Could you please help my friend Carmella out and vote for her outfit at The Limited? You’ve heard about Carmella before - she’s the one that can tell me I’m being unreasonable and I can manage to listen. She’s also someone who I trust with my own clothing decisions - her seal of approval on my wedding dress was more important to me than obtaining my mom’s approval (sorry Mom)!

Check out the outfit she put together and if you like it, please vote. Oh and check out her blog too. You can find her at an insubstantial spark of hope.

Create the Ultimate OutfitSponsored by The Limited

Money has been tight in the Morgan household lately and I didn’t want to ask Brian for $100 for a cut and color when he’s been eating PB&J at lunch for the last month. If you’ve been reading along, you know that my husband is a carpenter. With the current state of the economy, people are not adding crown modeling, shadow boxes and staircases with the same enthusiasm they did three years ago. He’s still working most days now but that doesn’t mean I can keep spending the way we used to.

Canceling that hair appointment seemed like a really smart idea. It would also give me more time to think of a low key idea for my hair – red hair may make me feel bodacious but it’s a lot more work than I thought it would be. I don’t dye my hair myself because the last time I did, it turned pink. That was okay for college but this is the working world and the pharmaceutical industry is not filled with pink haired employees.

But on Thursday, a close friend of the family (Demi) died suddenly. We didn’t hear about it until today and the viewing is tomorrow.

Suddenly, my roots look like Shakira’s in the “Underneath Your Clothes” video. My cute layers are not feeling so cute. And don’t even get me started on the state of my eyebrows.

It’s a reminder that the way I present myself might be different from the way I see myself.

When things are going well, it is really easy to look in the mirror and think about how great you are/look/feel.

But when life hits you unexpectedly, it is easy to let those doubts (that are usually kept at bay) seep in.

Reality is somewhere in the middle. My hair doesn’t look as great as I thought it did last week when I canceled my appointment but it doesn’t look as bad as I think it looks today. And really, my hair has nothing to do with the world that surrounds me.

There is this fine line between taking pride in your appearance and letting your appearance take over you. You need to go to work each day, dressed with the same passion that you dressed with before your first job interview. You need to also be able to still get your hands dirty in life – whether that be making mud pies with a small child or trying something new for the first time.

Demi was a person who saw my family at their best and at their worst. She set my parents up on their first date even though neither of my parents were interested in dating. She stood by my mom when my mother was raising a small child by herself. And it was at her house where I got stuck in a tree when was five.

It is easier to fixate on my own appearance than it is to really process what happened. Because I can change myself but I can’t change what happened.

I landed in the Republican side of things. There was only one other kid in class who was farther in than I was but it seemed like his reasons were based more on not liking anyone and not being interested in even helping his own family whereas I ranted like a lunatic about Social Security and what seemed like a crazy system (some things never change).

I stuck to my party ever since.

I voted in the 2000 election for George W. Bush but my little Republican dream was John McCain in the White House.

I voted in the 2004 election for George W. Bush – although for that I argued was a choice between inconsistency and incompetence. At least I voted for the man who was consistently incompetent. At the very least, smart people might be around him. I wasn’t happy but I took the options presented to me.

But I haven’t been happy with Bush for quite some time.

So as I wrote yesterday, I voted proudly for Bob Barr. I made a financial donation to his campaign. And for once, I didn’t feel like I had to sacrifice my beliefs for the options in front of me.

I also changed my Republican status to Libertarian. Next time, I’ll be a registered Libertarian.

It turns out there are third parties. You do have other options.

During the 2000 election, I had no idea third parties existed until I got to college. There I discovered the Green Party but every collegiate Green Party member I met appeared to be a ranting, paranoid whack job. It wasn’t exactly the best advertisement for third parties.

This time, I did my research. I learned. I explored again with the same enthusiasm I had in the 9th grade. I needed to do this.

My dissatisfaction motivated me forward. And for that, I want to thank George W. Bush. I truly believe Bush was the best thing that has happened to the United States of America.

Before you get mad, think about it. Yesterday I stood in a record breaking line at 6 in the morning because people were so dissatisfied that they had to do something. Yesterday morning, for the first time in my life, I stood in line at a polling station that wasn’t just filled with white people. Even people from the Fleetwing section of Bristol (which is known for being worse than Philly neighborhoods and is also an open air drug market) were there to vote. And while some of them scared me slightly, it was important to see that they were there. They never came before.

I wanted to be the first voter at my polling station yesterday morning but there was an African American family ahead of me. They never voted before – it seemed fitting to see them go before me.

As of six o’clock this morning, Barack Obama received over 62 million votes. And they are still counting. That’s more votes than received by any other president in US history.

It seems to me that maybe we all had to get really uncomfortable to be motivated. Bush broke our apathy. And we should thank him for that.

We’ve been together for a long time now. In fact, I don’t remember a time in my life when you weren’t there. I always thought you had been committed to this relationship but now I realize that this thing we have isn’t going anywhere good.

It’s like you have these two sides. And there’s this one side that is so generous and giving and that desperately wants to help other people. But that side keeps giving away things it doesn’t have. It gives away my things. I don’t mind sharing but you never ask first.

Then there’s this other side – this side that wants to correct the mistakes. But you always go about it wrong and it starts being about power instead of actually fixing the situation. I don’t like it when you try to control me like that. It has nothing to do with what’s best for me and it has everything to do with what makes you happy.

This isn’t the only thing though. If it was just this, I might be okay with it but there’s just so much more going on.

I want you to get out of my marriage. My marriage is between myself, my husband and God. You have nothing to do with my marriage or anyone else’s marriage. What Brian and I have with you is a Civil Union. Stay out of my marriage and stay out of everyone else’s marriage. I don’t care if they are straight, gay or polygamous – it is none of your business.

I want you to get out of my panties. Or more specifically, the events that transpire between my thighs are none of your business, Federal Government. I don’t need you worrying about abortions and pro-life versus pro-choice. Let my State worry about that. That’s their job.

I want you get out of my wallet. If I want to help others in need, that’s my choice. I can choose how and when I want to do that. Don’t just “redistribute” my wealth. Let me choose who to give to and not just create programs that I’m forced into helping.

We had a good run, Federal Government, but I need you to change. I need you to let me pursue my happiness and not just what you think my happiness should be. Stop trying to protect me and let me make my own choices. I’m a grown woman. If I haven’t learned by now how to look out for myself, there really isn’t anything you can do for me.

I’m not going to vote for Obama or McCain. I know you gave me those options but those options aren’t cutting it. Those options aren’t really options at all.

You should know, I’m voting for Bob Barr today. I have a much better future with him than any of the “change” you could offer me.

I hope you can understand. I’ll never forget you, Federal Government, I promise. It’s just that I don’t love you the way you want.

Kind Regards,

Dorie

PS – Just in case you forget, I hate your bailout. It’s so big, it hurts. That’s not a good thing.

Brian has no concept of this. One of the downfalls to homeschooling is that it leaves kids with virtually no typical rites of passage. No prom. No graduation. No football games. Just home and school which happen to take place in the same place.

Brian and I went to the big game on Friday night. My own Neshaminy Redskins versus the Pennsbury Falcons on Heartbreak Ridge. The two rivals on Senior Appreciation Night. It doesn’t get any more classic high school than this. It was a perfect game to take Brian to see.

It was nothing that I remembered. Bet you didn’t see that coming.

Sure the stadium was the same. Those giant concrete stands couldn’t change if they wanted to. The snack stand was in the same location. The Neshaminy Hall of Fame Wall was right where I saw it last. The marching band sat in the same portion of the stands as they did when I was a student.

Everything was physically exactly the same but the experience I wanted to recreate for Brian just couldn’t be done. I left that experience behind in 2000.

Because when we leave the past, we leave the past. We don’t just carry it with us to re-experience when it is convenient. It is why life is so precious.

I can’t bring Brian back in time to experience things differently, even if I think he will enjoy the experience I had.

I can take Brian to see my childhood home but I cannot recreate the experience of sitting in the family room, folding paper stars with my grandfather while my grandmother made dinner. I am the only one who had that experience and the time for that is over.

Our experiences are our own. They are not transferable. It’s a onetime deal.

The upside? I can have new experiences with my husband. And because I’m with my husband, those experiences are something that I could not have on my own.

Neshaminy won the game on Friday. And in terms of a “new” experience (ie: Brian at a high school football game), it was fun but I think next time, I’ll leave my high school memories at home.

When I was a little girl, my Halloween preparations started the day school let out in June. Yes, it took me four and a half months to get ready for the wonderfulness that is Halloween. It was very serious business. After all, Halloween only came once a year and I had to be ready when it arrived.

Halloween was to me what Christmas is to almost every other child in America. I was more concerned about who I was going to be on October 31st than what I was going to get when Santa came to town. Who cares if I was naughty or nice if I didn’t have a good costume!

So every year when school let out, I started plotting and planning my costume. Would I be a witch? Would I be a character from a book? Would I be the popular Halloween costume that every other suburban kid was that year? These were life altering questions.

I wasn’t the type of kid who could decide a week before that I wanted to be a witch. I was the type of kid who had to have the costume started in August in order to be a witch because I needed ample time to develop my back story. Why was I carrying a cauldron? Did I rely on my broomstick to get around? Was I good witch or a bad witch? What kind of spells would I be casting?

Yes, that’s right. I had a back story for being a witch when I was four years old. I made every person in my family refer to me as “Acorn the Witch”. And I was a good witch. Kind of like “Dorrie the Witch” but since I was already Dorie, I couldn’t be “Dorrie”. All of this drove my poor uncle (the single, childless adult) absolutely batty. He couldn’t figure out why I didn’t just get in my costume and get my candy like every other kid.

When I say Halloween was a really big deal, I might actually be understating its monumental importance in my life.

On this side of adulthood, Halloween is weird. Sure its fun to dress up and go out with my friends to a party but it isn’t the same. And it has nothing to do with the candy.

It has everything to do with perspective.

As adult Dorie in a Halloween costume, I’m Dorie as a witch. Or I’m Dorie as Peter Pan. Or I’m Dorie as the random stuff the kids gave me through out the year (Halloween 2006 I decorated myself with all of the stuff my nieces and nephew gave me and walked around the neighborhood with a tutu on my head). I’m still Dorie.

But child Dorie in a Halloween costume was amazing. It wasn’t Dorie as a witch but it was “Acorn the Witch”. The year I dressed up as a flight attendant, I memorized my mom’s emergency speech from her days as a flight attendant. When I dressed up as a pirate, for that one special day, I really was a pirate. I embraced what I imagined.

Halloween became the chance for me to try out different aspects of my personality without fear that they wouldn’t fit in my life. For one day, I could shed my life and try on something different.

I think that’s something all kids need. One day where they can explore different sides of themselves without fear of rejection or judgment or failure. One day where they can embrace the fabulousness that their minds create.

Halloween is really just a giant celebration of creativity and fantasy. The adult versions of us just forget it.

After 28 years, the Philadelphia Phillies have won the World Series.

So this morning, Philly is flowing with emotion and relief. There’s almost an electric feeling to it. This morning we are proud of our team and we are proud of our city.

This is the Philadelphia attitude in its purest form. The you-thought-I-couldn’t-do-it-but-I-did-it-anyway attitude that I love. The attitude of an underdog when he is on top. To live in Philadelphia this morning is to feel like you can change the world.

But that same attitude is always there.

You can find that attitude in Love Park on Monday nights. That’s when a group of suburban twenty-somethings who hang out with the homeless who frequent there. They bring sandwiches, cookies and drinks to pass out. When winter hits, they bring sweatshirts, blankets and coats. They listen to the stories that are rarely heard – stories that come from people who have spent years sleeping on the benches of the city. They are there, rain or shine, because the homeless are still there, rain or shine.

They are there to love the unlovable. We may say it is impossible to do it, but they do it anyway.

This is what I love best about Philadelphia. It is a city that genuinely cares and truly wants to change. It is the City of Brotherly Love. Not because of its well known nickname and not because you can go to Love Park. It is because you don’t have to live within the city limits to love and be loved.

I’ve written at least ten different versions of this piece over the last month. Some focused on the Arts in Philadelphia (Theatre Alliance of Greater Philadelphia is a great resource if you are a theatre junkie like myself and one of my fondest childhood memories is seeing Yo-Yo Ma at the Mann Music Center). I wrote about the nightlife and I wrote about the history. One version even read like a guidebook. But none of those versions could tell you about the love and the desire for change that fills the collective heart of the city. Today is the best morning to tell that story.

Philadelphia is a mixed bag – our crime rate is higher than it should be. The New Orleans mayor said our city was dirtier than his city. Several months ago, a disabled child died from neglect when there was supposed to be case workers involved. And everyone is aware of the now infamous “This is America – Order in English” sign. But then there is this other side of Philadelphia – that side that sees past the flaws to the potential. This is a city of culture, history and this attitude that cannot be duplicated.

Whether I wanted it to be or not, my heart has always been in Philadelphia. My zip code may tell you that I live in the burbs but I will you that I live within walking distance of a SEPTA train station (and I’ll even go so far as to argue that Philly is as much defined by its suburbs as the suburbs are defined by Philly). Philadelphia has my roots and my memories but more importantly, Philadelphia has my future.

This city is a bit rough around the edges, a bit abrasive. It’s a tough love city. To live here, you have to know what you want. And then you have to ask for it because no one is going to tell you what it is you really want and no is going to hand it to you either. It feels harsh at first but then you realize its home.

I had to do it again today. I didn’t want to but I had to do it. I had to send another letter to my favorite United States Senator. The one and only Arlen Specter.

Instead of fighting a bailout we don’t need or want and instead of taking the time to learn about actual needs of his constituents, Arlen Specter is taking the time to send a letter to the NFL.

That’s right.

You might be outraged that your tax dollars are going towards a bailout that doesn’t seem to help anyone but banks and auto makers but Arlen Specter wants you to know that he is outraged that the N.F.L. wants to air its games on its own network.

I don’t know about Arlen Specter but this suburban twenty something has bigger fish to fry than what channel you view your Sunday afternoon football games. I’m concerned with things like Social Security and why we continue to pay into a system that is falling apart. I’m concerned with things like college tuition costs and its long term impact on the American economy.

Perhaps I should be concerned with football.

It seems like Arlen Specter is more concerned with what his campaign contributors think than what the voters think.

Here’s what it comes down to: If you don’t keep the voter’s interests at heart, none of it matters. Sure you had more money for your last campaign but now you are failing the residents of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Will anyone of these people vote for Senator Specter next time?

I know this twenty something won’t.

Please take the time today to send a message to Senator Specter that this waste of time is no longer acceptable. Please let Senator Specter know that you are disappointed by his action. Please let Senator Specter know that you expect him to reevaluate his priorities as your elected representative.

I don’t care what state you live in, help Pennsylvania voters get the attention of Arlen Specter.

You can contact the Senator on his senate webpage. It will only take a few minutes of your time.

And as always…

My Letter to Senator Arlen Specter:

Dear Senator Specter,

After discovering the link below, I am very concerned as to how you are spending your time in office.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/30/sports/football/30specter.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

As one of your constituents, I am not concerned about the NFL and what network they choose to air their games. As a consumer, I can choose to make arrangements to see those games or I can choose to follow another sport or league (perhaps the IWFL).

I am actually more concerned that Comcast has been able to block competitors such as Verizon from offering their products in places such as Bristol Township. Does that concern you?

I would much prefer you to spend your time stopping wasteful spending in Washington, protecting the Constitutional rights of your constituents (regardless of their age, gender, race or sexual orientation) and learning about how you can better meet the needs of your Gen Y constituents.

Kind Regards,
Mrs. Dorie A. Morgan

Also please note, I will be posting your response at my blog. If you or a member of your staff is interested in joining the discussion my blog can be found at http://www.dorieannmorgan.com

This stops working once two people decide to walk down the aisle. Then, all bets are off. I’m not trying to scare the single friends out there but it’s true.

Then you get the pleasure of living with your mate’s stress and their way of addressing their stress.

Like many women, when stress hits I give myself a pep talk and pull myself up by my bootstraps. Your house collapsed and you have nowhere to go? Great, I’ll organize a community meal schedule and prep the house for you to stay with me for a month. I’m five minutes away. Oh you need a baby sitter with ten minutes notice? Great, by the time you pick up your family, the kids will be fed, homework will be done and my house will still be immaculate. Money is tight, we got a surprise bill and you don’t know how we’re going to manage it? That’s fine, I moonlight as a miracle worker, and I’ll make it happen.

It sounds ridiculous but this is how I process everything in my head.

Brian’s approach to dealing with stress is much different. He shuts down. He ceases to function. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. He’s okay with stress to a point, and then he is not. He just stops.

I go into “Super Bitch” mode when I get to that level of stress. At that point, I’m going to get my shit done and you will not get in my way. Brian is very kind when he calls me “Cranky Face”. A little too kind perhaps. Kind to the point of lying to me.

We both get a little annoyed with the other for our respective coping mechanisms. The coping mechanisms that worked best when we were single are not necessarily the best coping mechanisms in terms of a marriage.

I talked to my friend Carmella about this. Carmella is a marriage counselor and a newlywed herself. She is also my frequent voice of reason. When I cross over into crazy land with my expectations of other people, she is the one who can say I’m being unreasonable and I know that statement from her does not come from a defensive place. It comes from the voice of someone who is pursuing a Ph.D. in Psychology.

Carmella, of course, tells me that this is normal and most couples find themselves with similar responses. Which I find hard to believe at first. Because how did we as humans manage to populate the planet if the men-folk were shutting down every time stress happened? “Uh-oh Honey, some prehistoric beast is attacking our cave! No wait; don’t hide in the corner, save our offspring!”

But while I am still contemplating the evolutionary implications of our stress reactions, Carmella tells me that the dinners I make are excessive. And she’s right. Because dinner is a massive undertaking in our house. It takes me at least an hour to make dinner every night. Maybe I’m going overboard but I want my husband to have one really good meal every day.

The night after I talk to Carmella, Brian looks at me and says “you get home every night and it’s late. And then you make dinner and it’s late. And then you clean up dinner and it’s late. And then we watch TV but you fall asleep.”

I deal with stress by trying to make a perfect meal and Brian deals with stress by wanting to watch television with a wife who is awake.

We continue the dance of figuring out what it means to be in a marriage with each other.

I do not have all the answers, or possibly even any, but I do know what my past experiences have shown is key to living a good, satisfying life.

It all starts with following your passion.

I believe I am probably most passionate about being creative. Be it film, business strategies, web applications, camp programs, blogging, or making marketing videos, if I am creating, I am happy. There is nothing better for me than creating something no one else could have ever possibly made exactly the same. It gives me a great sense of pride and accomplishment.

I believe this to be true for everyone.

It is natural to feel this way as a human being. It does not matter if you create football plays, Jiu Jitsu moves, a school curriculum, happiness, cinnamon rolls, better employees, poems, home runs or the best pooper scooper in the world. If you are creating, you are going to have a deep sense of pride. You are going to have something that you can call your own. Something no one can ever take from you. Hence, the incredible sense of accomplishment.

Even look at the change over the years in the pride people put into their work. Things that were handcrafted were always better than the counterparts from the factories. They just were not made fast enough. So factories won out and the Industrial Age was born. Unfortunately, lost in the work was the pride and sense of accomplishment of someone passionate about what they are building. Instead, you had people screwing in one screw 5,000 times a day. Hard to find passion in that I would imagine.

What do you create?

I live for the butterflies I get before revealing my latest creation. It’s what drives me to get through the tough part of creating it in the first place. Having a great idea is one thing. Executing it to its completion is the real accomplishment.

That’s why creating something gives everyone such a sense of pride. Like a real tough day at the gym, you made it through the work load. Instead of giving up, you pushed yourself to reach your goal. It is not easy to travel a path no one has before you. It is not easy to risk failure without a scapegoat. It is certainly not easy to go out on your own. These are all of the reasons people wind up giving up their passions.

I know, because I once gave up mine.

When I graduated film school, I took a year to try and become a writer/director. One year, that’s it. Then, because I was getting married, and desperate to start my adult life, I completely put my dream on hold to get a job in the hot mortgage industry. Two years later, we all know how that went. However, it’s not because of that. I could have done something else and been very successful in terms of finances. It still would not have been my passion.

We have one life that we all are guaranteed. The rest is up for debate, and unfortunately, I’m not sure if we will ever have all the answers. So for this one life we do get, we really owe it to ourselves to get the most out of it. Be yourself, live your passion, and give the world what it has never experienced before:

You.

My experience has clearly showed me that living your passion beats building up your bank account, keeping up with the Jones’, or looking the part of success. Whenever I am feeling down, I just go back and look at some of the things I have created. It always lifts my spirits, and gives me the energy I need to continue on.

As the great blogger Steve Pavlina recently tweeted on twitter,

” What are you doing to contribute to the lives of others? If the answer is little or nothing, that explains why your finances are suffering.”

Think about what you are passionate about. Think about the joy you get out of it. Think of the job you would be able to do if you could just do what you were most passionate about. When you’re done smiling from the thought, think about how warm it made you feel inside. Now, think why on Earth you are not doing that.

Then answer this question in the comments section…

Are those reasons more important than getting the most out of your life, and subsequently becoming a better person for everyone?