text: Lauren Cahn 2016-02-11T17:11:43-05:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=lauren-cahn Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Lauren Cahn Good old fashioned elbow grease. 18 Things Only Writers Struggling To Get A Novel Published Can Possibly Understand tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2015:/theblog//3.8134394 2015-09-15T18:19:37-04:00 2015-09-15T18:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ 1. When a beta reader requests a hard copy. At ten cents a page, Staples wanted to charge me more than $40 to copy and bind my manuscript. I'm a struggling writer, Goddamnit. Are you trying to kill me? 2. When said beta reader receives the requested hard copy and emails you, "300 pages? Wow, you know you're asking me to make quite the commitment." May I just ask, what did you think you were going to get? Also, fuck off. 3. When people ask whether you have a publisher lined up -- before you've completed your manuscript. I suppose I should take this as a compliment? Either that or pure ignorance of how the publishing industry actually works? 4. When people can't wait to tell you how it's impossible to get published nowadays unless you self-publish. At the risk of repeating myself, may I just say, fuck off? 5. When people assume you're self-publishing "because that's what everyone does now." But you're like, I'm not everyone, and since when did I care what everyone's doing? And why must they stomp on your three-part dream/delusion of mainstream publishing to bestseller to movie? 6. When your characters talk back to you until you listen to what they're desperate to tell you. If you've created characters with authentic imaginary lives, then you'd best listen. Also, writer's block can be very instructive, painful as it may be. 7. You kind of hate yourself when you write, but you hate yourself more when you don't. When you're in that zone, you can't possibly eat right, working out takes far too much energy, and you can't talk to people because your head is all fuzzy when you try to be of this world. But when you pull yourself out of the zone, you feel frustrated and vaguely humiliated, and terrified that the holiday-taking muse has flown the coop forever. 8. When you stand up for the first time after five hours of being in the zone and your body is as sore and depleted as if you've just run a marathon. I really want someone to explain this phenomenon to me. Please. 9. When your teenaged son watches The Shining and says, "This Jack Torrance guy reminds me of you." And you realize that it's kind of true. When you're in the zone, interruptions are at the interrupter's own risk. And seriously, how dare they? 10. When your writers group only accepts screenplays. How did you wind up in this place anyway? So you write a treatment, but they're totally not fooled and fully demoralize you, as is their right. 11. When your writers group wants more zombies. And you just can't with zombies. 12. When your writers group wants more women walking around in their skivvies. Alright, maybe one. 13. When you finish your manuscript and wish there were actually a way to high-five yourself. That bottle of prosecco in the fridge does the job nicely, however. 14. When you finish your manuscript and go into mourning because you miss your characters, even the awful ones. So you just talk about them incessantly. Like even at dinners, as if they were real people whose lives you didn't invent. 15. When you have to turn every one of your carefully chosen and carefully placed 100,000 words into a one- to two-hundred word synopsis. See also, when you have to urn every obsessive thought you've had regarding finely nuanced characters and tightly-woven story structure into a pitch that doesn't exceed four- to five-hundred words. There are no words to describe this torture. 16. On a related note: manuscript and query format. I don't know about you, but double-spaced Times New Roman isn't my choice. And never in my life have I put the names of books into ALL CAPS, until now, of course. It feels weird to me, but it's industry-standard, 17. When that one agent ignores your pitch and snubs you on Twitter. And yet your pitch is basically a perfect match for her "list". Why God? Whyyyyy? 18. When you can't even because, Oh My God, THEY WANT YOUR FULL MANUSCRIPT! This actually happened to me. It can happen to you. The pain is real, fellow-writers, as well as excruciatingly delicious. Stay tuned for more pain as it unfolds. Lauren Cahn is anxious waiting to hear from agents who are reading the manuscript for her multiple point of view thriller, THE TRUST GAME and desperate to know that every other agent to whom she submitted a query is throroughly enthralled with her carefully crafted 400-word pitch. ]]> The 'Mad Men' Finale: It's the Real (No)Thing tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2015:/theblog//3.7308076 2015-05-19T11:20:32-04:00 2015-05-19T11:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ Mad Men finale would confound and frustrate the way the Sopranos finale did, leaving us in the dark (literally) as to the fates of the characters who'd been rendered so beautifully and in such a complicated manner over the years that we had come to see them as real people, almost; at least we spoke of them as if we did (cough, okay, turns head slightly away, I did). As it turned out, AMC's Mad Men finale, was filled with plot twists and payoffs. Yet, it's final moments, which consisted of a cut from Don's enlightened-yogi smile to an iconic Coca Cola jingle, imparted a nearly identical lesson as the final moments of the Sopranos final episode: life will go on, and people don't really change; thus, we can guess that the unwritten future of our favorite fictional characters will end up looking - in all probability - a lot like their past. Certainly, on a superficial level, we can say that all of the major Mad Men characters journeyed forth through significant life changes. Peggy went from secretary to star executive. Pete got married and had a baby girl, got divorced and moved to California and back, all while losing his hair and bettering his career. Don went from married suburbanite to Park Avenue player. Roger went from name-partner at Sterling Cooper to cartoon-ish figurehead at McCann, along the way ditching his first wife for his secretary, taking LSD and partaking in the free-love offered by the decade. Betty began as the gaslit wife of a rogue advertising exec to the adored wife of a respectable political player. Joan went from head of the secretary pool to head of her own production company. But as much as these characters gained scars, strength and wisdom through their journeys, none of them actually changed over the course of a decade. Not essentially. Not at their core. The Mad Men finale illustrated this existential reality by bringing the characters full circle to where they were in the very first episode. Peggy In the first episode of Mad Men, Peggy was an ambitious young secretary, prepared to do what it took to succeed, including sleeping with her boss. Lucky for her, Don rejected her and came to see talent in her that had to do with neither her body nor her typing skills. If Peggy expressed an interest in getting married, it was never with much enthusiasm. She seemed to drift passively into relationships and then drift out without much drama. In the finale, Peggy remained true to how we met her - an ambitious still-young advertising executive, prepared to do what it takes to succeed, which in the finale meant putting her ego aside and resolving to battle through the McCann Erickson bureaucracy. Peggy also remained fairly apathetic to the prospect of romance. She said she never thought of Stan. Yet a moment after he professed his love for her, she said she loved him too. So for now, Peggy has found love. Will it last? Does it matter? If it doesn't last, don't we know what will happen next? Peggy will go on and keep striving in her career and accepting love if it happens. Joan When we first met Joan, she was the boss of all the secretaries and the provocatively-dressed sexpot who was sleeping with the married and much-older Roger Sterling. Joan implied that she was looking for a husband, but her relationship with Roger belied her ambivalence. When Joan did eventually marry, it was to a rapey boor, and the marriage rapidly failed; although Joan's taste in men was questionable, her unwillingness to take abuse was not negotiable. Over the course of the series, we saw that Joan was willing to use her body to get ahead at work - but as it turned out, only where the opportunity was worth it to her. Thus, it was acceptable to Joan to sleep with a client in order to become a partner, but as we later discovered, it was not acceptable for her to sleep with her new boss at McCann in order to merely keep her job. In the finale, Joan was still Joan. Getting involved with Richard was classic Joan. Wanting to have a fulfilling career was classic Joan. And ditching the prince when it became obvious that he was a controlling jerk was also classic Joan. Will her business be a success? Of course it will - Joan will use her body and her brain to make sure of it. And when a man comes along who is strong enough to capture Joan's heart, he had better be kind and decent, or he'll be dismissed like the ones who came before. Roger At the outset of the series, Roger was a wealthy philanderer. At the end of the series, Roger remained a wealthy philanderer. Yes, in the finale, he is engaged to marry Marie Calvet, Megan Draper's mom. But at the bistro in the finale, Marie makes it clear that she knows that Roger will never change. She expects a pretty young secretary in a very short skirt to tempt him, and she expects that he will stray. Yet she's mature enough to accept it, French enough to laugh about it, and crazy enough to agree to marry Roger anyway. Basically, Roger has married his first wife all over again, only this time, the wife knows what she is getting into before she says "I do." Will that make a difference? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, Roger will remain the wealthy philanderer that he's always been. As for his career, yes, Roger began as the head of Sterling Cooper, and he was productive back then. By the series finale, Roger is nothing more than a figurehead with a four-year contract. But does this change who Roger is? For Roger, who came into advertising independently wealthy, business seemed more of a hobby than a driving force. And whether the hobby consisted of deal-making or drink-making, as long as he has an office to go to, he's still the Roger we met on day one. Pete Pete was introduced to us as smarmy, ambitious, lucky to have a job in sales given the his rudimentary people skills and lucky to have the love of Trudy, his then-fiance and later wife (and ex-wife), who was Pete's greatest asset when it came to closing with clients. But Pete's luck wasn't without limits. His affair with Peggy resulted in a baby boy he never got to meet. His clumsy attempt to philander his way through his marriage's dull moments - as Don and Roger did so deftly most of the time - resulted in humiliation and divorce. Finale-Pete was really just a more grown-up version of Pilot-Pete. Pete was still smarmy, ambitious and lucky. And Pete was still smart enough to know that Trudy was and always would be his greatest asset. And finally, Pete quietly accepted the karmic punishment for his good fortune - in landing the Lear job, which he hadn't been seeking and for which he didn't even show up for his interiew, and for getting Trudy and his daughter Tami back. That punishment was leaving New York City and having to live in Wichita. Different landscape, but same Pete. Betty Betty spent most of the Pilot unseen. When we did meet her, she was the beautiful suburban wife of the dashing, cosmopolitan Don Draper. If Betty suspected Don's infidelities, she pretended otherwise. When Don sensed that Betty was beginning to sniff out his secrets, he sent her to a shrink and had her doubting her sanity. When Betty realized that Don wasn't who he made himself out to be, she didn't stay for the drama. She moved on. Betty was never a model mother, but she was present. She cooked, she cleaned, she was reliable, and she was a mother bear with a rifle and a dangling cigarette when the situation called for it. In the finale, Betty is still beautiful, still suburban, and still a wife. She's still not honest with herself or with her children. She's still not particularly nurturing. Still unwilling to engage in drama of any kind, Betty has rejected treatment for her lung cancer and is growing sicker by the day, but she remains present and protective of her children, telling Don that he can't come home because it would alarm the children. Still smoking, still vain, still facing away from Sally in the last moments in which we see her in the finale, Betty is every bit the Betty that we met in the first season of Mad Men. Don Don Draper was always looking to escape. He escaped his past as Dick Whitman by taking on the identity of Don Draper. He escaped his first marriage to Betty through his lies and his many affairs. He escaped his second marriage to Megan by sending her off to California and then essentially disappearing from her life. He escaped from his life on various occasions, so often, in fact, that his colleagues remarked in the finale that disappearing is "what Don does." But what Don Draper also does is come back. Whether out of a sense of responsibility or a desire to escape from his escape, Don always comes back. So, in the final few episodes, Don is "on the road", as he puts it. Ditching his lunch meeting, his contract with McCann and his weekend visits with his kids, Don was finally going to escape the guilt-ridden identity he had crafted to escape the shame-ridden identity into which he'd been born. Except he realized that he couldn't. He was still having nightmares about being outed as Dick Whitman; on the other hand, he couldn't shake his "Don Draper" persona either. The realization that escape simply isn't possible was nothing new for Don. It was a theme throughout the series. And it brought the series into the nebulous future as Don, finally settling into his new-agey yoga retreat smiles beatifically at what can only be his next "big idea": I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. Finale-Don may have learned to cry. He may have learned to show empathy. He may have finally figured out that the young folk don't really want his help, although they do like his money. But Don is really no different from the Don we met in the Pilot. Don escapes, and Don comes back. He's a chronic Sisyphus, pushing the boulder up the hill and watching it roll back down. Don escapes, and Don comes back. Now, if only Mad Men would come back. I for one would be thrilled to have another seven years to see these characters go on a journey that ultimately leaves them the same as when they began. Really, I would.]]> My Cousin Is the Pope -- and It's Everything tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2015:/theblog//3.7154542 2015-05-02T16:55:12-04:00 2015-05-04T15:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ cousin of a Pope - specifically, the still-living but now-retired Pope Benedict XVI. In fact, Pope Benedict XVI and I descend from at least two common ancestral lines. The first is via our mutual great grandfather, Abraham Zwillinger, who was born circa 1754 and tracing down from whom, Pope Benedict XVI and I are fifth cousins, once removed. From Abraham Zwillinger (1754-1824) to Me Abraham's Zwillinger's eldest daughter, Johanna (born circa 1778), married a man called Michael Tauber (born c. 1771). Johanna and Michael Tauber's son was Leopold (born c. 1803). Leopold's daughter Amalia (born c. 1852) married Moritz Loewy (born c. 1851). Their son was my great-grandfather, Adolph Loewy (born 1883), whose daughter, Vivian (born 1913), married Harold Cahn and had two sons, one of whom was Jeffrey Cahn (born c. 1943). Jeffrey Cahn, who passed away in 2013, was my father. From Abraham Zwillinger (1754-1824) to My Cousin The Pope Abraham Zwillinger's younger daughter, Barbara (born c. 1784 and known as "Betty") married Markus Knopfelmacher (born c. 1786). Their daughter Josefa (born c. 1809 married Jacob Tauber (born c. 1811 and a relative of Michael Tauber, mentioned above). Josefa and Jacob Tauber's daughter was the Pope's great-grandmother Elisabeth (born c. 1834 and also known as "Betty"), whose daughter was the Pope's grandmother, Maria Peintner (born c. 1855). Maria Peintner's daughter was Maria Reiger (born c. 1884), whose son, Joseph Aloisius Ratzinger, Jr. (born 1927), grew up to become Pope Benedict XVI. From Nissel Knopfelmacher (1722 -1764) to Me and My Cousin the Pope But as mentioned above, the Pope and I have more than one ancestral line in common. We also share a common sixth great grandmother - a woman called Nissel Knopfelmacher, born circa 1722. Nissel Knopfelmacher's daughter, Sheva Knopfelmacher (born c. 1748), was the mother of Michael Tauber, who as mentioned above, was the father of Leopold, who was the father of Amalia, who was the mother of Adolph, who was the father of my grandmother, Vivian. Nissel's son, Jacob (born c. 1739) was the grandfather of Markus Knopfelmacher, who was the father of Josefa, who was the mother of Betty, who - as noted above - was the grandmother of the Pope. That makes the Pope and I seventh cousins. Another Famous Religious Leader Discovering that a Pope is my mishpocheh was mind-boggling. Even more mind-boggling was that I stumbled upon this discovery while trying to ascertain whether I was related to a different famous religious leader, Rabbi Judah Loew, the Maharal of Prague (born c. 1525), which in turn, came out of a fairly aimless Ancestry.com binge. At some point during said binge, it had become apparent that there was a family connection between myself and some guy that everyone on the site kept referring to as "the Maharal". A quick internet search revealed that this "Maharal" guy was a revered sixteenth century Talmudic scholar, philosopher and mystic, who, as legend had it, created the Golem of Prague, which he used - along with its magical powers - to defend Prague's Jews from anti-semitic attacks. From The Maharal of Prague to Me Digging in, I was able to connect that the Maharal of Prague was my fourteenth great grandfather. His daughter, Vogele (born c. 1556) married a man named Cohen and had a daughter Chava (born c. 1580), who married a man named Bachrach and had a son, Shimshon (born c. 1607). Shimshon had a son, Chaim Bachrach (born 1638). Chaim Bachrach had a son, Samson Bachrach (born c. 1657) and a daughter Chava (born 1660). Samson's daughter Malkah (born c. 1680) married Chava's son, Zalman Spitz (born c. 1680) and had a daughter, Sarah (born c. 1703). Sarah's daughter was Nissel Knopfelmacher - my sixth great grandmother. From the Maharal of Prague to My Cousin the Pope Eager to discover who else might be part of my Maharal-mishpocheh, I ran an internet search of "Maharal ancestry". With that, I stumbled upon the internet's treasure trove of pages delineating Pope Benedict XVI's Jewish ancestry. Apparently, Pope Benedict XVI was a great grandson of the Maharal of Prague. It wasn't long before it dawned on me: if the Pope was related to the Mahara, and I was related to the Maharal, then the Pope and I must be related. Head-smack. Of course. Nissel Knopfelmacher. Unexpected Hate But what boggled my mind the most was that many of the websites that devoted themselves to tracing the Pope's Jewish ancestry did so for one singularly evil purpose: to discredit Pope Benedict XVI - by establishing him as a Jew - and not just any Jew, but a Jew who descended from a golem-fashioning sorcerer, which is to say (as these sites claim), a Jew who may in fact be the Antichrist. Ironically, with just a little more digging, I discovered another set of websites devoted to discrediting Pope Benedict XVI for being Catholic. According to sites like this, Adolf Hitler was a member of the Catholic Church, which turned a blind eye to Hitler's murder of six million Jews and then never excommunicated Hitler, and therefore the Catholic Church was complicit in the Holocaust, which makes all Catholics (and especially Popes) evil - and even possible Antichrist contenders. Inevitable Irony So, let's see. There are those who despise Pope Benedict XVI for being Catholic. There are those who despise Pope Benedict XVI for being Jewish. Meanwhile, let's not forget those who despise him for being born and raised in what was Nazi Germany. In fact, the Pope Emeritus's papacy was always shadowed by his having been a member of Hitler Youth. Although the Pope Emeritus has referred to the Holocaust as a "dark time", and the Weisenthal Center applauded his support of the Jews, there are those who can never get past the fact that young Joseph Ratzinger Jr. acquiesed to the dark politics of his day. Thus, to some, Pope Benedict XVI is the Antichrist; to some, an anti-semite; and to some, he is both. So much hate, so much contradiction, so much irony. And yet all of it is rooted in historical fact. How To Hate Apparently, if you want to hate someone, all you need to do is to look at their family history. And when you find what you believe to be good cause to hate, you must look no further. Literally. Because if you do, you might just find that right there in that family history, alongside of those whom you revile the most, are those who you would consider your allies, your friends and even your own family. So much hate is bound up in the notion that we're all separate from one another - with this group hating that group, and that group hating another group, and all of the lines drawn firmly and irrevocably, But it turns out that the facts do not bear out that separation at all. In fact, we're not separate. We're all related. All of us, even the ones who hate us for who our parents were, even the ones whom we hate for who their parents are. How to Not The philosopher, George Santayana, famously said that "those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." We learn history in school for a number of reasons, not the least of which is to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. But what about our family history? Rarely is family history committed to writing. Rarely do we know much beyond who the parents of our parents were. Family history can feel strangely remote. Yet we expect our children to study wars that happened a thousand years ago among strangers to whom they are not connected at all, at least to anyone's knowledge. If we can ask our children to remember why a war between Britain and France was fought along the shores of the Ohio River in the 1700's, surely it isn't too much to ask that we all dig a little into our our histories to understand how we came to be who we are. Sure, genealogy can be difficult to parse, and the further back we delve into times when it was rare for anyone to venture beyond five miles of their birthplace, when marriages were arranged between cousins with the same last name and children were named for their older siblings who died in infancy, which older siblings had been named for their thirteen-year old parents, the more confusing it gets. My own children have watched me bite my nails down to the quick as I attempt to figure out who was the father of the first Cecilia Knopfelmacher who died giving birth to the second Cecilia Knopfelmacher, whose husband, Nathan Kohn-Zerkowitz somehow ended up being one of my fourth great-grandfathers? "Why does any of this matter?" they ask me. Well, I maintain that it matters. My trip up my family tree taught me that none of us is separate from one another - neither as individuals nor as groups. As such, hate that is rooted in the illusion of that non-existent separation is nothing if not absurd.]]> Does My Pixie Piss You Off? tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.6179714 2014-11-18T19:08:11-05:00 2015-01-18T05:59:01-05:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ Although I assume that it goes without saying, please allow me to clarify: I didn't cut my hair to piss anyone off. I cut it because I had grown to hate my long hair. I'd worn my hair long nearly all my life - with two exceptions. The first was when I was ten, and my mom had "Mr. Tony" give me a "Dorothy Hamill". I cried when I saw myself in the mirror and swore "never again." Then I lost every hair on my head to chemotherapy when I was thirty-six. Even then, I wore long, flowing wigs for as long as I could -- until my hair had grown too long for a wig to stay securely attached to my head. For the next year, I waited anxiously for my unintended tiny little pixie to grow back to how I liked it: long. Long. Loooong. Once again, I swore my forever fealty to long, flowing locks. What both short-hair interludes had in common was that I lacked choice in the matter. Having had short hair foisted upon me, I felt bullied by it. I never expected to wake up one day more than ten years later and realize that I felt bullied by my long hair. But that's what happened towards the end of this past long, frizzy summer. I got out of the shower and was pulling my hair back into a high ponytail - for what felt like the zillionth day in a row -- and the thought occurred to me: if I liked having long hair so much, then why don't I ever wear it down? The answer was painfully obvious: because my hair looked like crap. It didn't know whether to be straight or curly. It fell in awkward cowlicks. It made my neck sweat. It felt unkempt, and the inevitable ponytail made me look like I was too busy carpooling to give a damn about what I looked like. I looked in the mirror and saw a soccer mom staring back. And my kids don't even play soccer. I started by just cutting some bangs. But as most bangs turn out to be, mine were unfortunate. Next came a chin-length bob. I liked it until I realized that I had shaken off "soccer mom" to channel "recent college graduate looking for first job". That's how chin-length came to be ear-lobe-length. And I loved ear-lobe length -- until I realized that it didn't look like an intentional style so much as that awkward middle stage of growing out a pixie. Wait. Did someone say "pixie"? Suddenly, thoughts of a sassy little pixie - a fully intentional pixie, a pixie by choice, rather than a pixie that was foisted upon me by a well-meaning mom or a life-threatening illness - danced in my head as I obsessed over photos of Robin Wright, Michelle Williams, Mia Farrow and Emma Watson and followed "NothingButPixies" on Instagram. Please allow me to say this again: I did not cut my hair to piss anyone off. I cut my hair because I was tired of wearing my hair in a ponytail every damned day. I cut my hair because I was feeling young and sassy and creative, and yet my hair looked old and tired and boring. I cut my hair because I cared about how I looked, while my hair made me look like I'd given up. I cut my hair because I wanted to look more feminine -- and nothing puts the g-rated lady-bits (lips, eyes and cheekbones, not to mention ears, neck and collarbones) on display like a pixie. Although I didn't cut my hair to piss anyone off, I seem to have done just that. When my husband first saw my new do, he gasped and told me, "I can't look at you right now" (although he has since apologized and gifted me with jewelry to make up for his gaffe). A day after I posted my first pixie-selfie on Facebook, a comedian friend posted, "Women, when you cut your hair off, you are basically admitting that you hate men." A little laugh at my expense much? Click. Unfollowed. Among women, the most popular response to my short hair is, "My husband would kill me." While I understand the sentiment, I'm inevitably left wondering how we transitioned from my hair to her husband. But some women will ask me directly, "What did your husband say?" Either way, the message I'm gleaning is, "You suck as a wife, and I'm inexplicably pissed off by it." "You're so brave," some women tell me when they see me for the first time since I went pixie. Most would swear that this is meant to be a compliment. But really? What am I "brave" for exactly? For disobeying my husband? For walking around with short hair? For daring to look like me? Sorry, but I call bullshit -- as in passive-aggressive bullshit. When someone says, "you're so brave," what I hear is "Your short hair causes me to feel inexplicably pissed off." Just as some women feel compelled to express their pissed-offness by damning me with faint praise, others feel compelled to politely explain why they won't be cutting their hair any time soon. My favorite version of this is, "I could never cut my hair because I need to be able to wear a ponytail." It's just so poetic. And circular. But what I find particularly curious is why my hair inspires some women to say aloud that they would never make the same choice. It's not as if I've demanded that they join forces with me in my obvious man-hating and husband-baiting. And it's not as if I've demanded an explanation as to why they aren't getting a haircut. I cut off my long hair because I wanted short hair. It's really that simple. I didn't do it to piss anyone off. If my pixie pisses you off, just remember: it's mine.]]> Surprisingly Valuable Advice on Giving Unsolicited Advice tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.6061798 2014-10-28T16:54:40-04:00 2014-12-28T05:59:01-05:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ 1. Shut the f#$k up. Shutting the f#$k up is the number one most effective cure for advice-promiscuity. Please note: your freedom to voice your opinion is always sacrosanct. So is your freedom to eat McRibs and have sex without a condom. Use your freedoms wisely. Or risk being labeled an asshole. 2. Before giving your advice to others, try giving it to yourself to see how you like it. So, how'd that go? Like it? If your knee-jerk reaction was to tell yourself to "shut the f#$k up," well, maybe you've got a point there. 3. Abide By The Rubber and Glue Principle. Your five-year old nephew is correct: Whatever you say does, in fact, come right back to you. Odds are, whatever advice you yearn to bestow upon others is advice you are in need of following, yourself. This is not my opinion, but a universal truth. If you don't believe me, do an Internet search for "psychological projection". 4. Don't ask for advice. You know you don't want it. So if you find yourself seeking advice, you'd be better off acknowledging your true agenda: opening the door to being all slutty with your unsolicited advice. But don't kid yourself. You're not fooling anyone. Everyone has a tell, and everyone knows yours. Don't make us see it. It's unbecoming. And you know you wanted this advice, or you wouldn't be reading here. 5. Be a better person. Your need to give advice most likely stems from a desire to improve yourself. Just do that. It would be a far greater gift to the world than any advice you could ever give. 6. Aversion therapy. Your compulsion to give away your advice can only exist if you believe that others want it. This is a delusion. It arises for any one of a number of reasons, but the reason doesn't matter. What matters is that you shut the f#$k up. The time-honored and most low-tech method of nipping a compulsion in the bud is aversion therapy. Here's how it works in this case: you wear a rubber band on your wrist, and snap it every time you want to offer unsolicited advice. And if you don't have enough discipline to make yourself do so, then recruit your friends to do it for you. Whenever you begin a sentence with "You should," they will be entitled to snap away. 7. Express yourself creatively. By finding creative ways to express your feelings, you can effectively take the edge off of your compulsion to offer unsolicited advice to others. That's why I write. It totally eliminates my impulse to offer unsolicited advice. Now you know. But you don't have to write. You can paint or sing in the shower or make grumpy cat memes. The possibilities are endless really. Just find something that engages you, and you may forget all about the fact that you have super-important opinions to share and advice to bestow on others. 8. See a shrink. With a shrink, you can whine about how everyone needs your advice but is too stupid/closed-minded/afraid to take your advice. Unlike your stupid/closed-minded/scared friends, your shrink won't react by screening your calls. She'll even talk about what it means and why you see things the way you do. Pretend-friend and psychological analysis in one? I call that a win-win. 9. Don't pretend that offering your opinion isn't just another way of giving advice. "I'm entitled to my opinion," you say. But everyone knows that an opinion is nothing more than passive aggressive advice. No one is fooled. When you say "I liked your hair better long," I know that you mean "Please grow your hair long again." Everyone knows. So just stop. 9a. Corollary to 9: Don't ask a "question" for the sole purpose of offering your opinion. Example: "Are you going to wear that?" I know, and you know, and you know that I know, that the rest of the conversation will go according to a script that was written at the dawn of time. It will end with your offering unsolicited advice about what I am wearing. Don't go there. And if you really don't know that, then when in doubt, see number (1) above. 10. Filter the incoming.. Others will offer their own opinions and advice all day long. If you accord equal value to all of it, you will quickly become confused and irritable, and the only way you will know how to make the chaos stop is by purging the unsolicited opinions and advice by giving it all away to others, unsolicited. Do not fall into this trap. Filter what comes in. Then you won't have the need to vomit it back up. 11. Believe in yourself. Your beliefs do not depend upon validation from others. At the risk of sounding all "woo", I suggest that if you do what you know is right, and if you believe in your own intuition and your ability to make rational judgements and take reasonable actions, you will have no need to get in anyone else's face about anything. If you can't, then just shut the f#$k up. Please. And always say "please". Thank you.]]> I Got Nothin' to Be Sorry About, By Lewis the Beagle tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.5871050 2014-09-24T18:21:34-04:00 2014-11-24T05:59:02-05:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ Lewis the Beagle here, and the time for atonement is upon us, at least if you're Jewish like the humans who live in my house. It starts with this amazing smelling dinner that my humans call "Ruff Hash Onions". The name is a bit perplexing in that the meal appears to involve neither "hash" nor "onions". On the other hand, there's no denying it's "ruff", at least for me -- in that I'm not "invited" to partake. Note the quotes around "invited". We'll talk about that later. (Also, please note that I no longer refer to myself as "Lewis the Bagle" as it is my understanding that it is no longer politically correct to do so, thanks to an incident involving MIley Cyrus, a foam finger and an attempt to appropriate the trademark howl of my brethren.) Anywhooo, it's all good until "Yummy Kippers", which my humans usher in with a horrific and senseless game of survival, which they call "fasting". But don't let the name fool you. "Fasting" is nothing more than a euphemism for "not eating" all day long. Yes, you heard that right. Not eating. All. Day. Long. But it gets even worse from there. At the end of the day, they eat breakfast, and it doesn't even include bacon. Breakfast without bacon? Oh, the humanity. In between are a whole lot of days in which nothing interesting is happening on the dinner table, although it's hard to say just how many days, since as a dog, I have no sense of time whatsoever. But apparently, those are the days on which most of the atoning gets done. This year, I started thinking that maybe I should jump on the bandwagon and get into the whole atonement thing. If I'm being honest, my thinking was that it seems to be the ticket to the dinner table. Then the ugly truth hit me: Atonement is inherently biased against dogs. First of all, atonement requires introspection. And while I may look extremely intelligent, the truth is, I'm a dog. Don't get me wrong, I spend most of my waking hours thinking. But what I'm thinking about is food. Specifically, I'm thinking about how to get you to give me food. Or I'm thinking about how to help myself to your food when you're not looking. Whether or not that counts as "introspection" is something you'd have to take up with your rabbi. But somehow, it strikes me as getting off on the wrong paw. Atonement also requires acknowledgement of wrong-doing. And while my ancestors - the esteemed Beagles and Bassets - practically invented the sad-dog look, and while I personally know a thing or two about how to drag my tail between my legs, the truth is: I'm a dog. So nothing I do is wrong. Everything I do is not only adorable but engineered to be super-awesomely helpful. For example, I am aware of how it supposedly "inconveniences" my humans when I jump onto the table and help myself to their food without an invitation. But what they don't understand is that I am doing it for their benefit. You see, my humans could learn a thing or two about table manners. First of all, one word: "utensils". Why the euphemism? Call it what it is: "playing with your food". Then there's all the chewing. I love the humans that live with me, but may I just say "gross"? Food is meant to be swallowed whole, people. Teeth aren't for food - they're for shoes. Get it straight before you go out into the world and embarrass yourselves. Here's another example: that time that I pissed myself when I saw a mouse in the mudroom. And by "pissed myself", I mean "pissed all over the mudroom". Now, I don't recall my humans handing out any belly rubs or even any who's-a-good-boy's. And I gather that means that they would consider this wrong-doing on my part. But it was meant to keep the mouse away. I mark my territory, mouse gone. Get it? Obviously. Look, I love my humans with all my heartworm pills, but perhaps a little gratitude would be in order? Certainly, there is no wrongdoing to acknowledge in this case. And then there's this so-called "stealing" of food that I supposedly do every single chance I get. I don't steal food. I'm merely trying to be independent. I'm merely trying to take the burden off of my humans so that they can get back to doing what they do best - making money to buy food, buying food, making food (notice how I didn't say "eating" food - as I pointed out, they could use some pointers from me). Where is the wrongdoing? Plus, isn't it helpful that I don't demand that my humans cook the oatmeal before I eat it? Isn't it helpful that I only drink out of the toilet? Less work for them, I'm thinking. But, if I'm guessing right, these are the sort of things that my humans might expect me to "think about" and about which they might wish to have me "acknowledge wrongdoing". Is it wrong for me to nose my way into the trashcan under the sink and forage for bubble gum? Where do they think that bubble gum goes after its been chewed? Landfills? Hello, environmental responsibility? I chew the gum, I throw it up on the carpet, and I chew it again. By the time I'm through with it, it's practically compost. And if there's no wrongdoing, how can I promise never to do it again? Atonement requires that too. If what I'm doing is wrong, then I don't want to be right. My humans need my help. It would be be a lie for me to say otherwise. And by D-g, I'm not going to lie (except on the really comfy chaise lounge that my humans bought so that I could watch SportsCenter with my brothers in the family room). If it's a choice between atoning for the sake of getting an invitation to the dinner table on the Jewish Holidays, or being my authentic, helpful, adorable self, I'll take the latter. And then I'll jump on the table when they're not looking. Shana Tova, humans!]]> Imagining The Pain: Robin Williams tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.5681906 2014-08-15T11:12:52-04:00 2014-10-15T05:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ But much bigger than that joy is the overwhelmingly huge disappointment you feel when you sense that you haven't met your mark, or you weren't as good as you were yesterday, or ten years ago, and it's only getting worse, and soon not only will your loved ones hate you, the world will hate you, and they probably already do. Maybe every time you talk to your kid, it ends up in a fight, and you want to fix it, but fixing it only breaks it more. Maybe your wife is tired of listening to you whine and obsess. Maybe you know that your wife is hurting because you can only smile in public, and never at home with her. You've seen shrinks, you've taken meds, but it always comes back to this. Suicide hotlines? As if you had the energy to call one. Maybe you need a drink or a toke, but you promised your children you were done with that stuff. Its tiring to keep trying, and it's torturing everyone in your life- your kids, your wife, your costars, even your dog. And your brain NEVER stops reminding you of how much pain you're causing to your loved ones. Your brain is your enemy. It tells you that EVERYONE will be better off if you can stop adding insult to injury and just kill yourself already. Sure, they will hurt at first, but then they will feel better because normal people, well, that's what they do. They will feel better and be grateful that you stopped ruining everything. They will be sad, but more grateful than sad ultimately. And the public, well, they don't really know you anyway, and you're old and past your prime, and you're saving them from watching you disintegrate before their eyes. You know you're smart. You've got an analytical mind. And your analytical mind is telling you that ending your life is a gift you can give the people suffering at your hands. The people who you disappoint and hurt. Your mind tells you that everything you touch turns to crap. And you've got a good mind. You can't live this way anymore, and you can't live any other way. That's what your brain on depression tells you. And a brain on depression is a master manipulator with a much weaker opponent: you, with Stockhom Syndrome. Your brain is your captor, and it tells you ugly lies, but you have no choice but to believe those lies. Your brain tells you you're hopeless. You believe it because it's the only brain you have. It's your only friend. And so, when your brain tells you that everyone around you is suffering because you're so miserable and worthless, you believe it. And your brain tells you that you can't fix it. You never could. And you can't now. You believe that too. So of course you believe it when it tells you that the only way to free everyone that you love from your misery is to end your life. And so you do.]]> 9 Inane Things Yoga Teachers Say tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.5561475 2014-07-07T09:57:41-04:00 2014-09-06T05:59:06-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ These days I prefer to do my "bending" at home, with only myself as the teacher. Best teacher ever, I might add. (No, best student ever. Thank you. No, thank you. We love each other! Can you feel the love?). And the best part is that with me as the teacher, teacher never accuses me of "cheating" if I let my knees hit the ground in chaturanga. And although she demonstrates every pose, it's not out of ego, it's out of necessity. If I want to keep my phone on my mat and text a little in class, she's like, "dude, I'm not saying a word -- it's YOUR practice." Sometimes I try to venture out to an organized group yoga practice. But inevitably, the same thing always happens: I get annoyed. Or offended. Because of the inane things the teacher inevitably says. Here is just a sampling of nine of the most inane things yoga teachers say. 1. "You need to lose weight." No. Just no. This is not The New York City Ballet, and I don't want to be The Black Swan. I just wanted to work out. Okay? 2. "The fact that you don't want to do it means that you need to do it." No. The fact that I don't want to do it means that you should shut up and let me not do it. 3. "Get up, you're distracting the class." This was heard in a class labeled "beginner". Seriously, that's not right. Is it? I'm asking for a friend. 4. "Your need to drink water is just in your mind." This was heard midway through a 90-minute hot yoga class -- and by hot, I mean the temperature default is 105-degrees Fahrenheit . 5. "Coconut water is identical to blood plasma. It can be injected directly into the veins." Please don't be making medical claims, particularly dubious ones. 6. "Everyone grab a partner." So, in other words, you and the guy next to me are pretty much interchangeable when it comes to hands on adjustments? Also, I don't want his hands on my ass. Also? There was that one time that "everyone grab a partner" ended up with me being dropped on my head. 7. "Watch while I demonstrate." Sure, I'd love to watch you demonstrate while my sweat grows clammy and my yoga pants stick to my legs. Or maybe..just maybe I came to your class to practice yoga - not to watch you perform a perfect leg-behind-the head? 8. "Why'd you come?" This is a rhetorical question that some yoga teachers like to ask as a way of motivating the class. For me, it does the opposite.. It actually makes me ask myself, why DID I come when I could be home practicing on my back porch to music I cued up, as opposed to your constant yammering? 9. "If you leave the room, don't come back." This was said, I think, in jest. But for me, it sounded like I'd just been double-down-dog dared. And so I left the room. And I didn't come back. Of course, never say never. Where else would I find my material? (*to me. Your experience may vary. And it probably does). ]]> How to Get Jennifer Lopez's 'I Just Woke Up' Selfie Look tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.5508265 2014-06-18T07:08:38-04:00 2014-08-18T05:59:04-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ By June 17, the selfie, in which Lopez wears no visible makeup but manages to look luminous as she frowns into her smartphone, had made its rounds, impressing the impressionable and inspiring admiration -- and even envy -- among those who believe that it's either remarkable genes or the best skin care money can buy -- or some combination of both -- that permits JLo to appear to "age in reverse". Now I know that JLo is beautiful, that JLo is talented, that JLo has been taking care of her skin. And I know that JLo looks amazing at 44. With makeup, without makeup, either way. But I'm calling bullshit on JLo's "I Just Woke Up Like This Selfie" -- on a technicality. You see, I believe that the selfie shows JLo wearing "no makeup". I believe that this is JLo's #realface and a #trueselfie. And I'll even allow that Jennifer Lopez did actually "wake up like this". I mean, personally, I couldn't go to sleep wearing a bikini or giant hoop earrings. And I need a bit of soap and water to get that fresh-scrubbed look, but maybe that's just me? What I do not believe is that JLo's selfie did not benefit from the use of a "filter". The iPhone 5 comes with nine filters in its photography application with names such as "tonal" and "instant", which are fairly self-descriptive. You take a photo, you apply a filter, et voila, you can see the photo as it would look if it were black and white, or if you took it with an old Polaroid. The "chrome" filter makes certain colors pop - it makes my eyes look bluer and my hair look redder. But it's the "fade" filter that holds a special place in my heart. "Fade" is one of the least invasive anti-aging tricks that exists on the planet. Requiring nothing more than a fingertip to a touchscreen, "fade" is capable of hiding a multitude of pesky imperfections that stand in the way of looking like JLo on a "no makeup day". In other words, bye bye, blemishes, wrinkles and freckles! Hello "#realface #trueselfie #Iwokeuplikethis"! And you wouldn't be lying, not exactly at least. But the iPhone filters are nothing compared to the twenty filters available on Instagram. My personal favorite is "toaster", which bestows a gentle warmth and somehow seems to smooth things out quite nicely. And that's not all. Instagram also allows users to manually adjust photos for brightness, contrast, warmth, saturation, highlights and sharpness, among others. Here is an example of how it works. Here is me, this morning, freshly showered (I had to shower to get last night's makeup off). I can honestly say that I like JLo, I am #realface #trueselfie #iwokeuplikethis": I'm 48, and I don't look too bad for my age. But I look my age. Because I am my age. Curious, however if I could attain JLo's smooth, radiant luminosity without makeup, I played with my filters. First I came up with this, in which I continue to be #realface #trueselfie #iwokeuplikethis": . But I realized that I didn't look like JLo. JLo doesn't have wrinkles on her forehead. JLo doesn't have freckles. JLo doesn't have smile lines. What was I to do without resorting to makeup? Or pulling back the camera so it wasn't so damn close to my face? But JLo didn't need such things. She showed us her #realface #trueselfie #iwokeuplikethis" selfie, on a "no makeup day". I fretted for a bit, and then I decided to go back on Instagram and add a second filter. But that wasn't enough. I also did some tweaking with the manual adjustment options. I added light. I reduced color saturation a bit. I reduced contrast and completely eliminated sharpness. Et voila! Here I am, on a "no makeup day", just me and my #realface, a #trueselfie, and dear reader, don't hate me just because #iwokeuplikethis: So, you can thank me later, after you've uploaded your own luminous, radiant, freshly-scrubbed #realface #trueselfie, about which you can honestly proclaim, "#iwokeuplikethis". Because you did. Just don't make the claim that your photo is "NoFilter". Because that would be lying. And just in case you aren't inspired by my own personal selfies, I decided to do a bit of de-filtering of JLo. The photo on the left is her "#realface #trueselfie #iwokeuplikethis" selfie. On the right, I have used my own filters to re-imagine how JLo might have looked in the raw photo, before the filtering: Either way, Jennifer Lopez is gorgeous and maintains herself beautifully. But a filter? Now that can do wonders.]]> Teen Talk: What Do Our Teenage Girls Say About #BringBackOurGirls? tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.5305758 2014-05-12T01:09:25-04:00 2014-07-11T05:59:03-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ Hillary Clinton calls it an act of terrorism. Angelina Jolie has called for the arrest and severe punishment of the perpetrators -- who appear to be members of Boko Haram, a group whose interpretation of Islamicism condemns the education of girls -- an interpretation it enforces through the abduction of girls into slavery. I've been feeling outraged, myself. But when Michelle Obama said on May 10 that in the kidnapped girls, she and the President "see their own daughters and can only imagine the anguish their parents are feeling right now," I felt that outrage personally -- as a parent. I felt it as a parent who sometimes forgets to be grateful that here in this country, education is a right, regardless of gender. And I felt it as the parent of teenage boys who on occasion have been heard expressing their own outrage over what they perceive as the indignities of their own pursuit of education -- to wit, being required to be in school by 7:40 a.m., having to show all their work on math tests, and having to read The Catcher In The Rye when they'd rather be watching SportsCenter. And as that parent of teenage boys, I wondered: What do my teens feel about what's happened in Nigeria? Or about the fact that in some parts of the world, attempting to pursue an education could cost a girl her freedom and her life? What do the their teenage friends think? What's the buzz in the high school halls? "I don't really know," said the 17-year-old, who had to get back to his pre-calc. "Why you asking me?" snarked the almost 15-year-old. He was in the middle of Minecraft. I realized I needed a different perspective -- that of a teenager not related to me. And I had just the teenager in mind. I had become acquainted with "Elizabeth" through my work as a hyper-local news reporter for the comfortably affluent Westchester County suburb where she lives and attends public high school -- a high school whose emphasis on high quality education is well-known in the region and obvious from its curriculum -- which includes Latin and which has an AP program in which nearly 80 percent of the students participate. Last summer, Elizabeth met and befriended a teenage girl who had escaped to the United States from a developing nation in South Asia for the purpose of obtaining an education --which she had come to recognize would be impossible in her home country without putting her life and the lives of her loved ones at risk. "My friend is all alone here, having left her family, culture and everything and everyone she knew behind just so that she could go to school, something we take for granted here, but which was denied to her as a female in her home country," Elizabeth told me when we met through her mother in January, "and despite all the obstacles, all my friend wants is an education, -- to help girls with similar stories, all over the world. My friend is one of the bravest people I have ever met." Indeed, Elizabeth refers to her friend only as "Najida" -- Arabic for "bravery" and not the girls name, which Elizabeth won't reveal for fear of putting her friend and her friend's loved ones in danger. So sensitive is the situation - as exacerbated by the recent events in Nigeria -- that "Elizabeth"'s parents asked that I not even name Najida's home country and that I not refer to "Elizabeth" by her real name either. Notwithstanding that sensitivity, Elizabeth (with moral support from her family) has been raising awareness as well as funds to help Najida gain asylum in the U.S. One of the ways in which she has done so is by holding screenings of the 2013 documentary film, Girl Rising, which tells the stories of nine girls striving to become educated despite having been born into "unforgiving" circumstances in Cambodia, Haiti, Nepal, Ethiopia, India, Peru, Sierra Leone and Afghanistan. Those circumstances include early and forced marriage, domestic slavery, gender violence and discrimination and lack of access to healthcare. And after careful consideration by her family and her pastor, Elizabeth was willing to weigh in for this story on both the crisis in Nigeria and how Nigeria provides just one glimpse into what is essentially a worldwide education, economic and human rights crisis. "Nearly 60 million kids around the world have no access to school -- no education, no chance to better themselves or to better the world -- and most of them are girls," Elizabeth began. I asked her how such a staggering situation could happen. Elizabeth: In some countries school isn't public or free. It's expensive, and families that can afford it at all usually send only their boys. Sometimes religious pressure intimidates. Even if it's coming from some group the government doesn't support. We're seeing this in Nigeria. To send a girl to school in these situations, the families have to make huge sacrifices and take unbelievable risks - risks that people like me and my friends would never even imagine except when something like this happens or when we meet a girl like Najida. Then all of a sudden, it's like - whoa. That could be me. Me: Is that why the hashtag is "Bring Back OUR Girls"? Elizabeth: Well, they are "our girls" -- it's not just girls in one county, it's worldwide, and its about human rights -- the right to improve yourself, your family and the world without risking violence, slavery or death. Me: In the past few days, I've seen some backlash - people making the case that we should stop with the hashtags and stop urging the U.S. to get involved. Your thoughts? Elizabeth: I don't see how anyone can separate themselves from something that is just so morally wrong, so unjustifiable. But here -- I can give you some major global issues that make it clear that what's happened in Nigeria is really everyone's problem: First, research presented by world leaders like the United Nations Secretary General indicates that educating girls will have the effect of boosting the world's economy -- putting more people into the workplace and cutting healthcare costs because educated girls tend to be healthier and have healthier children and fewer children. That also helps to reduce overpopulation and world hunger. And evidence shows that educated women are less likely to be victims of violence overall -- even counting the attacks like the one in Nigeria. Then there's the fact that Boko Haram claims their actions are being done in the name of Islam, which is not a fair statement of the religion for all of those who practice it. Misinformation engenders hate that isn't warranted. The reality is that top Islamic theologians have come out and condemned the kidnapping and disassociated it with Islam. Me: I can feel that your heart is really in this, but what are the other kids at school saying? Elizabeth: Well, we're talking about it, and that's what's important. And the high school is screening "Girl Rising" twice in the next few months. This is a lightbulb-over-the-head moment. What happened in Nigeria isn't an isolated incident. It's the tip of the iceberg, and we're going to talk about it and keep talking about it because people need to know. Note: I'd like to thank Elizabeth's family for facilitating this interview and allowing me to publish it. Elizabeth's family is just beginning to become comfortable with the attention that Elizabeth's involvement in the cause is drawing to her. But like their daughter, they feel morally bound to raising awareness on the topic. In closing, and in reference to not only the Nigerian girls and their families but also to the perpetrators of the abduction, Elizabeth's mom generously offered this prayer: "God help them and us all through these very difficult times."]]> Martha Stewart: I Asked Her Nothing; She Tells Me Everything tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.5069839 2014-04-01T00:20:20-04:00 2014-05-31T05:59:02-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ entire house, with better lighting and a view of Ralph Lauren's place. She's got a driver named Carlos who's so good with a camera, she sends him to cover local news like the fire at the house next door to hers. She's the Town of Bedford's Homemaking Queen. At 70-something, she's still a model and attracts more interest on her Match.com profile than any model one-third her age. She's a dog-loving cat lady. She believes that cleanliness is next to sexiness. Her calendar is packed with more activity in April than my calendar for the 1990s. She's Martha Stewart. And she's my neighbor. Sort of. I mean, her Cantitoe Corners property is about a 10 minute's drive from my property, which has no name exactly, other than "that house where that crazy beagle runs amok." And therefore, she's on my beat. See, I'm a hyper local news reporter for the Town of Bedford, in which the Hamlet of Katonah is located -- for All About Bedford. Bedford is also where the Bedford Women's Prison's stately grounds are located. Hell, if it were up to me, my publisher would let me cover Martha Stewart all the time and change the name of our publication to "All About Martha Stewart and Also Bedford." Alas, we have local politics, police matters and Family Fun Night to cover, so Martha must sometimes take a backseat. But not today. Today, the Queen of All Good Things took a quick break from running her multi-media empire, getting the gardens ready for spring, growing her own kale, raising her own chickens, walking her dogs, cuddling with her cats, raising her Friesian horses, practicing yoga, playing with her grandson, enjoying the pizza at the new Inn at Pound Ridge, and talking to the social-media-savvy kids over at Reddit to do a little Q&A with... why, with me of course.* Me: Well, Martha, it's a "good thing" that you've decided to speak with us. Get it, Martha? See what we did there (winks)? Martha: (smiles politely) You do realize I invented "It's a good thing" before you were even born. Me: So, how's it going with your PBS talk-show, Martha Stewart Cooking School? Martha: Actually, it's a how-to show with entertainment and a live audience -- It's not a talk show. I don't see a couch anywhere. Me: Ah, so then I suppose Tom Cruise won't be paying a visit? Martha: I believe I've banned couches from the set. Me: Well, I'd like to have a talk show. Any advice? Martha: My top three rules of hosting are: 1. Pay attention to your guests. 2. Interact with them. 3. Feed them fine food and wine. Me: Ms. Stewart, I don't mean to gush, but I am like the hugest fan of MarthaStewart.com, and so, as a generator of online content, myself, can you give me any pointers? Martha: Martha, call me Martha; Ms. Stewart is what my former mother-in-law was called in 1972 after she read Gloria Steinem. As for online content, I have two French bulldogs, Franchesca and Sharkey, who have their own blog -- The Daily Wag. And let me just tell you, they are brilliant at it. Me: Got any exciting projects coming up? Martha: I have an intrinsic passion to create work that is functional, beautiful and what people are seeking. Me: Sounds pretty much like the Internet (laughing), eh? Martha: (deadly serious ) Exactly. Me: Oh?! Well, I suppose that was bound to happen eventually! So you'll be doing a full renovation renovation of the internet? Or simply redecorating? Martha: I have to keep my credibility alive with my readers... I'll just make it nicer and nicer. Like my home: It started out like a farm, it got to be a farmette, then it got to be an estatelet. Think: "internetette", or possibly "internetlet". Me: So, do you have a particular aesthetic in mind ? Martha: I love the idea of good design accessible to all. Me: Speaking of accessible, I was positively appalled to hear that Gywneth Paltrow has never invited you to her home. You're always welcome at mine. Wanna come over and let me know what you think of my own design aesthetic? Martha: I learned many years ago never to criticize, only compliment. Even if one's home is horrifyingly awful. Me: I heard you were very publicly online dating. How did that come about? Martha: Without an open-minded mind, you can never be a great success. Also, I'm still a model. And I am not necessarily looking for a serious relationship, as I have alluded. Me: Any interest in running for president in 2016? Martha: Sounds like a good idea. Me: Ever hang out with fellow Bedford-ite, that movie heartthrob, Ryan Reynolds? Martha: I said you could "ask me almost anything." Next question. Me: During your Reddit interview, you stated that you don't know what a "dildo" is, yet when it was suggested that you learn about it from your friend, Barbara Walters, you said that you and Barbara "have better things to talk about." How do you know what's better to talk about than dildos if you don't even know what a dildo is? With all due respect, of course. Me: With all due respect, what's a dildo? Me: If you were to start a rock band, what would the name be? Martha: Any Number of Gumbos. Me: How do you feel about April Fools Day pranks? MS: I much prefer them when they are actually funny. *Not really. The quotes are real -- mostly -- and taken totally out of context whenever possible.]]> Yoga and Baseball: 108 Degrees of Harmonic Convergence tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.4944322 2014-03-11T20:08:15-04:00 2014-05-11T05:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ 108 Sun Salutations (how often does someone who says they are going to do so actually do so?) to celebrate that thing that they celebrate regarding something or other (the sun? the seasons? the life cycle? I can't quite remember, even though I've written about it once or twice or thrice). Now, follow the logic: If baseball season goes with the arrival of spring, And the arrival of spring goes with the practice of yoga, Then baseball must go with yoga. It's a mathematics thing. It's called a "Transitive Relation" (if A is related to B and B is related to C, then A is related to C). It's in Wikipedia, so it's not merely true, it's noteworthy. So, yoga and baseball. Baseball and yoga. It's not like they have nothing in common, although I'll grant they have very little in common. Baseball's a sport. Yoga is not* (*or is it?). Baseball is played on teams. Yoga is not (although it is practiced by one NFL Team - the Seattle Seahawks - as part of their mandatory training). Baseball has a set of official rules. Yoga's rules are not codified, although they certainly are numerous. Baseball comes in one flavor (American). Yoga does not (Yoga pole dance, anyone?). But there's this one thing. And it's essential. It's the number 108. Just as yoga has 108 Sun Salutations, baseball has a ball with 108 stitches (yes, I know, they're double stitches, but that still adds up to 108 double stitches). Could this possibly be just a coincidence? Is coincidence even a thing? Or could it be...perhaps...that baseball and yoga are inextricably intertwined on a deep and essential level - a level so deep and essential that it is virtually impossible to perceive the connection? As the faithful would tell you, the impossibility of proof is proof enough. As yogis would tell you, the fact that you think you know proves you don't. As Yogi Berra would say, "You better cut the pizza in four pieces, because I'm not hungry enough to eat six." Perhaps then, the apparent disparity between baseball and yoga is nothing more than a bunch of cosmic bunk? Whether it is or is not, one thing's for certain: I'm here to debunk it. I begin with the statement made by the character of Annie Savoy (played by Susan Sarandon) at the outset of the 1988 movie, Bull Durham: "There are 108 beads in a catholic rosary, and there are 108 stitches on a baseball. " When Annie heard that she "gave Jesus a chance." Nevermind that it "didn't work out" or that there's no mention of "yoga" - because of the whole "transitive relation" thing again: Baseball and Catholicism. Catholicism and Yoga. Baseball and Yoga. Et voila. And it's not just Catholicism either. Religions the world over treat "108" as a sacred number. Tibetan and Zen Buddhists, as well as Sikhs, string 108 beads together for prayer, just as the Catholics do. Buddhists count 108 names for Buddha, 108 feelings and 108 defilements. Hindus count 108 names for Shiva. It is the 108th verse of the Old Testament which tells of God's creation of man. As for "man", 108 is the Chinese representation. And 108 is the number of degrees Fahrenheit at which a man's bodily organs will fail. As such, the number 108 not only connects baseball to yoga and yoga to baseball, but also yoga and baseball to numerous other religions - both theistic and non-theistic - as well as to the creation of man and to man's undoing. Likewise, as much as the number 108 is connected to religion, it is also connected to heresy - being the number of chances an individual has for transcending the material world according to the "heretical" study of "Gnosticism". As such, 108 connects religion to heresy (as well as heresy to yoga, but that's a whole other story). Similarly, the number 108 connects science (astronomers have measured the distance between Earth and Sun as 108 times the Sun's diameter, which they likewise measured as 108 times the diameter of Earth) and pseudoscience (Astrologists can identify 108 personality permutations by virtue of the twelve signs of the Zodiac multiplied by the nine planets). All that is disparate can now be connected thanks to the number 108. It's the number of cards in an UNO deck (game) as well as the number of "zones" in Digimon's Digiworld (gamers). It's the number of days it took Yuri Gagarin to orbit the earth (outer space) and the number of routes energy can take to flow through the human body (inner-spacey). It's the number of Penelope's suitors in Homer's The Odyssey (monumental epic poem), and the diameter of Stonehenge (epic monumental mystery). Theism, non-theism. Religion, heresy. Science, pseudoscience. Space travel, energy channels. Literary classics of ancient Greek origin, archaeological classics of unknown prehistoric origin. All of them connected by the number 108, and therefore, all of them connected (transitive theory - it's a mathematics thing). So then, why not baseball and yoga? Is it really such a seventh inning stretch (sorry, couldn't resist) to connect the great American pastime with my own favorite pastime? As baseball's great Yogi would say, "If you ask me a question I don't know, I'm not gonna answer."]]> 10 Things Wikipedia Says Are More Notable Than You tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.4914400 2014-03-06T17:33:51-05:00 2014-05-06T05:59:02-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ Wikipedia article about you? Nope, me neither. For me, that comes as no surprise. I mean, as fascinating as I might believe myself to be, I've never been under the illusion that anyone would have any need to look me up in an encyclopedia. Still, I found myself wondering recently: What exactly does it take to get a Wikipedia article written about oneself? Scouring through the glut of information Wikipedia provides on the topic, I found my answer: The key is "notability." If you ever wish to appear as an entry in Wikipedia, you must be notable -- and not just to yourself. In case you're wondering if you are, in fact, notable, Wikipedia makes clear that the absence of a Wikipedia article about you might just be a clue that you are not: "If your life and achievements are verifiable and genuinely notable, someone else will probably create an article about you sooner or later." I can accept that. But what if you're someone who truly believes that you are, in fact, "notable," and yet, inexplicably, no one has created an article about you? Although it might seem to argue against your own notability, hell, why not write your own Wikipedia entry? Well, it turns out that Wikipedia strongly discourages this practice, encouraging, instead, that aspiring article subjects make a request for article creation. Unfortunately, the price you pay for making such a request is that if declined, your request will be recorded for eternity on Wikipedia's web-accessible "Declined Articles For Creation Submissions" page. Perhaps then it is better to ask a third party to submit an article about you, for you? Presumably -- since you are notable -- you have a fan who'd be willing to do so. And if not, well, perhaps your mom or a friend for whom you'd be willing to return the favor? Unfortunately, if you're not notable, it will end up in Wikipedia's Declined Articles for Creation as well. In addition, the reason for the article's being declined is noted at the top of the article in a contrasting color and font. So, let's say you draft a glowing Wikipedia-type biography of yourself for your buddy to submit to Wikipedia. If your only sources are your own website, your blog, your Twitter feed and your Facebook page, it's going to be declined with a notation such as: "No extensive coverage in independent nor reliable sources, therefore non-notable." This cannot be remedied by adding independent sources that don't actually mention you, although apparently Wikipedia aspirants have tried. To me, having to endure such close proximity to Wikipedia while being denied a place on Wikipedia would be to endure the fate of Tantalus -- with delectable fruit dangled close, yet still out of reach. Plus, I'd feel embarrassed to be publicly labeled as "not notable" -- regardless of the veracity of the label. It's hard for me to imagine why anyone would subject themselves to such suffering. But perhaps some believe that being found "not notable" by Wikipedia actually creates its own form of notability? If you're inclined that sort of meta-thinking, then I say "go for it" -- because "notability" is subjective anyway. In fact, Wikipedia includes countless articles on topics that I do not personally consider "notable." I've compiled a short list of ten. As you read through them, don't forget to bear in mind that Wikipedia has deemed each and every one to be more notable than me, and probably you: 1. Phineas Gage: A railroad worker who lived in the mid-nineteenth century and survived for 12 years after a rock-blasting accident in which his frontal lobe was impaled by a metal rod. 2. Bird Fancier's Lung: A disease caused by the exposure to the dry dust of bird droppings. 3. Stadium Buddy : A condom-shaped porta-potty for guys who just can't be bothered to find an actual toilet but who are too well-mannered to simply pee against a wall. 4. Formicophilia: It's like a foot fetish, except instead of feet, it's insects crawling on your skin. 5. Night Soil: It's like dumpster-diving, except instead of dumpsters, it involves cesspools, and instead of stuff you might want to take home and display in your living room, it involves human feces. 6. Lithopedion: Calcified human remains of a fetus that died in utero that can remain in the body undetected for decades. 7. Adventitiousness: It's a word, so it's in the dictionary. Yet somehow it is notable enough to have merited a Wikipedia article. It refers to a quality of fortuitousness or serendipitous occurrence. 8. Anti-plurality Voting: A voting system where votes are cast for the undesired candidate; the candidate with the least votes wins. No one uses this system anywhere. 9. Coprosma Spathulata : A shrub indigenous to New Zealand, along with "nothofagus and rimu, where understory associates include Blechnum discolor and Doodia media." 10. Rotbold III (Count of Provence): According to Wikipedia, "an obscure person" who was the only son of his father, Rothbold II who lived in the 11th century. For anyone declared "not notable" by Wikipedia, that last one's gotta sting.]]> How to Boost Your IQ Using Your Facebook News Feed tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.4800213 2014-02-18T15:01:43-05:00 2014-04-20T05:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ Lumosity", except that it doesn't rely on the "science of neuroplasticity", which is definitely a thing, by the way, according to some of my Facebook friends. Instead, it utilizes a nifty algorithm designed to enhance the Facebook experience. I made it myself, and I call it the "Facebook News Feed Hack", or "Feed-Hack" for brevity. The Feed-Hack arose out of the premise that one's News Feed begins as nothing more than a disorganized blob of news and opinion. Each of us must act as our Feed's Editor-in-Chief, lest we run the risk of information overload, or worse, feeling contemptuous towards our Facebook friends. I like to think of myself as my Feed's own personal "Arianna Huffington", culling the most intelligent, interesting, earnest and witty takes on current events, politics, life and style, wellness, and entertainment. But editing is tricky when it's your friends providing the content. I love my Facebook friends -- from a healthy distance, at least -- but I don't love to scroll through hundreds of photos of the very same snowstorm that kept me inside all weekend. And I don't think I should have to click "like" just to prove that I'm not actually in favor of cancer. Defriending isn't an option with which I am comfortable. It's hostile, and it' s not the way people deal with conflicts in the real world. Defriending on Facebook is the real life equivalent of ending a real life friendship via phone blast to everyone you know. As an alternative, the Feed-Hack makes efficient use of an under-utilized right that Mark Zuckerberg granted to each and every one of us at Facebook's inception. And that is the right to "unfollow". There's a button for that. If you don't know where it is, you can inquire about it in a status update. Of course, that could get you unfollowed, at least by me. Look, only you can know what and whom you wish to edit off of your News Feed. But here are some of the factors that I use in my own personal algorithm: 1. Melodrama Melodrama of any kind is simply too distracting to belong an intelligent News Feed. If you don't know melodrama when you see it, then think about that Facebook friend who repeatedly threatens to quit Facebook forever. That is melodrama, and it's grounds for unfollowing. 2. Blackmail You know those posts that begin with, "I am doing a purge of my Facebook friends," or "I'm conducting an experiment to see how many of my friends really read my postings"? They usually end by demanding that to avoid being defriended, one must "click like, click share, tag me and add a word that only I understand". It's that last bit that gets me. You see, I like words, and so I find myself thinking of words and wanting to post one. Instead, I unfollow and hope that my friend is just being melodramatic. 3. Science Bashing Although I'm not a member of the "I Fucking Love Science" Facebook group, I respect science, nevertheless. So much so that I find it distracting to have my otherwise rational News Feed interrupted by people who have neither the education nor experience to warn others that "the medical community doesn't want you to know that anyone can cure their cancer if only they would eat lots of ginger, turmeric, grapefruit or [insert food of choice]." I've found that disagreeing isn't an efficient use of my Facebook time since no one on Facebook ever admits they are wrong; at best, they just stop replying. Unfollowing saves me time and also hides the fact that some of my friends can be kind of stupid sometimes. 4. Selfie-absorption Yes, friends, I know that have taken my share of selfies over the years. But lately I'm bothered by something: it's always the same face in the photo, and that face keeps getting older. Since I can hardly tolerate my own selfies anymore, is it fair to ask me to scroll through dozens of yours every single day before getting to the day's important news? If you notice that I am not one of the people who clicks "like" when you post a selfie, please do not consider it an insult. It is simply a reflection of the fact that I have unfollowed you until such time as your seemingly endless fascination with your own face begins to recede. 5. Stealth Bombing So, you know that old trick where you recruit costars for your selfies so that they won't seem so very selfie-like? So do I, and they still count as selfies. They're stealth-selfies. Or "stealthies". When you realize that my failure to "like" your stealthies means that I have unfollowed you, please take it as a compliment: I like you and do not want to think of you as someone who would exploit your dying grandmother, your Labradoodle or that friend of yours who's too polite to object when you offer to take a photo of her but then stick your own face in it. Also, it's difficult for me to absorb the day's news from my News Feed when I'm making a cringe-face. 6. Jocks Rap Everything I know about sports I learn from my News Feed. If all you can come up with is "Go [insert name of team here]!", then I'm going to have to unfollow you to make room for more value-added jocks-rap - like who's been suspended for doping and which coach has been accused of which impropriety. 7. RIP [Insert Name Of Dead Celebrity Here] I already know that [Dead Celebrity] died. You see, everyone knows. If you insist on cluttering my Newsfeed with "RIP [dead celeb]," without providing so much as a link to a news story, photo or personal insight, then it makes me think you're not good at hiding your efforts to get "likes". More importantly, the frequency of untimely celebrity deaths and my impatience with scrolling through all those "RIP" posts mandates unfollowing. 8. American Beauty I don't mind if you don't share my political views; my News Feed is non-partisan. However, my News Feed has a strict policy against misogyny. As Editor-in-Chief, I reserve the right to unfollow anyone who berates Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama or even Michele Bachmann on the basis of her appearance. Note: this does not apply to Chris Christie, who is not female. Also, I really enjoy those Christie-memes that conflate "bridge" and "fridge". 9. I Hope It Tasted Better Than It Photographed If you cooked something, and you want to take a photo of it, fantastic. But if the photo makes your lasagna look like vomit, then please do not put it out there. It is disturbing and distracting and grounds for unfollowing. 10. Doctor My Eyes I have a perfectly normal, totally not out-of-the ordinary, not at all worrisome fear of the dentist. So, please understand that photos of you in the dentist chair upset me, and when you post them, I might be tempted to unfollow you. That temptation becomes almost insurmountable if I think that it's only a matter of time before a photo of you in a paper gown and stirrups pops up on my Feed. I can't take that chance, Facebook friend. I'm sure you understand. 11. Disclaimer Anyone who posts a disclaimer to the effect that "Facebook does not own my shit" will be unfollowed, no questions asked. Like it or not, the way things stand currently, anyone can copy anything you post and forward it forever and ever to infinity. It may be embarrassing. It may be wrong. It may even give rise to a legal action if it's embarrassing and wrong enough. But your disclaimed utterly futile, and, for God's sake, I've told you this how many times? I'm left to wonder -- are you dense? And please understand, I like you too much as a Facebook friend to ever want to to think of you as dense. Feed-Hack: Build Your Own Personalized Program, Utilizing the Science of Unfollowing. Facebook friends, you're welcome.]]> It Happened to Me: There Are No Fat People in My Yoga Class, and I'm Suddenly Uncomfortable With It tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2014:/theblog//3.4709130 2014-02-12T10:36:51-05:00 2014-04-14T05:59:01-04:00 Lauren Cahn http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-cahn/ this gut-wrenching confessional about the day a black woman ruined Jen Caron's yoga practice. Being a yogi myself, compassion is my default. But in this case, I found myself feeling enraged. How dare Jen Caron single out some random black woman when everyone knows that the problem isn't black women; the problem is all people who aren't as skinny as me. Look, I'm not judgmental. Believe me when I say that I am sensitive to the plight of the fatties who seem to appear out of nowhere in January, only to disappear from the yoga studio soon after. It's just that I'm sensitive and deep. And so, their memories linger. Even after they've taken their chafed thighs and lack of discipline and gone back to the sofa to play Candy Crush Saga. The truth is, I too have a gut-wrenching tale to tell. It is not unlike Jen Caron's. It's just that it's much more important because, well, because it happened to me. It was a typical midday class in February. I had just settled onto my Manduka to warm up with some handstands and backbends. It was while I was upside down that a woman whom I had never seen before came into the studio and put her mat down near mine. My inner soul smiled when I realized that this woman must be skipping lunch. Skipping lunch is always a hopeful sign of commitment to spirituality. In that instant, I had high hopes for this woman. Perhaps she would not leave us as quickly as those who had come and gone in January. Unfortunately, my hopes were soon dashed as I became painfully aware that this woman was not as skinny as me. And suddenly, I was uncomfortable. And sure enough, I could sense that this woman was watching me as I placed one of my slender ankles behind my slender neck and then balanced on one slender butt-cheek as I reached around and clasped my slender wrists behind my slender back. Even as she pretended to be completely unaware of me, I could tell that she was keenly focused on me -- on my flexibility and on my skinniness -- although mostly on my skinniness. "Please don't hate," I implored her silently while she tried to make it appear as if she hadn't noticed me at all. It made me uncomfortable. My discomfort only worsened when my teacher, Parashakti Saraswati Namashivaya (you might know her as the corpse on the second to last episode on the eighth season of Law and Order: SVU) clapped her hands and called the class to stand at the front of our mats in "Thigh Gap Pose." If you're a yogi, then you'll know: This position refers to standing with toes aligned, thigh-gap on display. Parashakti was walking around the room checking thigh gaps and smiling approvingly, but this woman clearly had no idea what was being asked of her. Or perhaps she was just pretending not to know. You see, this woman's thighs were touching. I was kind of repulsed. But I was mostly embarrassed for her. And it made me uncomfortable. After Thigh Gap Pose, Parashakti cranked up the Daft Punk and instructed us to move into Rib-Counting Karma. Karma means "action." And Rib-Counting Karma is the sacred action of pulling in the abs and then counting the ribs one by one. That was when I saw the woman roll her eyes. It was unmistakable. And it was obvious why: She was feeling humiliated because her ribs were not prominent. How terribly vulnerable she must have felt in that instant. I actually yearned to help her. Tragically, there was nothing I could do. I had no choice but to stare straight ahead as my slender fingers danced along until they found my protruding hip bones. That's when I knew it was time for "Bikini Bridge," my favorite pose. Sure enough, Parashakti called out: "Bikini bridge," and I executed a perfect vinyasa to end up lying on my back. Just like everyone else in the class - except the woman, who clearly had no idea what a bikini bridge was. Even as my inner soul smiled that my yoga pants were suspended like a bridge between my protruding hipbones, I was dismayed by the woman's hostility. I couldn't see her face because I was lying down, but I just knew that she was hating me. Hating me because of my skinniness. It made me uncomfortable. And so the woman's pain became mine. Instead of feeling spiritually uplifted, I felt conscious of the woman's hostility. I didn't need to see the woman's eyes to know that they were seething with rage and accusation. "Tits on a stick!" they were screaming at me. Sometimes at night I can still hear the screams. "Tits on a stick!" -- as if she knew for sure that my boobs were fake. How dare she think she knew me? It made me uncomfortable. And with that discomfort, a terrifying question began to assert itself within my inner soul. What must it feel like to not be as skinny as me? The question echoed like a haunting refrain every single time Parashakti called out for us to do a Downward Dog, which was approximately once a minute. With every single Downward Dig, that woman's ass was right there in front of my face. And it was simply not as skinny as mine. That made it impossible for me to ignore. And it made uncomfortable. When I got home from the studio that day, I ate a gluten-free cracker and cried bitter tears. Yoga had always been a safe space for me to revel in having a body. To have a body is a gift -- even more so when you are as skinny as me. But this woman had violated my safe space. She hadn't even bothered to hide her envy or her anger. It was as plain as the muffin-top that spilled over her waistband. And it ate at me -- the way a fatty eats at a Twinkie. It made me uncomfortable. In the interest of disclosure, this entire article was a lie. Lauren Cahn would never refer to herself as "skinny," she prefers her crackers with extra gluten, and if anyone is ruining her yoga practice, it is herself.]]>


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Apr 22 2014, 3:28am CDT | by Bang Showbiz
Kate Upton has been cheated on.
The blonde bombshell has had her heart broken many times in the past, but believes the best way to deal with the pain is to cut all ties with her ex-boyfriends.
She told the Daily Mirror newspaper: "I definitely have been cheated on. Everybody's been through betrayal some way or another in their life. You're heartbroken and you have to heal that.
"I personally think the best revenge is just walking away and not wasting another second of your time with someone who's clearly emotionally handicapped. I think if someone hurts you in that way, it's not your job to change him, and it's not your job to be there while he's finding himself, and finding who he is.
"So I think walking away and being who you need to be for the rest of your life is the most important thing."
The 22-year-old model has been romantically linked to hunky sports stars Justin Verlander, Tim Tebow and Mark Sanchez in the past, but insists looks aren't her priority when it comes to men.
She added: "I love awkward, but cute. The type of guy I like, I always kid, I love a penguin."
Kate made a name for herself with sexy Sports Illustrated shoots, but is now turning her hand to acting with a role alongside Cameron Diaz and Leslie Mann in comedy 'The Other Woman' and admits it isn't easy making a career change.
She said: "It's exhausting to try to be taken seriously. But I'm willing to commit to that - I'm willing to fight."
Bang Showbiz
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Antiques Roadshow cameras capture tales of family heirlooms, yard sale bargains and long-lost items salvaged from attics and basements, while experts reveal the fascinating truths about these finds.
Classical WETA's online station VivaLaVoce presents classical vocal music in all its forms, from the Middle Ages to the present, 24 hours per day. Featuring Opera, Choral Music, and Art Song, the station offers something for everyone who loves vocal classical music.
In the 1970s and 1980s, Arlington, VA was a destination for Vietnamese immigrants.
Sesame Street, the recipient of 85 Emmys, helps children learn and grow with its unique blend of excitement, humor, and compassion.
Luis Araya immigrated to Arlington, Virginia from Bolivia in 1966, when very few Latinos lived in the county. He reflects on the changes he has seen over the years and the influence of Latinos in Arlington today.
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Home > News > India News
Posted on Feb 14, 10:10PM | IBNS
New Delhi, Feb 14 : With the collective conscience of India awakened by the fatal Delhi bus gang-rape incident of last December, the worldwide One Billion Rising movement for women's rights and safety found a new meaning in India on Thursday on the Valentine's Day with women, men, young and old coming together to regain the public space for the fairer sex as they sang, danced and made themselves heard.
The One Billion Rising movement that was started by playwright and activist Eve Ensler brought out thousands on the streets of India with national capital New Delhi, which witnesses one of the highest cases of violence against women, taking the lead in what seemed like a celebration of womanhood.
"Break the silence to end the violence. This is the message to the whole world," said Ranjana Kumari of Centre for Social Research at the gathering.
Kamla Bhasin, who leads the movement in South Asia, said patriarchy is dehumanizing women and urged all women and men to come forward.
"We are claiming what rightfully belongs to us," said another old woman activist.
In Kerala, people participated in the movement at the Durbar Hall Ground in Kochi city. Popular singer Usha Uthup will lead the campaign here with the 'Strike, Dance, Rise' theme.
"Artist Sajitha Shankar will showcase an installation on the occasion. Over 30 organisations that include women's forums, residents' associations and others have joined hands to form the Joint Women Forum that is behind the show," The Hindu reported.
In Mumbai, a programme has been arranged in the evening.
"Lets strike, dance and rise, bandstand and amphitheatre today 5:30 pm onwards," One Billion Rising: Mumbai Facebook page said.
Similar events were oprganized in other India cities like Kolkata, Ahmedabad, Chennai and Jaipur.
"Chennai will make Kolams (mandalas made with colors on the floor) outside their homes. For One Billion Rising, Kolams will be made all over Tamil Nadu to celebrate love and justice and equality," One Billion Rising website said.
Apart from India, women across 200 countries across the world participated in marches, singing and flashhmobs added momentum to the campaign.
Events were organized in different cities like Sydney, Singapore and Manila as part of the movement.
"Australia & New Zealand: Over 100 events are planned over the two countries, with Maori women in Auckland Rising and Aboriginal women in Sydney leading a healing ceremony and flash mob in a sports stadium," said the One Billion Rising website.
Speaking about the events organized in UK, trhe website said: "United Kingdom: There will be over 200 events including dance parties, rallies, flash mobs and art festivals from Bristol to London to Norwich and more. There will be a dance rally on the steps of Parliament, and an event at City Hall. A red London double decker bus will bring people around London to attend various events during the day."
Flashmob dances were organized at Manila park in the Philippines.
Several celebrities, including legendary sitarist late Ravi Shankar's daughter Anoushka Shankar, have supported the campaign this year.
Pertinently, Shankar, an accomplished sitar player herself, in a video message through online petition site change.org said she suffered sexual and emotional abuse by a man as a child whom his father and mother trusted.
Calling the abuse of women as enough is enough she said: "As a child I suffered sexual and emotional abuse for several years at the hands of a man my parents trusted implicitly. Growing up, like most women I know, I suffered various forms of groping, touching, verbal abuse and other things I didn't know how to deal with, I didn't know I could change."
"As a woman I find I am frequently living in fear. Afraid to walk alone at night, afraid to answer a man who asks for the time... and enough is enough. I am rising, for (the Delhi rape victim) and women like her. I am rising with the amazing women of my country. I am rising for the child in me, who I don't think will ever forgive and recover from what happened to her," she said.
"So join me, lets rise, lets dance, let us transform ourselves, let us transform the world," the 31-year-old sitarist who is now based in London said on change.org.
Supporting the movement, several celebrities shared their thoughts on micro-blogging site Twitter on Friday.
Actor-activist Shabana Azmi posted: "Women must transform the very notion of Power so it becomes about sharing of power for real change- not about powerful wielding power over weak."
"NOT SAME BUT EQUAL. Women n [and] men r [are] different n [in] this difference need to b [be] celebrated. Women ven [when] empowered shud [should] change the very notion of power," she wrote.