No Shave November: Day 2

Hello everyone!

There's not much I can say about today. For the most part, I received numerous positive comments about my post yesterday. Which is greatly appreciated.

I was also faced with one main question of the day which was, "Are you really doing it for the whole month?" And to answer their question, and any confusion, yes I am not shaving my body hair for the entire month of November.

With that being said, here is my picture for today. Hair is starting to stubble, but it is barely noticeable

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No Shave November: Day 1

For social experiment reasons, this year I decided to participate in No Shave November. My main focus is around armpit hair, mostly because leg hair isn't as much of a problem in November due to the weather. 

Before starting this, I looked into a little as to why shaving armpit hair for women started. I realized that yes, it was all due to marketing, but the fact that women stuck with it is what caught me off guard. Women shaving their armpit hair is basically one of the first forums of how society pushes women and their appearance around. 

Most of my findings came from this short little video clip:Why did women start shaving their armpits? 

Throughout the month of November, I will be reporting on my experience, and posting daily photos of how much hair actually does grow. I recently shaved this morning, because I wanted to start the month off on a fresh start. 

My main reason behind doing this is simple, I want to know why women having armpit hair is so repulsive, disgusting, and unaccepted. In my own opinion, I don't see it this way. However, I'm curious as to why people find hair under a women's arm pit hair so remarkably "unsanitary".

I hope you enjoy my blog, as I embark on this month long journey! 

Day 1 Clean Slate

Listen

DISCLAIMER- I wrote this piece for a New York Times contest. I did not win, but I am pleased with what I was able to produce. It isn't gold, but I believe it's worth a read.

It’s 2015, and humans are struggling with the basic linguistic skill of listening.

Listening is deeper than hearing. When you hear something, you don’t dissect it, pull it apart, or try to understand it. You hear it, and move on. Sort of like feeling gum underneath a school desk and pulling your hand away without an ounce of hesitation.

Hearing doesn't work well in a conversation setting. If I’m talking to one of my close friends and explaining to them that I've had a bad day, I expect them to try to understand why my day was bad. However, this isn't a perfect world and not everyone is going to listen to what you have to say.

Listening is hard work, you have to fully commit yourself to what another person is trying to explain to you.  Good listeners challenge themselves, and don’t walk away from a conversation with assumptions, because assumptions aren't good enough.

It’s rare to find people who actually listen. Most of the time, when conversing with my peers it’s like a big game of jeopardy. Contestants on jeopardy fight to be heard, in order to answer the question correctly. While jeopardy contestants use a buzzer, teenagers use their mouths.  

On average, we listen at a rate of 125-250 words a minute, but think at 1,000-3,000 words per minute. We don’t even listen to half the amount of words we think. This just goes to show that for every 125-250 words heard, it takes anywhere from 1,000-3,000 words to comprehend them.

We have two ears and one mouth for a reason. As effective communicators we must listen twice as much as we speak.

Great listening skills generate from people who care. And in this day and age, most people don’t. We silence our children with iPads, and remove ourselves from complex conversations with big words and scary realizations.

I consider myself a good listener. When people are venting to me, I look for specific aspects of the story to keep the conversation flowing. I’m not one to say, “I’ll always be there for you,” and then hear your story just so I can leave you abandoned and alone.

As Henning Mankell says,  “What differentiates us from animals is the fact that we can listen to other people’s dreams, fears, joys, sorrows, desires, and defeats - and they in turn can listen to ours.”

Humans have the privilege to be able to listen to one another. We can share ideas, compare likes and differences, and learn from one another. The ability to improve the world starts with the simple skill of listening.

If we don’t shut up and start listening, we’ll never know what deserves to be heard. So pay attention to what people say to you, formulate questions on things you don’t understand, and above all:

Listen.

Acceptance

Learning how to accept people, situations, and life is hard. I'm not going to lie; this is probably one of the hardest life lessons for me.

It's hard to look at someone who doesn't get something right away, when you clearly understand the lesson just fine, and not think to yourself, 'C'mon, this isn't that hard. Just pay attention. Work harder. This shouldn't take you this long."

I used to be extremely critical of those who couldn't take directions, or finish tasks. Yes, that does sound rude. And it is, but it took me awhile to realize how rude it was. It was hard for me to understand that no every-ones brains are wired the same way as mine. I understood that people were different, but it was almost as if this thought vanished once I witnessed something out of the ordinary.

Public is where most of these thoughts generate from. How could someone die their whole head bright pink? How could they cover almost every square inch of their bodies with piercings? How could you bare that many children? How is that girl wearing that, doesn't she know it makes her look slutty?

We've all had these thoughts. It's as if your mind is controlled by gate, only allowing specific things that you believe should be let in, in.

I've learned that this is no way to live your life. It isn't healthy, if anything it rots your brain. You have to accept all types of people, and their ideals that come with them.

Being accepting of others and their ideas doesn't mean that you like or agree with what they have to say or do. It means you can look past their "ridiculous" traditions, such as only wearing pink on Wednesdays or eating meat once a week. Accepting is coming to a realization that no every one in the world is programmed like yourself. That's why there is diversity in the world.

It's easier to look past the small things. For example, I can't stand when people don't match their clothing. But why should I spend my time stressing on such a minuscule problem? Maybe they don't even view it as a problem. They are wearing what they are because they wanted to. THEY wanted too. It's not what I wanted. I wear things that match, I always have, and I always will. What's most important here is that I'm happy in the clothing I dress myself in. And as long as others are happy in what they are wearing, it is not my job as an outsider to make them feel any less of themselves, or judge them because of how they choose to express themselves.

Aside from plaid on plaid, or denim on denim, there are bigger things to accept in life. One of them being crisis.

No one ever wants to accept that horrible events "just happen," but to me, that's the only way I can properly handle them. In my most recent post I wrote about how my camera was stolen from me in the middle of the night. Now that I look back at it, I accept that there are cruel and horrendous people in this world. I can't do anything about that ( I mean unless I join law enforcement, which is something I'd never do).

To whomever is reading this, there is one message I want to make clear: Worry about yourself, and understand that people are different from you. As long as your actions represent the best version of yourself, try not to worry about what others do around you. Accept that you're you, and they're them. Accept that some situations are going to happen, and how you react to them builds a better you. Good luck on your journey of acceptance, for I myself am not finished with mine.

Reality with It's Best Shot

It's just a hand sized piece of plastic.

It's just a camera.

A device used to take photos.

That's all it is.

Let me ask this question, why am I so broken over this $600 piece of plastic? Why did my heart drop the moment I knew I'd never get it back? Was it because of the photo's actually left on the camera? The photo's of Bob Woodward? The Bob Woodward who reported the Watergate Scandal. You know what, I don't even think the photo's meant anything to me at that moment. I believe it was the realization that I could no longer take photo's. I convinced my parents to let me take this trip to Washington DC, to learn more about journalism, and photography in general. And in that moment, the fact that my camera was gone and wasn't coming back, hit me hard. Real hard. The best way I can describe the feeling, is an example that relates to cheer, specifically me backspotting. 

You're trying a new stunt. A lib, (one legged above your head stunt), with a twist cradle down. For me being the person in the back, I'm in charge of the flyers safety, but at the same time, I'm scared for my own safety. Usually, I'm able to push my safety out of the way, the flyer ends up being the center of attention. Sort of like when I was traveling with my camera, I was worried about bringing my most cherished item so far away from home. But I did it anyway, I shoved the negativity out of my brain, and just worried about my cameras safety and moved on. The stunt hits, she's in the air solid as a rock. Here comes the moment of truth-the end. Will she twist all the way around and make it? Or will she freak out halfway through, resulting with a hit to the face for me, and me on the ground with her in my arms? Here we go, I shout,"5..6..7..8,"  I let go and watch it all unfold. She chose the second option for today. As she's spazzing out in the air, I feel an elbow to the face before I see it. It makes that BANG noise in your head that quite frankly I can't describe, you just have to feel it.It's a noise I've heard far too many times, but I don't really mind it, my flyers safe, so technically I'm good. After the stunt burns and crashes, everyone checks to see the status of group. Once we all realize that we're okay, we set back up, and prepare to do it all over again.

By taking my camera to DC, I knew of the risks, I knew it could be taken from me. At the end of the day though, that thought was shoved so far back in my head, that It seemed unrealistic. That only happens in movies, It couldn't ever happen to me...

I would much rather take a blow to the face from a flyer than my camera being ripped from my room at late hour of the night. The pain I felt in the moment of it all, was unreal. I can honestly say I have never hurt so bad in my life, and If I have, I can't remember when. When I heard that it was gone forever, It was very similar to being smacked in the face. Like reality slapped it's wicked ways against my heart, to show that anythings possible, and this occurrence could happen to anyone. 

I haven't been able to write about this, because I honestly didn't know how. But, oddly enough, by just typing out snippets of my thoughts, I feel better. No one will understand how important that camera was. It was my first step, into a long line of future cameras. It is nice to say "well at least you weren't hurt or messed with by the person who came into your room,"...But at the same time I am hurt. Mentally, which is always the type of hurt that's ignored. It's not like you can see someone is mentally hurt as clear as you can see a huge bruise across someones face. As for now, I start at square one. Slowly replacing everything that was taken from me, and the mental scarring that I'll hold on to for forever. Sorry that I couldn't be happy at the end of this post. Reality isn't always happy, and that Is one thing I learned on my last trip to Washington DC.

A Painless World Would be Pretty Painful

Falling down as a child was never fun, but it was significant. Without the pain of the scrape on your knee, you would have never known not to take a sharp turn on your bike down a winding hill. Almost all of us were stubborn kids at one point; which includes being told not to do something, but doing it anyways. Heck why not do it? It was funny to see mom mad. Aside from that, I can relate a scrape on the knee, to the scrape of a heart (not literally of course, c'mon people it's metaphor talk). I have endured many painful experiences within my 15 years on this plant. And I am grateful for each and every one of them. Even though some of them left huge scars on my knees...other than that, they have all helped shape me into the Bridget I am today. Heartbreak was one of my earliest painful experiences. Without it, I wouldn't know how to love like I do now. I wouldn't understand how to cherish the things I love, and not take them for granted. Without loss, I would've never knew what to do once I gained something amazing. Pain has taught me how to ask the right types of questions. When I have a problem going on, I don't want people to tell me how to fix it, therefor I don't say "Tell me how to solve my problem." The key word I want you to pull out of that sentence was 'MY'. It's my problem, why should I have someone else tell me how to fix it? They only know the parts of the problem I told them about, they most likely don't know the whole story. As we grow older, we begin realizing that no answers will just be handed to you, accompanied by a smooth solution. The only time that will legitimately happen is when you're stuck on a math problem, and you ask the smartest kid in class for the answer. As humans we understand that our problems are our own, and so, we must ask questions that benefit ourselves. Questions that will help you achieve YOUR solution. We need to learn how to find out the answers to our questions, rather then being told the "answers" upfront. I hope this little entry helped you think about pain a bit deeper, and a bit differently. If you really think about it, a world without pain, would actually be a pretty painful world.

Feelings

As a child, we are taught what feelings or emotions are on some type of note card, or in some flip book, which is accompanied by a picture. If one is sad, we are taught they are frowning. If one is happy, they are smiling. If one is angry, their face is squinted, which then also follows up with red puffy cheeks. What if this was all hypothetical? What if while someone was sad, they were smiling? Or if someone was angry, and they didn't have bright red cheeks and a puckered mouth? As a child, we cannot be taught reality.

Pain is a feeling that needs to be felt in this world. Society has a hard time accepting that. I had a hard time accepting that as well, I used to think that if someone wasn't happy or smiling then something was wrong with them.There's nothing wrong with them, they're simply human, and until now, I didn't know that was possible.

It is easier to be sad in this world. You have to strive for happiness, I mean lets face it, some people can't even get off the couch, so why in the world would they try to be happy? Material things such as new technology, food, raises, and clothing provide people with the fake happiness they can live off of. Not saying that you shouldn't be happy when you get the newest version of an iPod, but when that is all you have to be happy for, things don't go so smoothly. Your path starts to get rocky, you thrive for a happiness, and you just don't understand. This is what happened to me.

At one point in your life you have seen some post by a sappy teenager that reads something like this; Fake a smile, even at your worst. OR I'm smiling on the outside, but I'm dying on the inside.  As humans we don't enjoy the feeling of being vulnerable. I like to call it being naked. Obviously i'm not talking about physically, but emotionally. I think (metaphorically)  that your clothes are your materialistic happiness we all have. They keep you from being naked and vulnerable. You don't have to show your true colors, which is something a majority of us fear. Why do we fear such a thing? Posters and messages are plastered all around our life telling us to just be ourselves. How exactly do we do that? Judgement is something I fear. It's a silly fear, but it's a legitimate one. I'm afraid to be naked, to share my thoughts sometimes. Knowing someone could shoot my idea down, or give me a dirty look for something I said, is something that is very scary to me.  Writing this now, I feel stupid. Where is the Bridget that didn't care? The Bridget that did her own thing, because that's what she wanted to do? Maybe that Bridget just gave up. Simply because she didn't receive the followers she wanted. My life is completely irrelevant to all of this. What I want YOU to get out of this, the reader, is that in life we should learn how to be naked. How to be vulnerable. How to accept sadness, or depression and take it by the horns. I say, with time, we can all learn how to accept our feelings. Good luck on your travels my friends.