, thanking her for everything that she put up with. Never have I realized how much those two have been through together - near-death experiences, children, constant moving, a war, jobs, illnesses, and on the list goes. Listening to those stories and seeing my grandparents recognize that neither of them could have made it to this point without the other, made me realize how important marriage is on levels I before did not know existed. Romance is more than making out in a tropical paradise: it's having a best friend and a life partner with which to share everyday.