Thursday, March 27, 2008

TWENTY THREE

Today I am 23. It's true. It's my birthday. And I want to fill you all in on just how glamorously I am spending this day, the day marking the anniversary of my birth.

To start, I woke up late. So, I rushed through a shower, and getting ready, thus look like crap. Waking up late on the road means no time for mapquesting directions--good thing I've got a decent sense of direction. After I put some cereal from the hotel lobby into my bowl and check out, I am high tailing it to my car. I hit the door to the exit and am shocked into stillness as I look outside to find it's effing snowing. Are you kidding me? And not just simple little flurries--but actual snow. Actual snow after days and days of 50 degree weather. I picture mother nature looking down on my dejected and forlorn face, throwing her head back and cackling, "bwhahahahahhahaha peon, bwhahahaha!"

To make it even better, I am currently wasting a couple of hours between appointments. Typically I would just go to the nearest coffee shop, grab a tall coffee frap light and cruise the internet til my heart is content. Today, I went to the local Starbucks. Only to find that they have no wireless internet. Are you effing kidding me? Isn't this a coffee shop? A place where people bring their computers to "work" and drink caffeine? Have I missed something?

So, I sit there on my computer writing nonsense in a word document, slurp down my frap, and hit the road. By now you're probably wondering, if there's no internet, how is she writing this? Well, dear reader, she is so bored that she's sitting in a parking lot jacking wi-fi off someone watching the snow fall in humongous flakes on all sides of her--while listening to some Frou Frou...so all in all, it's not that bad. But, did I mention it's snowing? Welcome to Iowa.

So, there you have it. Looking on the bright side, after about 300 more miles of driving today, I will find myself waking up extremely early tomorrow morning to hop a flight to DC and spend three days on a mini-vacation! Yay for taking a little trip!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

The Real OC

I just decided to skip working out because I didn't bring any gym socks. Initially, it took me a long time to even get up the courage to move off this couch and over to the suitcase to find my shorts and a t-shirt. After I fastened my hair to my head, I dug for socks. There are none. There are long socks, but I refuse to be one of those people in the hotel gym who forgot short socks and so is there on the treadmill in shorts with her long socks on. Uh uh, people. Ef that. So after thinking about my options for approximately one twentieth of a second, I sat back on the couch where I plan on spending some time responding to e-mails and channel hopping between The Real Housewives of Orange County and Anthony Bourdain while waiting for my friend Kari to get out of class so she can save me from my boredom.

Seriously. These shows are ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome. I think I would give my left leg to be Anthony Bourdain--just out there hopping around the world taking in new countries. But the more I think about it, I would probably die from having to eat half the crap he shovels into his craw. Still, dude's gone all over the world basking in cynicism and food...love it.

On the other hand, I think being an OC Housewife wouldn't be all bad either. Married to the rich hottie, not having to work, and lusting over the lawn boy while the angsty teenagers stop in for a hundy, or to grab the keys to their BMW since they're taking off for the weekend to Baja Mexico to get wastey with their friends...hmm...maybe I'd rather be the angsty OC teenager??

What's the point? There isn't a point. The point is, I'm bored with my life and would love to take in someone else's--even if only for a half an hour. I am off to D.C. this weekend though, and certainly will have a little better life view and some good stories upon my return!

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

?

I sat with my roommate, Lucy (Danielle is in Colorado on vacation--we miss her!!). She wanted ice cream and I went with. I was pissed when I learned they no longer served the lemon ice. So pissed, I stubbornly refused to eat anything. Those bastards.


We sat there...both of us in an empty space, sitting in a cold booth and filling the air between us with hard, frigid questions--thinking about the future, rather than basking in the here and now as we so often do. Trying to decide where on earth we would be a year or a decade or 25 years from now.


And we contemplated what the signs were, and more importantly, what they meant.


Why were we here, living in this city together--what were we being prepared for?


What did these people who strolled into our lives really mean? Could we accept them without judgement in our minds that still long for the juvenile hopefulness of optimism and understanding...we hoped that we could.


What lessons are we supposed to take from those we looked up to in college--those who molded us from flighty 18 year olds to seemingly competent academics who analyzed the world and the issues surrounding it...why were they there--and why did we know them? We knew we would change in college, but I don't think we anticipated the way our mindset would change. What were we supposed to take away from all of this?


And then pragmatically, we continued thinking, is little change at in life and at work a sign that you are doing well where you are, or a sign that whatever is controlling the universe is trying to make it easier for you to move on and find your true passion?


We're in our mid-twenties. The oldest we've ever been, but in the eyes of so many others, still "so young." And we sat there--she shared her cookie dough ice cream, and we wondered--what is next? And when does this feeling that you are out there floating without direction-- floating in the midst of the 'then' and the 'future'-- come to an end? When will we figure it out? And more importantly, how do we make the right decisions?

Consequence Free

I was reading Sara Jane's blog, and ran across her post called 'Consequence Free.' I was inspired to think about the things I would do if there were no consequences, and although some of mine are the same as hers, I am going to recreate the list for myself in this blog (you should head her way to check hers out, too!).

I want to live overseas--anywhere, London, Thailand, Australia, Prague--I don't care where, but while I am gone I don't want to miss a second of what my little niece Emerson is learning to do!

Scratch that. I actually want to live my life as a backpacker--staying in new places every couple of nights...hitching rides on trains...sleeping in different hotels...eating the local cuisine...meeting the locals...and of course, not pay a penny for it! :)

I want to drive fast at all times and never get a ticket.

I want to eat all the bread and pasta (and drink all the beer) one can put in front of my face, and never have to worry about my pants fitting!

I want to tell you I know your secret.

I want to sleep until I wake up in the morning without an alarm--and never be late to work!

I want to go hole up in a little country cabin in the northwest and write a novel.

I want to speak my mind--to say what I am feeling at all times.
I want to love freely.

I want to go to graduate school--without the stress of bills and loans and rent and all the rest hanging over my head.

I want to dive in headfirst and hope for the best--while refusing to acknowledge my doubts.

What would you do?

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Rationally Irrational

I make irrational decisions. It's not something that surprises anyone--ever.

I cut my hair.
I buy shoes.

I dye my hair black on accident.

I order the medium concrete mixer with extra Heath bar at Culvers instead of the small.

I say yes to a 4th beer when I should have stopped at 3.

I spend entirely too much money buying clothes--especially when Autumn and my mom are around.

I wash my car before it storms.
I go out to lunch even when I know it's a bad idea--that's one thing I cannot refuse.
But the ONE thing I struggle with MOST: TARGET. I cannot leave this store without spending money on things I do not need. Things like file folders, desk organizers, bedding, living room furniture, bookshelves, shoes, t-shirts, purses, books, candy, anything from the dollar spot...you know, anything.

Target is my holy place--the place I go to feel calm, worthy, good. So when I have two hours between appointments, as I did today, where did I go? Target. To make irrational purchases (that I later returned) and bask in all the glory that this store is. It smells good, looks good, makes me feel good, and all in all, is good.

And in the grand scheme of things, if you make the purchase and then realize it was irrational and return it, how irrational was it if you made sense of it in the end? I feel like that's why they streamlined the return policy--just give them the receipt, they scan it, and that money is right back on your debit card. They did that for people like me, so I could go and take in the Targettish glory and not break the bank. For that, I feel I need to say thank you Target Corporation, thank you.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Loathe you.

Well, TS and I are back on. I know. You're like the girls at the coffee shop watching another inevitable disaster start with Carrie and Big. I know. But come on, the heart does what it wants and love lands where it lands, and after the break we had last week, I decided I missed him a little bit. Then, after spending the weekend away from him in Minneapolis (amazing concert, by the way--amazing!), I decided it was time to bring him back on board for a while. I mean, I think I love him... It's Monday, and I'm not sure how wise a decision this was.

TS makes me feel extremely chaotic. First of all--he's a terrible driver. Here's proof--me, in the car, he's driving, and I'm going insane--fearful for my life. We did make it safely, however. We just got here last night, and already there are shoes, water bottles, clothes, bran flakes, and paperwork scattered all through this room. For once I'd like to walk from the bed to the desk without tripping over a power cord. I mean, really, is it that hard for them to pick up after themselves?

It wasn't all bad, I suppose...well, maybe....I mean.... We're staying in this dive hotel that has no fitness center. They do, however, give you a free pass to the local gym. TS and I decided that would be a good afternoon activity. So, I hopped on the treadmill and started to run--thankfully, for the first time in weeks, my joints didn't hurt. I had a good run. At one point, I looked over at TS pretending to ride the stationary bike--but he wasn't really doing anything...just sitting there, watching the History channel. Instantly, I was pissed. Do you know why? Of course you do--he has better metabolism than I, and he doesn't have to worry about the size of his ever expanding ass from all the road food he's been eating. Oh, no. The iced coffees, french fries, potato chips, chocolate, doughnuts, soda, ice cream, and Heath bars don't go to his ass--nowhere near it, in fact. He just keeps eating and looks even hotter, whereas I'm thinking about bathing suit season. I was, and continue to be, resentful.

And, now, as the day winds down, I found myself lying in bed looking to snuggle up next to him...and I found binders. My bed is covered in binders, pens, paperwork, cell phones, binder clips--come on TS. Get with it.

After he cleaned up his act, he scooched over to cuddle me up and whispered in my ear, "Love you J." And I whispered back, "Loathe you, too, TS." Oh, TS...How I love to loathe you.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Listen, Missy

I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know. You're shocked. But it's true--I see a lovely weekend ahead of me, and it's so close I can almost taste it. I'm trying to not be bitter about the fact that the high is like 12 degrees all weekend. Effing cold. I'm sick of it. SICK. I've told you all my job is exhausting me--I mean, really, like down to the core exhausting--like falling asleep in the middle of conversations, skipping the last half of Law and Order, going to bed at 9pm exhausting. And, I hear it's only going to get worse.

That kind of exhaustion can make one feel a little down, and honestly, a little bitchy (okay, a lot bitchy). Watch out. At work, people's fuses get a couple inches shorter than they usually are. Giving each other crap becomes dangerous as you're not sure if the other is as willing to take it as they were last month. It's kind of like walking across a field scattered with land mines...one best be careful where they step or your whole lower body could be shredded. The obvious answer to stay safe? Keep a safe distance, and walk carefully. So that's what we're doing.

But tomorrow is Friday, and do you know what that means? I'm leaving at noon and heading north to spend the weekend with my friend Linz (that's me in the middle, Linz to the right, and roommate Lucy on the left). Linz lives in Minneapolis--we haven't seen each other in quite awhile, and should get together more often. The reason for this reunion, excitingly enough, is a concert by the amazing Missy Higgins. She's going to be in Minneapolis, and Linz decided we should definitely get together for this as Linz is the one who introduced me to Missy in the first place.
So, finally, tomorrow, I'm taking a break. I'm doing my "break dance" right now----bwhahahahaha gosh I'm funny. Albeit a short break, it's a break nonetheless. And I'm super eXciTeD!!!!! I'll leave you with a little Missy Higgins--I doubt you'll be disappointed...

Saturday, March 1, 2008

You can take the boy out of the country...

Let me set the scene for you--Last night, I went to Omaha to spend time with some friends. There were 6 of us in total. The plan was to grab dinner and get some drinks afterwards. We go to this pretty nice seafood restaurant and there's a 40 minute wait. No problem, JW and I grab a couple drinks, and wait for EA and JM to use the restroom. JW and I are standing there by the case containing all the fish, trying to figure out what we wanted to eat, and chatting each other up about crabs, and SH and CK show up.

Finally, EA and JM come back--he has a Becks, and she has a Corona...and these 2 gigantic chunks of lime on a coaster. That's what the bartender gave her.

Clearly there was an issue. There was no way that JM was going to get that lime into that beer bottle. What to do, what to do? It went a little something like this:

JM: I don't think there is any way this lime is going to fit in this bottle.

EA: Oh, I'll figure out a way. *he starts thinking*

Lightbulb.

EA rustles in his pocket.

I say: Please tell me you're not busting out your pocket knife?

EA: In fact, Jamie, I am.

So, there, in the middle of this lovely little restaurant, surrounded by people, my good friend Eric whips out the pocket knife and sets the coaster on top of the lovely display case and starts hacking away at JM's lime as the five of us (and probably a few other patrons) look on.

JM's Corona did get its lime.

You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy...