It’s also good to see something positive come from something so negative as teen suicide:

The site was born out of a need of mine, certainly, and perhaps some other folks as well for the middle point of view of this country to have a voice. Politically I have always considered myself a moderate – someone who wants to understand as many sides of an issue as possible and believes in collaboration. It is from this spirit that I’ve launched The Middle Nation.

The weekend of October 30th my wife and I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity (and/or fear) and were moved by the crowd and of course by Jon Stewart’s call to civility and reason. I did some iReporting for CNN – those reports are all up on The Middle Nation or you can find them over at CNN.com.

The sight of cleavage, combined with a biting smile that screams of bliss, coupled with an exuberant woman caught halfway in between a leap of freedom and the latest scent of Dove body spray, is enough to keep me barely emotionally occupied, yet occupied nonetheless.   I want this woman’s cleavage.  I want this woman’s smile.  I want…this woman’s life.  I watch the online ad again, I scan her left hand  – no wedding ring, she’s single.  She likely has a boyfriend.  What’s she wearing? Red fitted v-neck sweater, jeans, she’s young, late 20’s to early 30’s, probably just invested a good chunk of change into starting up her own business.  A potpourri and candle store, perhaps? I imagine the name of her new store, a quaint, cozy, seductively lit den, a hotbed of peach blossom and lavender, and peppermint oil.  The wrought-iron sign deliberately posted above its entrance reads, “Making Scents”.  Yes…”Making Scents”, very clever…she has a slight way with words.  She’s smart.  And happy.  And successful.  I like this woman, this joyful, confident, down-to-earth, yet sensual woman with a plan.  I want to be like her, but the closest to her I can seem to get is to buy the same kind of body spray she is wearing.

From the back of my mind, I am alerted by a feeling, I hold the computer’s gaze, then I shift, then back to the screen, then I shift again. Something inside of me is silently trying to figure something out, the deep of the muck from which my evolution was inspired is tremoring, much like a baby begging to remove itself from the womb.  I try to quiet it, but it’s starting to kick now, threatening to start thrashing if I don’t give it my immediate attention.  I begin to feel slightly ill.  I need to shut it up.  I swiftly open my web-browser, begin to type: “Google.com”…”facebook.com”…I need connection now.  I need “friends”.  I need “people”. I need to know what people are doing because I need to know that people are doing things.  I need to “like” what other people “like”.  I need to be heard, to “comment”, to agree that yes, Prince is amazing and Michael will be missed.  The only problem now is that my womb is empty, and my pregnancy has been prematurely terminated.

Facebook wants to know what’s on my mind,  I like to “share”.  Hours later, I am walking through Walgreens, really, I just came in here for some toilet paper, but the deodorant isle is calling me for some reason.  I find myself in front of the Dove selection, carefully evaluating how much this deodorant costs, then dreamily slipping into fantasy…the blonde woman with the cleavage.  With the smile, with the business.  With the Dove.  Should I buy it?  Should I?  No.  I know better.  I know that some psychologist somewhere has carefully analyzed groups of women just like me in order to help create an effective Dove campaign.  And it’s working.  I walk out of the store, forgetting my toilet paper in the process.  I need to go home now.  Something is wrong.  I need to go home.  Maybe if I had cleavage, I wouldn’t even need to buy the Dove.  Something is wrong.  I can’t shake it.  I want the baby back.  But I’ve rejected it, and it won’t show its face in my belly for a few days now.  I’ll just have to be patient.  But when it’s there, I don’t give it the attention it deserves.  I’m drying up.  On a black tar pit of advertisements and commercials, and false promises, and degrees of separation.  I want to touch people, but I can’t, they don’t seem real anymore.  The happy Dove woman has somehow stolen a piece of my identity in her effort to show me hers, and I want.  Mine.  Back.

I know that when I do give birth, I will never give birth to a monster.

*  Name of ad campaign has been changed to protect the innocent.  This blog in no way, shape, or form directly or indirectly represents trademarked company “Dove” or any of its internal representatives.

I take off my headphones and look up from my computer and over my shoulder towards the cubicle wall behind me. Listening for the sound…

Clck, clck, clck.clck,clck!!

I stand up. And look up and around the maze of cubicles trying to locate the sound. I turn just in time to see arching up and over the cubicles nerf arrows flying, piercing the silence as their plastic machine gun hosts clack and click away.

CLACKCLACKCLACKCLACK

It must be 6 o’clock. Time to go home for the day.

Thus was my re-introduction into the work force this past April.

I got a job with a major company working as a contractor on a project – a thirty day job that has turned into nearly six months of steady employment.

I was worried, having been unemployed since January of 2009, that I would have trouble rejoining the working world…the daily nerf war kinda helped ease that concern.

- There were two tribes in the great room -

Yet even in student government, it was clear that factors such as popularity, quality of campaign posters and (no joke!) how funny the final speeches were played larger roles in the election than how capable the “elected officials” actually were. There’s a certain amount of disillusionment that comes with many aspects of high school as a microcosm for the real world, but among them, student government still stands out as one of the most memorable.

The idea of a “fair” democracy, then, of having a truly effective and representative body working to help further our wishes and solve our problems, clearly didn’t always apply. And the main block between a desire for a representative democracy and actually fulfilling that desire was simple: those who had the optimism to believe that their vote mattered were the ones who came to control the way the student government ran. The rest of the apathetic student population could complain all they wanted, but realistically, by failing to take action, they had forfeited their right to criticize.

Over time, and through the haze of high school, college and post-college living and a quickening pace of life, that initial faith in democracy has since waned. For our generation, blind faith that a true democracy exists on its own has been replaced by the understanding that nothing worth it comes easy — and this, too, includes that elusive concept of a perfect government.

The beauty of the democracy is that it provides an open forum for anyone who wants to participate, should they choose to. The truth about the democracy, however, is that this freedom of choice often leads to the decision (conscious or not) that the fate of societal problems lies in someone else’s hands.

And this is the side of “democracy” they didn’t teach in jr. high text books.

Ok, so I read this over like 5 times and it mainly just made my eyes glaze over. That entire paragraph is two sentences. Two long, wordy, run-on and confusing sentences. To me, that’s more of the problem with our government then the system itself. The language of government has become so convoluted and confusing, any hope I had of getting involved has just shot down the crapper.

There’s a lot of problems with our governing body, including (but not limited too) too many older white guys making decisions for a culturally diverse country, money getting put into weird things we’re not told about, the system of representation not actually representing the population, and many many more. For me, the biggest problem is: none of it makes any sense to me. I know I should inform myself on the issues more then I do- I’m not a kid anymore, and a lot of what is happening has a direct impact on my life now. But I just CANNOT care when the language used is so cyclical and vague that nothing ever really gets said.

When Government type issues come up, I become the 13 yr old version of myself in math class- my eyes glaze over, my jaw relaxes, and I start to watch a movie in my head. This happens every time I get sucked into a political debate, or have someone try to preach an issue to me. I can’t help it. I try to listen, I really, truly do. It just doesn’t work. I can blame my ADD, (and have on numerous occasions) but really, I just don’t respond well to people saying things indirectly. Discussions of the politics always seem indirect to me. Everyone is saying their version of things, so you’ll agree with them, while rarely (if ever) discussing the strengths of the opposing views. That’s shady communication right there.

Yes, politicians are liars- so aren’t a good percentage of the American population- so what’s new there? Yes, the government is an imperfect system that is handling issue X, Y, Z with confusion and spitefully careful word choice. It’s still a better system then most of the world has, and we’re still a privileged community as a nation. Yes, our “big government” is flawed on fundamental levels- So am I, So are you, so is everyone we vote for on some level. Yes, the issues of today are vitally important and deserve smart people fighting both for and against them. That won’t make me listen to people arguing like children on a Sunday morning news program, no matter how much I ‘should’.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in DC and politics were topic du jour 24-7-365. Maybe it’s because my mother was a very motivated teacher of government classes and my rebellion was to ignore everything about it. Maybe that is why I can’t get my brain to turn on now. Who knows what the reason, but now I just find it all too …. Overwrought.

If one person could sell their argument on an issue to me in the same tone that we’d discuss something more commonplace, like, say, what a mutual friend had happen to them, a conversational, non adversarial, direct tone – I’d LOVE that. I’d respond well, and most likely end up on your side, just because you actually related it to me instead of trying to impress me with the sheer volume of your opinion. The problem is, most people who could and would present things that way aren’t as motivated to start the discussion in the first place. They’re less impassioned, and less determined.

Does this doom me to a life of lackadaisical attitudes about everything? A life of getting swept up by the tide of government decisions? Possibly so, and I’ll have to live with that. I think I know how to wade the waters well enough; I just won’t ever get swept away by any of it. I’m ok with that; I’ll happily sit on the beach and watch the waves. It’s quieter, more relaxing, and usually has an umbrella drink on hand.

The first two might seem intuitive – in order to survive in a city like New York, with its debatably isolating, quick pace, it makes sense that hard work and connections are key. What isn’t as obvious, however, is how powerful the gift of mentorship can be. In fact, I’ve found that mentorship is the most commonly overlooked, and probably least well-executed, element of the three.

It’s easy to believe that mentorship is a one-way street. Adopting a mentor seems to be little more than literally latching onto someone in the industry, someone who understands the trials and travails of what you are going through, in order to learn the tricks of the trade. In reality, however, mentees cannot undergo the full growth process that is so indicative of a positive mentor relationship without a good deal of work. Yep, work. Being a good mentee means initiative, follow-up, and humility, three elements that are also indicative of a valuable employee.

Before I even made the big move out here to New York, I had the luck of stumbling into several incredible mentors within the journalism industry, all of whom were at once encouraging and realistic. They encouraged my pursuit of journalism and passed along contacts and tips. They patiently answered questions I had about entering a field that is unpredictable and ever-evolving in nature. And they told me stories of their own journey toward journalistic success.

But the biggest takeaway by far was that none of them told me what to do. There is no distinct path in any career we undertake, and part of being a good mentor is recognizing that and not trying to mold someone else’s future. On the flip side, being a good mentee means also recognizing that and therefore not expecting answers from said mentor. Part of the beauty of mentorship is that both parties learn a lot about their own capabilities as individuals while having the security of an “industry insider” to lean on.

Mentorship is not defined by who gains and who gives. It’s about mutual growth.

I don’t know Aarti Sequoia, the latest winner of The Next Food Network Star, I almost know her. Her husband, Brendan McNamara, is in our web series “and Boris”; we have two scenes together where we both revel in the extreme evilness of our characters. I am friends with people who know her, but I have never actually met Aarti. Yet watching her journey, as she struggled with her own insecurities in pursuit of a lifelong dream, as someone I almost know was instrumental in helping me find the spine and determination to continue to pursue my own dreams.

My Life and Aarti’s have some strange parallels. Like Aarti, my husband and I found ourselves unemployed at the same time. Like Aarti and her husband, we made a web series on our own to hone our skills and hopefully get someone to hire us. And like Aarti, for the past few months I have been in a situation where everything I have been working toward has the possibility of coming to fruition very soon, dependant only on whether I can withstand the pressure and actually do what I always said I wanted to do.

Aarti’s story arc for the show centered around her confidence in herself (a theme I am more than familiar with). From the beginning it was clear that Aarti had all the tools necessary to be the star they were looking for, yet time and again she would undermine herself through her own insecurities. This is a theme I understand well. After a year of being unemployed my confidence in myself was completely shot. I felt adrift and without any clear direction. I knew where I wanted to go but had no clear way of getting there. Then an opportunity materialized and I learned that magic happens when opportunity meets preparation, as long as my neuroses don’t get in the way.

Each week, Aarti articulated the fears and negative thoughts that plagued my mind. As she had to step up to the plate and deliver whether or not she felt worthy or not, I was constantly re-inspired to keep going and do what I had to do. I even started to get annoyed with her insecurity as I could look objectively at her and know that she was born for this job and was destined for this show; her need to cut herself down felt almost insulting. I knew she was good and I hate to be disagreed with. I suddenly had a greater compassion for my husband who keeps telling me how talented I am, but has to suffer through my constant insecurities and neuroses. It made me realize, I should stop worrying about being good at what I do, and just be good at it. No apologies.

The expectations of modern womanhood are hard to live up to and navigating the path from girl to empowered woman is treacherous to say the least. Aarti gifted me (and the rest of the country) the opportunity to watch her take those final steps and in so doing encourage and inspire the rest of us to do the same. As Susie Fogelson said, (who ,by the way, is to me the epitome of the modern executive and the business woman I want to grow up to be) “It’s time to put on your big girl pants”. Thank you Aarti and Susie, for helping me have the courage to put on my “big girl pants” and live the life I was meant to live.

What a relief. And how wonderful, how brilliantly wonderful!

For the last several weeks my wife and I have been on the edge of our seats every Sunday night as we waited with baited breathe to see if our friend’s wife would make it through each round. And week after week we nearly exploded from anxiety. The show was so much easier to watch when we didn’t have a connection to any of the contestants. If she won it meant my friend and her would have a great opportunity that would change their lives for ever and in so doing – they prove that anything is possible.

When I first met her husband, Brendan McNamara, it was on the set of our web series “and Boris” (he plays a recurring character on the show) and as I got to know Brendan not only was I blown away by his genuine warmth and generosity but was thrilled to find that he was also part of a husband and wife producing team. Aarti and Brendan have been shooting her web series “Aarti Paarti” since 2009 and their perseverance and faith has paid off. For those of us who are chasing our own dreams, it’s inspiring to see success is possible.

Wonderful!

The mentor’s job is a rather complicated one, one that must be performed in a way that allows the mentor to remain free of expectations of perfection yet enables him or her to enlighten and assist in the fundamentals of perception shifts. There is a great danger of misperceiving the very nature of the character of the mentor, and so, with any relationship involving mentorship, the mentee must be sure to bear in mind that the guidance provided by the mentor is merely relative to specific subjects.

I had this harsh dose of reality handed to me when I received a gem, a diamond of advice in the rough, from an individual who I later learned was a drug-dealing pimp. While the knowledge of this fact was initially a tough pill to swallow, it later led to prove that mentorship can be found in the most unlikely of places, and that mentors are not the inhabitants of perfection. I was simply fortunate enough to have heard the right thing at the right time in the right place – perhaps a divine sort of intervention was at play, and plays a role in the existence of mentors initially.