The Verbal Filter

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2009-11-19T08:21:00.000-08:00

So I realized I never really went into how I turned my entire career upside down and went into personal training. I don't even really know if I mentioned I was going to do it (might have mentioned it here). I just stopped posting and then I came back and was like, "Blah, blah, quit my job, yadda yadda, and at the gym... ." So here's the story...

I had been working with a trainer at my gym downtown, and I kept complaining about how tired I always was and how much I hated my job (my soul felt it was being sucked out by the industrial strength vacuums my company sold). Slowly that turned into me asking my trainer about his certifications and how everyone at the gym had gotten into training. Finally, he just said, "Why don't you just get certified?" and it just all became so clear. He suggested that I go through ISSA, which turned out to be genius, because it's accredited by the US Department of Education, meaning that my nice office job would pay for it since it counted as continuing education!

Anyway, I planned to get certified, save up a little more money, and then transition into the new job. Well, only problem was that I hated my job SO much that it was affecting the rest of my life. I was so apathetic that I had no motivation to do anything. Except study, that is. Because I knew that the sooner I could get certified, the sooner I could get OUT of a job I knew in my heart was all wrong for me. So I studied nonstop for two months -- on the train, after work, all weekend long. I was just finishing the program when I decided that the day had come to put in my two-weeks notice. So I did, and on my last day of work, I found out I had passed my exam and had become a certified personal trainer. Whew.

Then I took a month off to just enjoy a Chicago summer. I read, I wrote, I tanned (yeah, yeah, I KNOW), I slept. I loved it, but I was ready to get back to work because I was getting restless (my Dad has told me before that he always thought I had ADHD), and, oh right, I was running out of moo-lah. So I decided I needed to start applying to gyms, but I already knew where I wanted to work. I interviewed at a few places, but I had always intended to work at the gym where I had originally trained as a client. I walked in and asked for the fitness director, and as soon as he saw me, he said, "Well, look who it is!" He had me fill out and application and set up a practical interview on the spot. I knew I was going to like this job!

Fast forward to two months later, and I'm slowly building up a client base and loving this job so much more than anything I've ever done. The days are long, and right now the pay is crappy, but I have so much more energy, and I'm so much more positive than I've been in quite some time. It was a change to go from working in a sedate office environment with mostly females to a loud gym with almost all dudes who say plenty of things that the feminist in me says I should be reporting to HR. (Kidding. Sort of.) But I really love everything about it. Work doesn't always feel like work, and exercising and talking to people are part of my job description. And I adore my coworkers, because in this job, it's not weird to be friends with the people you see most of the day. OH, and did I mention I get to wear sweats and spandex and running shoes all day? Plus, believe it or not, I actually feel like I'm using my degree more than I did before. I've always wanted to use my English and Women's Studies majors to do something with women's health/fitness, focusing especially on body image. This job is like the perfect case study for that! And I get to help people get healthy and feel better about themselves. And liking my job this much has motivated me even more to work on the other half of my dream -- writing. So, as I mentioned before, everything in my life might not be perfect right now, but I feel like I'm finally on the right track.

Big or small, what's something you've changed in your life lately?

Happy Now?

2009-11-17T00:12:00.000-08:00

Despite the fact that I have next to zero money. Despite the fact that I just experienced the first mini-heartbreak of my adult life. Despite the fact that Michigan football sucks this year. Despite the fact that I’m at work more than I’m at home. Despite the fact that I am still not a size 4 again like I was senior year. Despite the fact that Chicago has officially gone into winter mode. Despite the fact that I’ve got a million works in progress, but not one actual published piece of writing. Despite the fact that I don’t have everything figured out just yet.

Despite all of this, I am happy. I am more OK with the way my life is going than I have been in a long time. My head is a bit clearer, and I know where I want to go. Part of the fun of the next few years is going to be figuring out how I’ll get there. I’m more ready for this challenge than I have been in quite some time. I’m not going to come right out and say that everything is going to be great this time around, because I’ve done that before, and I’ve been wrong. But I do feel that something is different this time. I took a risk by quitting my nice, safe office job to start over as a trainer and a writer, and it’s scary, but that fear has helped me discover that I’m stronger than I ever thought I was. I started dating again, and for the first time I got tiny little cracks both in my heart and in my pride, but I learned that I still have enough glue to patch myself back up and survive. I’m enjoying life more than I have in a few years, despite the insecurity and the uncertainty, because I’ve realized that I'm making conscious choices to change the direction in which I’m headed.

I’ve made the mistake in the past of assuming that because one thing improves in my life that the whole of it will. But not this time. This time, I realize that I have to decide to be happy. That even though I am still going to have days where I don’t want to get out of bed, that even though I will still feel sometimes that nothing is going my way, I will always have the choice to look on the bright side. That I can turn it all around just by willing myself to be the optimist I was born to be.

So that’s it. I’m going to be happy.

(Watch your back, Tony Robbins. I’m gunning for your job.)

See, I'm All About Them Words

2009-11-15T13:56:00.000-08:00

[Note: I have to say that even though this blog is called The Verbal Filter, I normally do hold back a teeny bit. There are things that I don't always want on the Internet. However, I've decided that if I want to be a true writer, I have to accept the vulnerability that comes with putting my thoughts and feelings and experiences down for anyone and everyone to read. I'm taking a cue from my favorite quote and running with it: "If we had to say what writing is, we would define it essentially as an act of courage." -Cynthia Ozick]

Do you know what hurts the most about a breakup (or even the end of an unofficial relationship)? It’s not losing that person or having an empty bed again or even wishing you hadn’t wasted X amount of time with him. It’s not having to go back to being lonely and dreading the whole dating process again and getting slightly bitter when you see a million happy couples everytime you leave the house. As much as all of these things sting, the worst part is knowing that you can never have back everything you told him. Unlike the basketball shorts he left at your place or the toothbrush you left at his, you can’t ask for your secrets back. You can’t demand that he forget all of your vulnerabilities and all of your little habits that one only sees when it’s just you and him. You can’t get those back, and that’s the scariest part.

Sure, you still possess your quirks and the little mysteries it took a while for him to solve, and maybe the next person will learn these too, but the fact that someone else still has them, well that makes you sick to your stomach. It’s not just that he knows about your affinity for really terrible pop music or that you were the world’s most awkward kid or that you can be slightly OCD. Those are the things that endear you to friends and family, and that you know someone somewhere down the line will love you for as well. Those are not the things that take an enormous amount of courage to lay out there for judgment.

These things – the terrifying things – are those that you might tell the next person, in a moment of trust, about a darker time in your life you really don’t like to revisit. Or those confessions about yourself that only come out after you take a deep breath, because you worry they could snap the relationship right in two. But the last guy, and the one before him, and maybe even the one before that has all of that information too. And it’s annoying and frustrating and downright agonizing because he’s not using it, but he has it, tucked away on a shelf. And you realize that maybe that confession to him was the thing that did break whatever you had. Yet he’s still keeping it, like the gift he got for Christmas that he never really wanted, but is too selfish to give away to someone who might really appreciate it.

Words are the worst to lose, because once you let them loose, you can never fully get them back. Because you can’t touch them, and you can’t see them, but more than any of the tangible things that come with a relationship, you can feel them. Right where it hurts the most.

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

2009-05-12T20:37:00.000-07:00

That's how you all feel about me right? (right?!)

Anyway, I realize I have been gone for quite some time, but I WILL be back. I've just needed to take some time away from a lot of things in life to... reassess. Where I'm going, what I'm doing, who I've become, and who I want to be.

Anyway, I'm also taking a little time to make sure I sleep... which is why I need to get to bed right this instant. I'll be back soon though, with lots of interesting things to share!

If not, I'll just tell you about more randoms that started talking to me on public transportation.

Everytime We Touch

2009-03-26T21:49:00.000-07:00

Tonight, right before she went to bed, I asked my roommate for a hug.

That sounded strange, didn't it? The thing is, I'm realizing more and more that one of the biggest things I miss about college and being 45 minutes away from family is the physical human contact. In high school and college, I was super affectionate with my friends and I took it completely for granted. I don't know if it's the fact that I've become a little hardened from living in the city or because I have this notion that adults just don't hug willy-nilly whoever, but now hugging and touching the people I love is not part of my daily life.

I realized that tonight as I (sheepishly) asked my roommate, who is also one of my best friends, for a hug and she said, "Of course! Are you OK?" While I appreciated the hug and her concern, it dawned on me that when needing a hug only indicates that someone is hurting, there's a problem.

The thing is, I come from a pretty touchy-feely family and adore human contact. But tonight, not only was I appalled that I felt silly for asking for a hug from one of my best friends, but I was shocked that I couldn't recall the last embrace I'd had. I ran into a friend on the street on my way to the gym downtown a while ago and when we parted ways, I gave her the biggest hug ever. And before then it may have been when I saw friends at a bar for St. Patty's. And before that it was when my sister visited in mid-February. Guys, I'm averaging less than one hug per week. Sad, isn't it?

Anyway, I think maybe I should try to change this. Maybe that's part of why I've really felt down and not quite myself in Chicago yet. Not only am I losing touch with who I am, but I'm losing touch in general in a very literal way. In fact, hugging has become such a rarity that I've occasionally come close to bursting into tears from a quick squeeze from a good friend. (crazy woman alert) I've never been excessively emotional, but this little act overwhelms me, like someone is throwing me a life preserver and reminding me of who I am and that people are pretty wonderful. You didn't know the topic of hugging could be so philosophical, did you?

As silly as it might seem, I may have to start requesting hugs from my friends. I have plenty of people that I know here, so that's not the issue. It's that I shy away and remain aloof when everyone is hugging in big groups. And on top of that, I forgot how integral it is to who I am as a person and to my satisfaction with life. Hugs should be natural, yes, but I think I'm out of practice, so I'll just have to ask. I read a study somewhere (correct me if I'm wrong) that humans need something like seven hugs per day to maintain a happy lifestyle. So maybe I should make that my number one goal for the month of April (or start now so I can stop being a Debbie Downer ASAP)-- get a hug everyday and work my way up from there.

What do you guys think? How important is physical contact and hugging to you and your happiness quotient?

A Change Would Do You Good

2009-03-04T18:27:00.000-08:00

You know what, guys? I am in a serious dry spell. With pretty much every aspect of my life. I'm in need of inspiration from... somewhere. My love life (or lack thereof) could use a little shake up, my workouts have been boring and repetitive, my job is seeming a bit more monotonous than usual (still WAY better than my last one, so don't think I'm not thankful to have a job in this economy), my motivation for well, anything, is almost nonexistent, and I feel like I do the same thing every single weekend, if I really do anything at all. In short, I'm in a rut in a big way.

I'm not trying to be a downer here because I'm not usually a wallower, and I know i wrote about this before, but I guess I just need some advice. I can't get rid of this feeling. How do you shake things up when you really can't make any drastic changes? As much as I would love to move to Italy on a whim and just write and live this amazingly charmed, romantic life, I can't right now. Plus, even if I could, sometimes I'm a little too practical for my own good. I've got all of these grand plans for myself, but I am paralyzed by logic (dammit), and I worry, worry, worry. I'm only 23 (almost 24, eek), so this should be the time when I should try to up and leave the country or do the job I really want to do (personal training while freelance writing... that would be living the dream!), right? That way if I fall on my face, I can easily pick myself back up without worrying that I broke a hip or blew my kid's college fund. I mean... right?

Anyway, back to the original point of this post... how do you shake things up when you have limited room for shaking? Once i tackle that then I can conquer the rest of my big dreams. But for now... ideas?

BTW, this is something new and different for me... I'm telling you to go and check out Kelly T's blog to enter her amazing giveaway! Plus she's freaking hilarious, so if nothing else, you'll be laughing, even if you don't like free, cute workout gear. Which would make you crazy.

Only the Good Die Young

2009-02-25T19:57:00.000-08:00

Being Catholic is a very funny thing. And by funny I mean both comical and odd. Out of all of the Christian denominations, we probably have the best sense of humor our ourselves. Which comes in handy as we are the butt of plenty of jokes --half of which we make ourselves.

But being Catholic is also funny -- less in the ha-ha way and more in the 'that's-strange' way -- because it can make very little sense to those who are outside looking in. While not an intimidating faith (of course, what do I know? I've always been a part of it), our many rules and rites (and loopholes and justifications) form a complicated web that's hard for non-Catholics to comprehend. Sometimes I'm convinced that Catholics themselves don't even understand the ins and outs and whys and whats of what we do all of the time. How, then, is anyone else supposed to get it?

The other funny thing about being Catholic is that although most of us claim that our faith never wavers, I'll admit that we don't always act like it. We may do some things that require major repenting, but we never say we've stopped being Catholic. This is, of course, where the comedic aspect comes back in, since Catholics are (in)famous for our heavy guilt that one sometimes keeps us from committing the 'fun' sins (I may be headed to hell now for calling any sin 'fun'). We're known for our drinking (hello, St. Patrick's Day), and as a product of 13 years of Catholic school, I've been able to observe that chastity is not the best practiced lesson in our faith.

The thing is, we know all of this. We know we aren't perfect and we laugh at ourselves. A LOT. My senior year --at my Catholic high school, mind you -- I played the gospel nun in a show called "Nunsense." I got lots of jokes after this, but whatev, I got to sing all soulful for once, and we wore hilarious habits, and... well, and that's not the point. The point is, the whole play was full of sexual innuendos and references to the hilarities of Catholic school, rulers and all. And we performed it at my Catholic high school and at half of the other Catholic schools in the area because the administration thought it was that damn funny. They actually thought that dirty jokes referencing St. Peter (without the pearly gates) and a crucifix whistle were knee slappers.

Anyway, you're probably wondering what prompted me to suddenly discuss my faith, since it's not something I normally do. Well, today was Ash Wednesday and I was reminded of it on every street downtown. Sometimes I forget how Catholic the city of Chicago is -- that is, until the beginning of Lent when I see black smudges on every other forehead and until St. Patrick's Day when all you hear about is the South Side parade and all of the crazy Irish Catholics running amok.

Today my roommate said that the line for getting ashes was around the block on her lunch break. I went after work and there wasn't much of one, but I thought it was semi-hilarious that we could just walk in, kneel down, get the ashes rubbed on our foreheads, and then proceed to the nearest exit sign. It was like drive-through Catholicism today. No mass or anything. Things like this are another reason I think a lot of people laugh at us. Certain rituals are ridiculously outdated (women not being allowed to be priests; priests not being allowed to marry, although there are exceptions to that), but then we also try to be really progressive and adaptable in other areas. My parish in college supported the LGBTQ community pretty openly and my Catholic high school didn't banish the four girls from my class who graduated pregnant. And then we also make sacraments and rituals fit into our daily lives, like today with the blessing on the go. Don't get me wrong, I love being Catholic, I really, truly, honestly do. But I have to chuckle at some of our ideas. And, really, I just couldn't help but think about all of that today and how Catholicism as a whole gets a bad name, when we're just the fun-loving rascals of the Christian family. We might mess up every now and then, but for the most part, we're not really going to hurt anyone. Either way, we probably make you look good -- and hey, at least we're entertaining, right?

BTW, while we're on the topic, for Lent I decided to give up chocolate and also to make it a point to pray everyday. It's a habit I got out of, and would like to start up again, because sadly, even though my faith is always there, sometimes I forget about it :-/. Is anyone else who celebrates Easter giving anything up/doing something for Lent?

My Funny Valentine

2009-02-13T16:14:00.000-08:00

I would just like to start off by saying, for the record, that I think I am one of about five people on the planet who actually likes the Necco conversation heart candies. As in, I like them because I think they taste kind of good, not just because they say ridiculous things like "UR Kind" and "Be Good" (what does that even mean?).

Anyway. As I sit here eating dark chocolate (and maybe some convo hearts) and lounging on my bed, I'd like to tell you a little story, which may or may not lead me to talk about how I feel about V-Day. No telling just yet though -- we all know I love my tangents.

Last night, on my way home from the gym downtown, I was waiting for the 151 bus on Washington. I was minding my own business when a random guy I'd just seen in Walgreen's walked over and started talking to me. I swear, I've just got one of those faces. He wasn't bad looking and didn't give me the creeps or anything -- just looked a little tough -- so I decided to talk to him. Why not? It was either that or stare at the ground while I tried to ignore the homeless men who needed "just 45 more cents" to get on the bus.

Well, he said hello and asked me if I'd read the author he was reading (anyone heard of Zane?). No sooner had I said I no than he asked me if I had a boyfriend. Wow, talk about cutting to the chase. I laughed and said, "Ha, not exactly." My roommate, T, says that she always tells random guys, "Yes, a very serious one," even when she's single, but I just can't get myself to lie about it for some reason. In fact, I don't even know why I said "not exactly," since the answer is, in actuality, "No, absolutely not. I am so single it's not even funny." But anyway, I honestly think I like telling the truth because I don't mind talking to strangers (apparently my parents lessons were lost on me) as long as they don't truly give me a bad feeling. As I've mentioned before, the more random encounters I have, the more material I have for writing and story telling in general.

So anyway, random semi-cute white boy who thinks he is a thug then introduces himself as Tommy as asks, "How's a cute girl like you not have a boyfriend?" Woo, apparently homegirl's still got it. I know, I know... a random trying to flirt with you on the street is not usually something to get super excited about. So yes, he was a stranger, and yes, he was hitting on me at the bus stop, of all places, but I would be lying through my teeth if I told you that this wasn't pretty flattering. First of all, it was at the end of the day, and I don't think anyone looks fab after waking up at 5:30am and being at work, on the train, and at the gym for 13 hours. Second, I'd been feeling a little 'meh' about things, including my appearance, lately so I was not expecting the compliment. And third, I had just gotten my ass kicked by my trainer so I was sweaty and tired and my eye makeup was forming a nice set of raccoon eyes for me. My getting hit on at that moment was nothing short of a miracle. Anyway, I told him I wish I knew why I didn't have a boyfriend and that it was as much of a mystery to me as it was to him. We proceeded to chat a bit more until my bus came and he told me he hoped he'd run into me again (ha, yes in a city with over 2 million people), which just sounded hilarious to me.

Once I was on my way home, I started thinking, Why is it that I haven't dated in so long? I bet I could really torture myself by listing a bunch of reasons as to why I seem to be able to attract guys but never keep them. I could try to figure out what is wrong with me and create a whole slew of ways to fix myself, too. I know I'm never the needy or possessive girl --if anything I'm totally the opposite in wanting my own time and space, which I guess could be a reason...I always get along with the friends of guys I've dated, unless...maybe I'm too friendly? Or maybe I come off as aloof sometimes...Or maybe I never let guys pursue me enough because I get impatient and think games are stupid... or maybe... STOP!

Or maybe, just maybe, nothing is wrong with me at all and the old adage is true: You've got to love yourself before anyone else can. That fact hit me hard, but not in an unpleasant way, actually. It's not that I am a self-loathing creature that stands in front of the mirror and hates what she sees. It's not as though my conscience tortures me on a daily basis and I berate myself for having a unique (or quirky... or awkward) personality. But I am my own worst critic, as so many of us are. And even the things I love about myself, I fear others won't understand or appreciate so I tend to never accept the fact that someone might be interested in who I am. I keep many at arm's length, and I have been known to cut people off at the pass, rejecting myself for them before they get the chance. I'm starting to realize that maybe I'm throwing bombs out in front of me to keep others at bay until I stop being so damn scared of someone else rejecting me.

Whew. That was deep. Took a lot out of me. Anyway, the point of that is that I need to show myself a little more love. I like who I am, but I always worry that no one else will. Makes a lot of sense right?

Anyway, this is where I tell you about how I feel about Valentine's Day. [sigh]I really wish I could say that I love it and look forward to it every year... but I don't, I really don't. I don't totally abhor it, but it's usually a holiday that I pretend isn't happening. I've had two Valentines ever (besides my mom who sent me awesome dark chocolate this year along with a book on grammar. I know, I'm a dork.), so I don't have all of these fond memories to recall that will make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. One was a high school boyfriend, who I wasn't even quite dating at the time so the whole 'are you my Valentine?' thing was a bit fuzzy. The other was a college boyfriend who had moved for a semester-long internship so we weren't even really dating anymore and I officially broke up with him two weeks later. Yeah. I get that it doesn't have to be about romantic love, but most of the time I'm usually just sick of having to talk about how much I appreciate all of the other kinds of love that surround me. Even though I really do.

This year though, in order to show myself more love, I am going to appreciate all of the love in my life. I have great friends, an awesome family, and hey, love love will come my way soon enough. Tomorrow I'm going to treat myself like my own Valentine and devote my day to me (OK, and maybe a little freelance work). I'm going to go for a nice long run (unless it snows, then the workout will move indoors), grab a big cup of coffee, read for however long I want, maybe buy myself a little something because I work hard, and dammit I deserve it. I'm going to let myself get plenty of sleep, lounge around if I so desire, and have a little bit more of that dark chocolate. And, even though I have deemed tomorrow to be all about me, that doesn't mean that I'm going to play bitter, anti-Valentine's single girl all day. I'm going to hit the town with one of my friends whose boyfriend is on vacation, because hey, just because there's no guy in my life doesn't mean I'm not looking. And even if I don't really meet anyone, at least I'll know all of the cute ones who hit on me tomorrow are single. ;-)

I Saw the Sign

2009-01-27T21:46:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else think this is absolutely hilarious?

Whoever came up with this safety precaution for users of the women's bathroom at Ogilvie Metra Station in Chicago may want to rethink their wording. It conjures up images of angry little stolen purses running around the bathroom trying to bite your ankles, does it not? I mean, I get what they're trying to say, but...

Let's Get Physical (Physical)

2009-01-15T21:33:00.000-08:00

I know a ton of people use protein powder alllll the time, but I just bought my first jar (bottle? container?) tonight. I feel like such a meathead. If I start talking about my new haircut or Jäger bombs, I urge you to virtually slap me. But right now, I'm in the zone.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

2008-12-31T14:51:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else loooove Harry Connick Jr. and that song? Man, oh man, I do. That's probably the song that led me to believe that NYE was this major event. So yeah, Harry is to blame for my unrealistically high expectations of this one night.

OK, sorry! That sounded so negative, but it wasn't meant to because I am actually super pumped for NYE 2008. And I've actually never had a really horrible one or anything. Although last year I made out with a random at midnight who I then could not get rid of until April. Oops. But it was fun at the time!

Anyway, this year we're going to a fancy all-inclusive (still deciding if that is dangerous or not) party at the famous Drake hotel. It's a lot of friends from UMich and some from Michigan State (booo, but we like them anyway), and even if they get boring (that makes me sound terrible!), NYE is always a good night to strike up conversations with strangers. Hmm, that sounded strange, but anyway, for some reason, some holidays make it easier to meet new people. Like Halloween, St. Patty's, New Year's... wait those usually are celebrated in bars and all involve above-average amounts of alcohol. Maybe that's why.

Whatever.

I'm not sure if I'm going to look for a NYE kiss this year. Maybe I should just be happy being single and get excited about a new year in which I accomplish a lot of my goals. Not resolutions though ...I feel like that word just sets you up for failure. The only thing that sucks is that most -- if not all -- of my friends are dating someone this year so I'm odd woman out. However, that does make me the only one allowed to flirt with randoms... maybe there are some benefits!

OK, yeah, sorry, all I have been doing is talking about making out with people on NYE. I did have a real fresh-start, new-year point to make. I've decided to create a list of goals for myself for 2009. I find the more I write them out, the more excited I get about them, and I'm more likely to go for them. The overarching theme of 2009 is living up to my insane amount of potential. I know -- I can be so humble sometimes. But this is one my roommate and I are going to work on together we decided. It's hard to explain, but we've come to the conclusion that we've been overachievers our entire lives and now is not the time to stop. This year will hopefully be a year of accomplishing big things. So, my specific goals for 2009 are:

Write my book! I can't really tell you what it's about just yet because I'm still a little iffy if the topic I want to write about is acceptable. Hard to explain, maybe I will later, but I can tell you that it will be humorous nonfiction. My life with all of its awkwardness and zany family members should provide enough for at least one book. Or ten.
Get myself back in fighting shape. I think going from college life to real world where I sit on my ass all day was a really hard transition. But I am bound and determined not to let that stop me! I already started with the personal trainer, and I've decided that by the time I turn 24 (what?!?) in June I am going to be in the shape of my life. There's no reason I can't be. I'm going to get myself back in a super regular routine (I never stopped working out, it just wasn't as intense or structured as before) and get a handle on my issues with food (long story!) so that I can be the healthiest and happiest I can be!
I guess this is another part of being healthy in 2009. I want to get myself back to where I normally am mentally (sorry, I am being SO vague about the new year!) and take care of myself in every way. This includes getting enough sleep, saying no to things when I am stressed, and maybe cutting back on the drinking (I'm not an alcoholic, but I know I don't need to drink when I go out). I need to respect myself a bit more and trust my own decisions as I always did in the past. No more justifying the things I do because this is my life and my life only.
Save some green. I'm pretty good about sticking to a budget, but I want to save a bit more moo-lah this year. I want to save up for a few rewards as I'm getting back in shape (new bag, True Religion jeans I have lusted after for over a year, etc), and I do want to visit a friend who just moved, but more than anything, I want to secure my future. I know I'm young, but it's important to start early, so I'm going to save more than what is already going into my IRA every month.
Date. I'm not looking for The One just yet, but I need to put myself out there a little more. So I'm going to. Simple as that.
Be able to say that I am proud of who I am as a person. I want to make Sunday mass a regular thing again (I'm a terrible Catholic girl right now!), I want to find a worthy cause to volunteer for, and I want to start looking outside myself more (I will admit that I can be a tad bit selfish at times) so that I can be a better friend, sister, daughter, and person in general.

Woo, that was a long list! What are everyone else's major goals for 2009? And for fun, what are everyone's big plans for tonight?

Simple Kind of Life

2008-12-14T10:30:00.000-08:00

I think that's what I need right about now.

It's not that my life is so terribly complicated, but does anyone else ever feel like they just need a break from life in general? That they need a whole life detox?

I've been trying really hard to stay upbeat despite the cold weather and utter lack of sunshine. I've been making sure that I get enough sleep, that I get my workouts in (endorphins, people!) and eat right, that I write a little every day, that I talk with friends and stay social. I've been making sure that I stay away from the things that get me stressed and cause me to freak out and ultimately turn into a downward spiral of crappy moods. But this week, it just fell apart. In spite of my best efforts, I felt horrible all week and it wasn't something I could talk myself out of. I've been overly sensitive and on edge and really getting angry at the littlest things. Which is so. not. like. me. Everyone who knows me sees me as pretty easy-going albeit a bit type-A at times. But not this past week. Sigh.

Let me give you a few examples. First of all, the holidays are usually my favorite time of the year. I just can't help but smile. But not this year. "I'll Be Home For Christmas" has sounded really depressing and buying presents for my family (which I normally love) has seemed like an impossible task. Here's another one: the other day on the bus I was just overcome with this overwhelming urge to scream because there were SO MANY DAMN PEOPLE. Yes, I do realize that it's public transportation, meaning that other people will inevitably use it as well. Which is why I could tell something was wrong with me. Then yesterday, my roommate, another friend, and I had decided to make gingerbread houses (Ok, FINE, they were graham cracker and Duncan Hines frosting houses) because we were all in the holiday spirit (or trying to be on my part). So I jumped in the shower after my run and got out to find that they had already started and were pretty much done. For some reason I was really hurt since I was assuming this was going to be a group activity and then it wasn't. Then feeling hurt made me scoff at myself for getting upset at things that wouldn't bother a seven year old.

I just don't get why this week has thrown me off so much! I don't know if I can blame PMS since that doesn't usually affect me. Plus this really seems beyond the little mood swings I normally get right before Aunt Flo comes to town. Like I said, I think I just need a little life detox. I need to shake up my routine -- the way I do things, the people I talk to, the schedule I've been keeping, the food I eat, the thoughts I think. I'm just not sure how to get started because I can't pinpoint what the trouble is. Just this inexplicable feeling that I've slowly been going crazy lately. I've even been thinking about picking up some sort of self-help book (even though I think so many are totally hokey) or something because I am at the end of my rope! Plus I need something new to read because I am STILL working my way through The Feminine Mystique.

Anyway, does anyone else ever feel like this? Just a little nuts and jumbled? And what do you do about it? Do you shake things up? Shift things around? Got any book ideas? Or just any ideas period?

Crush

2008-12-02T21:35:00.000-08:00

Anyone remember that song? "I've got a crush on you..."

And you. And you. And hey, you, over there, you too.

OK, lately I've been having this problem. Well, maybe it's not a problem exactly. It's just that I seem to be developing a crush on pretty much every decent looking male I meet. I don't know whether it's because it's cold out (everyone knows that a cuddle buddy comes in handy in this weather) or because it's been a while since I've dated or because I'm just crazy hormonal, but seriously if you are under 30, taller than me, not a felon, and not going bald, I probably think you're cute. Oh right, and if you have all of your teeth. Anyway, it may seem like I have listed quite a few requirements, but honestly, I think those are givens.

But really, I seem to have all these little crushes everywhere I go lately. Nerdy guy from work I ride the train with? Oh yeah. I have apparently developed a thing for Weezer-style glasses and boys who read a lot. Friends of friends whom I hardly know? Yep. I guess I like the strong and silent type now too. Old friends from school who I only see every few months? OK, nevermind, that one's ongoing. Random trainers at the gym? Yep. Although to be fair, they ARE trainers and being hot is kind of their job. Point is, I have more crushes than a seventh grade girl.

The thing about these crushes, though, is that I don't actually do anything about them. Therein lies the problem. Beyond a little harmless flirting, there's not much action taken on my part. Which is something I want to work on because I used to be so good at just crooking my finger and, if nothing else, grabbing a guy's attention. And I know that sounds cocky, but sometimes I think that's what it takes -- going a little past confident and right on into I'm-pretty-sweet-how-have-you-not-noticed? territory. Not being obnoxious and doing something so that the whole building hears you, but carrying yourself a certain way to say, "Hey, I know I have something to be confident about, so maybe you should come talk to me to find out what it is."

So. New plan. Or goal. Or something. Maybe New Year's Resolution? Whatever. I'm going to make a concerted effort to show the confidence I have in myself and show genuine interest in some of these random crushes -- if for no other reason than because I'm worried that I forgot how to date. Or because I don't want to die alone with cats.

Ladies, how do you show interest in guys you meet?

It's My Life

2008-11-26T20:48:00.000-08:00

Yeah. I just quoted Bon Jovi.

Anyway, it is my life, and lately, it's been CRAZY. But in a completely awesome way. Like in a "OMG, I am so busy but so many things in my life are going so well and I'm just so freaking content with everything that I really can't complain" kind of way. Like I'll sit at Starbucks on the weekend (when I have five seconds to breathe) and just people watch while I think about how great it is that I live in Chicago and can see all types of people everyday. Or I'll sit at my desk or on the train and almost start to smile out of nowhere as I think about something funny or kind a friend has said. Yes, I am feeling good enough about life right now that I am allowing myself to be completely and utterly cheesy.

Let me start by telling you about this new job. I'm working on the catalog for a major industrial supply company, which isn't the most glamorous thing on the planet, but I really enjoy the work. And the company seems to really value its employees which is SO MUCH more than I can say for the old one. I'm not trashing my old company because I met some really great people there and learned some priceless skills (and because I still freelance for them so I suppose I still sort of work there), but I never felt like they actually paid any attention to what I did. In my new position, I actually get a lot more autonomy in how I work and plan my assignments, but that just makes me feel like they trust my intellect and my ability to get the job done. Plus, almost everyone there is really friendly and helpful (I've met so many people who just strike up conversations on the train or in the caf) and they all seem to like their jobs. I guess a nice salary, full benefits, 100% tuition reimbursement, and countless other perks don't hurt either. Oh, and the other girls in my department are so much fun --lunch is like comedy hour. Besides my commute out to the suburbs (only an hour there... 1.5 on the way back) and the early hours (I get up at 5:30 so that I can leave my house by 6:15), I like everything about this place. And I am now a huge believer that job satisfaction contributes to life satisfaction.

I've also still been freelancing so I have extra moolah to spend on things I've been wanting to do forever. Like personal training! Which is awesome because as I mentioned before, I'm getting my ass kicked and I'm getting to know all of the trainers at the gym. I've always been an avid gym goer, but it was always just me and my workout. Now, going to the gym has become a social event. I say hi to people as I walk in, I joke around with my trainer, and I've even gotten together with other members on weekends to go for long runs.

On top of working, freelancing, singing (one of the guys from my a cappella group actually was IN "The Breakup"...ha!), and working out, I've actually been having a really great social life, which I think is a huge contributor to my immense happiness as of late. Not that didn't have friends before, but now that I live with one of my best friends, things are a lot easier. First if all, we can be each others' kind of built-in support systems. And we meet each others' friends and are both constantly expanding our social circles. And the thing about real-life friends is that you don't have to be friends with people you don't actually like. I know that sounds terrible, but in college, sometimes you had to put up with people who weren't your favorites because you were in the same group or sorority or whatever. Now, the friends I have are the ones I've chosen to keep up with. And the friends I've made lately are so great and supportive and fun on top of everything else (sorry, I'm gushing, I don't DO that). I just am feeling so fulfilled and blessed in my life. I'm not dating anyone but I'm feeling more optimistic about everything and my confidence is almost back up to its old obnoxious level so I've been talking to a lot more guys.

For a while, as much as I tried to cover it with humor, things were not going well and I felt like I was in a very dark place. Not to get all serious on you, but I feel I need to give a little background as to why I'm so happy about, well, being happy. For quite some time, I was not myself and people who knew me had noticed. But recently, I came home for my aunt's surprise 60th, and so many of my relatives were telling my mom that I just seemed so happy and that it looked like I had it all pulled together (which I don't, but it's nice to hear!). Finally, I think I was showing that I was happy living in Chicago and that I had come back into my own. Things are just finally getting back on track and I am so thankful for everything in my life... I guess this is a fitting Thanksgiving post then, isn't it?

Anyway, I know this wasn't a good story and didn't flow exceptionally well and wasn't all that humorous, but I figured I'd let everyone (or anyone who still reads) know why I've been so crazy busy and MIA lately. I am going to try to get back into blogging regularly too, now that we have Internet (yes!). For now though, I'm going to read/watch the cable I don't have in Chicago/let this Turkey day food coma wear off. Hope everyone else has something to be thankful for as well!

My Favorite Mistake

2008-11-08T23:59:00.000-08:00

Do you know what it is? It's saying -- over and over again -- that I'll post again soon! Ugh, sorry everyone (or anyone who actually might check this?!?). This new job has got me going crazy (but I like it a lot!). I leave my house at 6 and often don't get home until 9 and then i have to crash back into bed. I've also been doing some freelance work for my old company so I've had more stuff to do (although more money IS nice). I've also been working out with a trainer twice a week and trying to fit in a social life somewhere in there. I need to take a break because I haven't had any time to just read or write (especially here!), so freelancing might be turned down this week. OH, and we don't have Internet because... well, we just don't. Once I get on that, hopefully things can return to normal!!!

I will leave you with this: I was disco Cleopatra for Halloween and wore a bracelet that could have doubled as a weapon.

Oops I Did It Again

2008-10-12T01:20:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't play with your heart, but I did go a reallllly long time without posting. Yikes. Anyway, things are still a bit crazy. I just started a new job -- with an hour and a half commute. Which I try not to think about too much because I get more moolah, full company benefits, and 100% tuition reimbursement (I can go to grad school without digging myself any deeper in the student loan hole!). The pros outweigh the cons here. I will suck it up and leave my house by 6 am every morning if it means I can get my masters for FREE.

Also, my lovely little sister turned 21 recently so she and her friends came to visit for the weekend. Let's just say that last night was something. Let's also just say that I actually used the word 'homeboy' in a serious context, when addressing a male I met. No, really, who does that? Anyway, besides getting plenty drunk and stopping just short of attempting to rap, I played hostess for the weekend and gave my sister's friends a nice little tour of downtown Chicago. That was fun, especially because I got a sweet winter coat from the Gap for like 60% off (!!!). Hooray for Michigan Avenue.

In other news, I started working out with a personal trainer at my gym, which I'm really excited about. It's tough, but in a really good way. I feel like I will finally get my butt kicked back into fighting shape. It's fun too, because I feel like I'm doing conditioning for high school swimming, which I miss sometimes.

OK, I'll be back soon!!! There's actually something I really want to write about so it won't be too long!

For the Longest Time

2008-09-29T22:58:00.000-07:00

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Has it really been over two weeks? I think it has, and that means I'm a terrible blogger! But AGAIN, I've been crazy busy (I know -- excuses, excuses...). Quick recap:

I'm still getting all moved in and settled and trying not to run out of money decorating.
Went back to Ann Arbor this weekend to see the Wolverines kick some major Wisconsin boo-tay. Redemption feels sooooo good after the past few sucky games. Also, what kind of a mascot is a badger? And no one better say one word about my precious wolverine. Wolverines are much more badass than badgers.
Speaking of going back to Ann Arbor, I also pretended I was in college for the weekend since I went back with the girls I lived with senior year. This means that I consumed insane amounts of alcohol (I dominated at quarters, btw), didn't sleep, ate chipatis, went to the Jug AND Rick's (bars, of course), visited the sorority house (we stopped in to talk to the house mom and then she told other alum that we crashed there! We most certainly did not.), and drank a Sparks (an alcoholic energy drink. Or, pretty much the worst thing for you on the planet since there's nothing like combining uppers and downers to give you heart palpitations.) for breakfast before noon on football Saturday.
I got a NEW JOB!!!! More details to come, yo.
I decided that I might really write a book. I know that sounds crazy, but trust me, my actual writing is much better than what I do here. And I also have so many book ideas floating around in my head and on random notebook pages that it's not even funny. I know it isn't easy getting published, but I'm going to start researching how to pitch ideas and actually get your manuscripts into the right hands. Anyway, I'm thinking about either a book of funny/entertaining nonfiction essays (a la David Sedaris or Sloane Crosley) on my opinions and experiences (strangers on the train, anyone?) or a themed book about one aspect of my life (my family always provides good material for weird/awkward stories and there's another idea I'm bandying about, but it's a secret for now). This idea is still kind of under construction, so who knows? Would anyone buy a book by this random blogger here? I promise it wouldn't be bulleted.

OK, so that's it. I meant to make that quick and witty. Oops.

I'll be back in less than two weeks this time!

White Wedding

2008-09-13T21:16:00.000-07:00

So, recently I attended two weddings, in one of which I was a bridesmaid and for another I was a wedding singer. Because you know, I have the voice of a freaking angel.

The first was the worst wedding on the planet (I referred to it as the nuptials from Hell before) and was so draining because over half the church and the bridal party thought it was a bad idea. And we had said so. Many times. The bride's side was practically dying and no one smiled and it was one of the tensest situations I've ever been in. Also, the minister was reeeeeallly driving home this "subservient and obedient wife" thing and a friend's father said he had never heard the word 'fear' so many times in one hour. (And we Catholics thought our guilt was bad!) Anyway, as I may have mentioned before, I was a women's studies major and I do not take very kindly when religious texts use the phrase "the weaker vessel" to describe me as a female. And just because the term "whore mongers" is in the Bible does not mean it needs to be included in a wedding ceremony. So apparently my expressions were not church friendly as I was facing the congregation. I may have actually turned my face away from everyone a few times because the anger showing on my face was getting offensive. I know that sounds rude, but you honestly had to be there. I have never been to such an unhappy occasion. After the ceremony, the brides maids and the bride's sisters and cousins all went into the parking lot to drink wine. Out of plastic coffee cups. Because we're classy like that. The epitome of, even.

However, the other wedding, which was my cousin's, was absolutely beautiful and was the most fun I've had in a long time. My dad's side is a little more crass and they all hold back a little less. They also drink A LOT more, which was fun for me! I think I danced to about 75% of the songs, including every line dance imaginable. In fact, my sister and I taught everyone the moves to the Love Shack. Apparently we are two of the very few who know it...anyone else learn it when they were younger? I've been doing it since age seven in my country club swim team dance days. Then we learned it again in gym class in seventh grade. Nevermind. I had a weird childhood. But back to this fun wedding. We danced a ton, played with all of the little ones that I never get to see anymore now that I'm not in Michigan, drank too much wine, and heard my somewhat introverted, 31-year-old cousin rap "Bust a Move" in its entirety over the DJ's microphone. OH, and I saw a football player from my high school who was a year older than me. We chatted for a bit and I learned that after going to school for three years, he dropped out and moved home. Then he became the bartender at my cousin's wedding. I'm going to hell for this, but I found it veeeerrryyy funny.

Anyway, this last wedding totally made up for the previous one. And between both of them I picked up some ideas for my own (possibly-never-happening-because-I'm-going-to-die-alone-with-cats) wedding. First, even though I do want a traditional, religious ceremony, I will not be allowing readings that tell me to fear my husband and agree with everything he says. I don't agree with everything that anyone says. And second, we will do the Macarena and we WILL have an open bar.

All These Things That I've Done

2008-09-09T21:47:00.000-07:00

Whew. Sorry I've been MIA here folks, but the past week and half have been sheer craziness and I'm finally just getting everything settled.

In the past 11 days, I have:

Attended two weddings/rehearsals. One was awesome and the other sucked. I was a bridesmaid in the latter and a singer in the former. More on that later.
Driven back and forth between Michigan and Chicago approximately 4 times. It was like 20 terrible hours on the road, half of them with my parents (Oh, the horror!). I don't want to travel again for a loooong time. Oh, wait, too bad I have to go home again in about 3 weeks. But that's for the recent grad reunion and UMich football and tailgating. Totally worth it.
Moved into a new apartment, which I am NOT complaining about because our new place is fabulous. I have a closet and a full bed, and I no longer live above a neon Venice Pizza sign on Halsted. And I am living with one of my BFFs (yes, I did use that term and I meant it because I'm still a sorority girl at heart and I will abbreve whatever the hell I want to. Obvi.), so my living situation just got a whole lot better. I no longer have a roommate that creeps me out simply with her existence. But, anyway, moving is always stressful and slightly time consuming. And right after I moved in, I had to drive home for the other wedding so I'm finally getting to spend some time here since getting back to the city on Sunday.
Watched Gossip Girl and contemplated whether I thought Chuck Bass was a skeeze or bad-boy charming. Jury's still out on that one. Also, I realize that doesn't count as something I really did, that, you know, took up time, but I wanted to throw it out there.
DYED MY HAIR. Again, I know that's not really an event per se, but for me, it's a big deal. It always makes me feel new when I darken my hair (I have never wanted to be blonde in my entire life. true story), like something is starting over. Which is why I usually do it in the fall, because I feel like that's the best time to get a fresh start. And I really like to shock people so I just wait for them to notice. Which of course is kind of disappointing when the people around you aren't even aware of the color of their own pants. Sad. But yeah, I actually was going to dedicate an entire post to the topic and call it 'Black Velvet' or something equally lame. But then I reconsidered since I have nothing more to say about it and because I didn't dye it black, more like really really really dark brown with a hint of red. Which is totally different.

OK, so I guess that doesn't sound like much, but I also spent a week at home, where I was able to telecommute for work, so lots of running around/hanging out with my mom was done. And I had unexciting things to do like get my eyes checked (especially after last month's unfortunate incident) and go to the dentist (I had a filling. My face was numb for half of last Thursday.) So I wasn't going to write about those things. Even though I just did. Hmm.

Dirty Little Secret

2008-08-30T21:11:00.000-07:00

OK, so this is going to be quick because I'm on my way back from a weekend wedding (the nuptials from Hell, but more on that later maybe), and I am exhausted in every single way.

But anyway. So last time I mentioned that I had a date, but I didn't really divulge any details. And I'm still not going to -- at least not at this point. I will, however, give you the basics. We went out to dinner and it was pretty much at the nicest/coolest restaurant I've ever been to. I was impressed, and nothing about it was pretentious. I did feel like an idiot though because I think we are all aware of how limited my culinary knowledge is. Otherwise, it went well, and I think we might see each other again.

Now that I've given you the basics though, let me tell you why I feel weird about spilling all the deets -- even though I SO want to. I have this terrible habit of counting my chicks (or is it eggs?) before they're hatched, and I'm reeeeaaalllly trying hard to work on that. Anytime there is the slightest possibility of anything remotely exciting happening, I start gabbing about it. Because I like talking A LOT. But I really need to cut it out because I think -- and go ahead and call me superstitious -- that I jinx it. Especially when it comes to guys. And since it's been SO long since I've seriously dated someone (I pretty much just had a good time in college), I'm trying to keep any dating I do --which isn't much, trust me -- at least partially under wraps. Maybe if we're both lucky though, you'll hear details later. :-) Anyone else worry that if you talk about something too much before it happens (especially with relationships) that you'll jinx it?

Material Girl

2008-08-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

A while back, I mentioned that I just had one of those faces that made random people want to talk to me. And I know that when I wrote about it, I sounded more than slightly annoyed with the fact that SO. MANY. PEOPLE were trying to talk to me in one day when I was just NOT in the mood. Now though, I'm thinking that having one of those faces might not be such a bad thing.

Sunday night, I was on the train headed downtown to have dinner with a human being of the male persuasion. (I'll pause here and let you all soak that in. Still pausing. Gathered all that information? OK, good.) Needless to say, I had actually put a little more effort into my appearance that normal (i.e. I had actually dried my hair), and I was looking pretty damn good if I do say so myself. But still. I was not prepared for this trip on the el.

I was just sitting, minding my own business, staring out the window, checking myself out in the window. Wow, I'm so vain, I probably think this song is about me. Juuuust kidding, I was really just checking to make sure that my hair hadn't started springing out in huge frizzy waves since I had flat-ironed the hell out of it before I left. Anyway, point is, I was keeping to myself. This, however, did not stop anyone from chatting me up. First a nice (read: creepy) gentleman with many gold teeth came up to me and told me I looked very nice that evening. That wouldn't have been skeezy in and of itself. But this 50-year-old man then asked for my number and told me I looked sexy from head to toe. Um. And he proceeded to ask me what the shade of my nail polish was. Luckily, I'm quick on my feet (no, not at all, I panicked for about 30 seconds before I did anything other than smile tight-lipped), and I told him I had a boyfriend.

Big sigh of relief. Until about 47.3 seconds later when another fella decided to test out his game on me. This time it was an upstanding young man by the name of Vinny (you should be feeling the waves of sarcasm washing over you right now). He told me he worked for the city. I think he maybe was a garbage collector. Or you know, he was in 'waste management,' to sound fancy. Anyway, I thought the combination of telling him I was headed to dinner and the fact that I was wearing a nice black dress would tip him off that I was going on a date (go ahead and commit that to memory. it's a rare occurrence, like a meteor shower or something), but he was persistent. He told me about 5 times how nice I looked and handed me a slip of paper with his digits. Thanks.

I walked off the train kind of chuckling to myself (and feeling a little more confident, I'm not going to lie. Even compliments from creepers can be flattering.) When I met up with my date I told him I had made some new friends on the train. He laughed and told me that was why he always had his iPod on hand -- that way he didn't have to worry about an crazies from the train striking up a conversation. All of that made sense of course, but that wasn't exactly feasible for me that night. Dress with no pockets and holding a clutch equals nowhere for me to carry any defense against unwanted socialization.

Later, I was actually thinking about it though. Do I really want to ward people off? I mean, YES, those two guys on the train were creepers. Big ones. And, sorry Vin, but I won't be ringing you up, like ever. But honestly, I love having experiences like that because they make amazing, hilarious, interesting, crazy stories. And if you can't tell, I adore sharing stories. I love hearing other people's and I love telling my own. How someone tells a story gives you immediate insight into what kind of person they are. And with me being an aspiring writer, these experiences that appall me and make me feel uncomfortable in the moment are just great opportunities for new pieces. Seriously, I could write a book. Actually, maybe I will.... hmmm...

Anyway, that night, I do remember mentioning to this guy how I actually like awkward encounters (of course, I do like non-awkward ones too). What if I had been listening to my music or reading the Red Eye so intently I could have burned a whole through the paper? Then I would have missed the chance for a fantastic conversation piece. And I said so: "Nah, I love when weird things happen to me. Really, it's the perfect material."

U Got The Look

2008-08-18T17:44:00.000-07:00

(OK, if someone can name that song and is as obsessed with the artist as I am, we're probably the same person and would be best friends in real life. Just so you know.)

So, you know how a lot of people say they have a type? Like the kind of person they always go for or are attracted to. Their "type." Well for the longest time, I refused to believe that I had a type. "No way," I'd say. "NONE of the guys I've gone for have anything in common... no type for me." Even my friends didn't see a pattern in the guys I was interested in. There was no rhyme or reason to my selection.

Until recently, that is. I started noticing a trend toward the end of my senior year, but I wasn't sure until now. My type? It's not preppy or jock or musician or even brooding thinker (although I do love the brainy ones). Nope, none of those. My type is tall, skinny jackass.

Perhaps I should explain. For some reason I like the tall, lanky guys, and cockiness is a major plus. However, I don't mean jackass in the fratty, I-am-male-therefore-I-am-the-shit way. There's a big difference between being a bit of a jackass and being a jerky asshole. (Wow, I am doing a LOT of swearing up in huurr....sorrrryyy). I like a guy who can match wits with me, who likes a little verbal sparring, and who doesn't come at me with sickeningly sweet lines. Actually, I'm suspicious of overly nice guys. I keep the ones with the too-kind, too-smooth words at arms length. What are you hiding? What's your angle? I can't help it -- that's just the way I think.

But that's not to say that I don't like nice guys at all. Have I confused you yet? Because I'm starting to get a little lost myself. Let me see if I can work this out. The jackasses I like will get in my face and tease me, but underneath, they are actually good guys. They like my fiestiness and are usually trying to actually get to know me, not just escort me home from the bar. I like a guy who can put up a good fight, and even enjoy it, because in my opinion, they can handle a chick who can be a little bitchy in a funny, fun way. (Note: this does NOT mean high-maintenance or demanding or naggy). Those are the guys that like smart girls, and you know what? I have major respect for that.

So what spurred this discussion of my type? Well, even in a new city, I'm finding myself drawn to the same. In college, I didn't seriously date a whole lot, but that's not to say that I didn't ever go out or spend time with members of the opposite sex. Because I did. And almost all of the guys who really made me sit up and pay attention had these qualities. Well, actually the one (as in I did not have another boyfriend in college) serious boyfriend I had was only tall and skinny. No jackass factor. Just emo. Which is a problem since I'm not the biggest fan of talking about my "feelings" and "the relationship." We broke up. Duh. But moving on... I like the tall ones (over 6 feet s'il vous plait) because I can wear my biggest heels and have no worries. I really have no idea why I like the skinny ones. Maybe it's from spending so much time around runner and swimmer boys when I was younger. And the jackass-iness? (so not a word) I think I've already explained that one.

When I go out now, I notice the lanky ones smirking instead of sauntering, the ones having conversations instead of just leaning back and surveying their victims (oops, I mean the girls at the bar). I even recently met a guy at a pub (doesn't that just sound so UK?) near me, and after about an hour of flirting/exchanging clever insults, he said, smiling, "I'm sorry, I'm kind of a jackass." To which I replied (because I have no verbal filter whatsoever), "Nah, it's fine. You're just my type."

Endless Love...

2008-08-15T17:14:00.000-07:00

I LOVE Trader Joe's. Like, if Trader Joe were an actual man, I would probably propose. All of their stuff (good quality!) is so cheap and I feel like most of it's pretty healthy (besides the chocolate-covered everything that they have in every single aisle). My bill is much lower when I shop there than when I do at Whole Foods...which means more food! And things I don't really need. Plus the employees seem really nice and helpful. And their ads are cute and funny. I could probably go on and on. But let me tell you why I was so inspired to tell you how much I love TJ's on this day in particular.

The thing is, I was just able to create a dinner that didn't include oatmeal. All because of Trader Joe's, tonight did not end in a culinary catastrophe and I didn't have to just eat lots of carrots and hummus for dinner. (Although, I did that anyway). Thanks to TJ's, I actually made chicken with steamed veggies on the side. Well, that was partially due to the Glad steam bags I have, too, but whatever. (I know they make me seem lazy and are not super eco-friendly but OMG my veggies come out so perfectly steamed!) Anyway, I bought TJ's frozen, seasoned, grilled chicken to pop in the microwave and Voila! A meal that looks like it actually took some work. Actually, having to keeping checking on it was a lot of work for me. But STILL. This gives me hope that I will not be a kitchen klutz forever. Baby steps, people.

I was going to take a picture, but then I forgot and just ate it. Oops. Anyway, I am on my way to get coffee, run to the gym, and think more about the delicious meal I just made.

Blinded by the Light

2008-08-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

(OK, I KNOW that someone -- or everyone -- knows this song. I think I'm just going to have to start every post with a song title or lyric from now on. Then I can say, "QUICK! Name that song!" allll the time. And you can guess, and maybe even win! Sadly, though, I don't have any prizes because I'm poor, but I could...like... rewrite your resume (that's my job) or tell you you're neat or something. Or you could not get anything but the satisfaction of knowing that you are up on all the hits, past and present.)

For some reason, my motivation to work out has been nonexistent for the past three days. Which is very odd because if I go more than two days without some activity I get ANTSY. This might be because I'm not allowed to wear my contacts for a while (more on that in a sec), and the only thing I can really do is the elliptical or the recumbent bike while wearing my glasses. I just don't love these. Or really even like them much. I just want to ruuuuun, especially since our weather here has been perfect for it lately. But in glasses, it's not really easy. They slide down my nose or sweat drips on them or they bounce around and mess up my depth perception (my palms have met the sidewalk and many a building corner trying to run in glasses). And honestly, my eyes are so bad that not wearing glasses is NOT an option, kids.

OK, so this is the "more on that in a sec" part. I've been having problems with my eyes for a couple months. I figured it was just dirtier air from living in the city during the summer. Hmm, well, maybe I was wrong. I woke up early Saturday morning and realized that OMG I LEFT MY CONTACTS IN. Normally I wouldn't freak out so much that it required all caps, but with the eye issues, I was worried. Also, I haven't done this in forever. As in, if I did no other thing when stumbling in at 4 in the morning during college (OK, and a few times in the past few months. -- I'm really no good at lying), I took out my contacts. About 4 hours later on Saturday morning, my eyes were blood red, I had tears streaming down my face and I was having major photosensitivity issues. I HAD to get to an emergency clinic downtown because I literally could not see. The problem with that was... I could not see. Which makes wandering around the third largest city in the country really fun.

Or one of the scariest things I've ever done in my life.

I decided that I should probably not go it alone since two feet ahead (if that) was pretty much as far as I could see. So I tried calling T to see if she might be able to accompany her invalid friend downtown, but she was out on a long run. I left her one message saying, "Hey give me a call back... I kind of need a favor, but it's not a huge deal." Half an hour later, I left her another voicemail, this time featuring me crying and throwing around the word "emergency" because, well, I thought I was literally going to lose my sight. After I was on the train because I already decided that I just had to get downtown before the clinic closed, she called me back, fearing the worst. Oops, silly me, I forgot to tell her that the problem was just my eyes and that I needed her to hop on the train with me. She thought I was hurt and/or dead (can you be both? I mean... if you're dead, are you really hurt anymore? did i just ask that?) because I was an idiot and told her I could walk home alone from the bar the night before. So here she was wracked with guilt, thinking she had let her Chicago BFF (because I know that's what I am to you, right?!!?) die a less-than-noble, wine-fueled death. Sorry for the minor heart attack, T!

Anyway, in leaving my apartment, I realized I couldn't wear my glasses because I had to put sunglasses on due to the photosensitivity. But guess what, folks? My vision is at NEGATIVE EIGHT. I am that nearsighted. When they ask me to look at an eye chart without any form of vision correction, all I can (barely) make out is the gigantic E at the top. And really I think I've just memorized that -- all I really see is a big, black, fuzzy block. So for me, walking around Lincoln Park and downtown Chicago with no visual help is practically suicide. Just so we're clear, I know that actual blind people do this all the time and we don't hear about them meeting their maker on a daily basis. And I give them sooooo much more credit for that after this experience. But, you see, even though my vision IS terrible, I'm not used to not being able to see at all. On Saturday, not only was I without contacts or glasses, but I had to keep my eyes shut for most of the time I was walking around because the burning and light sensitivity were that bad. And unlike our severely visually impaired friends, I am not used to being in the dark. And I don't have the city memorized without the use of my eyes. And I didn't have a stick. I knew that when I got off at Wabash and Madison, Monroe would be to one side of me and Washington would be to the other. (Thank goodness Chicago is built on a grid!) But that was about it. I didn't have the number of steps memorized for each block, and of course, there is major construction on Wabash that is blocking the sidewalks, meaning I pretty much had to walk in the street. Great timing, Chicago.

After all that, I did make it to the doctor -- who, after looking at my bloodshot eyes, was amazed I made it without major injury and prescribed me with steroid eye drops to reduce the inflammation and clear up any possible conjunctivitis from such bad irritation (ew, yeah, I know). She also seemed a little frightened when she took a look at my eyes -- at least from what I could see. And she made me call T, who gladly obliged to pick me up on the Brown Line (and then cringed when she saw my eyes) so she didn't have to worry about me meeting an untimely death again. Then I popped in some eye drops and about 5 ibuprofen, and had to lie in bed for about 4 hours with my eyes shut with a bag of ice over them except when I was putting in drops every two hours. That KILLED ME. I wasn't tired so I couldn't really sleep. And I'm naturally kind of restless, which doesn't help when I've been told to just lie still alllll day. All I could do was listen to music and you know, be alone with my own thoughts, which is usually not the most stellar plan of action for a nut-job like moi. Like I said, people, that just about killed me.

But do you know what was worse than that about this whole day? (OK, besides the burning sensation and almost dying when I stumbled through a crosswalk that clearly said "DON'T WALK.") The worst part was having to explain to people what my deal was all day. I mean, I know I didn't have to, but everyone I encountered thought I was on drugs. I went into Starbucks in a Dominick's grocery and would not take off my sunglasses indoors. And I'm sure I was looking slightly to the left of the barista and he was thinking, "Yeah, like YOU need more coffee." Then when I had to enter my PIN for my debit card, I literally leaned my face down to within two inches of the keypad just so I could see the numbers. And on the train, I think everyone felt really uncomfortable sitting next to the potential junkie. Who was wiping her nose and twitching occasionally when she looked into the light just a little too directly. And the security guard at the doctor's building and the pharmacy girl at Walgreen's? They were none too patient with scary girl with bloodshot eyes and suspiciously dilated pupils. Until I finally kind of snapped and said, "I'm sorry, having a little trouble with my vision here, so it's just a tad difficult for me to sign whatever paper you are waving in my face." They were suddenly very nice to me.

Every other time I just got on the phone with my mom (let's call her Super Nurse Practitioner for diagnosing me via phone) to give her a loud update of my progress (yes I was THAT girl on the train) so that people could overhear and think, "Oh, poor girl, she's not calling her dealer for a fresh shipment of coke after all." You know what, maybe that was too much trouble to go through. If this ever happens again, I'm just going to show everyone my red eyes, get all Whitney on them, and yell, "Bobby! Crack is WHACK!" Then we'll see what happens.

Give Me Two Perrr, I Need Two Perrr

2008-08-05T20:29:00.000-07:00

(QUICK! Name that song! Anyone? Anyone?)

So today, folks, I'd like to talk about shoes. Mind you, I'm not one of those crazy people who just CANNOT STOP talking about her love of footwear, although I do love a nice new pair of kicks. I actually work with one of those, and it's annoying, so I stay fairly nonverbal about my adoration for shoes. Anyway, point is I think that more than any other accessory, new shoes can make you feel like a million bucks even if you only went to Payless and paid $14.95 for them.

BUT (yes, there is a but, here), I tend to be rather discriminatory when it comes to doling out my affection. I do not love all shoes equally. Oh no. When it comes to shoes, I never do halfway. It's all or nothing, baby.

And by 'all' I mean towering 4-plus inch heels. By 'nothing' I mean my Asics or maybe flip flops (OK and some of these crazy fun flat sandals this summer, but whatever, these details are really going to ruin my argument). However, right now, I'm going to say something that may appall many of you. You have been warned so here it goes: I HATE ballet flats. Hate hate hate hate hate. Sure, they're cute and, to some, are a good alternative to heels when you want to dress up but have a short date. But they are NOT comfortable and unless you are Gisele, they probably don't do much for you. They don't improve your posture and really don't give your feet much support. And if you are in possession of cankles (which I pride myself on not having, so I say this for anyone else's own good), flats will NOT help you. Plus they're SO girly, and despite my undying love for all things with ankle-breaking height, girly I am not.

Another thing I hate are one or two-inch heels. I mean they can't even really call themselves heels! The are frauds, fakes, impostors, high-heel wannabes. Suck it up and toss on an extra inch or two. As the lovely Victoria Beckham states in her book, "That Extra Half an Inch," "One shoe style I have little love for is the kitten heel. I think a lot of women see them as the wearable compromise to high heels, but in fact they have none of the benefits of high heels yet also none of the casual ease of flats." Amen, sister. I still don't really like flats, but I don't mind throwing on a pair of cute Pumas if wearing heels is just not practical and wearing running shoes with an outfit would be downright ugly. Anyway, point is that kitten heels are masquerading as heels when they don't really do much other than add height, and not much of it at that. They aren't any more comfortable and they just make you sit back on your heels and slouch in a weird, indescribable way. And they don't make your calves look like you run 15 miles a day the way a pair a sweet pumps does. I feel like they almost give you cankles if you don't already have them.

Now, I will tell you a little something else about why I have this all or nothing philosophy when it comes to shoes. I'm not comfortable in between. I can of course wear my running shoes forever, because they are running shoes, duh. They're meant to support your feet. It's what they do. But honestly, I can wear heels almost as long. Today, for example, I wore my heels from 10 am to 10pm. And these are big heels, no wussy summer sandals for me. I've walked literally MILES in these. No, they aren't amazingly supportive or anything. They're from Payless and they have four-inch cork (ish, c'mon it's Payless, I don't even want to know what my shoes are made of) heels. But I wear them everywhere.

Part of me knows that it's all mental when it comes to my wearing such stilts. I'm 5'7"ish and when I put these babies on, I'm almost 5'11". This is especially useful when I'm out and I meet a guy. If he's shorter than I am, then I see no future for us (sad, right?). But if I wear my heels and I still have to look up a little? Well then, sir, you've passed the first test. (You are totally allowed to call me superficial now). Additionally, when I go out with my three lovely cousins who are all over six feet tall and look like MODELS, I don't feel like such a misfit. Also, I just really like to be taller than half of the bar's patrons. I may have some issues with competitiveness. And power. Either way, the "high-heel high" is what makes me forget that I'm wearing what should be rather painful contraptions on my feet.

The other factor that enables me to wear such a high heels is all physiological. My feet are beat up and scuffed and broken and downright mangled from years of dance and running (more on this topic at another time actually). I once had a guy I knew grab for my feet and I highly advised -- warned him even --against it. He didn't believe that a girl's feet could be that bad so he went for it anyway --and paid dearly. OK well maybe not DEARLY but he did recoil and tell me they were gross. Well, duh, I told you not to do it. Anyway, it's not that my feet are dirty... they're just... tough. And I don't do anything to them but paint the nails so that the part showing in sandals looks pretty. I probably won't do anything either since their toughness makes it a lot easier for me to stand for hours in high heels.

The other thing that makes it easier? The ridiculous size of my feet. I have this theory that because my feet are so long, even when I wear tall heels or wedges, there is still a good portion of my foot on the ground. So I still have a pretty good base to stand on. And since I've already shared so much with you about my tootsies, I might as well tell you what I call my feet. I used to call them boats or skis, but now folks, I have decided to call them my drag queen feet. Mostly because the drag queens I've seen (I live pretty darn close to Boystown, kids), all walk amazingly well in heels for not having been at it as long as some of the females I know. Rarely do they stumble or look like they're limping or lilting to one side. No way, they're pros. And so am I. As one of the girls at work said after I told her my "drag queen feet" theory, "Thank goodness you have a feminine face." Thanks. I think.

I'm Bored and My Life Is Currently Boring...

2008-07-30T21:45:00.001-07:00

Because of the aforementioned reasons, and the fact that I'm waiting on the shower because my roommate ALWAYS waits until the INSTANT I get back from the gym to dive into the bathroom (it's like she's got it down to a SCIENCE), I'm going to randomly pick some pictures from my computer files and comment on them, which will most likely be really boring for you, but see, since I'm bored, I think everyone should be... right?

Quick note: I was watching Girlicious tonight (did I seriously just admit that? don't judge...actually maybe I'll write more about this later... hmm...) and one thing I just could NOT stop thinking about was how Mark McGrath must really hate his life right now. He went from being the frontman of Sugar Ray, a multi-platinum band, to hosting a reality show on the CW that manufactures girl groups. I bet he cries/self medicates a LOT.

OK, moving on.

This is the Bean in Millennium Park. (It actually has a nice name...something with 'cloud' in it or something, but no one calls it that and I often wonder if the artist resents that.) It's HUGE and reflective and you can go underneath it and look up inside and it distorts your image. Super neat (yes, I said neat). For those of you not in Chicago, it's pretty much one of the most touristy/best things you can do when visiting. Or when you live here and are showing people around. Or just when you're bored and want to look at a giant, seamless, chrome sculpture that appears to be a legume.

This is a picture of three of my lovely senior year housemates and I at graduation. I personally think we looked pretty sweet. (I'm the one with the green M, although it makes me look really short, even though I'm 5'7" and taller than some of these friends. Maybe I wasn't wearing heels...hmmm. Right, not the point). Also, I would just like to point out that our graduation was probably better than yours (sorrrrryyyyy) because we had it in THE BIG HOUSE (yes that deserved all caps) and because Bill Clinton was our speaker. Say what you want about his politics, but we had a former United States President address us. All, you know, 5,000 of us.

This is from about a year and a half ago, so maybe that's cheating, but I looove this picture, this is one of my faaaaaavorite friends from my a cappella group (she had already changed out of her pretty black dress), and I look good here so now I'm motivated to go run some more. Anyway, this was taken after our Spring 2007 concert. We had a St. Patty's theme (it was the 17th) and a lot of people showed up drunk. It was great. It was also my last concert ever as a Harmonette (and SERIOUSLY, don't mock the name. we were just stickin' with 27 years of tradition) and I got a little choked up as I was introducing a song on stage. I NEVER do that. I'm pretty sure a few of my friends wonder if I really have tear ducts. Guess I do.

Again, from last summer, but I just haven't been taking pictures lately! Anyway, this is from the ONLY time I ever wore a cowboy hat (I even opted out when we had barn dances for my sorority because I just thought I looked silly as I am not a hat person). We went to a hoedown in DETROIT, Michigan. Which should sound weird to everyone. Because it is. And really I only went to the hoedown so that I could buy and have an excuse to wear a cowboy hat (even though, yes, I just said I looked silly). This is another one of my best UMich friends because she tolerates and even encourages my awkwardness. (And she's moving to Chicago SO soon and I can't even STAND it.) Also, I would like to point out that I do this strange arm thing in practically every other picture. It's like I a) broke my wrist and I'm cradling it or b) got caught doing the Thriller dance and decided to smile for the picture in the middle of it. Either way, there is no real reason for my arm to be positioned just so. I think it's a reflex... to camera flashes... or something...

And finally, my favorite person in the entire world...my sister! (The one in the middle is my mom and I guess I like her too.) She really doesn't look super thrilled in this picture, but I think the boat may have been making her seasick. I probably wouldn't have been beaming either had I wanted to get sick all over the deck. Or maybe I would have. Because I've got me sea legs and I'm tough, not a yellow land lover...arrrrgh! (Whoa... no more pirate movies for me...) Anyway, she's two years younger than I am and is my best friend. Seriously. Not even being sappy and obnoxious about it. Because just like best friends, we don't always agree and sometimes we get on each others' nerves. She tells me I'm being dumb and is the best voice of reason I've got. In the end, we're still the first one the other calls and are always excited to see each other after a long, painful separation. And we're always on the same team when it comes to arguing with Mom and Dad. Oh, right, and, it's like automatic maid of honor if/when either of us gets married. Automatic drama saver. Who can get mad at you for picking your sister over everyone else? Nobody. That's who.

So, this was a little glimpse into the life of yours truly. But I mean, not really. I showed you like five pictures. Sigh. I tried. I'm going to bed.

[insert clever title here]

2008-07-24T20:57:00.000-07:00

I don't really have much to say since things have been kind of low-key/ "meh" lately. Anyway, I thought I would just bullet point some thoughts so I would at least get something written. Usually I go for quality over quantity, but I also don't like to go toooo long without writing something for fear that the 3 people who read this will get bored and never return! Whew. So, if you read, please keep reading! I promise I'll write something good soon!

On to the bullets!

I think I want to go to Greece. First of all, I hear it's beautiful. Perfect water, lots of sun. Heaven, essentially. And I think the food would be right up my alley. Hummus, veggies, pita, yogurt, olive oil. I also think they media is like OBSESSED with Greece/the Mediterranean because one of the style editors at Glamour just wrote about her trip to Croatia on the site and Mamma Mia is everywhere. And now I want to go see it.
Going off of that, I love movie musicals. They have the potential to be AMAZING or downright terrible. Which means that they go full circle and become amazing again. For example, the best/worst movie musical of all time: GREASE 2!! Pleeeeease, someone tell me that you've seen it. "I want a C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R..." "Let's bowl, let's bowl, let's rockn' roll!" or "Reproduction!" Anyone? anyone? OK, someone better

respond to that (I mean, please?) or at least go rent the movie if you haven't seen it. It's Michelle Pfeiffer at her finest/most embarrassing. I think this all stems from the fact that I was a half-theater nerd, half jock,half bookworm (OK, see... math wasn't my strong suit). I didn't ALWAYS want to hang out with the drama kids (it got a little weird after a while...), but I did want to sing ALL THE TIME, so I thought that if my high school were like Rydell, I would be set.
Also, why is Tom Hanks' son in a KFC commercial? Remember when he actually starred in a movie? With Jack Black? Now he's selling fried chicken and shocking his advertisement friends by getting a pretty girl to actually go out with him. My, how things change. (Also, if that isn't him then someone please correct me. But if it isn't, the resemblance is uncanny.)
My friends, college acquaintances, etc. need to STOP getting married and reproducing. I mean, they are lovely people (most of them), but it's making me feel like I'm falling behind! It's like I'm not hitting the milestones in time. And I'm only 23! Shouldn't I have more time? Graduate with honors from sweet school. Check. Move away from home. Check. Get first real job and apartment (OK my apartment is hardly real, but fine, whatever). Check. Find someone to spend the rest of life with and combine genes with? That box, my friends is very, very blank. No check marks there. I have time, right!?!?!

I love Jennifer Aniston. She's great. Even if she is dating John Mayer and I don't approve.

Oh man, and Conan O'Brien. I love him and never get to watch him anymore since I am usually in bed or at least not watching TV at this hour. But tonight I am still up for no apparent reason so I am thoroughly enjoying his incredible awkwardness, self-deprecating humor, and gravity-defying hair.
OK, this is for you, foodie friends: I really want to start cooking because right now, I run the risk of ruining microwaved dishes. I CAN cook, but I lose patience because I think, 'Oh, what's the use? If it's terrible, I'll have to nuke something anyway.' So most of the time I have carrots and hummus and oatmeal for dinner. Hmmm. Yeah. So from you, food bloggers/cooking gurus, I need your easiest, fastest, (cheapest?) yummiest recipes so I can become a functioning adult and not ingest so many of the chemical seeping out of my Tupperware into my food. (PS, I love all veggies and veg*n food but I'm open to almost anything, including poultry and fish, besides... well, mammal.)
And, last thing, I know I've written this before, but I need some inspiration, and I would especially love to know what YOU are interested in. It doesn't even have to be an opinion about something. I know I talk about me on here, but so far I haven't totally told you about me because I don't even know where to start. I know it may seem as though I divulge a lot of info because I CANNOT SHUT UP, but really I think I just say a lot of the same stuff twice (or 15 times). So help me out. Got any questions? Requests? Wondering why I can't just type one sentence and leave it at that? (Actually, I can't answer that one either.) Let me know!

OK, I need to crash to make it through one more day this week. Good night!

All Eyes On Me

2008-07-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

My eye really hurts. OK, that makes it sound kind of silly and/or pathetic. Let me try again.

My eye is BURNING WITH THE INTENSITY OF TEN THOUSAND FIRES OF HELL. And you know that's bad because I went to Catholic school all the way through high school. We parochial school kids are guilted into taking our hell fires veeeery seriously.

Anyway, I've been having issues with my eyes since spring started here. I don't know what it is about the city (OK, yes I do, lots more pollution), but my eyes have been so much more susceptible to injury. At first I had one eye that was scratched so I went to a walk-in (or wait-five-hours-during-work-only-to-have-us-tell-you-we-don't-know-what-to-do) clinic, where they suggested I might have dry eye syndrome. Which apparently half the population now has, but really I just think the docs are in cahoots with the eye care companies...and all drug companies for that matter. Which is why we are all sick, all the time, and MUST take medicine. For everything. You know, so the pharmaceutical industry's growth doesn't slow down or anything. (WOW, that sounded bitter. I didn't mean to, I promise. I just have family in the healthcare industry so that makes me an expert, right? OK, moving on).

So, thinking I have dry eyes, I go to buy some (expensive) drops. Which work just fine for a while. Until this weekend, when my eyes start feeling really scratchy again. I tried to keep my contacts out for the most part, but I was not about to wear my glasses to the bar. And going without is just NOT an option, because my vision is closer to that of a bat than a normal human being. Whenever I compare levels of blindness with people (what? you don't do that?), I am always victorious. "I don't know... my eyes are pretty bad... I'm like negative four..." HA! I STILL WIN! Negative EIGHT, baby! Which, in all other cases, is not something to cheer about. But I like this game, because it's the one thing at which I can pretty much never lose.

Right. So where was I? OK, I didn't want to wear my glasses to the bar, or the gym, or anywhere really, so I sucked it up and dealt with a little redness and slight irritation. Until today. I popped them in before I headed to the gym this morning and I felt fine. Then on the way to work (as I realized I hadn't brought my glasses or a contact case with me), I felt like I had to blink nonstop so that my eyes wouldn't tear up. Which made me look like I was on speed or had some very, very nervous tic.

At work, all hell broke loose and I kept putting the drops in because my whites were now bright red. Bad idea. The more I put the drops in, the more my eyes stung. I was too panicked about my eyes to think about that whole "cause and effect" thing, so it wasn't until about 2PM that I realized that the drops were only making everything worse. All day I was rubbing, and wiping, and squeezing my eyes shut, only to have my vision in my left all blurred with tears streaming down my face. Which, you know, is ideal when my job is to stare at a computer screen and write all day. I could hardly keep my eyes open and I had to keep looking away from the screen, except that hardly helped thanks to the fluorescent lighting in the office. So I sort of looked like I'd been crying/snorting something illegal and I kept whining about how much my eyes hurt. And I was annoyed because I looked really cute today! Besides my face.

When I finally got home to take out my contacts, I got a gooooood look in the mirror. Not only were my eyes red and puffy and weirdly dilated, but I had wiped off all the coverup from under the left eye and had smeared my mascara down in its place, creating a charming black eye effect. So I looked like I was on crack and like my dealer had beaten me up for shorting him. Oh, plus I fell down our ONE step coming out of the bathroom last night, so I kind of even felt like I had been roughed up. And by 'fell,' I mean I slipped and slammed into the door, the jamb, the step, and the opposite wall of the hallway. And then I landed on my back on our tile floor, where my roommate found me and proceeded to stifle a laugh while asking me if I wanted some ice... or a stiff drink. No, I'm just going to lie here until I figure out where my dignity went. Thanks though.

Forever, forever, ever, forever, ever?

2008-07-17T21:47:00.000-07:00

Seeing how I work dangerously close to State St. in downtown Chicago, I tend to visit Forever 21 quite a bit (or Forever XI or twentyone or whatever the hell kinds of labels they are throwing on the clothes now). Sometimes I just browse and sometimes I actually buy things I don't need -- which, let's be honest, is pretty much the entire store.

Exhibit A:

And there's no Exhibit B because I couldn't actually find what I bought online.

Anyway, today, in my quest for more lightweight dresses (it's HOT and humid here and showing up sweating to work is making me feel a bit more unprofessional than I already do), I started thinking about how funny it is that this cheap-o, often trashy store is THRIVING and shows no signs of stopping. And please, don't get me wrong, I LOVE this store, and would probably be devastated if it were suddenly no longer. And I can't really afford much else besides this shop and H&M (gotta love the Euro trends). But, folks, if you consider Forevs to be a classy establishment, you may want to consider reassessing... your whole life.

OK, but point of this post (drumroll, please, David Letterman style):

THE FIVE MOST COMMON PHRASES OVERHEARD AT FOREVER 21

5) How many washes do you think I can get out of this before it melts?

4) Hmm... Go up two sizes from your normal one and it should fit just right.

3) Why are the prices so weird? Does this really say $13.47?

2) Did they start a children's line?

1) Is this a shirt or a dress?

Well We're Moving On Up....

2008-07-14T21:43:00.000-07:00

But not to the East side. In fact, we'll probably stay on the North side if anything. And, really, it's just me that's leaving this apartment. So maybe that song doesn't apply at all. But I AM moving! Well, in September. I'm still excited about it right now.

Let me back up a little. The apartment I live in now is what the French would call "a piece of crap." Or at least the French people I know. It is a tiny little room in a building I found on craigslist back in December. For a girl eager to get the heck out of Michigan, the close quarters and random roommates mattered not. Especially for the low, low price of $450 per month. Well folks, let me tell ya, you get what you pay for.

For one, my twin bed takes up most of the little space I have. I don't even have room for a desk so I place my laptop on my trunk and sit on the floor cross-legged and hunched over to stare at the computer screen. And the reason I have a trunk and multiple plastic storage containers under my bed is because I do not have a closet. NO CLOSET, people. We bought a random wardrobe things from IKEA but that only takes up more of the space that I really don't have.

I also get to trek to the laundromat every time I want anything washed, which is like, constantly because gym clothes can't be reworn as well as some items (ewwww). But this is no easy process, this getting to the coin laundry business. No, no, no. I have to stuff everything into my bag and hop on a bus for 15 minutes during which time, the stranger next to me gets to see all of my unmentionables. Then I have to drag it across this huge strip mall parking lot and head into the world's least effective laundromat. Where half the dryers don't work. And your clothes always smell sort of weird after. And where I have to watch cute sweaters like a hawk or else they mysteriously disappear. So I've got that going for me.

Oh, and my window? I get to see and hear everything that happens on one of the busiest streets in the neighborhood, which is awesome during the day, but not so much when I'm trying to get some shuteye. I hear every siren (and that's a lot because I live by THREE hospitals) and every post-bar fight and drunken conversation since I am lucky enough to live practically on top of a bar. And above a mecca for the lushes spilling out of previously mentioned bar-- a greasy pizza joint . And that, my friends, is my favorite part. I live RIGHT above the sign for this awful pizza slice place that ONLY gets business when people are so inebriated that they will eat anything. (I've had friends who tempted fate by eating it describe it as tomato sauce and questionable cheese on cardboard. At least they got the tomato part right.) And because I live right above this sign, I have a constant, blindingly bright night light. Til about 4AM. Every single night. Sometimes I don't know if it's time to get up or if the sign is just glowing a bit brighter.

I also share a teeny bathroom with two girls that I randomly decided to live with, so that's always fun. In college, I shared a bathroom with two girls in a house senior year, and with about 20 other girls when I lived in the sorority house. But that was different. I knew them well so I could yell at them to get their asses moving or to let me in to pee while they showered (TMI? Well, too bad). Sharing was not an issue. Now it is a problem because these are girls I am not friends with, and because I am moving out, I probably won't get to know them much better at this point. Which is fine (absolutely great actually), but I won't get into roommate complaints right now (maybe a later post though, like when I have A LOT of time or once I've moved out and it can't potentially come back to haunt me).

But moving on and moving out right? I am pumped because I'm getting a place with one of my best friends with college. I've lived with her already so I know it can be done. Plus when I lived with her in our house senior year, I actually had to walk through her room to get to mine, which won't be the case here. If we could survive that without her strangling me, I'm pretty sure we can share a living space. Anyway, I am so excited for September to get here so that I can live with an awesome friend and actually have an apartment that feels like home. Yay!

I have a composed a list of requirements for the new place:

Must haves: AC, closet, laundry in the building (not 5 miles away), closet, room for a double bed, closet, plenty of outlets, CLOSET (wasn't sure if I mentioned that yet)

Would be nice: Dishwasher, garbage disposal, laundry in apartment, hot neighbors

NO WAY IN HELL: on the main street, above gigantic neon pizza sign

That's all I can think of for now. Can anyone else think of something we should add to the list? Or do you have any horrible (and by that I mean awesomely awful) apartment/moving/roommate stories?

I've Just Got One of Those Faces...

2008-07-08T20:05:00.000-07:00

Apparently I've got that look about me that says, "Hey, you! Yeah, you stranger who I didn't even make eye contact with, come talk to me!" After work today, I got on the Red Line to head to Trader Joe's on my way home. I was tired and sticky from the humidity, and all I wanted to do was read my book and tune out. Guess my face didn't express that clearly enough.

"Hey is that one good?" I looked up and saw a girl pointing to the new David Sedaris book I was holding. After awkwardly popping theTootsie Roll Pop out of my mouth with the one hand that was not gripping the subway pole for dear life, I answered, "Oh, um, yeah, so far... so good..." I don't know what to say to that! I wasn't planning on discussing my literary choices just then! I was far too busy worrying about what would happen if I suddenly pitched forward with said candy in my mouth...would the results be tragic? Would I jab someone with the stick? Would I swallow it whole? Either way, I was caught off guard. Then, once I had pulled the sucker out of my mouth to answer, I was worrying about getting it stuck on someone else on the packed train. And not because I didn't want to offend someone. Nope, because I was concerned that if I did that, they would contaminate it and I wouldn't be able to eat it. Apparently that makes me selfish.

So far this story is kind of a snooze right? Well I'm about to make it... longer. (You thought I was going to say "more exciting," didn't you? Sorry, kid, life's a disappointment sometimes.) Anyway, after I proved to several strangers around me how socially awkward I was by attempting to rearrange my book, my sucker, and my bag as well as carrying on a half-assed conversation with random train chick, another guy stepped forward to join this stimulating discussion. Some kid in a Columbia College t-shirt chimes in with, "Oh, ummm, yeah how is it?" like he's heard of it. Again, I tell them both it's great and he says, "It's a novel, right?"

WHAT?!?! NO, fool! Sorry, but I'm a huge fan of David Sedaris. It's totally fine if you aren't knowledgable about an author, but don't act like you are because you want to join a conversation. Ask an intelligent question like, "Oh, that looks interesting ... what type of writer is he?" I will be far more impressed. After that, we all started talking (with noticeable awkward pauses every minute or so) and the conversation went from David Sedaris (go get When You Are Engulfed in Flames.... so good! Or really any of his stuff, just go, quick, read some of his work!) to his family to all families being dysfunctional to his actress sister Amy Sedaris to Sex and the City to Kim Cattrall being one hot cougar. Um...what? None of those transitions were mine. I don't think I even really contributed but both people kept talking to me like I was the one carrying the conversation.

Then I got to my stop and had to elbow my way off the train. After which, I breathed a sigh of relief. It's not that I don't like people or talking to strangers. I love both really. But I just wasn't in the mood today and felt like I was forced into chatting because I just so happened to share five square feet of public transportation space with two other people. So you can maybe see how I was happy to get off that train and go back to being anti-social. Of course, though, I didn't get off that easily. Going up the escalator, a man turned around to me and commented, "Man! That was tough getting off of the train, huh?" Maybe I seemed bored or maybe he was in a hurry, but lucky for me, he didn't really pursue it. Still, everyone thought I was Miss Friendly today.

Just when I thought that the last person I would have to talk to for the day would be the checkout guy at Trader Joe's... I passed a Columbia College shirt. Who promptly whipped around and said, "Heyyyyyy....wait a minute! I know you from the train. So tell me more about this book." Nooooooo. No, random college boy, I do not want to tell you about a fabulous book that you have no intention of actually reading. That's what I wanted to say, but I was too tired to come up with an excuse not to stand in the natural dog food/Larabar aisle talking to him. And, I've been told, I'm not really mean enough to snap at people like that. (At least not in person. But oh man, hand me a pen and I will give it to you good. Alas, I didn't have a pen and he might have thought me crazier than average by writing out my responses instead of, you know, verbalizing them.)

So he asked me if this book will give him a different perspective. What? Yeah, sure. My answers were apparently not good enough so he went on, "Like, I'm a film major, so I want to see things differently." Well I'm a writer, would you like to hear about how I'm seeing you? Or about how this encounter is pretty torturous and how I would really like to go back to checking out the nutrition labels of all of the weird health bars rather than chat it up with you? Or how I'm getting slightly annoyed that you are taking up the entire aisle and disrupting the flow of traffic and aggravating your fellow shoppers? And aggravating ME since I am now that annoying girl in grocery store by association because people think we actually know one another?! [Deep breath]

I let him go on while I mentally ran down my grocery list: Yogurt? check. Apples? check. Wine? No, silly, you still have some in the fridge. But would another bottle really hurt? If you are planning on drinking it all tonight, then yes it would. "...and like Stephen King... his stuff, it's like..." Strawberries? No, those didn't look very good. Oatmeal? check. Oh! He's done talking! Run while you can!

After a few (long, painful, agonizing) minutes, mister self-involved film major decided he should go. I'm not sure why he didn't notice my glazed-over eyes before, but I was thanking my lucky stars he finally got the hint that I would like to skedaddle. Also, why was he talking to me for so long anyway? Is he lacking in the friends department and was just SO excited that someone would finally listen to him? Or was he trying to hit on me? If he was then a) homeboy needs to work on his game and b) ew, I was all sweaty and humidified. Oh, right. And c) I'm a little too old for him. I don't go for the younger boys. At least not anymore. (What? It was just a silly little three-year phase in college!)

Finally, my day of unexpected socializing was over. I did have a close call though. I went to grab some hummus and saw that same t-shirt boy in the cold foods section. So, in the spirit of awkwardness that governs many of my choices, I decided I could go without and rough it for a few days. And with that, I headed for the checkout, trying to look as unfriendly as possible.

Drought

2008-07-07T21:22:00.000-07:00

OK, ya'll. I'm seriously lacking in the inspiration department. I so wanted to write something creative and witty and thought-provoking tonight, but nothing was coming to me. I kept collecting these little tidbits and funny observations in my mind, but a coherent thought never really formed. Well, I mean, I'm not always totally coherent anyways... but today and this weekend, I was less so than usual. But I digress (what's new?). So, to the few people that read this blog (hey, I'm new!), I need your help! Post something, anything you think I should write about, and I'll see what I can do. I have an opinion on everything (truly, everything), so all I need is some help getting started. So let me hear it! The weirder and more out there, the better!

And if you really don't believe me that I'm stumped, here's an example of what I was thinking about writing:

"This morning on my way to work, I was walking along enjoying the sun (right before Mother Nature ripped open the sky and poured down on my cheap Forever 21 dress that probably wasn't even supposed to get wet). SUDDENLY (I'm so good at dramatics), something hit me in the neck (and no, it wasn't spit this time -- this flew at me horizontally). I figured it was a ladybug or something so I went to grab it and it STUNG ME. Right in the neck! Because it was a bee, and not a harmless little ladybug as I had assumed. The whole way to work, my neck stung like crazy and all I could think were panicked thoughts about how, no, I wasn't allergic to bees but this was my neck! It would probably swell up and block my airway and I would have to rush to the ER and then I would have to miss work. (Hmmm... actually... maybe it would be nice if I were allergic...) I could not stop thinking about how much drama was about to ensue. Then I hopped off the Purple Line and went into Starbucks and forgot all about it as soon as I ordered my iced coffee.

That is, until noon, when I remembered my unfounded panic and went to the bathroom to check out my sting from the deadly creature. Which really wasn't even there. No red mark or anything. How disappointing. Nothing exciting ever happens to me."

OK, so do you SEE how much I need some help?! Clearly that was a cliff hanger. Give me a topic here!

For Lack of a Better Expression, EW

2008-07-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

OK, I'm not really sure if I would count this as a real post. It's more of a quick rant. But then, again, quick for me is not quick to the rest of the world. I can be a little verbose. See? I've done it already. On with the rant!

So on my way home from the gym tonight, I was happily bopping along to my ipod, most likely listening to JoJo or some other horrendous (read: AWESOME) pop star that I work out to. I was totally minding my own business, feelin' good after pumping some iron and working up a sweat, when THWAP! something lands and slides down the side of my head. I stopped, took a deep breath, and reached up to feel my hair, thinking I was going to come in contact with sticky, nasty bird crap. Oh, no. This felt a little slimier, a little less revolting. Since I was walking under some balconies where people were already celebrating the Fourth, I thought, oh hey, maybe it's just someone sloshing beer over the side of his cup. I wish.

I pulled my hand away, took a peek and it was SALIVA! Some drunkass had spit off of the balcony onto an innocent bystander! Oh, HELL, no. I stopped, yanked my ear buds out and whipped around, looking up to the windows for the offender. The offender who, of course, had oh-so-conveniently disappeared into his apartment. So I stood there in the middle of the sidewalk as everyone else filed past me to get to the bar. I stood for a good three minutes staring up with an expression of "seriously?" on my face. And no one peeked back out. He (maybe she? I'm doubting it though) sensed I was ready for a fight. Psh. Coward.

After I composed myself and put my best pissed-off-and-determined face on, I cranked up Ciara's "Goodies" and set off down the street. I was busy brooding and thinking of the choice words I could have used when suddenly... out of nowhere... before I could stop it...

I started LAUGHING. Like full-on cracking up at myself. OK, yes it was gross and I'm a little worried about the nastiness that is probably breeding in hair as we speak (and I'm not even a germaphobe!). And I almost (almost, people) think bird crap would have been better because at least it wouldn't have been such a seemingly offensive and mean-spirited act. And YEAH, I think it was an extremely immature thing to do, especially because I've seen the people that live in those apartments and they are grown men. But in spite of all this --and myself -- I had to laugh. I'm even laughing as I think of it now.

But I'm also thinking of how I'm about ready to try out my new shampoo. You know, do a little lather, rinse, repeat. And repeat. And repeat and repeat and repeat...

Dating (dun dun dun...)

2008-07-02T20:31:00.000-07:00

So last night I was talking to a guy friend of mine. Both being recent grads out in the real world, we were discussing how different it is to date now that we aren't in school. First of all, it's a lot harder to meet people. You don't have classes that force you to talk to random people on a daily basis and being heavily involved in clubs and organizations isn't quite the norm anymore. I've joined the alumni group here, but it's not like there are events ALL the time. You're also friends with the people you actually want to be friends with, not the 20,000 others with whom you were thrown into the protective academic bubble. This is good of course, but, personally, my group of friends in the city is limited, so the chances of meeting an interesting guy that I don't already know through one of my friends? Slim, at best. (Somehow, though, I really have a knack for introducing friends who live happily ever after while staying completely single myself...)

Oh, and meeting guys randomly? I've been here six months and it hasn't really worked out yet. Guys at bars? Ick. We talk. I think they're interested. They might even get my number. Then they suddenly realize that I am not going home with them and BAM, conversation is o-v-e-r faster than I can say, "it was nice to meet you!" Which is fine, because after that disgusting move, I have changed my mind. No, sir, it was NOT nice to meet you. I could have had a more enjoyable night reorganizing my underwear drawer. The contents of which, by the way, you will never, ever, ever see, you overgrown frat boy. So there. Hmph.

My mom (oh wise woman that she is) thinks I will meet the man of my dreams at a Starbucks or the library. I mean, that makes sense because I do love reading and coffee and I do spend a great deal of time at such establishments. However, I would rather not meet dates at these places. Why? Overcaffeinated, literary boys who write poetry and wear smaller jeans than I do. I'm stereotyping here. I'm well aware of this. But THAT is what makes me nervous about meeting persons of the opposite sex while drinking coffee and perusing the contemporary fiction section.

And if anyone even mentions that I could meet someone at the gym, I will invite you to come work out with me, just so you will understand that this is not an option. The guys at my gym are either gay (duh, I'm like a mile from Boystown) or too busy frolicking past the mirror to check themselves out. Either way, no one is looking at me. And thank God. I may look decent when I enter the gym (I like to think I can pull off the sport look well) but do not -- I repeat, DO NOT -- expect me to look even halfway decent after a bout on the treadmill. I'm pretty sure I sweat more than the guys (and whether that is because I sweat a lot since I run pretty hard or because the guys only do like 5 minutes of cardio to warm up for their 3.5 hour strength training session, I don't know). Would you like to see my sports bra? Just give me 40 minutes to get my blood pumping and I'm sure it'll show up through my t-shirt. Mmmm... I know. I am definitely not a girly girl when I'm at the gym (OK, well, to be honest, I'm never a girly girl, but especially not at the gym). In conclusion, I will probably not meet my next boyfriend during a workout.

OK, so onto the discussion that inspired this piece to begin with. After talking about meeting people, we were just joking around about looks of the people we meet. For some reason, I'm always curious about what guys think of things that I'm not even sure they notice. Like makeup or shoes. This particular evening, I was joking around that it was my hair that was hindering my love life. [Sidenote: I have this wavy hair that can either look really beachy/wild/sexy or sort of crazy/homeless/unbrushed. At least in my opinion. And it probably doesn't help that, come summer, I don't bother with drying it like, ever.] His response? (which had nothing to do with hair, btw) "No, you don't date because you aren't trying to." Excuse me?!? Not trying? I haven't seriously dated in a few years and I think it's about time I do, so I was shocked that he said this! I was always fun and outgoing in college and I was never at a loss for compliments (OK, that came out reeeeally wrong... the point is that I wasn't a troll who never got out, OK!?!?)

But then... but then... I actually thought about it. How does one actually try to date? I want to date, but besides going out on weekends and trying to get involved in groups, how do I take the initiative? I don't have much else to say on this, other than, I need help! Anyone out there have any ideas? I need to learn how to date again! I feel like a divorcee who's figuring it all out again. Except I'm 23. And I've never been married. Or had a super serious boyfriend because I end up being heartless and roll my eyes when boys want to talk about feelings. Yep, I definitely need some help. So... help!

Cool Stuff I Get to Do Because I Live in Chicago

2008-07-01T17:38:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be completely honest with you here. I'm not always totally crazy about living in Chicago -- only because it's still the Midwest and well, I was trying reeeeaaallly hard to get out after graduation. And I really still want to live on the East Coast and maybe even down South before I finally settle down. And because all we're known for in the Midwest is auto factories and farms (odd, now that I think about it). And because no one considers it a mecca of culture or class. And because those on the coasts expect us to be fat and slightly ignorant, driving only tractors or made-in-the-USA cars. That's all.

OK, with all of that said, I truly think Chicago is awesome in its own right. Especially when I let myself forget that I'm living in a state named Illinois. Anyway...this city is so vibrant and full of culture and is really the best of the Midwest (besides Ann Arbor, of course. My heart will always belong to you, city of my alma mater!). Proving that point, this weekend I had the chance to partake in a little bit of big city life when I attended the Gay Pride Parade! I was a women's studies major at liberal Umich, but I never really got too involved in the LGBT stuff. I like to think I'm fairly open-minded and, at school, I did have LGBT friends/acquaintances but because the issues never directly affected me, I kind of took on a "meh" attitude. Kind of a "live and let live, but that's about it." Selfish. Naive. Whatever you want to call it. Anyway, not saying I'm going to go all activist on you, but I now have a greater appreciation for other people's lifestyles. And the HUGE turnout of the parade as well as the awesome amount of participation from all walks of life from Chicago really had an impact on me.

I actually had no one to go with but I went by myself because a) This was a once a year opportunity, b) It was a chance to be a part of something going on across the country, and c) It was LITERALLY outside my window. No, really. RIGHT OUTSIDE my second-floor, crappy, above-a-neon-sign-that-keeps-me-awake-at-night window. Much to my chagrin (most of the time), I live on the main drag (ha, sorry, no pun intended... you'll get it when you see some of the pictures...). But in this case, living on one of Chicago's busiest streets was awesome! I not only got to see the whole parade when I walked down the street, but I was able to see everyone getting their floats ready before the festivities from my living room table (the parade actually started a few blocks up from me).

So, without further ado -- pictures!

The news was there, of course!

One of the many crazy, awesome floats in the parade.

I wish I could upload the video from phone --these dancers were amazing!

Do you get my terrible pun from earlier now?

This made everyone standing around me cheer!

Everyone there had so much SPIRIT!

(What's that? You think I should stop with the jokes?)

Another group of awesome dancers from a community organization.

Buddhists....

United Methodists, Lutherans.....

Catholics...

Jews....

...every faith was showing its support!

There was just something so perfect about this.

Hot boys who couldn't be interested in me if they tried... Sigh.

I took quite a few pictures of this one when the parade was stopped for about half an hour. How can you not love it?

Loved it.

These nice ladies saw me documenting the parade in the rain and called me over to give me flowers from their float! I was smiling all day from the amazing vibes from everyone there.

HA. Nothing more to say.

I have SO many more pictures, but this one just says it all:

It's About to Be a -- Girl Fight.

2008-06-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

First of all, I hope you all love hip hop as much as I do and were able to catch that reference. If not, I don't judge. Promise.

Second of all, the title is not completely referencing my birthday or the friends I have at all. I had an awesome day and the people in my life -- including the girls I know -- are pretty super. Before I go off, I just want to say that my friends made it such a fun day! The girls at work went all out and I feel like I'm definitely an integral part of the department now. They're just completely... kickass. I have no better word at the moment. And the majority of old friends calling me to wish me a Happy 23rd! were the lovely ladies I've been so lucky to call my friends from grade school, high school, and college onwards. So. This is not about them. The girls I associate with have a little bit of class. At least most of the time. :-) So here goes:

Ladies? Can I ask you something? Yes? OK. Why we always gotta hate? Please pardon my slang for a moment... and think seriously on that. Why are we always fighting to bring each other down and why are we forever looking at each other as competition? Honestly. We have enough to deal with everyday without worrying if the next girl we meet is going to try to tear us down. I really don't want to launch into a feminist rant here, but I really want to get to the bottom of this women-hating-women phenomenon. I guess it isn't even a phenomenon since it's been happening forever, but because I have never intentionally screwed another girl over, I just don't get it. Why do we fight each other when we could be fighting battles much more worthwhile? You know, little things, like equal pay and the great socio-economic disparities across gender and race. (I loved being a Women's Studies major a liiiittttle too much.)

OK. So, where is this coming from? you might ask. Ask and you shall receive. On my birthday (it was awesome except for this tiny little part! I promise!), I went out with a friend from work. [Sidenote: I might also add that Work Friend claims that she does not like hanging out with girls because they've always got their claws out... I think I've been declawed or something because I have a lot of friends who say this, yet they still hang out with yours truly. I'm like SJP, I just love other women and don't get why we're bitches to one another! And by love I mean that I can appreciate...I dig the fellas. Not that any other way is wrong. Duh, no hating. Is this sidenote over yet? Why, yes, yes it is.] We drank some wine at her house and headed out to meet a few guys I knew from school (one of whom I'm really good friends with and may have a crush on and who I'm pretty sure knows it. Whatev. I heard it through the grapevine that at one point Guy Friend thought I was pretty cool too, so I'm not sweating having someone find out about a little crush). Anyway, Guy Friend is from the area and had some of his friends from high school with him. I thought that was great because to me, more people always means a good time. Well, apparently his friends -- who were GIRLS -- did not think so.

At the first bar we went to, one of the girls just pretty much did not talk to us at all. Maybe she said, "Nice to meet you." But then again, maybe not. Maybe she crossed us off right away and merely half smiled. This is the thing that always gets me too, because if you're friends with my friend I will give you the benefit of the doubt. "Oh you've known XYZ for 12 years? You must be pretty OK then." I do get that some personalities do not mesh with others. I really do. Not everyone is meant to be best pals. However, I'm pretty sure you could not judge my personality based on me smiling and telling you how nice it is to meet you. And not in an annoying, overly zealous, puppy-dog-needing-approval-and-attention kind of way. Just a genuine interest in meeting another person. Is that so hard? The other girl seemed very nice at first, but she started killing us with kindness soon after, speedily making it apparent that my Work Friend and I were not exactly welcome.

Then, we decided to move on to the next bar. And the trouble really began. (OK, I wasn't really paying attention just yet because I was still too pumped to be out with some of my favorite people on my birthday. But Work Friend noticed right away, and later, it did hit me like a ton of bricks). As we were planning the move, Work Friend asked the other girls where we were headed. They wouldn't tell her. They were withholding information and trying to lose us. And they were acting like first graders who don't want to share crayons or new recess buddies. Well, see here's the thing. It was my birthday! and I had come with Work Friend to see Guy Friend and celebrate, so I was not about to be shaken off so easily.

After Guy Friend grabbed us to come along, these girls had to come up with a new plan to rid their party of four of the two unnecessary female companions (us, duh). So, as we all went up to get drinks, they swooped around and grabbed a table that would only seat four, leaving Work Friend and I out. Seriously?? Now they were just acting like fourth graders (not to say they grew up at all from their first grade antics) who tried to squeeze poor girls out of the cafeteria table group to see if they would sit by themselves or go eat lunch in the bathroom to avoid the shame. To start, Work Friend and I were standing at the bar, at a loss for what happened to the rest of the group. Luckily, Guy Friend waved us over because he clearly noticed that we were suddenly MIA. Then we hastily pulled up chairs to the table because, oh no, we were not about to be shut down. At this point, I wasn't even feeling competitive either! I just didn't want to be left out! I'm social that way, apparently. The Silent One still didn't speak and the other was really trying to put us into sugar comas with her niceties. So weird.

Anyway, Work Friend left at some point and I stayed out (which I really shouldn't have done, but... oh well.). At the end of the night, I apparently got really quiet and Nice Girl decided I should go home right then and there. I honestly had had a few too many, but there was no need to shove me into a cab -- which she did. Yup, literally walked me out of the bar, hailed a cab, opened the door, and told the driver where to go! I didn't even have time to say goodbye to Guy Friend and I was in a state of utter confusion. And, just so we are clear, I was in a state that I COULD have gotten myself home just fine, thank you. I called Guy Friend right away and he even admitted that whatever that had been had happened super fast and he didn't even know what had become of me. So I wasn't going crazy or even just insanely inebriated. HMPH.

Alright, so after that very long and unnecessarily detailed story, here's the conclusion. Those girls did not want new ones on their turf (which actually ended up being my turf since we were like, right on my street, but I am NOT going to compete about it). They did not want us there. We were not welcome. And there wasn't even a really good reason. Had Work Friend and I been fawning all over the guys or shooting the girls daggers with our eyes, I would have MAYBE understood. But we weren't and we would probably never. We were trying to be social and it's not like we were monopolizing anyone's attention. I just wanted to have a fun birthday! I realize this post sounds like a great big bottle of Haterade dumped on the other females present, but it's not meant to be. Actually, I would kind of like some insight on this little incident. It just made me sad that I didn't have to say anything to make these women dislike me. I didn't say they had awful personalities; I just mentioned how I thought they were acting. And I didn't once comment on their looks, even in this post! And that's more than most of the women in this country can say when they talk about their female peers. (And, I won't be a hypocrite and say that I NEVER say anything mean. Sometimes it slips and I call someone unfortunate-looking. See? I won't be throwing the first stone.) But it was like they realized we had similar chromosomes and decided that I couldn't be anything but competition. But really...Did Work Friend and I do something wrong? Is this just the way things are supposed to be? Can't we all just band together and try to not sabotage one another? Can you stop me from asking any more questions?! Please?! I know I started this off talking about fighting bigger battles and I know this sounds silly in comparison. But these little catfights on the smaller levels look very similar to female CNN reporters talking about Hilary really starting to show her age. (I'm not endorsing anyone with that, but I'm just sayin'. What did that have to do with her credentials?!) We need to stop fighting one another if we're ever going to win anything. OK, now I'm done (promise!). Go ahead and sound off!

Birthday! Birthday?

2008-06-19T17:22:00.000-07:00

So, the big day (OK, I guess it's not that big, but still) is approaching. Or looming. I'm not sure which. Tomorrow is the day I turn 23. On one hand I'm kind of not sure what to expect. I mean, I feel like I should dread it or something. I mean, I realize that I am not going to wake up with wrinkles or stiff joints or worse vision (actually I'm hoping mine will get better with age since I'm already damn near blind). It's just...well... is this birthday going to be a letdown? Last year for my 22nd I was still in Ann Arbor. I was supposed to go out with friends, but it didn't happen, so I read a book and went to bed at 10PM. HUGE letdown. Not that I don't love lounging and reading and sleeping, but it was a disappointment because I was supposed to do something and it fell through. Plus, after 21, what do you have to look forward to at 22? It's just so sad for 22 that it has to follow 21. But life isn't fair I suppose.

Anyway, on the other hand with this crazy getting older thing, I'm kind of excited. This is my first birthday in Chicago, in the city I moved to all by myself. This birthday is really just symbolic of me growing up by moving here...right? Well, we won't analyze it too much. Also, I'm excited because I think I have real set plans and won't end up falling asleep with my Chicago Public Library book dropped on the floor and an unopened bottle of celebratory wine sitting the kitchen. (That made me sound like a pathetic alcoholic, but I'm really not! At least not at the moment... haha :-) ) Anyway, someway, somehow, I am GOING OUT. So there. I have a friend from school who is visiting home who will be here and I know that I'm meeting up with a friend from work, so I actually have something to do!! As dorky as this sounds, it's like, hey look, I have adult friends, not just sorority sisters that I like to drink with. Don't get me wrong, I do love that, and I'm not discounting that at all. This is different though. These are friends I've made here or kept in touch with from school, not just people I was living/taking classes/sharing bar space with. You know, people you choose to be friends with, not just the ones you're thrown in with for four years and are forced to tolerate. (Again, not discounting the great people I met and choose to tolerate still :-) )

OK, so where was I going with all of this? I can't even remember anymore, but I think I'm deciding to get pumped for 23, not worried or down. I'm going to do what I want tomorrow (OK, with the exception of work), and really celebrate getting one year older. I'm going to get in a good workout, maybe buy something pretty to wear out, read a little of my book, eat some chocolate, drink some wine (mmmm), and smile a whole lot. So yeah, here's to celebrating one year older. And I think -- for the first time -- one year wiser. I've never felt like that, for all that I said I experienced and learned, but this year, I really do feel like I've gained a little bit of sense. But only a little. ;-)

Oops...

2008-06-18T16:57:00.000-07:00

This whole blog thing was supposed to keep me accountable as a writer...but... well... I haven't been doing so much writing. I have been journaling, but putting those thoughts online hasn't happened. So here it is, a little recap of my life (in bulleted form):

Work has been a little boring lately, but I'm not totally complaining because I get out right at 5 and we all take nice, long lunch breaks, haha. I also am getting to know my coworkers even better since we have time to chat every now and then.
I've been running a lot more lately and I think I'm going to sign up for the Chicago half marathon in the fall. I've done some really hilly 10-milers at home (Flinttown, what? KIDDING!) so I think I'm up for it. I started lifting again too, so I feel like I'm getting back into my routine and getting back to being ME. Hard to explain, but I digress. Pretty soon, I think I'll feel like my old kick-ass self. Not like, oh man, I am so cool kick-ass, but like, yeah I work out enough that I look like I might be able to beat someone up. Not that I actually want to. Or even could. But still, I've always liked looking and feeling athletic. Last summer, someone stopped me on the street in Ann Arbor and asked me if I played a sport for the school. HA! No, but that was awesome. And that's my goal, to get back to that. Props to all the skinny girls out there, but I don't want to look like that anymore. I was there once, and it wasn't pretty. Buff and athletically slim is pretty for me.
The weather here is beautiful!!! I layed out this weekend by Lake Michigan, and it just felt like all was right with the world. I even got a bit of a tan. OK, a burn...and don't scold! I know SPF is important but I was coming from the gym...and the park...was so close... and home... was so much farther away... SPF 30 next time, I promise.
I have a bunch of UMich friends who have moved here/will move here soon and I am pumped! I'm glad I kind of already have my own roots here, though. It makes me feel a bit more like, "Yeah, I came here on my own and did it all by myself!" You know? Feels good.
I've decided that I am a voice girl. Um, what? Yeah, I know, sounds weird. But you know how you are attracted to certain traits? Like someone is a leg guy or a shoulders girl? Does that make sense? Well, I've always been a smile and jaw kind of girl, but suddenly I'm noticing guys' voices. The guys are cute enough, but what I'm noticing is that if I like someone's voice they become 10 times cuter. I still notice smiles and jawlines (weird, I know), but random guys that I would never find attractive are suddenly crush-worthy because their voices strike me. And not one type of voice, but if it registers as pleasant, then, well, I think you're cute? OK, so this bullet was random.
I'm turning 23 on Friday!!! Last year, I was like OMG, I DO NOT want to turn 22!! There's nothing after that! But this year -- dare I say it? -- I'm sort of excited. I think it's because it's my first one in the city and it feels like my first real ADULT birthday. Sadly, a ton of my friends from here are going to be out of town this weekend! Dammit! Oh well, I don't have to celebrate right on the day. Maybe someone will be in town? Either way, I'm actually excited to say, "Me? How old am I? Oh, 23."

OK, time is running out and I need to get to the gym before T gets here! She has a job interview tomorrow (cross your fingers... we want to get an apartment together) so she's staying with me. Gotta run, but I'll try to write more soon. I might even pick a theme. I've been reading a ton of vegan/food blogs because I've been making attempts at eating vegan lately, so maybe I'll try to do a food blog to keep me accountable in eating AND writing.

We'll see!

Defining Personal Style...Sort Of

2008-05-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

So I was just thinking all about personal style and what mine is exactly. And by “just thinking” I mean five minutes ago, so bear with me. Anyway, I was trying to conjure up a description of my personal style, but I kept coming up with random things I like and how those things change on a daily basis. Then I realized that the factor determining my personal style is that it’s dynamic – never static. I like what I like based on my mood, how I feel about myself at the moment. Heck, even the weather affects my fashion choices.

And I kind of like that. You can say my style is completely undefined, but I think you’d be mistaken. I don’t change it based on what’s in for the season (red eye liner, Mary Kate Olsen’s last headwear debacle, neon anything, um, need I say more?), although sometimes I do give into crazy trends just ‘cause (Dear Legs, I’m really sorry for abusing you with those mid-calf leggings). More than anything, though, I’ve noticed that I use my style to bring out specific facets of my personality. Some days I just really like to vamp it up to achieve just the right amount of trampiness. You know, big, wild hair (the higher the hair, the closer to God, right J?), ridiculously impractical heels, borderline drag queen eye makeup, hoops resembling bracelets, and the strategic mysterious smirk. Nothing offensively whorish or tacky (although I have been known to sport the huge leopard print earrings, but that was more for the kitsch/intentional bowling alley queen effect), but just enough to say ‘I’m not taking myself incredibly seriously right now.’

As much as I love the trash-tastic look, I have also been to know to completely veer off and strive to look like a completely Charlotte-esque WASP princess. Or WASC, I guess, since I’m Catholic. But whatev, details, details. I have the pearls, preppy attire, long straight hair, tortoise shell headband, and, when I decide to call it forth, the posture. Whenever I really start dreaming of living on the East Coast, I try to prove I belong there with my wardrobe. (I love you, Chicago, I do! But I need a change of scenery! I long to leave the Midwest, just for a little bit! You understand, right? Right?)

Then, completely diverging from either of these identities, I play up my earthy-girl side with something I like to call “showered hippie.” This is when I really feel like strolling to the farmer’s market and walking barefoot in the grass and doing yoga. I mean, I do these things sometimes, but it’s a little hard to commit fully when it snows half the year here, I don’t have much of an attention span to calm down for a full hour unless I’m asleep, and I can’t even imagine what kinds of gross things are all over the ground in the Big City. Anyway, when this mood strikes me, it’s obvious to everyone who knows me. I let my hair air dry (and hairbrush? What’s that?), refuse to wear socks, dig out my flowy boho shirts and dresses, throw one of my million headscarves on, and walk in the sunshine, smiling at life like I just left Woodstock. The jury is still out on whether I look serene or sky-high when I’m in this look-at-me-I-am-so-at-peace-with-life state.

While I do love showing off the multiple style personalities, and I think that the main thing defining my style is its ever-changing nature, there is one other thing that sets it apart. No matter what I’m wearing, I probably am only wearing it because I want to. Not because you think it looks cute or because you said the Express blue zebra dress with long sleeves makes me look like a stripper (love you, T, but I can SO rock the animal prints –AND make them look classy!) I will also sport green eye shadow without looking like a scary 80s flashback, because it can be done if you play around with it. You can tell me what you like, but in the end, I probably will wear my favorite dress or a necklace that could double as a weapon. (By all means, though, if I try on a jumpsuit or something equally horrific that makes me look like I’m auditioning for an Aretha Franklin autobiographical film, go ahead and tell me.) I take risks based on what I like, not really because Vogue told me that this was THE trend to try this month. Although, I must say, I love entirely editorial and impractical clothing – at least in theory. I will wear the men’s wear vest because I think I can throw on a little extra black liner and some major (I idolize the Posh) heels and work the edgy girl look. I will not wear high-waisted pants because my legs are long enough and my torso plenty short, thanks. And half the time, no matter what style I’m sporting, I will probably be wearing my silver cuff that reminds me of Wonder Woman. Just because I really like it. And that is definition enough personal style enough for me.

Be Nice!

2008-05-20T20:01:00.000-07:00

As little kids, we're taught to be kind to those we meet. Share what you have. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. See the good in everyone. We hear these things over and over, but I have this theory that they only sink in so far. Sure, we're (well, most of us) are nice to others, but what about being nice to ourselves? We may have learned to take care of ourselves on the outside (brush your hair, wear matching socks, take occasional showers-- kidding!), but the niceties we share with others aren't always extended to ourselves. We can kill others with kindness, but too often those little voices in our heads say some truly vicious things. Would you tell your best friend, "Wow, you really suck at your job"? Or would you scoff at your sister, saying, "Omg, you cannot wear that until you lose like 50 pounds"? The answer for most of us (hopefully) is a resounding NO, but somehow we berate ourselves like this, nearly on a daily basis.

Well, "no more!" I say. Or at least I'm really, really, really, REALLY going to try. I have decided that If I'm going to care enough about other people's feelings to stay on the sunny side, I'm going to do the same for myself. I'm going to try to shut out the comments that I keep allowing to creep up. I'm going to make a conscious effort to shut down seemingly uncontrollable subconscious voices that throw at least one barb at me every day. Whenever that inner bully starts picking on me, I am going to fight back and lob a compliment at her. I will tell myself one thing I really like about being me or something I'm really proud of doing for the day. I am going to stand up to myself, because sometimes I can be a real bitch.

I actually started this process a couple days ago, on Saturday to be specific. I decided that May 17th, 2008 was going to be Day 1 of the my journey to becoming less of a self-tormentor and more of a positive role model for myself. I guess this is Day 4, and so far, so good. I'm keeping a journal for 30 days (I desperately want to hold myself accountable in this!) to track all the good things that happen and that I feel during the day. (I even bought one of those old school composition books you get in like 3rd grade to practice cursive in.) I may have negative experiences but I'm working on flipping any of those around too. Instead of "I got a run in this morning, but I was late for work," I'm simply going to change it to, "I was a little late, but I was so proud of hauling myself out of bed that it was OK today!" I am NOT justifying my actions when I screw up, but once I put things in the past, I'm going to try to put a positive spin on them.

So, in keeping with the being nice theme, I am going to toot my own horn a little, and really put this being nice thing into practice. First off, I got up and went running this morning before work and before my roommates had even thought about getting up. I used to do this in college but then I didn't have class until 10am, didn't have to ride a train to get there, and was able to go to lecture a little gross and wearing sweats. Plus, I like totally fell out of the "morning person" groove so I'm finally getting back to that! I even did my hair (sort of).

Anyway, the rest of today went well because I keep encouraging myself. I got into work a few minutes late (however, our office is pretty relaxed about time as long as you get your stuff done), but I was cranking out the work like I haven't done in a while and I got a lot accomplished. I was even able to take a break and chat with the girls I work with quite a bit, which is great because I like the girls I work with a lot. They all are about two or three years older than me, but we all get along really well and it's a fun department (Go writers!)

After work, I got off at a train stop further from my house so I could walk (it was sunny!) and because the man sitting next to me was just a liiiiitttttllllleee too close. Killed two birds with one stone. Anyway, it was so nice to explore that neighborhood a little more, and I found some great stores (True Religion? BCBG? MAC? Yes! I love my part of town!) that I will be frequenting more and more as I started running more, ha (time to kick my butt back into shape!). OH, and I finished Ayn Rand's Anthem when I grabbed coffee. I actually read it in HS, but I wanted to do it again because I couldn't remember it that well and now I can say I read all of her novels within a year -- and by choice, haha. I know that might sound silly, but um, I think Atlas Shrugged could be used as a weapon and I had to take major breaks with lighter reading between her novels. So that wasn't ALL I read this year or anything. (Sidenote: In case you haven't picked up on it, I LOVE reading -- I fell asleep with books instead of cuddly stuffed animals when I was little. Foreshadowing of what was to come, I'm sure.)

OK, and last thing because this is just one huge jumble of things I was happy I did today (not coherent by a long shot). I cooked! I made some vegan chili and it was SO good. I will admit... it came from a box... and cans of kidney beans and diced tomatoes...BUT i made it on the stove! That's huge for me!! Trust me, the microwave and I are pretty much married, so I feel like it was some sort of kitchen appliance adultery... But I actually cooked! And now I have lunch for tomorrow that does not consist solely of bagged lettuce, canned black beans, and salsa! And I didn't burn anything or cause any explosions!!

And now I'm going to bed! And remember to be nice (to yourself)!

Homeward Bound...

2008-05-09T21:42:00.000-07:00

There's always something about coming home that simultaneously puts me at ease and stresses me out to the MAX. Now that I'm an "adult," living completely on my own (and more than 45 minutes away from my parents), there are little comforts that going home brings -- like toting home a suitcase full of laundry to wash sans the roll of quarters, not freaking out about every dollar I spend, and always having someone to talk to and/or hug. However, some of those same things put me on edge as well --having my dad tell me I'm not washing my socks properly and having my mom ask me what I'm doing every second of the day. However, my sister and I know that our parents just miss us so we complain about it together, knowing that there are worse things than having our parents love us a little too much.

This weekend I came home for Mother's Day and because I hadn't been home since St. Patty's Day/my old a cappella group's concert weekend. I actually arrived in Ann Arbor late Thursday night so I just stayed with one of my best friends from my sorority and we went out with another friend I sang with. We had a "total undergrad night" (my friends just liked saying that because they graduated two weeks ago) and hit the Jug and even Rick's (always a mistake, but sometimes a really fun one). Even though last night was majorly silly (I really don't have a better word and I would use 'ridic' but....well I just can't and take myself seriously haha) and I maybe drank too much, it was such a GOOD night. I was really happy being back and I only saw the people I really wanted to see, the people who actually still care about being friends after graduation. I'm not being cynical or bitter here, I think it's totally natural to drift from people after you leave the protective college bubble. However, I really do appreciate the people who wanted to see me when they heard I was coming back. It meant a lot, especially because some of those people I still keep in touch with are the ones I never expected to stay close to. More on that some other time though. Anyway, it was so great that I felt good being back, because last time I was there, I felt really panicked about being back and had such mixed feelings about returning to the old college stomping grounds. This time though, I was all excitement and no worries. A wonderful sign that I'm at a good place, even if I'm still not exactly sure what I'm doing with my life.

OK, so that was Ann Arbor. Here I start talking about home and I haven't even gotten to it yet! I do consider Ann Arbor a home of sorts, BUT that was not the original intention of this post. Ann Arbor was relaxing and great, and then this morning Em (the little, yet taller than me, sis) came from East Lansing to pick me up. On a side note, I absolutely adore my sister. She's my best friend in the world, which came as a surprise to me when I realized it during college since we were never BFFs while both living at home. Now, I love her to death and would do anything for her, as I know she would do for me. I do have unrelated-to-me best friends, but my sister is on an entirely different plane. She wins, haha. There's so much I would love to say about her because she is pretty much the greatest person ever. But, again, I'll probably write more on that later. (By the way, if you haven't noticed, I really like tangents. Or they just find their way into my conversations/writing. Whatev. You'll learn)

Right, so. My sister and I drove home and had the whole house to ourselves since Mom and Dad were working. However, I had to work as well (I was telecommuting) so it wasn't a completely relaxing day, especially since we had all of these rewrites and I feel like I can never do anything totally right or efficiently when I work remotely. Oh well, I got to stay in my sweats and work from Panera half the day, so I'll deal with the stress. We came home for the day right as my parents got back from their walk, so we chatted for a few before my dad had to go to a meeting and my mom started planning something for all of us to do for the night (even though alllll I wanted to do was sleep/write). We didn't do anything, but still I felt like we had to had to talk every second and act really interested about every single thing my parents had to say about running into so-and-so at the office or about whats-her-face and the newest country club mom "scandal." I love talking and I usually have lots of energy but.... there comes a time when I can't fake it. Plus, sometimes when I come home I just want to veg out and relax. I think my parents try to cram months of not seeing me into a few hours of conversation when I'm at the house. I'm slooooowwwllllyyy learning that I had better not really make any plans when I'm home or anticipate getting much work done when I come back to GB because my parents will undoubtedly want to spend every second with Em and I and they do not understand the concept of "alone time." Eeesh. I need to work on that because it has caused some major issues with me, I'm sure. We are by no means dysfunctional -- we probably seem like the annoyingly perfect atomic family, to be honest -- but sometimes I think we are a bit too close and I don't feel like I've ever had a ton of personal space or privacy. Love my parents, but sometimes they need to lay off. Yet, again, more on that later. I guarantee it.

It's getting late, and I think I may have lost my train of thought on this one, but the point is that home is still a weird place for me as I'm trying to grow up. Good for hugs and free food, bad for personal space and having any time to myself. I'll figure it out, eventually.

Stream of Consciousness

2008-04-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

Hmmm... I'm not really having one coherent thought right now, but I told myself I needed to write more! So really I'm just going to list a lot of the random musings from the past few days, just to keep it up.

I really want to go vegan, but man alivey, it is expensive! And i can totally see myself forming a close/highly addictive relationship with Whole Foods since it is within walking distance from my apartment! For now, vegetarianism is going to have to suffice and I'll go vegan as much as I can.

I have this personality pattern where I'm super quiet when you first meet me -- bordering on aloof -- but then I just get downright wacky. The other girls in the writing department can certainly attest to this. Today, after someone said "hello," I broke out in song with Lionel Richie's 80s classic --you guessed it -- "Hello." And last week, one person said, "You know I asked her once, twice..." and do you know what I finished with? That's right. "Three times a lady...." And I was met with a blank stare. (Apparently it's weird to sing at work? Some of my coworkers with less-than-stellar voices could be clued in on this....) Maybe, subconsciously, I'm just obsessed with Lionel Richie. If I bust out "Dancing on the Ceiling," I'll know I have a problem. Or could it be that I have some form of Turret's. But instead of swearing or having random, loud outbursts, I have the uncontrollable urge break into song. Worth considering.

And that somehow brings me to my next thought. Wouldn't it be great if life were like a musical? Where it was perfectly acceptable to turn everyday conversations and interactions into song and dance numbers? I'm definitely not one of those people who walks around singing show tunes (In fact, if you decide that belting out your favorites from "Wicked" is an appropriate social activity, I may have to reconsider our friendship), but I would love to be able to just turn common phrases into catchy choruses every once in a while. "No, No, No, the Printer Is Broken," "Sorry, My Train Was Late Again (But Really I Just Didn't Get Up In Time)," and "Must Get Coffee" would surely be heard during every 20-something's day at least as often as the latest pop and hip-hop tracks.

On a serious (or at least slightly less flippant) note, today was absolutely beautiful. Very windy, but hello, I do live in Chicago. It was sunny all day and it even hit 70! Too bad i was wearing a heavy winter coat as I wandered around downtown after work. I don't know why, but it made me feel a little like a homeless person. (Really, don't ask me why, these things never turn out well.) Anyway, I wandered all the way down to Lake Shore Drive and just ended up sitting by Lake Michigan, looking out at nothing and everything. So beautiful. There's also just something so...maybe the word I'm looking for here is cleansing... yes, cleansing...about staring out across a massive body of water while waves crash against the wall at your feet and the wind whips your hair all over the place and doesn't really let you care. (OK, well let's be honest, my hair is beyond help anyway so I have a hard time caring as it is.) Ah, yes. Obviously, it's a literal breath of fresh air, but it's also a figurative one as well. It's that inhalation, that pause before going on with your life. It's the comma in the run-on sentence of your existence. (Hey that almost sounded really reflective and significant, didn't it? Too bad I had to go and drag grammar into it.) Anyway, I just think it's pretty amazing that I can stroll on down to one of the Great Lakes whenever I damn well please. And I need to keep reminding myself of that. There are certain things about my life that are pretty cool, actually.

OK, this is me being tired and running out of random thoughts... maybe I'll come up with more tomorrow. Maybe.

Gah!

2008-04-11T21:41:00.000-07:00

OK, so for being a writer, I don't seem to do much writing -- at least not here, anyway. I need to work on that. Journaling to myself doesn't always count and when I think about how little I have published, I start to panic. OK...must... start...writing....more....

Growing up with a side of nostalgia

2008-04-01T21:40:00.000-07:00

OK...so I'm trying to actually blog more than once in a great while but I'm feeling lazy today so I am simply posting something I wrote a while back. I also went to an alumni meet and greet tonight so I was recalling the ole alma mater pretty fondly. The letter in the body of this work was adapted from one I originally gave to my friends right before I graduated. It was sappy, which is something I don't normally do, but it was clear and I was proud of what I had written. My parents also stumbled upon it when I wasn't living at home, but I had carelessly left it in a box of old junk they thought I was planning on tossing. Anyway, my dad convinced me to turn it into an article to send to the alumni magazine or some other UMich publication (guess I just gave away where I went to school), but it's kind of been a work in progress for a while. Like I said, I really worry about sending my stuff out for fear of rejection (even though NOT sending it really isn't doing me any good either). Well finally, I at least sent it to a couple of friends who were (or at least pretended to be) impressed. Whether it actually gets published or not is to be determined still, but at least, in some way, I'm starting to get my writing out there. So almost a full year after graduation, here is a little advice to the class of 2008 --at any school-- and a new alum's point of view:

"I am now convinced that what they say is true, that we do not appreciate the things we have when we actually have them. Most significantly, our youth. Now, I am undeniably not what I would call old, or even a “grown up,” having graduated not even a full year ago. However, I do feel that I did mature slightly in my four years at the University of Michigan – and even more so after moving to Chicago on my own. And maybe –just maybe – that gives me the right to impart a bit of wisdom here. I, for one, know that I did not savor every moment I spent learning in Ann Arbor, both in and out of the classroom. So often, I simply bided my time waiting for the semester to be over. I stared at my watch during rehearsals and meetings. I calculated the hours until the next weekend or break. In my rush (I was never on time), I waved and hurried past even the closest of friends, assuming we could catch up later. I cannot begin to count the weeks through which I simply floated – or, rather, flew. My four years were a blur, and I now wish I hadn’t wished them all away.
However, after graduation, I realized something else. That rushing through our youth, in our impatience to grow up, is a part of growing up itself. If we lived in the moment for our entire lives, we would have no need to look back on a time when everything felt confusing yet anything seemed possible. We wouldn’t need that nostalgia that already washes over me when I hear “Yellow and Blue,” our alma mater. If we fully appreciated what we had – these four (or five, or six, or nine) years – when we had it, we might not miss it so much or recall it so fondly. If we did everything we wanted to and said everything we meant to say during this short period of time, we would not yearn – or wish with all our hearts – that we could go back.
Now that I have left the protection of the Umich bubble, I want to go back, to stop and talk on street corners, to soak up (almost) everything my professors had to say, and to people-watch for hours on the Diag, on those extraordinary eighty-degree March days, knowing that the next day I would be wearing a scarf and mittens again. But I know that I can’t, and that even if I tried, it wouldn’t be the same, because I am not the same, and, year to year, day to day, neither is anyone else. The once-frightened freshman are now the scary seniors, and the formerly intimidating seniors are the rookies in the real world or working in Ann Arbor, still digging around for a little bit of that maize and blue magic.
I am not writing this to encourage you to stop and take in every bit of Ann Arbor possible before it’s gone. Do leave a little something to wish upon, to miss, to regret. Like I said, it’s all a part of growing up and out of the protective shell to which we all grew so accustomed. Nevertheless, I encourage you to slow down and breathe if only for a moment, now, just before you graduate. Listen to your award-winning professors, stand in awe of history on the Union steps, stop in the Diag, and say hello to the friends to whom you will soon bid farewell. And most of all, let the people this great University placed into your life know that they’ve earned a page in your memoir. (We’re all destined to be great, are we not?)

If I had slowed down before graduation and expressed my appreciation for all the people in those four years of my life, I think I would have said something like this:

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the goodness in people. Totally, completely, and utterly overwhelmed. I have no other way to explain myself. Rarely do I find myself choked up and unable to speak – it’s truly a cold day in hell when I stop talking – but lately, I’ve been speechless quite a bit. Each time I’m forced to say goodbye to someone or something, to a face or a place, I have to stop and collect myself. My last paper, I’ll say, my last class at the University of Michigan, my last time on stage, my last walk down State Street, my last game in the Big House. What really kills me about all these lasts, though, is that there are such incredible people tied to each one. Amazing, inspiring professors, peers that always drove me nuts but that I secretly admired, and most importantly, the best friends that I know I will have a hard time living without. Even more intimidating is the prospect of all the firsts that I’m about to encounter. I have to find my first real job, my first place completely on my own, and my first friends who might only know the “adult” me. And I’m not entirely sure I like that idea. In fact, I hate that idea.
I am a firm believer that awkwardness and adversity build character and mold a better, stronger you. Learning how to handle everything thrown your way, you figure out that everything that embarrassed you, upset you, or even destroyed you at the time taught you a lesson. We’ve all heard the clichés – “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger,” “It’s not a mistake if you learn from it.” I completely agree, but I think these adages leave out something vital. And that is that there are people who are with you every step of the way, who see you stumble and even fall, and are still there to yank you back to your feet even when, to you, standing seems impossible. There are those who have seen us at every high and low, have seen tears and giddy excitement. These are the ones who sometimes know us better than we wish they did, and who we honor by calling friends. In my four years in Ann Arbor, I have met so many of these people who completely overwhelm me because of their innate qualities, because of the people they simply cannot help but be. And those that make this kind of impact, whether they know it or not, are the ones that make me wish I could stay forever.

Before college, I was told that in those four short years I would make some of the best friends I would ever have. Now that my time at U of M has come to a close, I actually believe it. Don’t stop moving, but slow it down to a walk in the last months you have. And speak up, or next year you’ll be the one begging the graduating class to say all the things you forgot to."

It's still a work in progress, but then again, so am I.

So this is a blog....

2008-03-28T21:47:00.000-07:00

Hmmm...so this is blog. Not as scary as I imagined.

In the past, I've been very wary of blogs and online journals and anything even that even remotely resembled either of the two, because I felt they were cries for attention and just another way to clue in everyone on the planet on one's inner workings. I talk enough as it is and I didn't feel the need for further disclosure.

Until now, that is. At least sort of. I'm not quite as vehemently against blogs as I once was, but I still plan on testing the waters, one proverbial toe at a time. I don't anticipate jumping in all at once, letting everyone (OK, truly anyone who happens to stumble across this blog since I don't see myself broadcasting that I even have a blog just yet) know all the little nuances of my life. For one, I just moved here a few months ago and, honestly, my life isn't really that exciting yet. Promise. Secondly, I have a hard time talking about myself -- or at the the stuff below the surface. Anyone who knows me is aware that I can talk your ear off on any topic from feminism to Grease 2 (the greatest worst movie of all time) if given the chance. However, ask me what's really going on and you can really watch me squirm. Oh hey, look, I just broke a rule -- telling you a little about my quirks. Oh well.

OK, so if I'm so anti-blog, why am I starting one? Two reasons, with the first having to do with my career ambitions. I want to be a writer and I figured this would be a pretty decent writing exercise. Plus, if I have the illusion of an audience (I'm still very convinced this will remain a secret blog... is that paradoxical? I should look up the actual definition of 'blog'), I might feel slightly more accountable for writing more than once or twice a week. I suppose I'm simply trying to get the creative juices flowing. Also, a good friend of mine has a couple blogs, one for school and one on another specific topic, and she's already had some success in journalism. She hasn't even graduated yet! I think she has accomplished so much and I'm so proud of her, but I can't help but feel a bit jealous. So I'm trying the same route, hoping that with (a lot more) work, I can find a career that's slightly more exciting than the one I'm in right now. We'll see.

The second reason for writing here is more complicated. Like I said, I really don't need my innermost thoughts splashed across the Internet. BUT (yes, it's a big one), I'm coming to the realization that if/when I do succeed as a writer, that's exactly what I'll be doing. I will be putting my thoughts out there for the world to judge and analyze and just know. And those ideas will be recorded forever. It is one thing to express an idea aloud, but to commit it to paper is slightly daunting. My favorite quote ever (and normally quotes bother me, because I think, What, you aren't creative enough to come up with your own words? This is totally the exception) is one by Cynthia Ozick: "If we had to say what writing is, we would define it essentially as an act of courage." So this is me trying to muster up the courage to put what I think is my best out there and send some pieces to publishers. And, I guess it's my attempt at getting over this whole, "I don't want to talk about anything that bothers me/makes me happy/affects who I am as a person" thing. I can't exactly address anything if I smash it down and out of sight.

So, this is my foray into the world of blogging. Maybe I'll be converted to a blog devotee or maybe I'll shy away from online writing more than ever before. An experiment to be sure, but one that I suppose is worth conducting. Let's see how this goes, shall we?