The Independent Woman: Advice from the Perpetually Single Woman

“Why do you all have to be so damned independent?” he said with an honest curiosity behind his eyes. I was talking to a male friend; he had been having problems finding what he calls a “good woman”. I took a large gulp of my non-fat sugar-free vanilla latte, and thought to myself, “You think I’m independent?”

Independent: not requiring or relying on something else, not contingent, not looking to others for one’s opinions or for guidance in conduct (Merriam-Webster, 2009). What woman fits this definition? Oprah? No, she relies on a whole staff of people, and Stedman can still reduce her to a teenager. Michelle Obama? No, even our first lady has openly admitted that she depends on her husband for love and support.

I guess I understand what people mean when they use ‘independent’ as an adjective, so I’ll avoid the semantics games. But still, most women I know are not independent. In fact a lot of us are really dependent. We depend on our families, our girls, our community, and some of us depend on a significant other. I even depend on my dog sometimes, but that’s another story.

After watching a recent episode of Oprah featuring Steve Harvey, and a review of his new book “Think Like a Man, Act Like a Lady”, Steve made a questionable point. He essentially claimed that women nowadays are too independent to have a man. With their successful careers, beautiful homes, luxury vehicles, and elaborate closets full of Christian Louboutins; men find it hard to see where they can fit in (excuse me while I gag myself).

Harvey went on to explain that men like to feel as if their presence is important,to their mate, a point I can sympathize with because women like to feel important to their mates as well. What I reject is the false conflict he created between a woman having things, and a woman’s ability to make her mate feel important. Even the most "independent" woman in the world can find herself in a position where her mate is an extremely important, almost indispensable part of her life; regardless of how much stuff she has acquired on her own.

No matter what, a man’s presence will never become obsolete in a woman’s life. No matter how independent she is. Let me just be clear. I do not need a man. I am happy, intelligent, healthy, well entertained, and sufficiently loved as a single woman. Nonetheless, I still, despite what I might say after a few cocktails on girls night out, “crave vulnerability and close talk” (Shange, 1975). Most of my girls, most far more “independent” than I, feel the same way.

What I can admit, is most “independent’ women are really choosy about what we allow ourselves to become dependent upon. We don’t like to depend on things that are undependable, and let’s be honest fellas, some of you are definitively undependable.

So when men say woman nowadays are too independent, I think they actually mean woman nowadays need men for less. We don’t need your money, your nice car, your penthouse, your status, or shopping sprees. All we need is love, honest, unyielding, unconditional love; and when your role is so simple it seems you should be that much more able to step up to the plate.

In a Perfect World... Or Perfect Management!

I know football season is a few months away, but I can't wait! I can't wait to see how well Brady recovers, and what happens to T.O. I can't wait to see my Chicago Bears decked out in their Navy and Orange. I can't wait for the sweat, the drama, the weekly anticipation. I just can’t wait! I love football!

For me, it is all about the Bears, the Chicago Bears! This year is going to be awesome! We got the notorious Devin Hester, the surprisingly dominant Matt Forte, Jay Cutler with a chip on his shoulder, and Orlando Pace should be an excellent addition to our offensive line. If only we had a weapon of a wide receiver. A Randy Moss type could transform the Bears from a running team to a running and passing team. Wouldn’t that be something? I’m so sick of Lovie Smith talking that "we're a defensive team" crap. How’s that been working for you, Lovie?

Supposedly the Bears have been trying to develop Hester into a serious wide receiver. Call me impatient, but after last season's less than stellar performance, I'm not willing to place all my eggs in his basket. In the past, the Bears management has made some questionable decisions. After cutting Muhsin “Moose” Muhammad, our two time Pro Bowl wide receiver, Moose went to the Carolina Panthers and had what has been one of his greatest seasons yet. We need redemption, and what better way to receive it than to offer it?

Plaxico Burress recently made headlines when he shot himself in the foot at a nightclub. But before this “mishap” Plax, a former New York Giant, was on top of his game. Averaging 13 yards a catch, Burress was one of the league’s best. The Giants cut Plax after all the controversy, and now he’s a free agent, a free agent looking for redemption.

The Bears could offer Plax a home in Chicago, and it would be a win/win situation. Plaxico has no doubt eaten his slice of humble pie, and learned his lesson. He would likely come to Chicago focused, matured and ready to win. Chicago could use Burress to supplement the deep threat Jay Cutler’s arm presents. And if they are serious about developing Hester into a powerful wide receiver, adding Burress to the roster would create a double threat in the passing game.

This is a move that would potentially give the Bears the best team in the NFC, and maybe even the entire league. I would love to see the Bears make a move on Plaxico Burress. In fact I almost expect it. Mark my words, if the Bears get Plax, the Bears will get Superbowl rings.

Traffic Court is Ruining my Day!

At 6am my alarm went off. The noise was so abrasive I thought the world was coming to an end. Then I remembered I set the alarm, I had court date at 8. Court dates are kinda like regular dates; you plan you week around them, you pick out an appropriate outfit, you get ready early. Except when you are headed to court you aren't happy, or excited about who you might meet; in fact its the people you'll meet that make a court date such a dreaded experience.

I've been to court all over the country, well not really-- just Urbana, Chicago, and Las Vegas, but I'm no rookie. I know what the whole court experience entails. With that being said, today, was horrible!

I decided to take the metro because I know parking in LA is a major pain (blog on LA parking coming soon). If you live in LA, you may have never taken the metro. Its not like the 'El' in the Chi, or the subway in New York. It has limited service, and there isn't really a coherent paying system. No one checks your pass, there's no gate you have to pass through, in fact, I suspect most people ride for free. It's quite, and there are people in winter coats who smell like Venice beach sleeping inside the cars. I just put my headphones on and zoned out to Sergio Mendes. I thought about that Floetry video "Yes", it took place on a subway train; I wish my ride had been more like that.

I finally got off the train at Grand, and walked four blocks to the court house. Immediately I saw a line of people wrapped around the side of the building. "Oh boy, this is going to be a long day" I muttered. I was right. A police officer came outside and told everyone to take off their belts. I followed suit and before I knew it I was inside the massive building headed to the fourth floor for my "date".

By this time it was 7:50 so I rushed onto the elevator. When the doors opened I was greeted by another line. This one was not moving. I sat down in line, on the floor and waited. Finally at 8:30 an officer walked down the line collecting i.d.'s and court papers that he would take inside to be matched up with case files. Then like cattle we were led into and seated on the left side of the courtroom. The cops then proceeded to call our names one by one re-directing us to sit on the right side of the courtroom.

Eventually after what seemed like an endless first-day-of-school role call, a little man with white hair stood in the front of the room and read some sort of proclamation. He explained that the judge was a temporary judge and informed us we would have to sign a waiver giving our consent to have our cases heard before this "second rate" judge. Then he played a recording which explained the difference between a not-guilty, guilty and no contest plea (in English and Spanish).

After what I'm sure was an eternity (around 9:50am) the "judge" called my name. "Not guilty!" I said before he even read my charges. He mumbled something about a thirty-five dollar bail, and directed me to the cashier. Big surprise, another line! This line was unbelievably slow, when I finally got to the front the lady who helped my was unexpectantly pleasant. She explained I would have to pay $159, or I could request an O.R. from the court. I choose the later, which means I have to go back to court within the next seven days an endure this process again. I didn't get home until 11:17am. I left my house at 7:10am and I didn't get back until 11:17am!

The surprisingly pleasant lady told me there is no good time to come to traffic court. "It is always like this" she said with sympathy in her eyes. So here's my personal solution. I came up with it on my way home. Don't get tickets! Tell your friends and family to avoid tickets at all costs. Run, spit, kick, cry, whatever you do, just don't get a traffic ticket in LA!

This has to be the dumbest system in the country. A total waste of resources, time, and money. It is no wonder California is in the midst of a budget crisis. If the inefficiency I witnessed in court today is any indication of how things are done in Sacramento... oh brother!

Stike a Pozen!

American Designer, Zac Posen, burst onto the fashion scene with more than just gorgeously artistic crafted clothing; Posen brought a new voice to American fashion. As other American designers such as Michael Kors and Donna Karan are losing their luxury luster, Posen’s feminine designs remind us just how enchanting Americans can be. From Beyonce Knowles, Claire Danes, Jennifer Lopez, Rihanna, Kelly Roland, Cameron Diaz, and Mischa Barton; young starlets are bustling on the red carpet showing off their womanly assets in Posen’s girlie frocks. His youth spills out into his designs, fun, flirty and whimsical. His collections and his fans accurately capture a multicultural glamour that is uniquely American.

“Success in fashion is one part talent, one part luck and one part a tireless ability to hold a gaudy marquee over your head. Posen has all these qualities in excess” says New York Times’ Cathy Horyn. Posen began honing his talent at an early age; after seriously studying fashion he launched his label just after his twenty-first birthday. Within two years of launching his line, luck came into the picture when Posen got a major break in 2004 and entertainment titan, Sean Combes made a significant investment in Pozen’s vision. As for the gaudy marquee over his head, Posen has definitely branded himself as the genius behind the clothes.

I love Posen because his clothes are prefect. I could wear something Zac Posen everyday for the rest of my life and I would feel fabulous, no doubt. His clothes are a wonderful representation of my generation, the Millennials, because he is a Millennial. Sure, his clothes are “youthful” now but that’s because our generation is youthful. As we age I suspect Zac Posen will take us into maturity with a certain kind class and elegance that is definitively American Millennial. How exciting it is to know we will still be fun, flirty, and whimsical at 50. Age appropriate of course.

Home Sweet Home

In the American classic, "The Wizard of Oz", the entire story is predicated on Dorothy's desire to go back to Kansas. While clicking her heels together and closing her eyes she famously says "there's no place like home", and she is right.

After a 4 hour direct flight from Los Angeles to Chicago, a 30 minute trip on the Orange Line, and a transfer to the Red Line I hopped on the Greyhound for an addition 3 hours. Why so much traveling in one day? I was going home. There's something about going home that is unlike any other experience. It is so absolutely rejuvenating.

I am from a fairly small town in the middle of the Midwest called Urbana, Illinois. It is home of the University of Illinois, one of our most beloved landmarks, and my alum mater. It's gorgeous here. The trees are big and full; they vary in color, and line brick paved streets. The air smells clean and there's no blanket of smog hanging over the horizon. The people look familiar. They are old friends from high school or college. The people you don't know smile at you when you walk by, and offer you quarters to put in your meter if they see you digging through your purse. People don't lock their doors here, and there is no such thing as "rush hour". Deer, raccoons, squirrels, even foxes are common sights.

Every Saturday morning during the warmer months people gather outside at Lincoln Square for the farmer's market. Not the "trendy" kind of farmer's market you'll find at The Grove in LA, a real farmer's market. The people behind the booths selling you the fresh breads, and fresh produce actually produced it themselves. There's a lady who sells jewelry she brings back from Africa, and send the proceeds back to the villages. There's a man that will put your name on a list and call you when his asparagus is ready. Middle School aged children play violins or trumpets behind open cases, hoping to make a few extra bucks.

There's a little bit of everything here: mid century furniture stores, amazing restaurants, a surprisingly enchanting nightlife, an arts culture, a store entirely devoted to environmentally friendly products, real hippies, conservatives, University students from around the world, and I grew up right in the middle of all of it. I love this place, and I always will. Urbana understands me like no other city in the world ever can, because it raised me.