Job Description: roles and responsibilities

Happy New Year, readers! It's been 2 months since my last post, and it's so hard to believe! Time is flying by, everybody. We are 90 days out from the wedding. Is everyone ready? If you haven't already purchased your flights, booked your hotel, or, God forbid, picked out your wedding outfits, please do so. And remember there are resources available on our wedding website if you need them.

Allow me to update everyone on our new life here in NYC and my new job!

view from under the Brooklyn Bridge

Once I arrived in NY in October, I gave myself some time to adjust to our new apartment and way of life. But by late October I was propelling myself through a black hole of job search websites, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, hoping for something interesting. I refreshed those same pages every day, hoping something might just poof! arise from the ether and call out my name. The reality was that while New York City has LOTS of jobs, they also had LOTS of applicants. And, oddly, NY nonprofits really didn't adjust their salaries for cost of living. I met with a couple mutual friends' connections who had secured museum work and they told me those jobs were oh-so-rare and even when they were available, the person doing the hiring almost always had someone in mind already. Cool.

I kept looking, I had one interview with an NPR-type organization that could've been interesting but they had terrible reviews on Glassdoor from previous employees. Also the pay was equally terrible. I had an in-person interview with a photography center and they all but offered me the job, but then they said they were "restructuring the department" at the last minute. Whatever. I decided to look more broadly at the arts and take an interview as the Executive Assistant to a woman who owned her own art consulting firm, thinking I could be exposed to the for-profit side and learn a lot from her. That was a nightmare.

Brrrr. It's cold up here.

Basically I worked for her out of her Park Avenue home office (and that apartment was ah-mazing) as a "tryout" for two days without getting paid. In that time, I took her heirloom jewelry to get fixed in the Diamond District, I called to change the seat on her flight to Istanbul so she'd have more legroom, I ordered her weekly grocery delivery, I phoned her nutritionist about oil-free cooking spray (it doesn't exist, but you try telling that to a crazy Manhattan rich lady), I had her NY Times subscription delivered to her Miami residence, I filed away her paper statements for Botox treatments, I ordered her car service for the evening, and I gave my opinion on 2 leather outfits she considered wearing to a kinky Halloween party. Let's just say I knew it wasn't going to work out between us.

I honestly imagine it could have been a great learning experience for me if I had been able to deal with all of that. But I just knew I didn't have the personality to be able to thrive in her company. Plus, part of me wanted to have co-workers and a "normal" office environment. She offered me the job but I politely declined. I felt the job description had been a bit misleading, and I didn't want to be a personal assistant to an entitled Manhattanite. Especially not for what she wanted to pay me, with no benefits, might I add.

Being silly with some work folks

Finally I got an interview at AIGA, which is the professional association for design. I'd heard of them before, having worked with graphic designers and web designers at previous jobs. AIGA is the trade organization for all kinds of designers-- essentially they put on conferences, workshops, and events for the purposes of professional development. I got the job and I knew right away I had made the right decision in turning down the other position. I would have autonomy in this position, coordinating event details, managing design competitions, and providing membership support. I enjoy my coworkers, I love the office environment, and our building is dangerously close to Eataly (an Italian grocery store that started in Turin). Our office is moving down to a new space in the Financial District in February so I am enjoying my location while it lasts!

Salted Caramel Gelato from EATALY.

In an email response to a cherished friend/former coworker who asked how I felt about not working in a museum, I wrote "When I think about it, yeah, I'd like to be working in a museum, but I also want to feel like a part of a team, I want to feel support and encouragement, I want to be contributing in a positive way, I want to learn, and I want to be given autonomy. I get to check those boxes at my current job."

Our office Holiday card photo!

I started the job in mid-November, then it was Thanksgiving and my mom was here visiting, and then poof! it was Christmas, and now here we are. Somehow it really did seem to happen that quickly. Thanksgiving and Christmas were lovely, we went to Jon's mom's house in Connecticut for both holidays and interestingly we got snow for Turkey Day but not X-mas. It was great to be surrounded by family, and especially great to have my mom up here for Thanksgiving. The conversation over the holidays naturally turned to the wedding. Specifically, the "oh shit, the wedding is in 3 months!" conversation.

Connecticut on Thanksgiving Day

Jon and I have been knocking things off our list like a couple of pros, but it hasn't been easy. It takes discipline and diplomacy to deal with wedding planning. It's stressful. (Let me take this moment to thank everyone that has made it easier on us by helping with all the wedding planning: Jon and I love you guys and we certainly couldn't do it alone.) Our "crunch time" for the wedding just happens to coincide with us adjusting to a new city, new way of life, both of our new jobs, and having find a decent apartment in this city and move out of our current sublet very soon. We are thankful for our family and friends lending a hand to make all of this happen.

Christmas in Connecticut

This weekend, Jon and I sat down to write our vows together. (One of the many things left on our to-do list that we didn't want to leave for the last minute.) As we were pondering just how to express what we want from/for our marriage and each other, I got to thinking about the contract for marriage and the contract for employment.

I considered again what I wanted from a job, and what I liked about my current job. I want to feel like part of a team, to feel support and encouragement, to learn, to maintain independence and creativity, to thrive in a positive environment with positive people, to do good and have fun doing it-- these were all things I wanted from/for my marriage too. I realized, in a way, Jon and I were declaring our own set of roles and responsibilities. We were writing our new job descriptions.

Brunch with my boo

The year 2015, for us, marks a period of change, adjustment, and newness. This year, I'm going to have a brand new role: wife, partner, spouse, (even an aunt!). I've never done this job before; I might not always be great at it, but Jon has seen my qualifications and he believes in me enough to put me on his team. Likewise, I've selected him (out of all the applicants!) for my team. We will learn and grow together. It will be both of our jobs to listen, to support, to encourage, to share, to delegate, to contribute, etc. Marriage is work, after all, and there is an expectation that we will hold each other accountable for what we have outlined and agreed upon together.

That metaphor hasn't completely been worked out, but I think you guys know where I'm going with it. I have always prided myself on my ability to adapt, to find ways to adjust and move forward. I am ready for this new phase of life and I can't wait to celebrate with friends and family in a few short months!

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Update on our mouse guest situation, for those of you who were desperately wondering how that tale would end. We successfully (and humanely) detained the mouse guest this weekend and set him free outside our apartment. Jon and I had a very animated shriek-y argument about whether to kill him or capture him. We were both reluctant to kill him due to cuteness. Little bastard.

Mouse Guest: Detained. VICTORY IS OURS.

Cohabitation: a survival guide

*Disclaimer: this post has some adult language, and if you want a curse-free version, that's too bad because I didn't f**king write one*

Salted CRACK Caramel Ice Cream, Ample Hills Creamery, Brooklyn

Folks, I've officially got two weeks under my belt as a Brooklyn resident. In that time, I have located the closest post office, handed over $4.75 for a caffè latte, and attended several knitting/crocheting meet-up groups. So you could say I'm settling in. I've had some of the most delicious food already -- pizza, burrata, breakfast sammies, Carribbean food, Indian food, artisinal gelato and ice cream (someone with as refined a frozen dessert palate as mine must recognize the difference), banana walnut waffles, bagels with insane amounts of shmear, pickles (pickled things are popular here, and I'm okay with that), and a delicious 8-course Japanese meal for our anniversary last week. Still on the agenda: meet a guy named Sal and yell at him over the counter "Hey, gimme a slice!" But my penchant for southern manners may impede an endeavor of this sort.

Aside from all the great eats and nearby cultural attractions, Jon and I have been dealing with some less-than-ideal situations during our first weeks together as a cohabiting couple. Don't get me wrong, he is a fantastic partner, and I wouldn't be with him if he weren't. He pulls his weight and shares the household duties with me and he's very responsive to whatever I need. He is incredibly thoughtful and caring. But friends, that doesn't mean that being lifelong roomies isn't difficult.

Coffee shop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn

How to test the very foundation of your relationship, in 4 easy steps:

1. Toilet paper
2. Wrestling
3. Foot injuries.
4. A mouse guest. (Like a house guest, but never f**king invited in the first place)

Allow me to expound upon these cringe-worthy anecdotes:

1.

This is irrelevant, but I'm telling you anyway: last week I shopped for toilet paper at a grocery store called Western Beef. And yes, it's just as glamorous as you're imagining. Their logo is a smiling cactus with a cowboy hat on. Needless to say, it's not a place where anyone should be purchasing meat products, and I'm questioning my own desire to buy paper products there. Anyway, I walk into the bathroom to find the roll has been completely used and somehow not refilled. I considered the scene as a situation with several outcomes. One, I could instinctively scream about Jon's egregious error and inevitably be seen as a nag. Two, I could avoid the issue, refill it myself, and slip into a passive role within our relationship. Or, three, I could find a way to gently let him know this disregard for household upkeep wasn't how I wanted to live.

I'm going to be honest, it was my first attempt at household diplomacy, so it was really a mix of one and three. BUT, he was responsive and replaced the roll. It's just... well, he put it on with the paper coming from the bottom of the roll. The BOTTOM.  LIKE A HEATHEN. We all know that the paper needs to come from the top of the roll, @!$(@!$^(#%)_@!!! At that point I got a look from him which indicated I was, in fact, insane. Maybe, but I feel like I got the point across. I also realized that I would need to adjust my behaviors to some of his needs. Which brings me to number two.

2.

Previously, I never had a complete grasp of how much Jon watches wrestling. It's shocking to me that he can find so much time in the day for wrestling. He watches current matches. He watches well-known matches from the 1990s. He watches documentaries about wrestling. He watches shows that talk about famous wrestlers. When I ask him why, he doesn't even know the reason. He describes it as a guilty pleasure, an inexplicable and insatiable desire to watch horrible reality television. He likened it to the Real Housewives, and then I understood his man logic. When I see this behavior, part of me is saying "Why the hell do you care to spend so many hours a day doing this?!? Is it even worth it if you're not watching Dwyane 'The Rock' Johnson?!? UUUUGGGGHHH!" and the other part of me is saying "Hey self, this is just how he unwinds, I don't have to understand it... *deep breath*..." So I need to let him be him. And, interestingly, that involves a lot of wrestling.

Our neighborhood (for now), Crown Heights, Brooklyn

3.

I was laid up in the apartment for a few days following an incident in which I rolled my ankle while walking along the Brooklyn Promenade. Yes, that does make me sound like I'm 75 years old, but damn it I'm not used to all this walking! While I was incapacitated, I couldn't put any pressure on my foot and I tried to hobble around the apartment. Instead, Jon insisted on carrying me from room to room and bringing me anything I needed. I felt like I was being annoying, but he was willing to help and constantly checked on me. Definitely an A+. I didn't want to have to rely on him to get me around, but I let him take care of me, because we're partners now and we need to lean on each other. Sometimes literally. 

Prospect Heights, Brooklyn

4.

Uggggh, guys. This one makes me shiver with disgust. Our mouse guest. Yeah people, we had a f**king mouse in our house. You thought that shit was just in cute cartoons and books about giving them cookies? No. Those little shits are interloping sons of b*tches. Like I said, if you want to test the very fabric of your relationship, see how you both deal with having a mouse guest. We had completely different reactions to this incident. As you can probably tell, I freaked out, because there was a filthy rodent in my living space. 

When we first discovered the mouse and cornered him into the kitchen, I wanted to remove everything and find that evil creature. But we didn't have a clear plan - I wanted to kill it, yet I didn't want to kill it, and Jon felt the same way. He appeased me by going in there with a shoe (one that he didn't particularly care for) and made like he would kill it, but I knew he didn't want to. In fact, Jon was a little laissez-faire about the whole thing, admitting defeat once the thing was out of eyesight. Conversely, that's when I was the most freaked out. It REALLY bothered me that we couldn't locate the mouse. Jon actually took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye, and told me I had to calm down. "We live in New York. There are mice here." Shockingly, I did not find that at all soothing. But he was right. Jon was having to adjust to my behaviors too; he even managed to have me laughing about our mouse guest. 

Eventually, Jon made me realize the futility of searching for the mouse, because he likely has one of those secret mouse passageways. For three full days I barricaded the kitchen because I knew there was a possibility he was hiding in there somewhere and I didn't want him to think he could roam around and have little mouse dinner parties in our living room. I read up on "humane" pest control methods and after trips to 4 local markets looking for peppermint oil, I gave up and decided this guy was going to meet his Maker in a self-contained trap. (Sidenote: you would be horrified to see all the different types and kinds of mouse traps in the hardware store. Horrified.)

UPDATE: Mouse guest has yet to be accounted for.

We carved pumpkins. Guess which one is mine.

On top of all this, we're both experiencing stress: Jon's new job, my lack of a job (thus far). Also, our gas got turned off last week since the apartment lessee hadn't paid the bill and it can't be turned on until Nov 6. We still have heat and water, but we can't use our stove or oven for that time. We've had to be inventive in our cooking strategies. To say the least, we've had to rally together and be adaptable. We are getting used to each other's rhythms and habits. We're learning how to live together, and we're learning how to live with each other, if that makes sense. We both know we can do this, and we will do this. Just be aware that I might be occasionally complaining (and boasting!) about our life transitions via this blog. You've been warned.

In a New York Minute

Everything can change...

Okay, I'm officially the worst. I have been meaning to write a blog post and update all of you on my (once again) adventuresome life trajectory. But things happen so fast, sometimes you don't even have a minute to sit down and write it all out. So, now I'm taking that minute. Do forgive me for my tardiness.

Jon and me cruising to Mexico

Life update: Jon and I are living in NYC! Crazy sauce, I know. As I am writing this, I'm staring out the living room window of our 1/1 apartment in Brooklyn, gazing upon the rooftop air conditioning units (?) of the adjacent building, with some trees and other buildings in the distance. Ahhhh, New York. (For those of you that have been following my blog for some years now, you'll remember that I lived in New York City for 5 months back in 2012 while doing an internship at Christie's. I stayed with my then-professor's mom, a darling 80-year-old woman named Phyllis, and I will definitely be reconnecting with her! Though Brooklyn is certainly a change from her Upper West Side apartment overlooking Central Park - I'm sure I'll adjust!)

The Brooklyn Museum

Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch, "To the Defenders of the Union 1861-1865"

Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn

WHERE: We've got a great sublet on the edge of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, right across the street from the Botanic Gardens, and a 5 minute walk from the Brooklyn Museum.

WHEN: I just moved in Thursday evening and I spent the weekend unpacking our boxes and settling in, generally trying to make the apartment more home-y. Jon has been here for nearly 3 weeks now.

WHY: Well, Jon was promoted within his current company and there was a perfect job waiting for him here in NYC! I debated about staying in San Antonio until the wedding in April, but finally decided it was the right time for me to transition from my job. I also thought it would be really important for us to do this move together and experience this change in tandem just as we're about to embark on our lifelong partnership. I'm very happy I did, because we are already leaning on each other for support.

HOW: Hahaha. How. This might take a while. Let me just explain to you how quickly this all happened. We found out about the offer maybe 2 days before going on a week-long cruise with some pals. It seemed like the most stressful time to take a vacation, but we knew we'd regret not going. We had an awesome time - went to Progreso and Cozumel, Mexico and generally had a blast. (Pause for photos)

swimming in the cenotes of Progreso, Mexico

ultimate relaxation in Cozumel, Mexico

pineapple drinks with our pals Sara + Jason

on the boat

Such a great trip

When we got back, it was go-time. Jon had about 3 days to pack up his apartment and sell all his furniture (since we didn't know if we'd have a furnished apartment or not) so we packed him up then I went back to San Antonio and worked my last 2 weeks at the museum (which was hellish and super stressful). All the while I'm packing up my stuff and selling things and trying to say goodbye to my dear friends. Next thing I know, it's my last day of work and Jon's mom is flying in to help me pack up the truck and drive to Austin. The next day, we'd packed up Jon's apartment and we were on our way to NYC. 

Look at this tree. Just look at it. LOOK AT THE BEAUTY.

Let me just tell you, that is a LOOOONG drive and Jon's mom is a saint for not making me do it alone. I had a grand scheme that we would do a podcast from the road, but that was ambitious. We busied ourselves with trying to name state capitals, which, I'm embarrassed to say, wasn't as easy as expected. In 2.5 days we'd made it all the way to the Empire State. I don't necessarily recommend driving 13+ hours per day, unless you like to push the limits of your sanity. By day 3 when we reached New Jersey I had somewhat of an emotional breakdown when I suddenly realized how quickly everything had changed.

I didn't live in Texas anymore. I was far away from my family again. I was far away from some of my very best friends again. I didn't have a job anymore. I would have to start over, again. Now, while this is an exciting thought, it's also one wrought with anxiety, stress, and the great unknown.

Admittedly horrendous photo of the NYC skyline as we drove in Thursday night.

Everyone had been asking me, "Aren't you excited?" "Wow, New York City! Have you found a job?" Meanwhile I'm thinking Uhhh yes I'm excited, but no I haven't even looked for a job yet since there's a lot of logistical shit I need to take care of. A few nights before leaving San Antonio I had dinner with a few girlfriends and during the meal I realized it was the first time I'd felt relaxed in about 10 days. Then there was the moment in New Jersey when I realized for the first time that I didn't have the same life I had 2 days ago. That's an overwhelming feeling. It's full of promise and opportunity, of course, and also full of questions and shaky variables.

Did I have the right wardrobe for Brooklyn? Answer: I really need to be wearing more black.
Would these North Eastern people be rude to me? Answer: It's a mixed bag so far. We've met some VERY nice people but I need a larger sample size before I commit to this one.
Would I find a job that suits me? Yet to be answered. Lots of opportunity, and lots of competition. But I feel confident in myself and my capabilities.

So far I've noticed a couple things about Brooklyn:

1. It's brisk outside. I'm not going to call it cold, but I have been wearing long sleeves, scarves, and light jackets. A drastic shift from the high '80s in San Antonio last week.
2. I am very aware of my whiteness. Apparently we live in a Carribbean/Jamaican neighborhood and I didn't realize how much my previous environments had conditioned me to be comfortable in the majority.
3. I'm experiencing so many things I would have never experienced before. In the few days I've been here, Jon and I have happened upon a Michael Jackson-themed Roller Disco (super fun), a Panamanian Independence Parade, and a great local pub where people freely discuss art exhibitions and liberal politics.

At a Michael Jackson-themed Roller Disco

Panamanian Independence Parade

Brunching it with my boo, Tom's Restaurant

I could get used to this. I will get used to this. Everything takes a period of adjustment. And I'm just getting started.

The Name Changer

A few months after Jon and I got engaged, I remember shopping with my girlfriends at an antique shop in Gruene, TX, arranging the heavy squares of letterpress typeface into "K-e-e-n-a-n" while my future Maid of Honor arranged another set of squares into "D-u-p-l-e-s-s-i-s". We were both getting married, and we were both going to have new last names. Obviously. That's what you do, right?

Fast forward a few months to a phase in the wedding planning process when I have time to think. Hmm, names. I'd been noticing that several recently-wed friends of mine had kept their maiden names on Facebook. Was there a movement afoot? Are women starting to buck this tradition, and if so, what were the reasons? As a matter of fact, why do we change our names at all--what's the meaning behind it? I set out to find the answer, and in the meantime made a mental list of all my names and all the possibilities. And I thought about why I had already chosen to change my name in adulthood:

Brittany Lauren Shultz? My legal name. Of course I'll always feel somewhat sentimental towards Brittany, but it just does not fit me anymore.

Disclaimer: this is going to get tangential.
It's one of those names that was hit by a grisly train wreck of late '80s to mid '90s popularity and then dragged through the mud by a specifically unsavory celebrity icon. Let's paint a brutally honest picture of every Brittany you've met in your life, shall we? Snobby. Shallow. Stupid. Slutty. Essentially she looks like a stand-in for a main character on Mean Girls, right? Suuuure there are always exceptions, but the year I was born this was the 7th most popular female name, and 22,223 baby girls became Brittanys in that year alone. Though I don't have the data to support it, I'd venture to say many of them were white, upper-middle-class recipients of this name -- (and admittedly I was one too!) which would explain our collective image of "Brittany." According to data from the Social Security Administration, the median age of Brittanys in 2014 is 23 years old. Thousands upon thousands of aforementioned Brittanys, just a few years younger than me in biological age, but (by my calculations) at least a decade younger in psychological age.

Source: Social Security Administration data

Have you ever met a Brittany (Brittanie/Britney/Brittni or any other obscene aberration thereof) that gave you the impression she was a respected, professional young woman of high moral character, vast intelligence, and unwavering humility? Exactly. You haven't, because all of us Brittanys that wanted to be taken seriously started going by our middle names as soon as we could convince people to do so. With a cursory Google search, I happened upon this baby name forum and this message board today, both of which support my thesis.

If you're thinking "Oh, that's silly! I never judge people based on their names!"... "not every Brittany I know is a snobby bitch!"... "The negative association couldn't possibly be so strong!" then I would urge you to read The Namesake, which, through a fictional character, insightfully describes the defining power of names on our identity. With names like this, unfortunately, the trendy association can often overcome the original meaning altogether.

As I started applying for jobs and internships in college (~'06-'07), I decided I didn't want to continue using a name with such a stigma attached to it, so I chose to be defined in my adult life by my second name. For 7 years now I've been using my middle name both professionally and personally, and the only people that still use my first name are family members and maybe four or five good friends that have known me a long time and can't fathom switching over. This doesn't bother me. Though I've had a few people cast off my name change as an identity crisis of sorts. Nope. I don't think so. The way I viewed myself was no longer in line with the broader cultural identity my name had taken on. Quite simply, I grew out of it.

In recent years I've discovered that more and more people my age go by different names than they used when younger. One friend of mine noticed that she gets more interviews by using her gender-neutral first name instead of the middle name she'd used for years. Case in point. Names matter. Identities matter. And I'm not so abnormal. When a name is so tightly associated with an age, an era, a stereotype, a personality, a relationship-- it only makes sense to let it go when the time comes. While some people are bothered by such a drastic change, I tend to embrace it as a new opportunity.

Now, let's get back to business.

Lauren Shultz? Of course I like this. And I have to say I like the way it looks on my business cards.

But let's take a minute to talk about Shultz. I have no issues with Shultz. Hell, I've been a Shultz my whole life! Do I feel a strong inclination to remain a Shultz until my dying days? Not necessarily. Does the name feel like the cornerstone of my identity? Not particularly. If anything, Shultz can - at times - be annoying. I have spelled Shultz more times than I can even fathom, and even when I do spell it aloud, people will still write down Schultz, Schulz, and Schultze. That's just the way it is. Do I consider that a negative association? No way. I'm just used to the misspellings. In fact, some of my closest friends STILL do not know how to spell my last name. In my friend's wedding announcement I was "Schulz." Even more, just last week I received this piece of mail that includes THREE different spellings of my last name in ONE document:

If you can't read it, that's "Shulte," "Schultz," and "Shultz,"-- all three spellings used in one letter of correspondence. I think that just about sums it up, don't you?

Brittany Lauren Keenan? Maybe? Am I required to keep my first name? Is that a legal thing?

Lauren Keenan? That sounds strong. Like I could be a sassy, no-nonsense attorney at law representing Keenan & Keenan, LLP.

Brittany Lauren Shultz Keenan? Too long; also, not a great cadence to it.

Lauren Shultz Keenan? Women often replace their middle name with the maiden name, right? That's a thing people do?

Lauren Shultz-Keenan? No; and does anyone even hyphenate anymore? Who has room for that kind of thing in the signature line?

Brittany Lauren Shultz-Keenan-stein-owitz? POSSIBLY.

My question is: WHY do we change our names? Because it's tradition? I have already "changed my name" by choosing to use my middle name in my adult life. I am not averse to changing my name by any means--if anything, changing your first name seems more drastic to me than a last name. But I don't want to change my last name just because it's a thing women do when they get married. That's not a good enough reason for me. WHY am I changing it? I had my reasons when I stopped using "Brittany" - and I don't look back. There is a social pressure for women to change their names, which has lessened in recent years, but still exists. This is evident to me because I didn't question whether I would change it or not when I first became engaged. It seems to me that acknowledging my "choice" in the matter appears a bit taboo as well.

I've gone through lots of feminist articles on the subject recently - including a Harvard journal, the Huffington Post, and the Guardian - to consider what it means to change my name in a postmodern society. Am I a feminist? In the sense that I am an educated female, absolutely. I don't want to balk at decades of progress in gender equality by simply agreeing to a mainstream custom. Times have changed. Women are getting married later in life, they are more educated, and have career aspirations equal to or exceeding those of their spouse. These days couples have more egalitarian marriages than previous generations.

Considering all these advancements in gender equality, I would like to respect the progress that has been made and still adjust my identity to that of a modern wife in an egalitarian marriage. That being said, I do not believe my marriage should be one in which I subsume my husband's identity-- the feminist argument being that taking his name is an act of disassociating me from myself. In my opinion, while my identity remains my own, it will undergo changes (as will his!) as we learn to exist as a couple entering into a lifelong, committed union. That cannot happen without changes to the way we both operate. We will make decisions collectively, compromise, share responsibilities, and make efforts to maintain our relationship. From my conversations with other wives and mothers, those titles do not define them, their identity remains their own while growing to encompass more responsibilities-- as do their husbands'.

All things being equal, why don't men change their names? Why not hyphenate both partners' last names? Going further, why don't children take their mother's last name? These are all valid questions and will continue to arise as marriage becomes more of an equal institution. In a recent informal Facebook poll of my friends, I received the following feedback to the "WHY" question: one friend didn't question the custom, one friend hated her last name and changed it as a result, one friend kept her last name to buck the patriarchal tradition, one friend changed her last name after 2 years of marriage, one friend hyphenated her name and so did her partner, one friend kept her last name and the husband changed his name, one friend changed her last name for the symbolic unity of their family. These are all women I respect, and their responses are completely valid because they are their own choices.

As for me, I can only do what I feel is the best solution for me. And I can make an informed decision, all the while respecting the fact that I have the right to make that decision. I've got a history of changing names. I'm not opposed to it by any means. I welcome the idea of building something with Jon and creating something new, meanwhile acknowledging the antiquated nature of this tradition in a modern society.

In our early conversations on the topic -- around the time I was dreamily constructing his name with letterpress typeface -- Jon did express that it was important to him for me to change my name. Neither of us had taken the time to ask WHY it mattered to us. Now that we've thoroughly talked through the WHY of name changing, he tends to agree that my last name doesn't have any bearing on our commitment to each other and it doesn't lessen the significance of our marital bond. Though we both want to be part of the same team. We acknowledge our biases and existing patriarchal tendencies -- and it's important to me that we can have these types of intelligent conversations. I know that I could change my name altogether, or I could follow tradition and take his -- it wouldn't change my identity as an independent, strong, educated woman.

Ladies, what do you think? If you have changed your name or kept your name - what factors influenced your decision? Tradition? Symbolism? Bureaucracy? Equality?

Pony Express Love Letters

Back in February I created a community project called Pony Express Love Letters at the museum where I work. People were invited to come in and type a love letter on our vintage typewriter, become inspired by books of poetry, and we would deliver them to recipients in the downtown area via the local bike share program, BCycle. I wrote an article about the project which was featured in a local online news source.

At the time, a new acquaintance contacted me to ask if he could film me delivering the letters because he loved the idea. His name is Roger, from Rogy Productions, and he made a beautiful video highlighting the project and the museum.

Two weeks ago Roger's film about my project was screened at the San Antonio Film Commission's Neighborhood Film Project and won a first place distinction! Everyone at the museum loves the video, and it's being shared on social media, and featured on the Rivard Report's website as well. I'm excited this collaboration has gained a lot of attention and I'm proud of the result that was created through some very innovative teamwork.

Enjoy the film and let me know what you think:

Engagement Photos!

I have been intending to post our professional engagement photos for everyone to see! We had a lot of fun during the photo shoot-- all the locations are in South Austin. My personal favorite was the Cathedral of Junk, it's a maze-like paradise of ephemera in a guy's backyard. Very Austin.

Many thanks to our lovely, talented photographer: Mercedes Morgan!

Are there any favorites? I can't choose, I love them all!

Grant and Jenny

Grant and Jenny are two individuals I truly respect. They don't take themselves too seriously, they challenge each other, and really just call each other out on their shit. To me, the honesty they share is essential to the success of their relationship.

In this podcast, Grant and Jenny confide in me the nitty gritty details of their marriage. We talk about the importance of laughing, having separate checking accounts, and maintaining intimacy.

Episode 5: Music credit: "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths