Happy Now?

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

[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.

My Funny Valentine

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. ;-)

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

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?

Crush

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

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!

Oops I Did It Again

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

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

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.

Dirty Little Secret

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

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

(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."

Give Me Two Perrr, I Need Two Perrr

(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.

[insert clever title here]

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.


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• 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!