Facebook: The Business of Business

At 23 years old, I live in a world where friendship is confirmed by the click of a button, not by dedication to personal phone calls or tangible interaction. As I was taking my daily scroll through Facebook, I saw pictures of old acquaintances, old boyfriends, old teachers, and even a few of their pets. This got me thinking. Is it really necessary to know when my ex has a new girlfriend? Or if the girl I talked to that one time during English class in high school has the same shirt as me? Or if someone's adorable new puppy isn't potty trained yet? The answer is obvious. Still, checking Facebook remains a ritualistic activity in my daily life.

So the question arises...should I get rid of Facebook? Preposterous. I wouldn't dare separate myself from the social circuit and the ability to get the juicy "ins" to people's lives without them ever knowing. I'm only half kidding...because honestly, Facebook is a great source of communication for people you want to stay in touch with, but don't have the time to call once a week. The primary issue with the social networking business is, well, just that: knowing too much of other people's business. Not that they mind. After all, people choose what they share. But that ability to control what is shared results in confusing, often false portrayals of what that person really like. One minute a lovey dovey picture of a seemingly perfect couple pops up on your newsfeed, the next, a little red heart with a crack down the middle appears and says "So-and-so is now single." How depressing. And shocking! Here I was, just yesterday, wishing I could have a relationship like theirs.

You see, that's the point: on Facebook, people can present themselves to the rest of the world in whatever way they wish. Who doesn't want everyone to think they're happy-go-lucky, witty, in a loving relationship, and up to date with fads? Heck, my ex told me he knew a girl who said she deletes a status if less than three people "like" it. That way, it looks like everything she has to say is interesting. Everything, down to what other people write on one's wall, can be manipulated. Consequently, only the shell of a person- a shell that is polished brightly nearly every day- is what we observe on Facebook. Our "friends" are to us only who they want to be. With real friends, we know their struggles, issues, strengths, pains, and weight fluctuations. With Facebook friends, we know their new haircuts, inside jokes we wish we were a part of, and the skinniest pictures they can find of themselves.

You Facebook users may be thinking, "But Shannon, you've forgotten one major group of Facebookers: the oversharers." You know what I have to say to that?

While much of what is shared on Facebook is artificial business, much of it is true. Sometimes the truth hurts. Sometimes we're better off not knowing that our friends went on a trip without us. Sometimes we're better off not knowing that the person who said they didn't have time to text us did have time to comment on a picture. Sometimes we're better off not knowing that the guy we've started dating's ex-girlfriend was a size double zero. I'd just rather be in the dark about that one. As much as these kinds of tidbits are unnecessary stressors, us humans welcome them nonetheless. Our curiosity yearns to be fed, and through Facebook, we have the ability to do just that. I wonder if Billy, the guy I'm secretly in love with, and Jane are still dating...well, she isn't in his profile picture and he hasn't written on her wall in a while. Wait, but she liked his status yesterday, so that's a curve ball. Do we really want to become consumed with overanalyzing situations we have no control over? Or let's say "Billy" and "Jane" have pictures of themselves plastered all over their pages. Do we seriously want to have our heartbreak rubbed in our faces?

Despite the cons, I still love Facebook. I've been able to maintain contact with people I never would have time to catch up with otherwise. Sure, a quick wall post or message isn't as meaningful as a phone call, but a little "Hello, I've been thinking of you" can make my day. For example, when I competed for Miss Virginia, people came out of the woodwork to wish me luck on my wall. Knowing that so many people were excited and supportive made me swell with happiness. Facebook is also very useful for planning events, sharing important news, and even finding roommates. I'm currently looking for a new place to live in NYC come December, and most of my leads have come from someone who knows someone on Facebook.

Good or bad, social networking is a part of the new millennium. We fuel the craze, which means we can also choose the extent to which it affects our lives. What's real is real and what's not is not, but let us remember that depending on Facebook for that information is a gamble.

 

Shannon Oliver

Studied Psychology at Christopher Newport University 

Lives in New York, New York 

<3 In an open relationship with Ricky Bourke

One of those pieces of information is a joke. So how much do you really know about me if you're only my friend on Facebook? Guess you'll have to give me a call to find out!

7 Tips for Surviving Your Mid-Twenties

Listen. Everyone's been there, will be there, or is currently there. The empathetic there to which I'm referring is that scary, depressing place called Your Mid-Twenties. You know, that time in your life when you survive on homemade sandwiches, self-harm by way of Facebook stalking your friends who are "already successful," and begin to question this whole idea that you should be passionate about your job. How about a gig that allows me to afford name brand shampoo? That'd really do it for me at this point.

Here are a few suggestions for getting through these dysfunctional years that we'll one day look back upon with wonder as to how we ever took for granted our wrinkle-free faces, children-free schedules, and money-free jobs (<--- see what I did there?).

1. Wine

I know I talk about wine a lot. If ever I drink enough that I'm regularly irresponsible or embarrassing, I'll stop raving about it so unabashedly. Until then, I'm giving wine every bit of praise it deserves. Wine can get you through a lot. I'm not saying to drink until you forget (that bullet point would be called "tequila"), rather have a glass or four until you are good and relaxed. Your heart rate low, your emotions high, and leaning on your old friend named Cabernet Sauvignon. He will listen to you, I promise.

2. Less-trashy reality television

Please don't watch Jersey Shore spin-offs or anything that revolves around partying, fighting, or babies getting spray tans. Rather, find a show that inspires you to get off your butt and stop thinking that your capabilities peak at figuring out how to alphabetize a column on Excel. A few recommendations: Dancing with the Stars, The Biggest Loser, and MasterChef Junior. I know, I know- I shouldn't be promoting TV-watching, but it beats scrolling through Facebook to see who did something more exciting than you this weekend. Especially if you're watching obese people run five miles, a woman with cancer dance the Rhumba, or an 8-year-old cook a ridiculously complicated Beef Wellington.

3. Find a gay best friend

This is the least offensive, most practical, and best advice I will ever give you. For the two or three men out there that read my blog, just skip this paragraph. I know you're skimming anyway. Gay guys are the best of both worlds. They're guys- so they are excellent cuddlers with insight to the male psyche. At the same time, they are boldly loyal, tirelessly sympathetic, and undoubtedly aware of the best brunch deals around. Also, I've never had someone pump me up quite as successfully as a gay man. You're down on yourself? Prepare yourself for a catalog of why you're the hottest, fiercest, most wanted girl in town. Not only are they great cheerleaders, they're awesome at making you feel needed. Gay men tend to be open- probably because they've learned to be very comfortable with themselves during the coming out process, so they'll ask for your opinion, voice how much they miss you, and let you in on their deepest, saltiest thoughts. For once, your voice is heard over the loud mid-twenties grind!

4. Walk more

I'm way less depressed about my looming car insurance bill when I am breathing in fresh air, safe from white walls and computer screens. I, like every normal person on earth, hate running, so I won't tell you that it will make you happier. I'm sure it would, but walking seems like a much less aggressive piece of advice. Even if it's just to Harris Teeter to pick up your Lean Cuisines- stop getting in your car to drive a quarter mile. Or if you're in a city, stop making the Chinese man come to your door. At least go out to get your General Tso. Get off the train a stop earlier, take a phone call outside...you get the idea.

5. Stop believing that spirituality is awkward

Trust me, I'm fully aware that we're mostly exposed to three types of spiritual people: a) The overzealous, completely unrelatable Christian on Facebook who openly condemns you for your love of wine, gay men, and most of the things mentioned above, b) The quote-loving yogi-type whose flexibility allows them a sense of enlightenment that your corpse-like limbs will never let you reach, and c) angry atheists who are really, really mad at said Christians and yogis. Now, pretend none of those people exist. What do you believe? If it's the Bible or the Quran- great, now what does it say? Will you do what it says? Do you want to read a history book about its validity? Maybe research something you weren't taught growing up? Try praying. Try meditating. Try going to church. Try going to a temple. Seek. You will find.

6. Don't text or drink and drive

Especially at the same time. This is how you survive your mid-twenties. Literally.

7. Don't take Facebook seriously

I don't know about you, but I'm fairly certain that every person I know is engaged or pregnant. If they're not, they have glamorous jobs as a fashion designer or news anchor, so who cares if they're single. Also, everyone seems to have a lot of friends, nice clothes, and an awesome sense of humor. But that's why I wrote this blog. I know for a fact that my Facebook friends with expensive new boots, stunning engagement rings, statuses that read "I'm so grateful to love what I do every day!", and pageant crowns on their heads (sound familiar?) are not, in fact, exempt from feeling like their worlds are sometimes falling apart. How do I know? Because they're in their mid-twenties. 

Oh, also this: http://shannonsnyc.blogspot.com/2011/11/facebook.html

My 2011

The last five hours of 2011 have begun, leaving us all reflecting on the past year and wondering what the new year will bring. Most of us have probably exclaimed, "I can't believe it's already been a year!" in the past 24 hours as we remember exactly what we were doing last New Years Eve. I, for one, had just met a new guy while singing karaoke with friends on Christmas night, and distinctly remember him telling me not to kiss anyone else when the clock struck midnight. Considering I spent the evening with a bunch of my girlfriends from Cheeseburger in Paradise, his wish came true. He didn't even have that honor til almost a month later.

Outward Bound (Ricky's in red; I'm next to him)

Christmas karaoke man and I dated for a few months, even though I got in a Facebook relationship with someone else during the first few weeks of the year. Ricky and I have publicly been in an "open relationship" on Facebook for almost a year now, our "anniversary" being January 12th- the day we returned from our crazy Outward Bound dog sledding trip in Ely, Minnesota. I still smile every time I see his name next to the heart on my Facebook page, knowing we don't even have each other's phone numbers (but I love him!). By St. Patricks Day, the thrill of my rendition of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You" had worn off, so my real-life Christmas karaoke sweetheart and I parted ways.

One month later, I was sitting in front of a new date at Mahi Mahs Restaurant, overlooking the boardwalk and Atlantic Ocean. He was not happy in Virginia Beach, dreaming of the day he would move to San Diego. I said to him something along these lines: "Think about where you were a year ago. You probably only remember a couple specific days...the rest is a blur. In one year from now, you'll be in San Diego and hardly remember these bad days at work or the cold weather you hate so much. And in a year from now, I'll be sitting in front of someone new, remembering you as that guy I went out with a few times in the spring of 2011." I was so right (even though I said that in jest). We went out more than a few times, but only stayed together until the 4th of July. Holidays in 2011 were not good to me, starting with St. Patrick's Day. Keep reading for confirmation.

One month after the July 4th break up, I moved to New York City- land of dreams, no exes, and delicious cuisine. As you could probably tell by posts in November, I started seeing an Irish guy here in The City. Thanksgiving was the last time I saw him. Should've seen that one coming... 

Though I can create a ridiculous 2011 timeline based on holiday break ups, I can also map it out by extraordinary experiences. Like I mentioned above, my year started with a seven day winter camping/dog sledding excursion. I was in below zero conditions for 144 hours straight with twelve strangers, wrestling with my intentions for the rest of the year. Should I stay in Virginia or move to NYC? While shivering "inside" a little tarp-tent-thing that I had tied to two trees, using the trunk of a tree I sawed down by hand as a weight to hold the tarp to the ground (no, seriously), I decided to give Miss Virginia one final go.

Two weeks later, I won Miss Greater Hampton Roads, and returned to Miss Virginia in June. I've talked about that incredible week in Roanoke plenty on this blog, so I won't beat a dead horse, but that was obviously a huge highlight of 2011. I gained 29 new friends, was honored with the Quality of Life award, placed 3rd runner up, and cheered on a close friend of mine as she had the Miss Virginia sash placed across her shoulder.

The rest of the summer was a blur of unbelievably fun trips, including auditioning for American Idol in Pittsburgh, flying to New York City for a Broadway audition, and attending the funnest wedding I've ever been to with my college a cappella sisters in Fredericksburg. Wedged in there was Jim and Lindsay's engagement, Oliver Beach Week, and a Phi Mu/Miss Virginia reunion weekend in D.C.

As we know, I moved to New York in August, finally deciding to chase my dream to sing for a living. These past 4 1/2 months have been quite the ride. I've made amazing new friends, rekindled relationships with old friends, had four different jobs, and moved into three different apartments. I've laughed, cried, almost given up, and pushed through. I've learned about a strength within me that I didn't know existed. Pretty much nothing has gone right since I moved here, but I will not stop trying until I know I've given 100%.

My 2011 has not been easy, but it's been eye-opening and rewarding. It has challenged me at every turn- physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I had some really beautiful moments laughing with friends, dating great guys, spending time with family, performing in shows with outstanding and supportive casts/crews, and getting to know myself better. I've been shown unconditional love by unexpected people, taught lessons by unknowing teachers, and had homes and hearts opened to me by near strangers. I've been at my best, been at my worst, and can sit here happy to be me. Maybe a part of me wants 2012 to bring more successes than 2011 offered, but then again, maybe I couldn't ask for more success than sitting on a couch that doesn't belong to me, my suitcase across the room next to the futon I'll be sleeping on to bring in the new year, typing that I'm happy to be me. Cheers to 2012 <3

Greek Life

Thank goodness I start work tomorrow because these past two days have been torturous. Boredom engulfed me into a swirling vortex of Hulu shows and Youtube videos. I think I've started to become delirious- I even got on the wrong train to Jim and Lindsay's tonight. Two stops after I sat down, I looked up and realized I'd gone in the completely wrong direction. I also realized that the guy sitting next to me was picking his nose. Awesome.

I know that there are probably 8,000 things I could've done these past few days: set up meetings with teachers about S.A.I.L., signed up for dance classes, looked into event gigs my mom sent me, etc. But I didn't. I'm telling you, when I have a lot to do, I can't do anything. You'd think my productivity would improve as I mature and accept that there will never be an end to the task list, but I still can't focus on more than one thing at a time. I want to become settled in my new job before I start dance classes. I want to get in the routine of working and dance classes before I add in facilitating S.A.I.L. programs in schools. I want to get into the groove of working, dance, and S.A.I.L. before I audition for shows/prepare to do a Miss New York local pageant. And once I'm balancing all of that, then I think I'll apply for some grad programs in Journalism. Call it procrastination, but I call it maintaining sanity. I did go to the gym today for the first time in....awhile. Disheartening as it is to see how far I am from being able to do my Miss Virginia work out, a step is a step.

Phi Mu 2010 graduating class

During one of my many attempts to momentarily cure boredom on Facebook yesterday, I noticed that college homecomings are quickly approaching. I can't attend mine, unfortunately, but my Facebook is swamped with Homecoming King and Queen campaigns. Of course, my sorority- Phi Mu- has a fabulous representative who was a few years younger than me. This got me thinking about my days in Greek Life.

Bid Day

Fraternities and sororities get a bad reputation because of hazing and movie portrayals of Greek parties. Sadly, many of the stereotypes have merit, as seen in story after story of injuries and death involving alcohol and dangerous stunts forced upon pledges. This is why, despite being Greek myself, I strongly encourage younger girls I know to evaluate the Greek systems at their universities before joining. Had I ever been forced to guzzle crazy amounts of alcohol or been demoralized by the older girls in any way, I would have walked right out the door. Not out of haughtiness, but because I don't understand the concept of wanting to befriend people who torture you. And why would I want to be associated with an organization that oozes lack of class and recklessness? Lucky for me, Phi Mu at CNU has extraordinary members who stay true to the the strict "no hazing" policy that is supposed to be followed by every sorority.

Spring Break cruise in the Bahamas with eight other sisters

One of the most misguided notions about Greek organizations is the idea that "you're buying your friends." Hate to break it to you, but there are dues for a cappella groups, sports teams, and and almost any other club. Also, when you go to college, isn't it the point to meet new people? Sure, education is the primary focus, but when you don't know anyone around you, opportunities to get involved are crucial. Greek Life simply offers another option for forming a new circle of friends. You can't accuse me of "buying" them when I was friends with plenty of them before ever rushing (I went through recruitment as a sophomore) and am friends with plenty of people outside of Greek Life. I don't need to buy my friends. I'm not THAT socially inept.

2010 formal

Coinciding with the frustration I feel towards those who view sororities as purchased cliques is the fact that each girl in a sorority is defined by the actions of 60 other girls (that was in my case...most of the time many, many more). I'm sorry, but I can't babysit 60 college-aged females to make sure they don't do anything I wouldn't do. If one Phi Mu made a poor decision or went on a date with some girl's ex-boyfriend, all of a sudden that girl and her friends hated me since I was a Phi Mu, too. Don't you see how ridiculous that is? If a girl on the soccer team makes someone mad, the whole soccer team isn't to blame. Yet any choice made by a sorority girl automatically reflects the entire group. Of course that all for one and one for all climate had its perks when sisters had positive reputations. Still, I urge everyone to not pass judgement on individuals of a group based on one, two, or even ten other members. Sorority girls are not all brainwashed carbon copies of each other. We're individuals who joined deeply historical organizations that aim at bettering members through required lectures, forums, and traditions. And we become really close friends. Is that so wrong? Well, yes, if you're talking about a chapter that lives up to the stereotypes mentioned earlier. But no, not if you knew mine.

My big and me congratulating my little after her initiation

I mentioned the history of Greek organizations because that is a component which is often overshadowed by the social aspect. Initiation and formal meetings hold secrets that only members are to know because of the indescribable bond formed when realizing that women have kept these procedures to themselves for over one hundred years. Additionally, when Phi Mu was founded in 1852, these procedures were necessary for a group of women to meet without being oppressed. Love, honor, and truth are the three values of Phi Mu, as stated in the public creed. Founding members were upstanding, ethical women who deeply believed in these ideals. To be a part of something with such respectable roots is an exciting privilege.

After the pageant

When it all boils down, my experience with Greek Life was phenomenal. So many of my sisters are still my closest friends and confidants. I remember once when 14 of them caravanned an hour to watch me in a local pageant to qualify for Miss Virginia. Naturally, that was one of the locals I didn't win, but I felt like a million bucks with all of the love they showered on me afterwards. They provide a support system that has proven to be unconditional time after time. I can't speak for everyone, but I am so proud to forever be a part of such a glorious group of young women.

My Response to "23 Things To Do Instead Of Getting Engaged Before You're 23"

I just read a blog post by a girl who is 22, living overseas, and proudly single…so proud, in fact, that she wrote a post about why you shouldn’t get married young. Now, she didn’t give an exact age that one should reach before she approves of marriage, but she basically took the stance that your life is over once you’re married, plus you’ll probably get divorced. Essentially, being young and carefree means not having a ring on it. I can’t pretend that I’ve never thought that getting married in your early 20s would have its challenges, but after reading this young lady’s blog, I feel the need to stand up for my friends who are already married/engaged.

Four down, two more by 2015! Thrilled to stand by my best friends.

Statistically, my fellow single blogger is correct: many marriages in America fail. And, yes, the age bracket with the highest rate of divorce is 20-24. That being said, why do so many single women cling to these depressing statistics and use them as a way to make themselves feel better about being single? Worse, why do they use them as a way to pass judgment on their married peers? Call me crazy, but I hope with all of my heart that my girlfriends who have said “yes” will all live long, dedicated, happy lives with their husbands. I am not in their homes, do not witness their daily interactions, hear their goofy jokes on the couch, or know their whispered words of love in the bedroom (ew, thank God). I can’t feel what they feel or comprehend their mutual trust. You’ve heard it before, but here’s a friendly reminder: You can’t understand a relationship unless you’re in it.

I’m not talking about blatantly terrible relationships where the guy is cheating and the girl is crying and they get married anyway because of the baby on the way. No, I’m talking about the average friend who gets engaged to a guy she met in a bar or on match.com or through her roommate, who seems genuinely in love and excited to hang out with her man for the rest of her life. In that case- give the girl’s ring a “like” on Facebook and maybe try not comparing your life to hers. Just because you’re having an awesome time in your singlehood doesn’t mean that someone else your age can't be ready to kick back with a husband and a yard project. I should also point out that some married people still travel, work out, make out, and enjoy bro-time or girls nights out. Shocker- I know. Especially since we’ve been taught that being married means being tied down, letting yourself go, only being physical to procreate, and losing contact with all of your friends.

Let me touch on where I’m personally coming from. I’m 25, single, and really can’t imagine being married right now. I live in a run-down apartment, eat brie cheese every other night for dinner, and really loathe giving back rubs. The idea of having enough money or patience to pick out pretty home décor is more than I can grasp. Plus the thought of sharing counter space in the bathroom is super stressful. On the significant other front, I have dated some terrible guys and some fantastic guys. Some too nice, some too rude. Some too loud, some too quiet. Some too old, some too young. I’m kind of like Goldilocks, waiting for one that’s jusssst right.

Marriage might be a foreign concept to me right now, but I hope that someday I’ll understand why all of my friends are tying the knot (congrats to the 87 new engagements among my Facebook friends that happened while I was on vacation last week). I’m sure it’s a very exciting moment when you realize that the person you’re with could satisfy you for the rest of your days. When I think of it that way, who knows if I would’ve taken the plunge at age 23 had I met the right man? But I didn’t. Not even close. At that point in my life, I was seeing an Irishman in NYC who disappeared one night and resurfaced six months later, after I had already held for him a mental funeral and prayed that the police would find his body. It didn’t work out.

…But back to my take on being single. I love traveling and eating copious amounts of Nutella and writing a blog (all things that this blogger claimed were important things to do before you get married), but I also feel no need to make strangers uncomfortable in public places, cut my hair, or get a tattoo because “they’re more permanent than marriage” (also on her list of things I’m apparently supposed to do pre-ring). Getting married has nothing to do with missing out on a full life. In fact, many would argue that marriage makes your life even fuller. If you don't agree, keep in mind that a full life can mean something completely different to every person- hence why blogger girl thinks you need to “hang out naked in front of a window” and I do not. To say it simply, being single can be great. And so can being married. Being single can be painful…and so can being married. No need to pass judgment on those who check a different marital status box than you on their W-4 forms. We’re all just people, living life, and enjoying the cards we’ve been dealt (hopefully).

Twenty-two-year-old single blogger girl has every right to be thrilled with the choices she’s made in life, but in my humble opinion, maybe she should add one more thing to her list of “23 Things to Do Instead of Getting Engaged Before You’re 23”: Overcome the immaturity of thinking that your way is the best way to live. Lord knows you’re not ready to be married if you still think your life choices are superior to others.

So go ahead, my young single ladies (and gents)- be happy for your friends who are engaged/married. Have faith that they’ve made the best decisions they could regarding the bling on their left hands. You can always unfollow certain newsfeeds or drink Pinot Noir while watching He’s Just Not That Into You if you need to get away from all of the wedding fuss. And you married people- remember that those of us who aren’t even close to creating bridal pages on Pinterest (I don’t have Pinterest, so I apologize if “pages” is the wrong lingo…Shanny the Granny strikes again!) are not to be pitied. Life would be really lame if we were all on the same track.

19 Days Until Take Off!

\Hi everyone! In less than 3 weeks I will be starting my newest adventure: living in New York City! As much as I will miss everyone in the 757 (and my Richmond friends close by!), I am beyond ready to kick-start this new chapter. Coming to the decision to move was both hard and easy...I'll try to explain what that means in this first post. 

Let's start in May 2010. I graduated from Christopher Newport University with a degree in Psychology...right, not a whole lot you can do with that degree outside of managing Starbucks or going grad school. Neither seemed to call to me. What HAS always called to me is making a living with my vocal chops. I've been singing in musicals and taking voice lessons since elementary school, but I didn't think singing professionally was a viable option until I was hired at Busch Gardens theme park in 2009. Now, obviously, singing "I'm a Barbie Girl" (see video) didn't qualify as my dream debut, but Busch Gardens afforded me the opportunity to realize that I can, in fact, bring home the bacon with my voice. And as my dad and close friends will tell you, I really, really love bacon.

Okay, so maybe we actually started in 2009. Back to graduation in May 2010. Along with my dream to sing professionally was another dream: to be Miss Virginia. Yes, as in the beauty pageant (AHEM..scholarship program!). Since I wasn't interested in managing Starbucks or going straight to grad school, I had to decide if I wanted to stay in Virginia and pursue Miss Virginia OR move to New York and pursue Broadway. I decided to spend one year in Virginia building my musical theatre resume and getting waitressing experience for when the time came for me to make the move to NYC. Meanwhile, I prepared to compete in Miss Virginia 2011. To make the long story of this past year short, I'll use some videos and pictures (I love pictures!) to bring you up to speed...

August 2010, I got my first waitressing job at Cheeseburger in Paradise:

October 2010, I was cast in my first professional theatre production:

December 2010, I had a minor life crisis including a break up that made me question if I wanted to stay in Virginia after all. You'll learn that I pretty much have no luck in the relationship department. I'm okay with that for now, though. None-the-less, December was a trying time. Solution? Dog sledding. My parents know that I thrive off of challenging adventures and situations that force me to see new perspectives. This time, an Outward Bound dog sledding course seemed to fit the bill. As a Christmas present, they sent me to Ely, Minnesota in January 2011 to spend a week in below zero conditions. Sleeping on frozen lakes with 9 people I had never met and 17 dogs definitely slapped me back into reality. I mean, I had to manually saw down trees for warmth...it was hard NOT to realize how trivial some of my life "problems" were.

Three more musicals, two pseudo-relationships, and one fake Facebook relationship later (to my Facebook friends: NO Ricky Bourke is not actually my boyfriend and our "open relationship" is just an inside joke from the dog sledding trip...), I competed in Miss Virginia 2011. I won my local (Miss Greater Hampton Roads) in late January, then got 3rd runner up at Miss Virginia in June:

I know most people don't understand the Miss Virginia thing. As much as I try to explain it, most people probably STILL won't understand it. But here we go: This is NOT about having a shiny crown on my head. I am 23 years old. That would be ridiculous to simply want a princess tiara made of rhinestones. On the contrary, Miss Virginia is a full time job based in Roanoke, VA that includes a school tour during which she speaks to 25,000+ students about her platform (mine is diversity awareness), numerous other public speaking gigs, and dozens of parades, fundraisers, and random appearances. To me, this was a dream job. I am a diversity educator and have already spoken in dozens of schools regarding my platform, I absolutely love making other people happy, and I feel completely comfortable speaking with anyone of any age, race, or background. Essentially, those are the fundamentals of being an effective Miss Virginia. Of course, the pageant part is the kicker. Different judges, different night; it's truly anyone's game. I was disappointed, of course, but I never put all my eggs in one basket or define myself by pageantry, so life goes on.

The decision about moving to New York was difficult in that I have one more year of elegibility for Miss Virginia, so I wasn't sure if I was ready to leave the state and give up that dream. I realize that as much as I want the job of Miss Virginia, however, I am not happy waiting tables in Virginia Beach and simply dreaming of doing bigger and better things. I actually have to go out and DO bigger and better things. In that sense, the decision to move to New York was easy. I am at peace and ready to start my life in the City...and hey! There's always Miss New York ;)

It's A Small World

It's such a small world, even in NYC. Sure, over eight million people reside here, but everyone is somehow connected. They've either worked with, lived with, dated, or are Facebook friends with someone you know. A perfect example was yesterday, when I worked for the attorney near Wall Street. The first few hours consisted of re-typing court documents that required a "by hand" copy, which I actually enjoyed since I like to type. I didn't understand half of the jargon, but hey, it was a fun challenge to make my fingers spell foreign words. When I finished up that assignment and made a few copies on the copy machine (and by few, I mean a couple hundred), David, my boss, sent me to the New York County Courthouse. The weather was gorgeous, so I was happy to take the 20 minute walk up Broadway. My mission was to figure out the status of a court document that the county clerk was supposed to have scanned into some system back in September. Does that statement make it obvious that I had no idea what I was actually doing? Oh well. I did everything David instructed, down to "for a last resort, go to court room 242 and talk to the clerk on the left hand side of the room." "Um, what do I do if there's a trial in session?" "Just walk to the front and wait for the clerk to acknowledge you." Great. That won't be embarrassing at all. I trusted that my boss knew the appropriate behavior in a court room though, so when I hit dead ends everywhere else in the building, I made my way to 242.

A picture I sent to my friends while waiting

I awkwardly shoved open the unnecessarily heavy wooden doors to find an empty court room, thank goodness, save the police officer sitting in the witness stand. He told me the clerk would be back in 10 minutes, so I made myself comfortable. Five minutes later, a good looking guy in a suit (we all know I appreciate suits) asked to speak with someone, too, and sat down a few benches away. Nice! But a man came out of the back office and called him in, leaving me alone again, texting random court room pictures to some friends. Normal.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, the good looking guy in a suit reemerged, raised his eyebrows at me humorously, and asked "So, are you just hiding out in here all day?" I laughed and explained my situation. He then said "You know, I swear I know you from somewhere. You look so familiar." He looked kind of familiar, too, but in a generic good-looking-guy-in-a-business-suit way. We started brainstorming what the connection could be, but of course at that moment, the clerk walked in. I said, "Well maybe we'll cross paths again and figure it out!" and rushed off to take care of business. I didn't make much progress in terms of what David needed to get accomplished, but at least I got a signed copy of the document from the judge...and he said I did well when I got back to the office, so that's a plus.

When I walked out of the courthouse, our paths indeed crossed again. Brad (I learned his name in the 30 second conversation) was waiting for his father at the entrance. He's an attorney, as is his dad, mom, and two brothers. Wow. His dad walked up right after he explained the family occupation, so we said hello and turned to leave. Great timing. On our walk back to Wall Street, he asked what I "do." HAH. Not much. I explained the musical theatre scene and brought up the promotion gigs. He said, "Oh, I know some girls who did something like that for Street King the other night." STOP IT. I couldn't believe it. This was the Brad that my friend Rayna, who I met at the Street King promotion, had mentioned she'd been hanging out with. It dawned on him that the reason I looked familiar was because he saw a picture of Rayna, Kelly, and me at the promotion on Facebook. Go figure.

That great, big, long story all goes to show what a small world we live in. We probably pass dozens of people every day who are somehow connected to us. Strangers are less of strangers if we see the world in that light, which is a comforting thought in a city of eight million. Viewing the vast population becomes less daunting with that mindset, too, because I feel more confident befriending strangers. For example, last Thursday I met a really nice guy who went to Villanova that works in the building next to my apartment. We grabbed lunch today! Or at the Halloween event on Monday, I met a guy who just moved here from Ireland and we're going out for a drink later. Okay...that just makes it sound like I'm finding dates. What I mean is that I've been more proactive in meeting people (even girls- like Kelly and Rayna!) because everyone seems less intimidating as I've come to find so many connections.

Tomorrow, Brit and I are going to an audition together, then meeting Lindsay and a friend of her's from college, Laura, for happy hour! I'm really looking forward to this weekend!

A Dummy's Guide to Job Hunting

Before I begin this post, I'd like to address the title of this blog. "Shannon's NYC" may seem rather misleading considering that I am now a resident of Washington, D.C....actually that's misleading, too. I technically live in Virginia. But anyways, I'm going to come right out with it and tell you: I'm not going to change the name. Basically, this blog is a compilation of my musings and interesting happenings in my life, beginning with the chapter of my life that took place in New York City. The rest of my life will always be shaped by my time in that crazy city, so why not remind myself and readers why this blog started to begin with? We all know that life takes us in different directions, from city to city, through different relationships, jobs, and apartments. In "Shannon's NYC," NYC no longer represents that literal city, but the start of a new adventure and a new chapter in life. And I hope those never stop coming my way.

Today's topic: job hunting.

The first thing you need to prepare for when starting the job hunt is the basic understanding that you will, without a shadow of a doubt, gain 5-8 pounds during the process. Accept it, embrace it, and enjoy it. I've never met someone who does not procrastinate when applying for something: college, jobs, match.com, anything. If someone told me I have to write one paragraph on why I deserve a million dollars, after which I would then win a million dollars, I'd still take three days to actually write it. In the mean time, I'd order Indian food, take a leisurely walk to Starbucks, watch the entire first season of Orange is the New Black on Netflix (while eating a large block of sharp cheddar cheese), and clean every room in the house while listening to The Jackson 5 station on Pandora. That's just how it goes. Get your yoga pants ready because you sure as hell won't fit into anything else by the time you're employed.

Next, if you have been twiddling away your life by pursuing your impractical dream of being a big time actress, rock star, eating contest champion, Olympic jump roper, or anything else that does not take place inside of an office, you will be qualified for absolutely nothing. Every single entry level position will be taken by biddies coming right out of college who don't have a weird talent that they wanted to pursue professionally. Anything above entry level requires 2-5 years of experience. And I'm not talking about the experience you've had feeding yourself and surviving on your own for the past few years. I mean, they want you to have already had this job before, somewhere else.  Prepare for an overwhelming sense of having nothing to offer this big, bad world. You can know in your heart that you're a phenomenal writer and the fastest learner since that horse who started counting with his hooves, but communicating those traits in a cover letter and resume is nearly impossible.

How do you actually get an interview, then? From my lengthy experience in the last week (hah!), A. Pray that people in college and high school liked you enough to reply to a plea for help finding a job on Facebook and B. Write a cover letter that cannot be copied and pasted for multiple applications. Start each one from scratch and explain to the recruiters why that one, specific job is the perfect fit for you. The first time I did this was for an office manager-type-position at a company that functions similar to Google- we're talking meetings on bean bags, no dress code, and free weekly back massages. I decided to be 100% personality. My cover letter started like this:

"According to the most reliable source on the internet, Wikipedia..."

And wrapped up like this:

"If I can feed llamas without getting bitten, I’m fairly certain the world is mine for the taking."

They contacted me requesting a preliminary interview exactly 3 hours and 38 minutes after I submitted the application.

I'd love to have some wildly amazing advice for what to do after you get the initial interview (because I know my insight so far has been wildly amazing), but that's as far as I've made it in this process. I can tell you what not to do, though: don't stop applying for jobs. My brain has told me the following: Oh, you're doing great! That one company is interested so that means you get to reward yourself with a three day break from applying for anything! I'm acutely aware that this is the wrong move, but here I am, writing a blog in Starbucks, trying to avoid cabin fever while also using this as my reason to not apply for anything today. Am I employed yet? No. Thus, should I stop applying? No. Don't worry, I'll get back on the wagon. But for now, I'm going to bask in the fact that a cover letter that included my experience with llamas back in 2007 got me my first real-world interview.

Reactions to Disappointment

While at my friend Kaitlin's apartment watching Glee last night, she, Brittany and I got on the topic of pageants. What a shocker. The topic of conversation was disappointment. All three of us competed multiple times for our "Miss State" in the Miss America system and each reacted differently to not winning, despite equally caring about the outcome. So, why do people respond differently to disappointment? Is one reaction better or worse than another?

I guess I should start with where disappointment comes from. You can't be disappointed if you don't really, really want something. You can't be disappointed if you don't invest time and effort into achieving the end goal. You also can't be disappointed unless you have at least some small notion that the desired outcome is actually attainable.

Naturally, much of what I will write about regarding this topic pertains to pageantry. Miss Virginia is the most obvious goal I've striven for in my life and never attained. Everyone works hard for something like a Miss Virginia Pageant in their lives, though. Maybe yours is training for a triathlon, busting butt to get a promotion, or pulling all-nighters to get a rockin' score on the LSAT. Whatever it is, disappointment ensues if all of your hard work doesn't pay off in terms of reaching your objective.

Do you get mad about it? Do you cry uncontrollably? Do you blame others? Do you blame yourself? Do you immediately move forward? Or do you hold onto the disappointment for months- maybe years- to come? In my case, I don't get mad, I don't cry uncontrollably, and many people can't even tell I'm that upset. I remember once explaining to a pageant acquaintance how much Miss Virginia meant to me and she raised her eyebrows and said, "I didn't have any idea it you cared so deeply." Apparently because I never cry if I lose, beat my flowers against the ground, or spout my disapproval about the judges decision, it looks like I don't care. I'm not saying crying is is a bad thing (beating flowers and spouting disapproval...well, yeah, that's just not classy), but I personally don't react in that manner. As necessary as aspirations are in life because they generate hard work and personal growth, I rarely think anything is the end of the world (except break ups...I definitely invest more in people than in activities). My belief is that a lot of accomplishments are overrated as far as their overarching importance in life. Who cares if you don't go to your ideal college or win the marathon or wear the crown. Those things don't make your life great. YOU make your life great. Those things don't make you important. YOU make you important just by believing you are!

After Miss Virginia this past year, I was bummed I didn't get the job, but that disappointment was FAR outweighed by the relationships, confidence in my leadership, and life lessons I gained. Of course there was a moment of sadness that I would have to return home and figure out a different path for my life, but my world was far from crushed. Maybe not being an "all eggs in one basket" kind of girl is what enabled me to move on quite quickly. Again, this doesn't mean I wasn't extremely disappointed. Rather, I hate dwelling on something I can't change, so I find the positives from the situation and just keep living. "Yesterday didn't work out- oh well, can't go back in time- so today I'll go to a baseball game with my friends and have fun." Why should I sit in bed and cry when I can't fix it? Maybe that's why I have a much harder recovery when a relationship disappoints me- because I think it's fixable. Losing a pageant isn't fixable. Not landing a role isn't fixable. What's the point in wrapping myself up in what's already done? Thus, from the second I stepped off the Miss Virginia stage, the past was the past. This quick-to-move-on reaction is a coping mechanism for the disappointment, I'm sure. Also, the ONLY way this kind of reaction is possible is if you know you did your personal best and have absolutely no regrets in your preparation. For me, that was the case.

Perhaps that kind of reaction is a good thing (I like to think so), but I also have respect for people who do put all of their eggs in one basket and give themselves fully over to a dream. A close friend of mine from Miss Virginia, who I won't name, is one of those people. When the pageant was over, she couldn't hold it together because she felt as though there was nothing left. The tears wouldn't stop flowing as she headed off stage thinking "now what?" She was so set on winning that the reality of not getting the job left her empty and outright depressed (Post Pageant Depression, or "PPD" as she sometimes says...love that phrase). She was not mean to anyone or bitter towards the winner, but her reaction to disappointment was despair. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the amount of heart and soul she put into competing- she, too, had no regrets. I almost envy that kind of devotion. But recovering from the loss took her months of emotional turmoil- quite opposite from my experience.

Another reaction is anger. I've witnessed several girls- not many- claim "It was rigged" or "This is an outrage!" as if they were completely robbed. I'm sure people feel that way when it comes to promotions or other accomplishments that rely on the subjective opinions of other people, as well. Politics and favoritism can be a frustrating part of life. For the most part, like in my pageant circumstance, however, decisions are fair (with a little bit of luck, too). You can't take results personally if you know you've done your best and kept your integrity throughout the process. As with most things, exceptions exist where people who don't deserve something are rewarded. But with pageantry in particular, that exception is rare. "Different judges, different night," as they say. All of the girls are fantastic, so how can one deserve it more than another? None-the-less, disappointment manifests as anger in some competitors. Bitterness festers in the weeks following the loss, which often leads to that person giving up or not working towards a similar goal in the future because they think "What's the point? I deserved it last time."

So, what is the best way to respond to disappointment? I'm not really sure. I think my way is probably the easiest, but how we emotionally react isn't something we choose. We can control our actions, but we can't control how we feel. The most important part is that when dealing with disappointment, we don't bring others down or lose sight of more significant things in life: relationships, compassion, and personal legacy.

This has nothing to do with disappointment, but my friend Claire shared this video on Facebook and I laughed so hard that I want to share it with anyone reading this:

Valentine's Day

I don't hate Valentine's Day. I'm not bitter that I'm single. I have no problem with gushy Facebook statuses or flower stands on every corner. So what if the "industry" uses love as a means to money? Is that really such a terrible thing? Especially in this day and age when everybody is so busy and obsessed with independence, Valentine's Day is a nice little kick in the shins to remind us that it's okay to focus on someone other than ourselves. And a nice little kick to men's shins to remind them that the ladies really do enjoy being wined and dined once in a while. The only thing that bothers me about Valentine's Day is how this holiday somehow makes people feel entitled to scrutinize the relationships, or lack there of, of others.

Everyone claims that if you're confident with being single or secure in your relationship, then you shouldn't get defensive when people question your status. I disagree. Whether rightly or falsely accused, our pride instinctually justifies our circumstances to cynics...and on Valentine's Day, people seem to be cynical of just about any relationship. Singles often proclaim, "Ugh, I would never want to be tied down to a relationship" or "This is just a holiday for Hallmark to make money." People in relationships where they value Valentine's Day often chirp, "Look at that single girl looking so desperate at the bar" or "I'm so lucky to have a [boy/girl]friend who makes me feel special on Valentine's Day." Other couples who don't value Cupid spout, "They're only acting happy because it's Valentine's Day, when in reality their relationship stinks" or "My [boy/girl]friend makes me feel special every day of the year."

Come on. If every one of those statements were true, then the consensus would be that NOBODY is happy and successful in their love lives. Sadly, no matter what your status on Valentine's Day, someone will make you question it with a look, gesture, or subtle remark. Odds are, you unknowingly-or knowingly- make people question theirs, as well. But assumptions about other people's relationships or bachelorism (yep, just invented that word) are pointless and inappropriate. Aside from undeniably unhealthy situations (i.e. ones that generate a lot of crying, moping, fighting, etc.), who are we to think that we understand another person's emotions, motivations, and connections? As discussed in many of my past blog posts about individualism and unique perspectives, we can never see the world through someone else's eyes...and often, if we try to, we're painfully off the mark. A single girl is not necessarily desperate, a girl desperate to be in a relationship is not necessarily insecure, a girl who posts lovey statuses about her perfect boyfriend is not necessarily trying to cover something, and a girl in a relationship who is cynical about Valentine's Day is not necessarily making excuses for an unloving boyfriend. Believe it or not, people can be equally happy while in drastically different stages or types of relationships. At the end of the day, all that matters is that we're striving to bring happiness and love into our lives and the lives of others. Valentine or no Valentine.

Brit and me on our Valentine's Day date

CNU S.A.I.L.

Going home feels so good. When I get off this bus around 11pm, my friend Stephanie (from Miss VA) will bring me back to my house, where I’ll leave my suitcase in the living room and immediately creak upstairs to take a bath in our jacuzzi tub. New York becomes more comfortable each day, but there’s nothing more welcoming than recognizable streets, stores, and houses (and your old bathtub). I haven’t been home in about two months- not really all that long, but I’m ready. When I was in college, I’d go much longer without a trip home even though it was only 45 minutes away. Straining to adjust in drastically new city, however, expedites that ticking clock in your heart that eventually sounds an alarm telling you to retreat to familiar ground.  Even so, had it not been for the Pearls reunion taking place in Nags Head this weekend, I probably would’ve waited until Christmas to visit Virginia. Thank goodness for the push to come down, though, because there are two people I’m dying to give a giant hug: my mom and my little brother. Not to mention I have to exchange my summer wardrobe for my winter clothes, which explains the giant red suitcase I’ll be leaving in the living room during my bath.

The bus ride home wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t bruised my tailbone during a horseback riding accident in middle school. Sitting in the same position for extended periods of time really, really hurts. Long term effects, I guess. Maybe I fractured it, ‘cause you’d think a bruise would heal after 11 years. Hmm. Well, luckily, I get the entire two seats to myself this time, because usually I’m rubbing elbows with a tired-looking stranger. The luxury of two seats allows twisting and turning to avoid jolts of pain from searing through my behind. When sharing a seat, I have to settle for subtle butt firming exercises. You don’t want to be me.

Facilitating a middle school S.A.I.L. program

Being me isn’t so bad, though. Today I was reminded of an accomplishment I’m quite proud of in my life; a very welcome reminder after two months of feeling quite unaccomplished in New York. While I was at CNU, I founded an organization called S.A.I.L. (Sharing Awareness for Intercultural Living). I went through some pretty major life changes at the end of my freshman year, leaving me with a burning desire to have a positive influence on the world. I’d left an institution that shaped my morals and granted me opportunities like working in an AIDS home in India, participating in HOPE Youth Corps in Denver, CO, and attending spiritual leadership conferences all over the country. When I separated myself from that institution, the fear that I could no longer better people’s lives haunted me. My boyfriend at the time told me to take that fear and develop it into energy towards doing good. Once it became clear that the topic I felt most passionate about was anti-stereotyping/diversity awareness, Daniel (my ex) and I brainstormed countless ways I could address this issue. We settled on the idea of starting a club on campus that would allow CNU students to facilitate interactive diversity programs in elementary, middle, and high schools.

High School class (I swear there were more than 2 students)

A few weeks before sophomore year began, I approached Stacy Davidson, Director of Multicultural Affairs at CNU. I presented to her my idea and asked if she’d be willing to sponsor the club. She enthusiastically accepted and CNU S.A.I.L. was born. Together we worked on the organizational constitution, training process for members, and program manual to be used in classrooms.  With an extraordinary amount of work, Stacy and I drummed up interest and trained over a dozen CNU students the first semester. We also composed a letter that was sent to every single public school in the Newport News district explaining S.A.I.L. and what our facilitators could bring to classrooms. A few responses in the beginning, followed up by successful programs, led to word of mouth between teachers. Four years later, S.A.I.L. is still intact and having an impact in schools throughout Newport News. Stacy wrote on my Facebook wall today, reassuring me that our legacy lives on (she, too, has left CNU).

My favorite part of S.A.I.L. was receiving emails from teachers with words of gratitude for the changes they saw in their classrooms. The program worked! Of course we couldn’t make every student conquer their prejudices, but knowing even one child grasped the concept made it worthwhile. S.A.I.L. often provided a venue for very candid conversations among rival cliques that most teachers and counselors aimed to suppress. Instead, we allowed those conversations, in a respectful manner of course, in order to get to the bottom of their mutual disdain. One hundred percent of the time, the cause of animosity came from misunderstandings and shallow misjudgements. I distinctly remember one eighth grade group of African-American boys telling a group of Latino boys how they hated that they spoke in Spanish at their lockers because the African-American boys “knew” they (Latinos) were talking smack about them. One of the Latino boys retorted, “No, actually we talk in Spanish because you’ll make fun of our accent if we don’t.” An outspoken black boy looked genuinely surprised said “Really? I didn't know that.” I’m sure that smack talking had occurred at some point, but a legitimate explanation was provided through open communication that changed how both sides viewed the situation. The teacher later informed me that the number of lockerside fights between those classmates decreased drastically after that day.

I’ve wanted to facilitate programs in New York schools, but I get nervous since those students are already so exposed to diversity. Looking back at the time that I spent with students in Newport News, however, I remember that kids are kids- they will separate themselves into cliques no matter what. The message of looking past the exterior and discovering that everyone has a story can be spread in any community.

I’m so glad Stacy wrote on my wall to remind me of how hard work and dedication can, in fact, bring about lasting success. S.A.I.L. was an avenue not just for me, but for CNU students I’ve never met to share the significance of togetherness. Think of how many more children and adolescents have been reached in the past four years than if I’d tried to do something all by myself? Sure, I inspired the development of S.A.I.L., but other students are what keep it alive today. Seeing the hard work from four years ago continue forth without my involvement reiterates that I need to hold tight to a vision and initiate the establishment, then have patience in watching it come to fruition.

The Truth About Pageants

Recently, I was at a house party and a friend of a friend I'd just met said, "So, maybe this is a rude question, but you do, like, beauty pageants, right?" First of all, you clearly know that I do pageants, so stop acting like you haven't already stalked me on Facebook. Secondly, no, that's not a rude question if you don't ask it like I'm known for dropping stink bombs in the middle of church. I will admit that I don't make a big to-do about my participation in pageants because of the stigma attached, but I do get offended when other people talk about them with the air of disapproval. It's kind of like talking about your mom or sibling- you can complain all you want, but God help the person who tries to do the same. She really has no idea what she's talking about.

Miss Angola, Leila Lopes, crowned Miss Universe 2011

With the Miss Universe Pageant making headlines this past week, I found myself getting furious as I read the derogatory remarks about the women involved in pageants...the same vulgar comments that have been made for the past twenty years. Seriously, feminists, either find a new angle or go away. To me, their comments about these women being "dumb" and "parading themselves around like pieces of meat" are rude, belittling, and contradictory to what feminists supposedly stand for. These writers claim to believe in the power of women to strive for any dream they want- be it lawyers, doctors, politicians, ANYTHING. Well, something I desire to be is a woman with a voice. A woman little girls will listen to. A woman who lives her life in a healthy, ethical, and challenging way. A woman who isn't afraid to be feminine and confident. A WOMAN. I don't need to be in a business suit and bossing people around to project "girl power." Frankly, I respect the differences between men and women and find no need to completely eradicate gender codes. Sure, it's a woman's prerogative to become CEO of a company or President of the United States, but it's also her prerogative to become Miss America, Miss USA, or Miss Universe. If feminism is giving women the right to chase any dream they desire, free of criticism or oppression, then why criticize and oppress women who dream of winning a pageant?

Give me a 10 or a 2, I felt great

I understand why the swimsuit competition makes some people upset. And I won't play stupid and say that some girls don't go overboard. However, I've done it. I've put on my bikini and four inch heels and marched myself across a stage, allowing seven judges to look for my flaws and give my not-perfectly-toned butt a number. But you know what? I've never been more motivated to get in the best shape of my life. I was healthy, thin, and proud of the body I'd worked so very hard for. The way I see it, the swimsuit competition is a reflection of how hard you will work for a goal. No, it is not easy or natural to be fit and thin (at least for most people), but what's so wrong with working out and making it happen? I handled a ten minute intellectually demanding interview of firing squad questions regarding the political arena, my personal platform (diversity awareness), and controversial social issues. I practiced and perfected my talent of opera singing that taught me discipline and dedication throughout my entire childhood. I indulged in my sexiness and femininity to exude poise in an evening gown that represented the class and confidence all of my "pageant preparation" had extracted from within me. Thirty seconds in a swimsuit was not going to keep me from my dream job of traveling the state and promoting my platform. And, let's be honest, the only reason someone doesn't want to get in a swimsuit on a stage is because they don't like the way they look (argue all you want, but it's true). If you love your body- whether you're a size 2 or a 14- why wouldn't you be okay with other people looking at it in a controlled, non-sexual setting? The girls who go on stage in those swimsuits are the ones truly promoting what it means to be unwaveringly confident in your body- not promoting the opposite. I mean, I certainly did not get a perfect 10. But I'm okay with that because I was happy with how I looked. That's what it's all about- being YOUR best and recognizing that if you believe you are a 10, who cares if you're holding a trophy at the end of the night?

Merissa and me at a Children's Miracle Network fundraiser

The fact that people feel better about themselves when putting down "pretty pageant girls" is sickening. Unless you know each individual girl, who are you to judge what that woman is like? I only have experience in the Miss America Organization, which is scholarship-based rather than modeling (Miss USA/Universe is owned by Trump and does not include talent or scholastic aspects), but I can say with no hesitation that women who compete in pageants are no more self-absorbed or worse examples than anyone else in this world. As a matter of fact, the girls I know through pageants are less self-absorbed than most other girls our age and the best examples of successful, driven women I've ever encountered. You can make fun of the good girls doing community service with their big white smiles, but when was the last time you visited a hospital to play with the kids or raised awareness for a worthy cause? If you have, good on you. But a good heart and a good deed is no less admirable just because a girl is associated with pageantry.

My dear friend, Katie Uze, spoke to around 30,000 students about anti-bullying during her year as Miss Virginia 2010. Not only was she recognized by U.S. Congress for her efforts, but she's received countless thank you letters from teachers, parents, and students expressing how her presentation changed- even saved- lives.

Even a pageant system that is not as involved with scholarship and service as the Miss America Organization does not simply draw dense, conceited muses. You can't tell me that Miss USA 2007, Rachel Smith, doesn't have an impressive bio (thanks, Wikipedia): "Smith graduated magna cum laude from Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee in 2006 with a bachelor of science in journalism. Smith graduated a semester early, in December 2006. She received a full tuition scholarship to attend Belmont due to her community service activities and academic achievements throughout high school.While she was at Belmont, she interned in Chicago, Illinois, for eight months with Harpo Productions, a company owned by Oprah Winfrey. In January 2007, it was announced that she had been chosen by Winfrey to volunteer for one month at her Leadership Academy for Girls." So, feminists, you're telling me that her accomplishments are tainted by the fact that she won Miss USA? Good argument. Not.

Phew. Glad I got that all out.

Oh, and did I mention we're the best of friends? That dress-cutting sabotage stuff is nonsense. This doesn't even begin to cover it:

Katie, the fabulous Miss VA I mentioned above, and me cuddling in 2008 :)