For Women

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Czyczynska: Gloria Johnson is one cool woman

Editor’s Note: This is a part of a collection of stories SDNN will publish throughout the month of March to celebrate Women’s History Month. Join us as we recognize Women’s History Month by sending in your stories too and checking SDNN every day for stories from other women in our region. Happy Women’s History Month!

"Half the Sky LIVE" will show in theaters Thursday only

In honor of International Women’s Day, CARE will present Half the Sky LIVE in movie theaters nationwide at 7:30 p.m. Thursday, March 4.

Inspired by the best-selling book from Pulitzer-prize winning journalists Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, Half the Sky LIVE celebrates International Women’s Day 2010 with musical performances, celebrity commentary and the world premiere of “Woineshet,” a powerful short film directed by Academy Award winner Marisa Tomei and Lisa Leone.

Bry: My mother’s best lesson

Editor’s Note: This is a part of a collection of stories SDNN will publish throughout the month of March to celebrate Women’s History Month. Join us as we recognize Women’s History Month by sending in your stories too and checking SDNN every day for stories from other women in our region. Happy Women’s History Month!

Nude marathon therapy. EST. Psychoanalysis. Gestalt therapy. Group therapy. LSD. Encounter group therapy.

O’Connor: Women’s History Month starts with you and a photo

Editor’s Note: SDNN columnist Colleen O’Connor will write about Women’s History Month throughout March to highlight the importance of the recognition and how women have shaped history. Join us as we recognize Women’s History Month by sending in your stories too and checking SDNN every day for stories from other women in our region. Happy Women’s History Month!

Shortly before my mother died, a photograph appeared on the family’s dining room wall.

Czyczynska: The heart of San Diego can be found in the women

Empathy is what I expected to feel. But I surpassed that to where I was deeply moved, by statistics.

Blurbs from a Breeder: How doth thou love me? Specifics, damnit!

I’m smack in the middle of that really hard part of life—you know, the part between preschool and death.

I’m the poster girl for stress, worrying about everything from the probable (“One day I’ll be too old to ride a Six Flags roller coaster. Sadness.”) to the highly unlikely (“It might be good to have a rifle around the house just in case there’s a zombie apocalypse.”).

My fears, neuroticisms, and mediocre efforts at positivism are a blueprint for crazy. So how do I keep my sanity despite my shoddy emotional genetics? Everyone roll your eyes collectively now: Love.

Featured Listing

Love is like a chocolate

In 1943, psychologist Abraham Maslow listed the experience of love as being one of the foundation blocks in the hierarchy of human needs _ the only things being more pertinent were oxygen, food and water. It makes sense, really; it's everywhere. It’s at Starbucks. It’s on reality television. It’s in the air. You can’t escape it.

Few would disagree that love is one of life’s greatest mysteries … and for many, the quest to find, fall into, or fall head over heels in love … is reason enough to get out of bed in the morning.

Featured Listing

Dead mouse, flourishing relationship

We were watching a Christmas special the first time my boyfriend saw it. I was reaching for a handful of popcorn when the blast from Jeremiah’s throat caused me to jump. As he sprang up from the couch I tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Mouse!” he exclaimed as he ran toward the kitchen. By now the furry object of his excitement was gone; having scampered into a nook or cranny after hearing a voice that didn’t hint his presence was a blessing.

“I know this is going to sound silly,” I said, “but please don’t kill it.”

Belching strangers and the roommate who subjected me to them

I stared at the burley, sleepy-eyed stranger who was on my couch, scratching his crotch. “Hey,” he said, TV remote in hand. “You’re out of soda.”

I frowned.

“Two comments,” I said. “One: thanks for the heads up on the soda. Two: who the hell are you?”

The stranger introduced himself as Dave. When he didn’t elaborate, I was forced to ask, “And. Why. Are. You. Here?”

“Oh,” he said. “Your roommate Allie…”

“- Abbie.”

“—Abbie, brought me home last night.”

“Brought you home? Like a puppy she found nosing through a trash bin?”

Thanks for flying

Her voice was like a battle cry from Braveheart. "Get your shoes off the conveyor belt! Shoes in the bin! The bin! Now! Now! Now!"

The last time I experienced that kind of anger I was eight years old and had just been caught attempting to sell my younger brother to a passerby outside our home. (The man in the windowless van promised to give him a good home, yet my mother still threw a fit. Sheesh.)

“No shoes on the conveyor belt! In the bin! The bin! Now! Now! Now!”

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