I had the fortune of taking over my parents' basement when I was a sophomore in high school. I had a bedroom and a living room, and I was pretty much the coolest kid ever.
Before that, I had an upstairs room facing the backyard. This room has gone through a couple phases. When we moved to Buffalo when I was 6, it was pink with some wallpaper border that I can't remember. It was my fortress of playtime where I preferred to play on my own with American Girl dolls, Polly Pockets, Barbies, you name it. I had an awesome imagination. It was the bedroom where I got ready for little league games, then came back after to make myself look like a girl, only to go running around outside barefoot and get dirty all over again. It's where I stood in the mirror smoothing out the bumps in my hair from my ponytail during the phase where I was really into those snappy clips, which were later replaced by every butterfly clip you could possibly imagine.
Around 10 or 11 years old, the room went purple with a wallpaper that had yellow and green flowers. I changed the setup and got my first TV - that I won - which completely changed that place. I no longer had to suffer through the news channels and boring shows that my parents watched. I could toon into Nick or Disney or even MTV all I wanted. That was also the room where I experienced my first childhood heartbreak, and all heartbreaks since have been handled the same way: find a comfy pillow, lay on the ground and stare at the ceiling until you can figure out all your feelings.
Though the colors and designs stayed the same through middle school, I moved my bed and convinced my parents that it was a great idea to put these dreamy, see-through curtains around my bed as if I was some sort of khaleesi. I loved this so much aside from the nights when the curtains would crash down and scare me awake.
In high school, the purple became covered in band posters. The curtains concealed my late night phone calls to friends when my parents thought I was sleeping. The heartbreaks were handled the same way. And then I moved down to the basement.
As I sit here in what is now the guest room, I try to think about what little me would think of older me. She would probably first want to know if I was happy. She wouldn't understand what a difficult question that is to answer, even though my answer should just be, "yes, I have a lot to be thankful for." She would want to know if I'm having fun. I'm pretty sure that would be a yes, if you're able to forget some of the stress that adulthood brings with it. She would then want to know if I was learning something new everyday and if I was still the most curious person ever. I would tell her about the internet and how it makes being curious the most rewarding and time-wasting trait you could ever have. And I can honestly say that yes, I am still learning something new everyday.
The lessons I learn now aren't nearly as fun as what I would learn as a child. In fact, I learn most of them the hard way. I don't know if I would tell little me how painful lessons can be when you're an adult. Why would I try to curb that intense curiosity I was known for so early? But at the same time I wish I could warn her of and protect her from the things that will hurt her in the future that some people deem as "character building."
But you can't protect everyone from everything, and you can't go through life being constantly worried or scared. That's the current lesson I'm learning, and I'm not even really sure how to feel about it. In high school and college, I learned you can't change people no matter how much you intervene in their lives. I've been trying to be good about keeping my mouth shut when it comes to others' decisions, because more often than not they still do what they wanted to do regardless of my advice. So I thought I could at least be the protector for those that I love. But now as an adult, I'm learning that you can only protect someone if they want you to. It's hard because I go in with the best intentions, but more often than not I'm the one who ends up looking like an idiot.
If I was saying all this to little me, she definitely would've asked for a snack at this point, because I'm really just going stream of consciousness style at this point. I think if I really were given the chance to warn my young self against anything, I wouldn't. Everyone has to learn things their own way and experience it for themselves. And I really just need to let go.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Sunday, November 24, 2013
On Learning to Love Yourself...
It's been going on as long as I can remember, and it started some time during my elementary school years. That little voice that instigates comparisons and tells me I'm not good enough. I can be watching a TV show filled with beautiful people that basically aren't real people and start wondering how I can make my thighs not touch like the lead character. I can be out with others and meeting new people and start worrying that I'm not as witty or funny to keep up with the group. Or one of my friends makes a new friend that has different, cooler interests than mine, and I immediately try to figure out how I can prevent myself from being replaced.
I know I'm not the only one who does this, and I can't just call it a "girl thing." But a certain female writer recently put this sensation into words in a way that I never could:
What Men Want In A Woman by Chelsea Fagan
I read this piece at work the other day and started tearing up, not because I just went through a break up (no worries guys, me and the boy are still going strong after 3 1/2 years), but because I've felt everything she writes about at one point or another in my life. I know what it's like to feel the need to change every single part of myself to the point where I'm not me anymore just to meet someone else's expectations, and know deep down that it still won't be what they need.
But as I was saying, it's a tough lesson to learn, and it applies to more than romantic relationships. Friends, work, family, I know I'm always striving to everyone's ideal in these relationships. I want to be exactly what they want in a daughter, sister, friend, employee. What I've recently learned is that changing my own interests or aiming for impossible physical goals won't work. If anything, it will eliminate what these people liked about me in the first place.
I had an epiphany with this a couple months ago when I felt jealous of my boyfriend's friends that love and are great at video games. I like them but I don't want to play them all the time, and I'm not particularly great at them. After expressing said jealousy, he told me something that kind of blew my mind, which was that he loved me for what I'm into, not for me trying to be into the same things he likes. It shouldn't be mind-blowing, right? That's something I should just understand after 3 1/2 years together, or after being friends with someone for a long time, or having a job for about two years.
Which leads me to this next piece:
You Deserve Love As Big As Your Thighs by Alexandra Bochetto
I won't delve too far into the body positive message of this one (as I have done so before, here), but I'll say that the title of this piece is brilliant.
Everyone is different and it's beautiful, and it's what makes bringing new people into our lives interesting. And when you find someone that loves the shit out of you just for being you, then you shouldn't agonize over what they like about other people that you don't have.
I think a huge part of this is accepting that there are people out there that love you exactly as you are. Many people will try to change you and make you feel bad to incite some change, but the ones that matter just want you to be your awesome, weird, quirky self. As Paul Rudd said in Knocked Up, "do you ever wonder how somebody could eve like you?" All the time. And we - and by we I mean me, of course - need to stop wondering that.
Every over-enthusiastic women's magazine I read tells me that confidence is the sexiest trait you can have, and that's the only piece of advice I'll ever take from them. It's totally true. When you meet someone who isn't insanely self-conscious or putting on a mask all the time, it's refreshing. And so I'm making it my goal for the rest of the year - since resolutions aren't only for the beginning of the year - to silence those voices that tell me I'm not good enough or smart enough, and just learn to love myself as I am. There is always room for improvement, but I can't lose myself in the process.
I know I'm not the only one who does this, and I can't just call it a "girl thing." But a certain female writer recently put this sensation into words in a way that I never could:
What Men Want In A Woman by Chelsea Fagan
I read this piece at work the other day and started tearing up, not because I just went through a break up (no worries guys, me and the boy are still going strong after 3 1/2 years), but because I've felt everything she writes about at one point or another in my life. I know what it's like to feel the need to change every single part of myself to the point where I'm not me anymore just to meet someone else's expectations, and know deep down that it still won't be what they need.
"I have people in my life — including, yes, a man — who have chosen to be there because of what existed there already. And when I was torturing myself over the loss of someone who never really wanted me, the idea that I could have changed his mind is what really killed me." - Chelsea FaganThis has been a tough lesson to learn, especially as someone who looks to constantly keep improving themselves. I know I can always do something better than I've done it before and there's a fine line between improvement and changing who you are. Of course, when you think about that, you start overthinking all your decisions and drive yourself crazy.
But as I was saying, it's a tough lesson to learn, and it applies to more than romantic relationships. Friends, work, family, I know I'm always striving to everyone's ideal in these relationships. I want to be exactly what they want in a daughter, sister, friend, employee. What I've recently learned is that changing my own interests or aiming for impossible physical goals won't work. If anything, it will eliminate what these people liked about me in the first place.
I had an epiphany with this a couple months ago when I felt jealous of my boyfriend's friends that love and are great at video games. I like them but I don't want to play them all the time, and I'm not particularly great at them. After expressing said jealousy, he told me something that kind of blew my mind, which was that he loved me for what I'm into, not for me trying to be into the same things he likes. It shouldn't be mind-blowing, right? That's something I should just understand after 3 1/2 years together, or after being friends with someone for a long time, or having a job for about two years.
Which leads me to this next piece:
You Deserve Love As Big As Your Thighs by Alexandra Bochetto
I won't delve too far into the body positive message of this one (as I have done so before, here), but I'll say that the title of this piece is brilliant.
When I leave my home and walk past people on the street, I’ll constantly fix myself – keep my shirt from riding up, elongate my neck to make sure that sinful double chin isn’t sticking out to ruin everyone’s view. Because despite physically being alone, I am never quite alone. - Alexandra BochettoI'm figuring out just how exhausting it is to constantly compare myself to others. When I meet another girl, I need to stop noticing all the ways she's better than me and why people will like her more than me. I especially need to stop comparing my size and shape to theirs, because it's usually different in ways that are impossible to fix (and in ways that I should really just embrace).
Everyone is different and it's beautiful, and it's what makes bringing new people into our lives interesting. And when you find someone that loves the shit out of you just for being you, then you shouldn't agonize over what they like about other people that you don't have.
I think a huge part of this is accepting that there are people out there that love you exactly as you are. Many people will try to change you and make you feel bad to incite some change, but the ones that matter just want you to be your awesome, weird, quirky self. As Paul Rudd said in Knocked Up, "do you ever wonder how somebody could eve like you?" All the time. And we - and by we I mean me, of course - need to stop wondering that.
Every over-enthusiastic women's magazine I read tells me that confidence is the sexiest trait you can have, and that's the only piece of advice I'll ever take from them. It's totally true. When you meet someone who isn't insanely self-conscious or putting on a mask all the time, it's refreshing. And so I'm making it my goal for the rest of the year - since resolutions aren't only for the beginning of the year - to silence those voices that tell me I'm not good enough or smart enough, and just learn to love myself as I am. There is always room for improvement, but I can't lose myself in the process.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
On Anxiety...
It's a bitch.
I'll preface this entry by saying that my anxiety decreased exponentially when Loestrin left my life. And good riddance to THAT crap.
I'll also note that I have a mind that never stops. It keeps me up late for no reason, despite how exhausted my body is. It snowballs ideas until they become something terrifying. It's basically the epitome of the "scumbag brain" meme.
So for the past two and a half years or so, I've been trying to battle anxiety with a brain that refuses to do so. It would get to the point where I could be doubled over in pain because I couldn't deal with anything that was going on around me. I never wanted to leave my apartment, but at the same time, every time I stayed in for a weekend I felt incredibly alone. Go ahead and try to take on intense anxiety on your own. It doesn't work.
All this leads to anxiety boiling up inside you until you think your body might actually physically fall apart. It leads to what Holly Golightly referred to as the "mean reds."
I've always thought the best horror movies keep some things hidden so that your imagination can fill in the blanks. Often what you yourself come up with is much more terrifying than what a filmmaker can portray on screen. So try applying that to your real life, and not being able to fill in the blank.
In the past couple months, I've been really proud of how I've kept my anxiety under control. I no longer have to curl up in a tense ball and wait for the wave of worries to wash over me. I can take a deep breath a dissect a problem rather than hide from it. But every so often it comes sneaking back into my life and brings with it self-doubt and fear. It doesn't manifest itself as physical pain anymore, but it does show up as annoying foot tapping, constantly needing to have something in my hands or just dropping out of reality to zone out and get through it while in public.
I'm not sure why I've decided to write about all of this now. It's therapeutic in a way, but I don't want people to be worried about me. More than anything, I want to know when and how it goes away. What do I need to do to turn my mind off for one night? And does anxiety ever really leave your life, or do we all just keep ourselves distracted until it slowly fades away? The thought of how long it could take to go away just makes me more anxious.
Other things that have changed in the past couple months: the things causing me anxiety will be good for my future regardless of how they turn out. First time that's happening in about...two years? I'll keep you posted on where it all goes.
I'll also note that I have a mind that never stops. It keeps me up late for no reason, despite how exhausted my body is. It snowballs ideas until they become something terrifying. It's basically the epitome of the "scumbag brain" meme.
So for the past two and a half years or so, I've been trying to battle anxiety with a brain that refuses to do so. It would get to the point where I could be doubled over in pain because I couldn't deal with anything that was going on around me. I never wanted to leave my apartment, but at the same time, every time I stayed in for a weekend I felt incredibly alone. Go ahead and try to take on intense anxiety on your own. It doesn't work.
All this leads to anxiety boiling up inside you until you think your body might actually physically fall apart. It leads to what Holly Golightly referred to as the "mean reds."
In the past couple months, I've been really proud of how I've kept my anxiety under control. I no longer have to curl up in a tense ball and wait for the wave of worries to wash over me. I can take a deep breath a dissect a problem rather than hide from it. But every so often it comes sneaking back into my life and brings with it self-doubt and fear. It doesn't manifest itself as physical pain anymore, but it does show up as annoying foot tapping, constantly needing to have something in my hands or just dropping out of reality to zone out and get through it while in public.
I'm not sure why I've decided to write about all of this now. It's therapeutic in a way, but I don't want people to be worried about me. More than anything, I want to know when and how it goes away. What do I need to do to turn my mind off for one night? And does anxiety ever really leave your life, or do we all just keep ourselves distracted until it slowly fades away? The thought of how long it could take to go away just makes me more anxious.
Other things that have changed in the past couple months: the things causing me anxiety will be good for my future regardless of how they turn out. First time that's happening in about...two years? I'll keep you posted on where it all goes.
Monday, October 14, 2013
On My Love of All Things Fall...
I remember living for the summer. This was for obvious reasons: I didn't have to go to school, I basically spent everyday barefoot, I didn't have to work (until some point in high school, but still, a part-time job is nothing). Now I live for the fall. I think this transition was a gradual one that began in 8th grade when I started to look forward to field hockey preseason (I also had preseason in 7th grade, but I was scared to death because it was my first year and I was a middle schooler playing on a high school team. Say what?).
Fall reminds me of getting to the field hockey fields at the early point in the morning where it's cold enough to wear a long-sleeve shirt, but you're still able to work up a sweat by the afternoon. There's a quiet in the fall mornings that isn't there in summer, because people are out and about trying to soak up as much warm weather as possible. When the mornings get colder, fewer people are out ruining the silence, aside from a few fellow athletes and runners. It feels like you're part of an elite club that braved the chilly temperatures and you all have the understanding that this is meant to be a peaceful part of the day.
My next big step of loving fall progressed my sophomore year of college (definitely not during my freshman year when I was terrified of the new field hockey coach I had never met and of college itself). Once I got through preseason (which is not nearly as enjoyable as it was in high school), it began to feel like fall and I could wear sweaters to class along with boots and scarves, which are pretty much the only accessories beyond jewelry that I even care about. Going for drives around town with MGMT blasting from my car on a fall night, sitting on a friend's porch drinking a Woodchuck, these are the types of things that make up my love of fall.
As of now, it's my favorite season. It probably always will be, mostly because I have a very small window of temperature where I'm completely comfortable and fall encompasses that range (approximately 65 degrees to 72 degrees. Below that I'm freezing and above that I'm sweating). I'd also like to point out that someone told me I would love summers in New York, and they are a huge liar. Summers in New York City are terrible, particularly for train riders. Ever been on a hot, humid, stuffy platform when the train is half an hour late? I have. I've also almost passed out during that moment and thought, "So this is how it ends."
But fall in New York? I can get down with fall in New York. I don't mind walking for blocks on blocks on blocks because the weather is perfect, and as stated before I'm likely wearing boots - with heels - and am forced to strut like Beyoncé (bummer). And people are nicer because it's not super hot and making them cranky…or maybe it's just that I'm nicer because it's not super hot, which inevitably would make me cranky.
I feel like only adults appreciate the fall, and I wish I had appreciated it more while I was younger. I was probably too caught up in the whole I-hate-going-to-school thing that young'uns tend to get lost in, and in the process I missed out on really taking in the best season. I think it's more so that fall is an acquired taste.
To me, summer is the Mike's Hard Lemonade of seasons, and fall is the dark oatmeal stout or Chianti. Yup, I just went there. I compared seasons to alcohol. And don't try to deny that these analogies aren't spot on. Winter is the almost kicked keg of Natty Light.
You know what else? Fall is the perfect time to plan a vacation as I have done for the second year in a row. I don't need to lay out on a beach or be in the water to enjoy some time off. I need to explore new places when their leaves are at their peak loveliness and when I can walk around without sweating like a pig.
Anyhow, if you're still reading at this point you know I'm a huge fan of the fall. I love all things pumpkin and apple and cinnamon. I love crisp air and crunchy leaves. I love bundling up before leaving my apartment. And I love walking around in my high-heeled boots like Queen Bey.
Fall reminds me of getting to the field hockey fields at the early point in the morning where it's cold enough to wear a long-sleeve shirt, but you're still able to work up a sweat by the afternoon. There's a quiet in the fall mornings that isn't there in summer, because people are out and about trying to soak up as much warm weather as possible. When the mornings get colder, fewer people are out ruining the silence, aside from a few fellow athletes and runners. It feels like you're part of an elite club that braved the chilly temperatures and you all have the understanding that this is meant to be a peaceful part of the day.
My next big step of loving fall progressed my sophomore year of college (definitely not during my freshman year when I was terrified of the new field hockey coach I had never met and of college itself). Once I got through preseason (which is not nearly as enjoyable as it was in high school), it began to feel like fall and I could wear sweaters to class along with boots and scarves, which are pretty much the only accessories beyond jewelry that I even care about. Going for drives around town with MGMT blasting from my car on a fall night, sitting on a friend's porch drinking a Woodchuck, these are the types of things that make up my love of fall.
As of now, it's my favorite season. It probably always will be, mostly because I have a very small window of temperature where I'm completely comfortable and fall encompasses that range (approximately 65 degrees to 72 degrees. Below that I'm freezing and above that I'm sweating). I'd also like to point out that someone told me I would love summers in New York, and they are a huge liar. Summers in New York City are terrible, particularly for train riders. Ever been on a hot, humid, stuffy platform when the train is half an hour late? I have. I've also almost passed out during that moment and thought, "So this is how it ends."
But fall in New York? I can get down with fall in New York. I don't mind walking for blocks on blocks on blocks because the weather is perfect, and as stated before I'm likely wearing boots - with heels - and am forced to strut like Beyoncé (bummer). And people are nicer because it's not super hot and making them cranky…or maybe it's just that I'm nicer because it's not super hot, which inevitably would make me cranky.
I feel like only adults appreciate the fall, and I wish I had appreciated it more while I was younger. I was probably too caught up in the whole I-hate-going-to-school thing that young'uns tend to get lost in, and in the process I missed out on really taking in the best season. I think it's more so that fall is an acquired taste.
To me, summer is the Mike's Hard Lemonade of seasons, and fall is the dark oatmeal stout or Chianti. Yup, I just went there. I compared seasons to alcohol. And don't try to deny that these analogies aren't spot on. Winter is the almost kicked keg of Natty Light.
You know what else? Fall is the perfect time to plan a vacation as I have done for the second year in a row. I don't need to lay out on a beach or be in the water to enjoy some time off. I need to explore new places when their leaves are at their peak loveliness and when I can walk around without sweating like a pig.
Anyhow, if you're still reading at this point you know I'm a huge fan of the fall. I love all things pumpkin and apple and cinnamon. I love crisp air and crunchy leaves. I love bundling up before leaving my apartment. And I love walking around in my high-heeled boots like Queen Bey.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
On Living Life Outside Your Computer...
I've touched on this theme before, but let's take another look at it.
I read this article today: On Getting #engaged
Pretty sure everyone knows I love weddings. Not in a 27 Dresses way where I'm in a bunch of them, and definitely not in the sappy I-love-to-cry-at-weddings way, but more so in the "all I have to do is show up, eat, drink and have fun" way.
Keeping all this in mind, we also know I'm a big fan of Friday Brideday on TLC, particularly Say Yes to the Dress marathons. I'm also an avid pinner on Pinterest and, yup, most of my pins are on my "Maybe Someday" board, aka, my wedding board.
I wasn't really like this until I got into a serious relationship and realized that getting married was something that could happen in my future.
When I was younger, for some reason I thought I would be married by the time I was 25, because when you're in elementary school that seems like an age where you become an adult (I was actually trying to play the "I'm an adult" card at 18, but that obviously didn't work). I'm one year away from 25, and I still don't feel like an adult. I pay bills and go to work, but inside I'm about 12 years old.
Anyway, I'm a year away from that age when I thought I would be married and start popping out kids, and I know that won't happen by next year and I am totally fine with that. And now everyone in my digital life is getting married and popping out kids by the time they're 25.
There's nothing wrong with this as long as you're doing it for the right reason. Most of my Facebook friends that are doing this have been with this person since high school, waited until after college and I could not be happier for them. Most of them also don't live their married/parented lives through Facebook and I am SERIOUSLY grateful for that.
I've seen a few here and there that spam my feed with dozens of pictures of their engagement rings, mentions of their fiance, which then turns into mentions of their "hubby" after millions of wedding pictures are posted. This is where I usually find myself getting spiteful and silently hating on their pictures and thinking things like, "ugh, I would never do that. My wedding will be sooooo much better." And then I realize that I am feeding the problem that is social media.
People only post the positive things that make their lives seem amazing (aside from those that post the ever annoying updates of "not feeling well," or "why can't anything go right?" or the worst one, "sigh...."), so it's no surprise we get jealous. What they don't post are the arguments they may have had with their family and friends in planning that wedding, or the harder times that every couple faces from time to time. Social networks capture whatever you want them too, and obviously you want people to think you're awesome.
So is that why all these people are getting married and having babies all around me (not literally having babies near me. I wouldn't stand for that nastiness)? Maybe not. But that article above brings up a great point that perhaps some of these people aren't considering:
There are times when I want to quit Facebook and be free of checking it multiple times a day (it's pathetic, I know), but I actually do use it to keep up with people I care about and I kind of need my account for work purposes (social media = marketing, yo). People aren't 100% themselves on social networks, and that makes me a little sad. I've become connected to people on these networks who I think are incredibly awesome in person, and then they complain/overpost/overshare/become horrible on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram, and then I start to dislike them overall as a person. I know, it's not great and maybe not even the "right thing" to do, but it happens.
Why do some people decide to be someone else online? Or why do we feel the need to create a carefully crafted persona that doesn't accurately depict us as we are in real life (IRL, if you will)? Why do we care so much? Years from now, what we put on Facebook won't matter. In fact, what I put on there in high school doesn't matter already. And most of what I put on there in college is pointless, too.
If we spent half as much time focusing on just being good people and pursuing things we love, I think we would all be happier. I'm guilty of being stuck in my digital world far too often, and I'm going to challenge myself to take about 20 steps back. There's no need to be checking my email and newsfeed while also trying to watch Breaking Bad. And I don't need to check my phone all the damn time while I'm hanging out with friends.
Anyone else feel like taking a break from our tiring digital lives? Join me. Pick up a book. Look someone in the eyes when they're talking to you. Go a week without posting or tweeting. Just live your actual life instead of your #life.
I read this article today: On Getting #engaged
Pretty sure everyone knows I love weddings. Not in a 27 Dresses way where I'm in a bunch of them, and definitely not in the sappy I-love-to-cry-at-weddings way, but more so in the "all I have to do is show up, eat, drink and have fun" way.
Keeping all this in mind, we also know I'm a big fan of Friday Brideday on TLC, particularly Say Yes to the Dress marathons. I'm also an avid pinner on Pinterest and, yup, most of my pins are on my "Maybe Someday" board, aka, my wedding board.
I wasn't really like this until I got into a serious relationship and realized that getting married was something that could happen in my future.
When I was younger, for some reason I thought I would be married by the time I was 25, because when you're in elementary school that seems like an age where you become an adult (I was actually trying to play the "I'm an adult" card at 18, but that obviously didn't work). I'm one year away from 25, and I still don't feel like an adult. I pay bills and go to work, but inside I'm about 12 years old.
Anyway, I'm a year away from that age when I thought I would be married and start popping out kids, and I know that won't happen by next year and I am totally fine with that. And now everyone in my digital life is getting married and popping out kids by the time they're 25.
There's nothing wrong with this as long as you're doing it for the right reason. Most of my Facebook friends that are doing this have been with this person since high school, waited until after college and I could not be happier for them. Most of them also don't live their married/parented lives through Facebook and I am SERIOUSLY grateful for that.
I've seen a few here and there that spam my feed with dozens of pictures of their engagement rings, mentions of their fiance, which then turns into mentions of their "hubby" after millions of wedding pictures are posted. This is where I usually find myself getting spiteful and silently hating on their pictures and thinking things like, "ugh, I would never do that. My wedding will be sooooo much better." And then I realize that I am feeding the problem that is social media.
People only post the positive things that make their lives seem amazing (aside from those that post the ever annoying updates of "not feeling well," or "why can't anything go right?" or the worst one, "sigh...."), so it's no surprise we get jealous. What they don't post are the arguments they may have had with their family and friends in planning that wedding, or the harder times that every couple faces from time to time. Social networks capture whatever you want them too, and obviously you want people to think you're awesome.
So is that why all these people are getting married and having babies all around me (not literally having babies near me. I wouldn't stand for that nastiness)? Maybe not. But that article above brings up a great point that perhaps some of these people aren't considering:
It seems to me our generation has become infatuated with celebrating the act of becoming engaged, rather than celebrating the act of two people committing their lives to one another. The proposal pictures we gawk over on HowHeAsked.com keep us so fixated on planning our weddings, that we start to forget one important fact: weddings turn into marriages.I think it's great that we want to keep photographic evidence of all these happenings. And it's amazing that we can keep so much of it and share it instantly. And I'm sure people want to see your rings and your dresses and hear about how the day was if they couldn't make it/weren't invited, but we also need to focus on keeping our lives outside of these pictures just as beautiful.
There are times when I want to quit Facebook and be free of checking it multiple times a day (it's pathetic, I know), but I actually do use it to keep up with people I care about and I kind of need my account for work purposes (social media = marketing, yo). People aren't 100% themselves on social networks, and that makes me a little sad. I've become connected to people on these networks who I think are incredibly awesome in person, and then they complain/overpost/overshare/become horrible on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram, and then I start to dislike them overall as a person. I know, it's not great and maybe not even the "right thing" to do, but it happens.
Why do some people decide to be someone else online? Or why do we feel the need to create a carefully crafted persona that doesn't accurately depict us as we are in real life (IRL, if you will)? Why do we care so much? Years from now, what we put on Facebook won't matter. In fact, what I put on there in high school doesn't matter already. And most of what I put on there in college is pointless, too.
If we spent half as much time focusing on just being good people and pursuing things we love, I think we would all be happier. I'm guilty of being stuck in my digital world far too often, and I'm going to challenge myself to take about 20 steps back. There's no need to be checking my email and newsfeed while also trying to watch Breaking Bad. And I don't need to check my phone all the damn time while I'm hanging out with friends.
Anyone else feel like taking a break from our tiring digital lives? Join me. Pick up a book. Look someone in the eyes when they're talking to you. Go a week without posting or tweeting. Just live your actual life instead of your #life.
Friday, September 20, 2013
On the NYC Real Estate Market and Rapid Realty...
I did something a little out of character today. I turned into a nag and put a company on blast for scamming me.
It's not that I don't like to stand up for what's right or whatever, it's that I don't like to cause a scene. I weigh my options very carefully when I have to throw a lot of energy behind something. And I hate doing something half-assed. I would rather not do something at all than not give it everything.
So lets rewind to December 2011 when I started a whirlwind adventure called, "So You've Landed A Job In New York City." This midwestern kid was aiming to get her first apartment on her own and had no idea what to expect. I had about two weeks to search for a place, and from what everyone had told me, this didn't seem like an issue considering how fast the New York City real estate market moves. I spent every free minute I had looking at Craigslist ads, researching neighborhoods, getting advice, trying to be as prepared as possible. And then I had one day to go down to the big, bad city to look at places and find the Prince Charming of apartments.
Possibly one of the most stressful trips of my life up until that point (my LA trip from June still beats it). We worked with one realtor who was a friend of a brother of my boyfriend's sister's boyfriend, and she was extremely nice but nothing she showed me was a great option. Especially not the place she showed me in East Harlem.
So a guy from this little company called Rapid Realty had contacted me when I started this search back in Buffalo. He had spent some of his childhood in Buffalo, so I immediately thought he would be trustworthy. I managed to get in touch with him as my mother and I sat exasperated and exhausted in a Starbucks near Penn Station, and he was able to set up an appointment to see an apartment out in Queens. I was relieved to walk around in a neighborhood where I didn't feel like I was going to die, and to see an apartment that actually worked for me and was within my price range.
I was ready to get paperwork and payments rolling since I needed approval as soon as possible so I could have a place to live once my job started. The realtor was informed of this before he even showed me the place. Rather than getting down to business and applying right then and there, he was all like, "I'll have our closer call you tomorrow." I was so tired and happy to have found a place I almost didn't care.
And then I learned what a nightmare it is to apply for an apartment in New York City, especially when you need to be approved within days. I went back and forth with this closer dude, trying to get bank information to wire over my security deposit, making sure I had all the necessary documents. And of course he would always forget something and we would have to run back to my mom's office to use the fax machine and send another document over. To say it was draining would be an understatement.
After all this, I still didn't know if I was approved. I was packing up my Uhaul and didn't know if I was approved. We made it to Staten Island all the way from Buffalo before I knew I was approved.
My parents and I ate at a local diner that night after finally unpacking the truck. It was a pretty standard diner, and my dad proclaimed that the burger there was the best thing he's ever eaten. It's amazing what a lack of sleep and stress can do to your mind.
Fast forward three months, everything seems to be fine with my first apartment. I still feel like a kid living in a dorm given how tiny my little studio was, but overall it was fine. And then a leak developed in the middle of my ceiling and it was never properly fixed. For nine months I dealt with buckets on my coffee table, having my laptop and other electronics get drenched, and not once was I reimbursed for items that were damaged (like the carpet I brought to the apartment) or for rent I was paying in order to live in a place that was uninhabitable.
I learned very quickly how shady my management company was, especially when they switched the building manager without informing us, and then also changed the name of the company altogether without any notice. My superintendent was the only good person who worked for that company and he fought so hard to have my ceiling fixed or to get me reimbursed, and when I would call them to check up on it, they would said he didn't do any of that.
Needless to say, I knew I was moving when my lease was up. I started looking for a new place four months in advance. I can't tell you how happy I was to sign the document saying I wouldn't renew and telling the new building manager that there was nothing he could do to keep me with their company.
I hoped the last contact I had with him would be when I gave him my new address where he could send my security deposit. Three months passed before he told me they were keeping it since I never paid my last month's rent.
Huh?
Right.
Going back to the initial deposits on the apartment. I was told I needed one month's security deposit ($1250), first and last month's rent ($2500) and a one month broker's fee ($1250). I paid all of these and had the receipts for them. I told the management company this…and they said they only required one month's security deposit and first month's rent. So I go back to Rapid Realty and ask if they can provide any documentation showing that they also gave the management company my last month's rent. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, wasn't at all on the offense, just stated that I wanted their help in showing that the management company owed me the security deposit. I spoke with an agent there that seemed like she wanted to help me, sent over all the receipts, told this whole story. She said they would get back to me. I check a month later, because why not give them plenty of time, and all she says is that corporate is still looking into it.
I have emailed at least once a month since this started in April, and that is the only response I've ever received from them. There is $1250 missing that belongs to me, and they couldn't care less and have probably pocketed it as some undocumented profit.
I wish I could tell you I don't need that money, but I live in New York City where prices constantly go up and where my paycheck is sucked dry before it even hits my bank account. I don't even live anything close to an extravagant lifestyle, but that is money I most certainly need.
Today I decided I had had enough of them ignoring me. I wrote a Yelp review exposing what they did to me, and it sits alongside many other poor reviews of others getting swindled out of money and baited. I have emailed that agent again and copied the guy who closed the deal for me back in December 2011. He conveniently no longer works for them. She has yet to respond to my email. I emailed their generic email address asking how I can get in touch with corporate, given that the number listed on their site has led me nowhere. I sent them a Facebook message asking the same thing.
Where do I go next? I'm sure Gothamist has covered this more than enough times for it not to be newsworthy. I could probably submit a list to Buzzfeed of why you should never work with either of these companies. I think NY1 has more important stories to cover than a young girl from Buffalo getting scammed by Rapid Realty. I need to do something to get their attention though, and legal action might be too expensive if it's not worth it. God knows they probably wrote some loophole into something I signed that allows them to keep my money.
As I sit here typing this, I can't believe it's allowed to happen. But these types of things just go unnoticed in a city as big as New York that has much larger problems. In Buffalo, all I would have to do is call up my local TV news station or get in touch with my newspaper contacts, and as a community we would bring these crooks to their knees. In New York City, no one cares. They've probably also been scammed and dragged through something much worse than I have.
I'm hoping that something I've done today will get their attention and convince them to get in touch with me before I start screaming louder. I know many people don't read my blog, but perhaps it will show up in someone's Google search and they won't make the same $1250 mistake that I did.
Or hey, maybe someone in that company will have a heart and give me my money back. Doubtful.
It's not that I don't like to stand up for what's right or whatever, it's that I don't like to cause a scene. I weigh my options very carefully when I have to throw a lot of energy behind something. And I hate doing something half-assed. I would rather not do something at all than not give it everything.
So lets rewind to December 2011 when I started a whirlwind adventure called, "So You've Landed A Job In New York City." This midwestern kid was aiming to get her first apartment on her own and had no idea what to expect. I had about two weeks to search for a place, and from what everyone had told me, this didn't seem like an issue considering how fast the New York City real estate market moves. I spent every free minute I had looking at Craigslist ads, researching neighborhoods, getting advice, trying to be as prepared as possible. And then I had one day to go down to the big, bad city to look at places and find the Prince Charming of apartments.
Possibly one of the most stressful trips of my life up until that point (my LA trip from June still beats it). We worked with one realtor who was a friend of a brother of my boyfriend's sister's boyfriend, and she was extremely nice but nothing she showed me was a great option. Especially not the place she showed me in East Harlem.
So a guy from this little company called Rapid Realty had contacted me when I started this search back in Buffalo. He had spent some of his childhood in Buffalo, so I immediately thought he would be trustworthy. I managed to get in touch with him as my mother and I sat exasperated and exhausted in a Starbucks near Penn Station, and he was able to set up an appointment to see an apartment out in Queens. I was relieved to walk around in a neighborhood where I didn't feel like I was going to die, and to see an apartment that actually worked for me and was within my price range.
I was ready to get paperwork and payments rolling since I needed approval as soon as possible so I could have a place to live once my job started. The realtor was informed of this before he even showed me the place. Rather than getting down to business and applying right then and there, he was all like, "I'll have our closer call you tomorrow." I was so tired and happy to have found a place I almost didn't care.
And then I learned what a nightmare it is to apply for an apartment in New York City, especially when you need to be approved within days. I went back and forth with this closer dude, trying to get bank information to wire over my security deposit, making sure I had all the necessary documents. And of course he would always forget something and we would have to run back to my mom's office to use the fax machine and send another document over. To say it was draining would be an understatement.
After all this, I still didn't know if I was approved. I was packing up my Uhaul and didn't know if I was approved. We made it to Staten Island all the way from Buffalo before I knew I was approved.
My parents and I ate at a local diner that night after finally unpacking the truck. It was a pretty standard diner, and my dad proclaimed that the burger there was the best thing he's ever eaten. It's amazing what a lack of sleep and stress can do to your mind.
Fast forward three months, everything seems to be fine with my first apartment. I still feel like a kid living in a dorm given how tiny my little studio was, but overall it was fine. And then a leak developed in the middle of my ceiling and it was never properly fixed. For nine months I dealt with buckets on my coffee table, having my laptop and other electronics get drenched, and not once was I reimbursed for items that were damaged (like the carpet I brought to the apartment) or for rent I was paying in order to live in a place that was uninhabitable.
I learned very quickly how shady my management company was, especially when they switched the building manager without informing us, and then also changed the name of the company altogether without any notice. My superintendent was the only good person who worked for that company and he fought so hard to have my ceiling fixed or to get me reimbursed, and when I would call them to check up on it, they would said he didn't do any of that.
Needless to say, I knew I was moving when my lease was up. I started looking for a new place four months in advance. I can't tell you how happy I was to sign the document saying I wouldn't renew and telling the new building manager that there was nothing he could do to keep me with their company.
I hoped the last contact I had with him would be when I gave him my new address where he could send my security deposit. Three months passed before he told me they were keeping it since I never paid my last month's rent.
Huh?
Right.
Going back to the initial deposits on the apartment. I was told I needed one month's security deposit ($1250), first and last month's rent ($2500) and a one month broker's fee ($1250). I paid all of these and had the receipts for them. I told the management company this…and they said they only required one month's security deposit and first month's rent. So I go back to Rapid Realty and ask if they can provide any documentation showing that they also gave the management company my last month's rent. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, wasn't at all on the offense, just stated that I wanted their help in showing that the management company owed me the security deposit. I spoke with an agent there that seemed like she wanted to help me, sent over all the receipts, told this whole story. She said they would get back to me. I check a month later, because why not give them plenty of time, and all she says is that corporate is still looking into it.
I have emailed at least once a month since this started in April, and that is the only response I've ever received from them. There is $1250 missing that belongs to me, and they couldn't care less and have probably pocketed it as some undocumented profit.
I wish I could tell you I don't need that money, but I live in New York City where prices constantly go up and where my paycheck is sucked dry before it even hits my bank account. I don't even live anything close to an extravagant lifestyle, but that is money I most certainly need.
Today I decided I had had enough of them ignoring me. I wrote a Yelp review exposing what they did to me, and it sits alongside many other poor reviews of others getting swindled out of money and baited. I have emailed that agent again and copied the guy who closed the deal for me back in December 2011. He conveniently no longer works for them. She has yet to respond to my email. I emailed their generic email address asking how I can get in touch with corporate, given that the number listed on their site has led me nowhere. I sent them a Facebook message asking the same thing.
Where do I go next? I'm sure Gothamist has covered this more than enough times for it not to be newsworthy. I could probably submit a list to Buzzfeed of why you should never work with either of these companies. I think NY1 has more important stories to cover than a young girl from Buffalo getting scammed by Rapid Realty. I need to do something to get their attention though, and legal action might be too expensive if it's not worth it. God knows they probably wrote some loophole into something I signed that allows them to keep my money.
As I sit here typing this, I can't believe it's allowed to happen. But these types of things just go unnoticed in a city as big as New York that has much larger problems. In Buffalo, all I would have to do is call up my local TV news station or get in touch with my newspaper contacts, and as a community we would bring these crooks to their knees. In New York City, no one cares. They've probably also been scammed and dragged through something much worse than I have.
I'm hoping that something I've done today will get their attention and convince them to get in touch with me before I start screaming louder. I know many people don't read my blog, but perhaps it will show up in someone's Google search and they won't make the same $1250 mistake that I did.
Or hey, maybe someone in that company will have a heart and give me my money back. Doubtful.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
On What I've Been Doing Lately...
...because I know you're all dying to know.
I've been busy, guys. That's right, I've been busy.
I didn't do much running last week because the humidity reared its ugly head for (literally) a hot second, and I was not prepared to deal with it. I am not a damn toucan.
I did run 10 miles on Saturday though, and that went really well. I managed to wake up early by setting my alarm to Beyonce's "Love On Top" and changing the alarm's message to, "Beyonce would wake up early," and so I woke up early. And I ran before it got too hot, and it really didn't get too hot because guess what guys? Fall is here. Fall. is. here. and I'm stoked. STOKED.
So I ran 10 miles and felt like a superstar because I did pretty well and didn't have to walk at the same parts of this route where I had to walk the previous week. Then I got home and cleaned myself up and settled in to watch more Breaking Bad than one should in one sitting. But then my friend offered me a free ticket to the Mets double header and I decided to join because, why not be social and catch up with a friend I haven't seen since we both went to see the Katy Perry movie in 3D last year? Super fan right here. Don't judge me, the movie was awesome and I also own it on DVD.
The outing was a lot of fun. I saw her dad and uncle run around the nearly empty sections of Citi Field trying to score free T-shirts and fly balls. I managed to "catch" a free T-shirt by trying to catch it, letting it fall in front of me and then snatching it from the ground before anyone could think of beating me to it. It's an XL and it almost reaches my knees when I wear it, so I wear it to bed like I'm a kid again.
I sat in the seats at Citi Field for about six hours with a few stretching and walking breaks, but having my legs bent for that long after such an intense run earlier in the day made them stiffen up. Which was fun when I had to climb the stairs up to the train to go home. Except that it wasn't.
Sunday was spent at a bar with new friends, watching football, drinking beer, eating food and throwing popcorn. We ended the night by eating ramen and I was pretty happy about that. I won't turn down non-microwaved, legit ramen.
Then the weather decided to be even better starting yesterday and I've had two incredible runs in a row. Whaaaaaat??? Tonight I decided to see how fast I can run 5 miles, because why not? I can run 5 miles in 41:13. That's not bad considering Central Park is hillier than Buffalo, and the Turkey Trot is in Buffalo and I would like to run that as close to a sub-40 time as possible. Last time I did that I was 20 lbs. lighter than I am now. And I looked weird.
I haven't been doing much cooking lately because I never have time to grocery shop. I'm dying to make a huge pot of soup to bring in for lunch everyday. I could go for something hearty, like butternut squash soup with apples in it. Or this awesome escarole and sausage thing my mom makes. Or pretty much anything my mom makes.
Guys, I was thinking about Thanksgiving the other day and thinking about the awesome meal my mom makes...and my mouth started watering. It just did again.
That's all that I've been up to. I'm really not that busy. I just haven't written in here because I didn't have anything exciting to write. But this update was super exciting, yeah?
I've been busy, guys. That's right, I've been busy.
I didn't do much running last week because the humidity reared its ugly head for (literally) a hot second, and I was not prepared to deal with it. I am not a damn toucan.
I did run 10 miles on Saturday though, and that went really well. I managed to wake up early by setting my alarm to Beyonce's "Love On Top" and changing the alarm's message to, "Beyonce would wake up early," and so I woke up early. And I ran before it got too hot, and it really didn't get too hot because guess what guys? Fall is here. Fall. is. here. and I'm stoked. STOKED.
So I ran 10 miles and felt like a superstar because I did pretty well and didn't have to walk at the same parts of this route where I had to walk the previous week. Then I got home and cleaned myself up and settled in to watch more Breaking Bad than one should in one sitting. But then my friend offered me a free ticket to the Mets double header and I decided to join because, why not be social and catch up with a friend I haven't seen since we both went to see the Katy Perry movie in 3D last year? Super fan right here. Don't judge me, the movie was awesome and I also own it on DVD.
The outing was a lot of fun. I saw her dad and uncle run around the nearly empty sections of Citi Field trying to score free T-shirts and fly balls. I managed to "catch" a free T-shirt by trying to catch it, letting it fall in front of me and then snatching it from the ground before anyone could think of beating me to it. It's an XL and it almost reaches my knees when I wear it, so I wear it to bed like I'm a kid again.
I sat in the seats at Citi Field for about six hours with a few stretching and walking breaks, but having my legs bent for that long after such an intense run earlier in the day made them stiffen up. Which was fun when I had to climb the stairs up to the train to go home. Except that it wasn't.
Sunday was spent at a bar with new friends, watching football, drinking beer, eating food and throwing popcorn. We ended the night by eating ramen and I was pretty happy about that. I won't turn down non-microwaved, legit ramen.
Then the weather decided to be even better starting yesterday and I've had two incredible runs in a row. Whaaaaaat??? Tonight I decided to see how fast I can run 5 miles, because why not? I can run 5 miles in 41:13. That's not bad considering Central Park is hillier than Buffalo, and the Turkey Trot is in Buffalo and I would like to run that as close to a sub-40 time as possible. Last time I did that I was 20 lbs. lighter than I am now. And I looked weird.
I haven't been doing much cooking lately because I never have time to grocery shop. I'm dying to make a huge pot of soup to bring in for lunch everyday. I could go for something hearty, like butternut squash soup with apples in it. Or this awesome escarole and sausage thing my mom makes. Or pretty much anything my mom makes.
Guys, I was thinking about Thanksgiving the other day and thinking about the awesome meal my mom makes...and my mouth started watering. It just did again.
That's all that I've been up to. I'm really not that busy. I just haven't written in here because I didn't have anything exciting to write. But this update was super exciting, yeah?
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
On What Happened 12 Years Ago...
I was in 7th grade. It was kind of a big year for me. My school didn't have a modified field hockey team, so during the summer I had to pass a physical test in order to try out for the JV team as a 7th grader. By some miracle of god, I passed what seemed to be impossible tests, including a bent arm hang (with palms facing outward) and a mile and a half run (which at the time seemed like a marathon). After passing the test, I still had to try out for the team, and I made it.
I had maybe one or two high school games under my belt by the time September 11th came about in 2001. The team had decided we would wear our uniforms to school that day since we had another game on our home field, and even though me and my middle school friends who were also on the team wouldn't be around all our teammates that day, we still wore ours. When you're in middle school wearing a high school uniform, people view you as kind of a badass.
One of my early morning classes was chorus. Being that I'm not a morning person, I was still sleepy and not quite comprehending what was being communicated to me. And then I heard my teacher say, "two planes flew into the Twin Towers."
I didn't really know what the Twin Towers were at that time. I had heard their name before, I knew they were in New York City, but I couldn't point to them on a map or even draw a picture of them if you asked me to. I also didn't understand how planes could fly into buildings. In my decaffeinated morning mind, I saw the planes bounce off the towers and go off on their merry way. I made it through that class and possibly another before the announcement was made.
"All after school activities are cancelled across the district." What? How could they be cancelled? I had a game to play! I had goals to score! What is even happening??
My mom worked in the district so I was able to call her from a classroom phone. I expressed my anger at my game being cancelled and she calmly said, "Brianne, the Twin Towers are gone." All I could say was, "Oh..." The rest of the day was kind of a blur. Apparently middle schoolers were too young to be shown the footage of what happened that day, so we were kept in the dark.
Upon entering my house, I plopped myself in front of the TV to get a better understanding of what was going on. I watched the footage played over and over and over again. Planes crashing into towers. Gigantic buildings falling to the ground as if they were made of paper-mache. People literally running for their lives through the streets of New York, some covered in dust and debris. I had not been to New York City at this point in my life, but I knew what I was seeing before me was the thing horror movies were made of.
Thinking back to these moments, I remember how scared I was. It wasn't something that happened just in New York City. A plane had hit the Pentagon and one went down in Pennsylvania, too. As an American kid, you're brought up to believe that nothing bad can ever happen to us, because we live in the US...and that day every shred of security I had here was stolen from me.
I remember sitting huddled up in the recliner of my family room, still in my field hockey uniform with my hair in two French braids, my backpack haphazardly tossed beside me, and my eyes staring wide at the TV as tears began to fall. My mom was upstairs and the rest of my family wasn't home yet, and I sat there in my family room silently crying at something that to this day, I can't fully understand.
Ever since I was a kid, I've always made sure I had a plan to get myself out of dangerous situations as quickly as possible. I call it my "GTFO plan." Suddenly, I was aware that there could be situations I wouldn't anticipate where I couldn't get out alive. Every time I heard someone's story of a loved one calling them from one of the top floors to say goodbye, I became more scared of being in a situation like that in my life, and what would I do?
I think everyone can agree that all of our lives changed that day. The US was no longer invincible. Security was heightened everywhere. We couldn't just go after a country that was attacking us. It was a group that was hidden throughout many countries.
I know what I went through that day was nothing compared to what those in the New York City area went through. I try to put myself in their places when I walk around the southern tip of the city where the streets are narrow, and you're bordered by water on all sides and a wall of skyscrapers to the north.
I try to imagine what the World Trade Center was like when the buildings stood there. I go there now and see beautiful reflecting pools in their places, and it puts into perspective how big these buildings were, even though I'll never get the chance to see them in person.
I've never felt the need to post my "never forget" sentiments on social media, and I don't have any disdain for those that do. At age 24, 12 years after my world was changed at just 12 years old, I just felt it was time to get my feelings and memories about it out on the internet.
I had maybe one or two high school games under my belt by the time September 11th came about in 2001. The team had decided we would wear our uniforms to school that day since we had another game on our home field, and even though me and my middle school friends who were also on the team wouldn't be around all our teammates that day, we still wore ours. When you're in middle school wearing a high school uniform, people view you as kind of a badass.
One of my early morning classes was chorus. Being that I'm not a morning person, I was still sleepy and not quite comprehending what was being communicated to me. And then I heard my teacher say, "two planes flew into the Twin Towers."
I didn't really know what the Twin Towers were at that time. I had heard their name before, I knew they were in New York City, but I couldn't point to them on a map or even draw a picture of them if you asked me to. I also didn't understand how planes could fly into buildings. In my decaffeinated morning mind, I saw the planes bounce off the towers and go off on their merry way. I made it through that class and possibly another before the announcement was made.
"All after school activities are cancelled across the district." What? How could they be cancelled? I had a game to play! I had goals to score! What is even happening??
My mom worked in the district so I was able to call her from a classroom phone. I expressed my anger at my game being cancelled and she calmly said, "Brianne, the Twin Towers are gone." All I could say was, "Oh..." The rest of the day was kind of a blur. Apparently middle schoolers were too young to be shown the footage of what happened that day, so we were kept in the dark.
Upon entering my house, I plopped myself in front of the TV to get a better understanding of what was going on. I watched the footage played over and over and over again. Planes crashing into towers. Gigantic buildings falling to the ground as if they were made of paper-mache. People literally running for their lives through the streets of New York, some covered in dust and debris. I had not been to New York City at this point in my life, but I knew what I was seeing before me was the thing horror movies were made of.
Thinking back to these moments, I remember how scared I was. It wasn't something that happened just in New York City. A plane had hit the Pentagon and one went down in Pennsylvania, too. As an American kid, you're brought up to believe that nothing bad can ever happen to us, because we live in the US...and that day every shred of security I had here was stolen from me.
I remember sitting huddled up in the recliner of my family room, still in my field hockey uniform with my hair in two French braids, my backpack haphazardly tossed beside me, and my eyes staring wide at the TV as tears began to fall. My mom was upstairs and the rest of my family wasn't home yet, and I sat there in my family room silently crying at something that to this day, I can't fully understand.
Ever since I was a kid, I've always made sure I had a plan to get myself out of dangerous situations as quickly as possible. I call it my "GTFO plan." Suddenly, I was aware that there could be situations I wouldn't anticipate where I couldn't get out alive. Every time I heard someone's story of a loved one calling them from one of the top floors to say goodbye, I became more scared of being in a situation like that in my life, and what would I do?
I think everyone can agree that all of our lives changed that day. The US was no longer invincible. Security was heightened everywhere. We couldn't just go after a country that was attacking us. It was a group that was hidden throughout many countries.
I know what I went through that day was nothing compared to what those in the New York City area went through. I try to put myself in their places when I walk around the southern tip of the city where the streets are narrow, and you're bordered by water on all sides and a wall of skyscrapers to the north.
I try to imagine what the World Trade Center was like when the buildings stood there. I go there now and see beautiful reflecting pools in their places, and it puts into perspective how big these buildings were, even though I'll never get the chance to see them in person.
I've never felt the need to post my "never forget" sentiments on social media, and I don't have any disdain for those that do. At age 24, 12 years after my world was changed at just 12 years old, I just felt it was time to get my feelings and memories about it out on the internet.
 |
| [photo by Bri] |
Monday, September 9, 2013
On My Mood Today...
It's actually impossible for me to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, because one side of my bed is against the wall. But that didn't stop me from being moody today. And oddly enough, my morning was not what did me in today.
Let's back up to last night. Considering how exhausted I am every morning and throughout my day, I decided to use a sleep calculator to figure out the best time for me to go to bed. Given that I try to wake up at 7am each morning (I have a fairly long commute and I'm a snail as far as movement goes in the morning), the calculator told me to either fall asleep (this is fall asleep, not go to bed) at 11:30pm or 1am. So I tried 11:30...to no avail. I was wide awake straight through midnight. And so I attempted 1am. That worked, and I woke up feeling less tired than usual, but I was still sour.
This was slightly alleviated by a breakfast of toast with Justin's Nut Butter Company's Hazelnut Chocolate spread on it. Anything remotely close to being Nutella can always make me feel better.
As per usual, I didn't get a seat on the subway. This normally doesn't bother me, but I was carrying more than usual today and kept getting cut off for seats by people who weren't carrying anything, and did not seem physically incapable of standing. Common courtesy, people. C'mon.
Work was stressful in the way that the day flew by and I felt as though I couldn't get anything done. Then I left too late to run, which resulted in me being frustrated with no outlet for said frustration.
I walked to the subway so fed up with people for the day...only to be met by throngs of people all three blocks to the train, because Fashion Week is terrible and ruining EVERYTHING. I looked a lot like Bjork did before attacking a reporter at the airport all those years ago.
Someone's purse was bumping my arm the entire ride home.
Slow people were in front of me on the stairs coming up from the train.
Thankfully I was greeted by a cat that was stoked to see me home earlier than usual.
Nothing particularly horrible happened today, but I was just so mad. Is this just a case similar to that of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?
Is this what happens when a girl in training misses her run?
Is this the result of eating chicken wings two days in a row? Nah, it's definitely not that.
This got me thinking of surefire things to put me in a good mood.
Cat Time
One of the reasons I sort of prefer animals to people is because they love you unconditionally. And I love them unconditionally. My cat hates when I leave, and loves when I have lazy days with him on the couch. Coming home to him, and seeing how excited he is that I walked in the door is enough to make me smile. I mean, he cuddled up in my arm after I plopped on the couch. He's the best.
Good Deeds
There was one moment on my walk to the train that actually made me crack a smile. There's a homeless young woman who's always in the same spot, which is sometimes outside of a food truck. There have been many times when I wished I had food to give her, because she holds a sign that just says, "A little kindness goes a long way." She's not even asking for anything except for people to be decent humans. So as I walked by her today, the burger truck was next to her, and one of the cooks came out and gave her a big bag of fresh food. The look on her face was priceless.
Good Food
This is probably a given. But I'm serious when I specify GOOD food. I'm very picky about my food when I'm in a bad mood, because if the food isn't up to my standards at that time, I will have a toddler-style meltdown where I fall to the floor and just start crying. I opted for Thai food tonight at a place that has yet to let me down. Tonight was no exception.
Matt in Cleveland
It's never not funny. You can stop listening at 00:36.
A Good Run
Again, emphasis on GOOD. And today would've been a wonderful one. I'm not sore from my 10-miler on Saturday. The weather was perfect. I was in a good mental state to set a personal record (though my personal record at 5 miles is sub-40 and if that ever happens again it will be a miracle). Now that I've missed tonight's run, I have to reschedule it for Friday which makes me feel like...
That's about all that's on my mind tonight. I've got to send the rest of my good vibes to RGIII so he can generate more fantasy points for team Sweet Breezus.
One more pet peeve: I almost always type out "fantasy" as "fantasty" first. Ugh.
Let's back up to last night. Considering how exhausted I am every morning and throughout my day, I decided to use a sleep calculator to figure out the best time for me to go to bed. Given that I try to wake up at 7am each morning (I have a fairly long commute and I'm a snail as far as movement goes in the morning), the calculator told me to either fall asleep (this is fall asleep, not go to bed) at 11:30pm or 1am. So I tried 11:30...to no avail. I was wide awake straight through midnight. And so I attempted 1am. That worked, and I woke up feeling less tired than usual, but I was still sour.
This was slightly alleviated by a breakfast of toast with Justin's Nut Butter Company's Hazelnut Chocolate spread on it. Anything remotely close to being Nutella can always make me feel better.
As per usual, I didn't get a seat on the subway. This normally doesn't bother me, but I was carrying more than usual today and kept getting cut off for seats by people who weren't carrying anything, and did not seem physically incapable of standing. Common courtesy, people. C'mon.
Work was stressful in the way that the day flew by and I felt as though I couldn't get anything done. Then I left too late to run, which resulted in me being frustrated with no outlet for said frustration.
I walked to the subway so fed up with people for the day...only to be met by throngs of people all three blocks to the train, because Fashion Week is terrible and ruining EVERYTHING. I looked a lot like Bjork did before attacking a reporter at the airport all those years ago.
Someone's purse was bumping my arm the entire ride home.
Slow people were in front of me on the stairs coming up from the train.
Thankfully I was greeted by a cat that was stoked to see me home earlier than usual.
Nothing particularly horrible happened today, but I was just so mad. Is this just a case similar to that of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?
 |
| [image via childrensbookalmanac.com] |
Is this what happens when a girl in training misses her run?
Is this the result of eating chicken wings two days in a row? Nah, it's definitely not that.
This got me thinking of surefire things to put me in a good mood.
Cat Time
One of the reasons I sort of prefer animals to people is because they love you unconditionally. And I love them unconditionally. My cat hates when I leave, and loves when I have lazy days with him on the couch. Coming home to him, and seeing how excited he is that I walked in the door is enough to make me smile. I mean, he cuddled up in my arm after I plopped on the couch. He's the best.
Good Deeds
There was one moment on my walk to the train that actually made me crack a smile. There's a homeless young woman who's always in the same spot, which is sometimes outside of a food truck. There have been many times when I wished I had food to give her, because she holds a sign that just says, "A little kindness goes a long way." She's not even asking for anything except for people to be decent humans. So as I walked by her today, the burger truck was next to her, and one of the cooks came out and gave her a big bag of fresh food. The look on her face was priceless.
Good Food
This is probably a given. But I'm serious when I specify GOOD food. I'm very picky about my food when I'm in a bad mood, because if the food isn't up to my standards at that time, I will have a toddler-style meltdown where I fall to the floor and just start crying. I opted for Thai food tonight at a place that has yet to let me down. Tonight was no exception.
Matt in Cleveland
It's never not funny. You can stop listening at 00:36.
A Good Run
Again, emphasis on GOOD. And today would've been a wonderful one. I'm not sore from my 10-miler on Saturday. The weather was perfect. I was in a good mental state to set a personal record (though my personal record at 5 miles is sub-40 and if that ever happens again it will be a miracle). Now that I've missed tonight's run, I have to reschedule it for Friday which makes me feel like...
That's about all that's on my mind tonight. I've got to send the rest of my good vibes to RGIII so he can generate more fantasy points for team Sweet Breezus.
One more pet peeve: I almost always type out "fantasy" as "fantasty" first. Ugh.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
On My Need For a Plan...
I wish I was one of those people that could just get up and go without thinking things through first.
You know, YOLO is still pretty popular these days.
But I'm not that type of person. I've certainly taken chances in life, but not without thinking it through first.
This is why I'm currently restless. I don't have a good plan for the next phase of life.
You know, you go through high school knowing that college comes next, and everything you're doing is to get yourself ready for and into college. By the time I hit my senior year of high school, I was so over it. Graduation couldn't come soon enough. The fact that I started looking for colleges during my sophomore year didn't help. But I needed to get my future planned!
Then you go through college, all the while trying to figure out what your career goals are. You know that once college is over, your plan is to get a job. Again, by senior year of college, I was completely checked out. It's probably a good thing I spent the second half of that year in New York City doing two simultaneous internships (talk about multitasking to get your mind off of things).
So then you get a job that allows you to do what you went to college for...and then what? How do you make yourself better from there? Do you take on second jobs to diversify yourself? How long do you stay with your job? How do you get the required skills and experience needed to move up in the world? When do I decide it's time to settle with what's in front of me?
WHAT IS THE NEXT GOAL.
For starters, my next goal is to get in the same city as the boyfriend. It will likely be a new city for both of us, which is pretty overwhelming. How do I figure this whole job thing out in a landscape I'm not familiar with? Is the job search going to be super terrible the second time around when it eventually comes about? What if I can't find anything?
In high school and college, I had answers for my future questions for the most part. Some people get excited by uncertainty, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't internally freaking out everyday about this. It's the kind of thing that keeps my mind going when I'm trying to go to sleep, and it's the thing that creeps into my brain during a run that can completely derail it.
Maybe I just need a hobby. Who's got a beer brewing kit?
You know, YOLO is still pretty popular these days.
But I'm not that type of person. I've certainly taken chances in life, but not without thinking it through first.
This is why I'm currently restless. I don't have a good plan for the next phase of life.
You know, you go through high school knowing that college comes next, and everything you're doing is to get yourself ready for and into college. By the time I hit my senior year of high school, I was so over it. Graduation couldn't come soon enough. The fact that I started looking for colleges during my sophomore year didn't help. But I needed to get my future planned!
Then you go through college, all the while trying to figure out what your career goals are. You know that once college is over, your plan is to get a job. Again, by senior year of college, I was completely checked out. It's probably a good thing I spent the second half of that year in New York City doing two simultaneous internships (talk about multitasking to get your mind off of things).
So then you get a job that allows you to do what you went to college for...and then what? How do you make yourself better from there? Do you take on second jobs to diversify yourself? How long do you stay with your job? How do you get the required skills and experience needed to move up in the world? When do I decide it's time to settle with what's in front of me?
WHAT IS THE NEXT GOAL.
For starters, my next goal is to get in the same city as the boyfriend. It will likely be a new city for both of us, which is pretty overwhelming. How do I figure this whole job thing out in a landscape I'm not familiar with? Is the job search going to be super terrible the second time around when it eventually comes about? What if I can't find anything?
In high school and college, I had answers for my future questions for the most part. Some people get excited by uncertainty, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't internally freaking out everyday about this. It's the kind of thing that keeps my mind going when I'm trying to go to sleep, and it's the thing that creeps into my brain during a run that can completely derail it.
Maybe I just need a hobby. Who's got a beer brewing kit?
Monday, August 26, 2013
An Open Letter to Destiny Hope...
Hey girl. Sup? How's the performance hangover treating you? You were on something, right?
I'll cut the crap, let's get down to business like you got down on Robin Thicke last night (what did Paula Patton think of that, by the way?). Being 20 is rough. Like the pop princess Britney Spears once said, "you're not a girl, not yet a woman," and you're just trying to find yourself. I'm four years out of that phase, and I couldn't be happier.
When you're 20 you're supposed to do stupid things. You're supposed to pull all nighters and pay for it the next morning. You're supposed to spend all your money on stupid things and sell your textbooks back in order to buy groceries (something I witnessed on a recruit trip, not something I did myself). You're supposed to experiment, knowing that the biggest consequence if you play your cards right are a few embarrassing photos on Facebook that you make your friends take down within 10 minutes of them going live (those jerks).
You've got it a little differently than the rest of us. You're famous. You have cameras in your face all the time. And they can't wait for you to really screw it up. I won't lie, I awaited last night's performance hoping for it to be a train wreck, and damn, you really pulled through on that one.
Because you have everyone watching you, it doesn't mean you can say, "Screw it, I'm just going to be crazy!" It means you have to be careful. I remember tons of little girls looking up to you as Hannah Montana, and they're probably still looking up to you as a role model. I know for a fact my niece will not be seeing what you did last night, because our family does not want her even jokingly imitating what you did. You're only twice her age.
I get it, you want to show the world you're different. I went through that when I was 16 and started shopping at Pac Sun, refusing to wear anything that wasn't Roxy/Element/etc and making jewelery out of safety pins. You were probably on tour when you were 16 and didn't have a chance to go shopping at Pac Sun and show the world who you really were.
You know what else I did when I was 16? I would say things like, "I don't care what anyone thinks about me, I'm going to continue wearing these jeans that haven't been washed all summer even if someone is offended by it" and "I don't have to listen to you, I'm an adult." When I look back at those times, I realize those moments are when I was most childish.
So here's a little bit of advice. A little bit of "What I Wish I Knew When I Was 20."
Put Your Tongue in Your Mouth
Ok, I didn't have this problem at your age. But I do have a face that's been deemed my "photo face." It's a goofy half smile that I do when I'm not sure what else to do in a picture. It's super unflattering. I've grown to hate most photos in which I'm doing it. Kind of like you sticking that Gene Simmons tongue out an alarming amount of times. No but really, honey, I wasn't bothered by it the first time you did it when you walked out of the bear, but then you did it at least 20 more times before you started "singing." Less is more.
Sexy Can Go Trashy Real Quick
When I was 20, I bought pleather pants. Yes, pleather pants from Rue 21 (because that was one of the few "fashionable" stores available in my small college town). I wore them once with a cute top to my friend's birthday party. I thought I tooooootally rocked the look. And then a close friend at the end of the night told me they didn't look good on me. At first, I chalked it up to him being jealous, but he was right. Don't get me wrong, you've got a slammin' bod that could probably pull off the pleather pants. In fact, I kinda wish you would wear pants more often. A leotard is called for on occassion, as well as some booty shorts, but let's make sure they fit properly (particularly if you're going to be "twerking") and let's not do it every damn day? We're all used to it now, and the only other thing that will shock us at this point is if you're straight up naked...which you almost were last night.
Respect Yourself
For me at age 20, I had about zero respect for my own body in that I always thought I was fat, constantly worked out, and didn't eat a lot. It was a great way to lose weight, and a great way for doctors to tell me I had to gain it back so I wouldn't get stress fractures. You know what it wasn't great for? Getting a boyfriend. Guys only bothered to get to know me because I was skinny, and I thought I had to maintain that image in order to get them to like me. That's no way to be. Just like how you, little missy, do NOT have to be vulgar in order to show you're different/tough/mature, or to get "respect." In fact, the way you acted with that foam finger last night was pretty much at the same maturity level as a bunch of adolescents sitting around making fart jokes. And come on, grinding up on a married man? I think you broke the heart of every feminist out there. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Thicke wasn't exactly pushing you away and deserves some of the blame. But with how young you look and how much older he is...you made us all really uncomfortable. I mean, your dad didn't even address it on Twitter. He decided to focus on Syria. He chose Syria over you.
Admit When You're Wrong
Us millennials have a reputation for placing the blame on others when we make a mistake. I know I used to make every excuse in the book for why I handed in homework late in high school. I was a pretty busy kid, but not THAT busy. Now that I'm an adult with a real job, when I screw up, I own up to it, and I find a way to make it right. I don't pull a Don Draper and say things like, "No, you do like this idea, you just don't know it yet." I don't blame someone else for something where I clearly dropped the ball. And I don't tweet out quotes from Rob Sheffield's review of the VMAs to say, "Hey look, everyone loved what I did." I'm sorry, but most people did not like what you did. The reason your performance was the most tweeted about thing was because people couldn't believe you were being so...gross. I personally didn't find the performance "shocking," I just found it disgusting. Women have come a long way from the image you portrayed last night, and it made me sad to think that the next generation could spend their time gyrating on strangers rather than finding a way to cure cancer. Can you at least give a quick, "I'm sorry if I offended anyone."? You did start an uproar, and I wouldn't call it good press, and ya gotta address it some time.
Lay Off the Drugs
I can't speak from first-hand experience on this one, but as a child who was "born in the wrong era," who would give any amount of money to see The Doors, The Beatles or Jimi Hendrix in their prime, I can say that drugs really don't help. I can't even suggest that you have a responsible amount of alcohol, because you're not 21. But look at the examples of the past. Most of these guys either lost their money, ended up looking haggard as hell before they were 50 (sup Keith Richards?) or died at 27. Do you really only want seven more years to say what you feel you need to say? Calm down. Drink responsibly when you legally can in a few months, and don't smoke pot or cigarettes because they're gross.
What I'm trying to say is, stop acting like the girl who shows up to the party completely intoxicated before anyone else has started drinking. We don't want to have to worry about you and check your pulse and make sure you're laying down on your side. We don't want to make sure you don't get too close to the fire pit or have to constantly get you in a chair that has a back rather than that stool you keep gravitating toward. You're 20 years old. You have soooo much potential. And you have an enormous audience before you. Don't waste this moment by trying to be "urban" and offending everyone in your tracks. Shock acts have very little shelf life, and we rarely have time for them anymore. Focus more on doing stuff like this:
And stop being "that girl."
Sincerely,
A girl who's four years older than you, and really doesn't want to see you under a 5150 hold when you've got a mother that's just like Amy Poehler in Mean Girls
I'll cut the crap, let's get down to business like you got down on Robin Thicke last night (what did Paula Patton think of that, by the way?). Being 20 is rough. Like the pop princess Britney Spears once said, "you're not a girl, not yet a woman," and you're just trying to find yourself. I'm four years out of that phase, and I couldn't be happier.
When you're 20 you're supposed to do stupid things. You're supposed to pull all nighters and pay for it the next morning. You're supposed to spend all your money on stupid things and sell your textbooks back in order to buy groceries (something I witnessed on a recruit trip, not something I did myself). You're supposed to experiment, knowing that the biggest consequence if you play your cards right are a few embarrassing photos on Facebook that you make your friends take down within 10 minutes of them going live (those jerks).
You've got it a little differently than the rest of us. You're famous. You have cameras in your face all the time. And they can't wait for you to really screw it up. I won't lie, I awaited last night's performance hoping for it to be a train wreck, and damn, you really pulled through on that one.
Because you have everyone watching you, it doesn't mean you can say, "Screw it, I'm just going to be crazy!" It means you have to be careful. I remember tons of little girls looking up to you as Hannah Montana, and they're probably still looking up to you as a role model. I know for a fact my niece will not be seeing what you did last night, because our family does not want her even jokingly imitating what you did. You're only twice her age.
I get it, you want to show the world you're different. I went through that when I was 16 and started shopping at Pac Sun, refusing to wear anything that wasn't Roxy/Element/etc and making jewelery out of safety pins. You were probably on tour when you were 16 and didn't have a chance to go shopping at Pac Sun and show the world who you really were.
You know what else I did when I was 16? I would say things like, "I don't care what anyone thinks about me, I'm going to continue wearing these jeans that haven't been washed all summer even if someone is offended by it" and "I don't have to listen to you, I'm an adult." When I look back at those times, I realize those moments are when I was most childish.
So here's a little bit of advice. A little bit of "What I Wish I Knew When I Was 20."
Put Your Tongue in Your Mouth
Ok, I didn't have this problem at your age. But I do have a face that's been deemed my "photo face." It's a goofy half smile that I do when I'm not sure what else to do in a picture. It's super unflattering. I've grown to hate most photos in which I'm doing it. Kind of like you sticking that Gene Simmons tongue out an alarming amount of times. No but really, honey, I wasn't bothered by it the first time you did it when you walked out of the bear, but then you did it at least 20 more times before you started "singing." Less is more.
Sexy Can Go Trashy Real Quick
When I was 20, I bought pleather pants. Yes, pleather pants from Rue 21 (because that was one of the few "fashionable" stores available in my small college town). I wore them once with a cute top to my friend's birthday party. I thought I tooooootally rocked the look. And then a close friend at the end of the night told me they didn't look good on me. At first, I chalked it up to him being jealous, but he was right. Don't get me wrong, you've got a slammin' bod that could probably pull off the pleather pants. In fact, I kinda wish you would wear pants more often. A leotard is called for on occassion, as well as some booty shorts, but let's make sure they fit properly (particularly if you're going to be "twerking") and let's not do it every damn day? We're all used to it now, and the only other thing that will shock us at this point is if you're straight up naked...which you almost were last night.
Respect Yourself
For me at age 20, I had about zero respect for my own body in that I always thought I was fat, constantly worked out, and didn't eat a lot. It was a great way to lose weight, and a great way for doctors to tell me I had to gain it back so I wouldn't get stress fractures. You know what it wasn't great for? Getting a boyfriend. Guys only bothered to get to know me because I was skinny, and I thought I had to maintain that image in order to get them to like me. That's no way to be. Just like how you, little missy, do NOT have to be vulgar in order to show you're different/tough/mature, or to get "respect." In fact, the way you acted with that foam finger last night was pretty much at the same maturity level as a bunch of adolescents sitting around making fart jokes. And come on, grinding up on a married man? I think you broke the heart of every feminist out there. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Thicke wasn't exactly pushing you away and deserves some of the blame. But with how young you look and how much older he is...you made us all really uncomfortable. I mean, your dad didn't even address it on Twitter. He decided to focus on Syria. He chose Syria over you.
Admit When You're Wrong
Us millennials have a reputation for placing the blame on others when we make a mistake. I know I used to make every excuse in the book for why I handed in homework late in high school. I was a pretty busy kid, but not THAT busy. Now that I'm an adult with a real job, when I screw up, I own up to it, and I find a way to make it right. I don't pull a Don Draper and say things like, "No, you do like this idea, you just don't know it yet." I don't blame someone else for something where I clearly dropped the ball. And I don't tweet out quotes from Rob Sheffield's review of the VMAs to say, "Hey look, everyone loved what I did." I'm sorry, but most people did not like what you did. The reason your performance was the most tweeted about thing was because people couldn't believe you were being so...gross. I personally didn't find the performance "shocking," I just found it disgusting. Women have come a long way from the image you portrayed last night, and it made me sad to think that the next generation could spend their time gyrating on strangers rather than finding a way to cure cancer. Can you at least give a quick, "I'm sorry if I offended anyone."? You did start an uproar, and I wouldn't call it good press, and ya gotta address it some time.
Lay Off the Drugs
I can't speak from first-hand experience on this one, but as a child who was "born in the wrong era," who would give any amount of money to see The Doors, The Beatles or Jimi Hendrix in their prime, I can say that drugs really don't help. I can't even suggest that you have a responsible amount of alcohol, because you're not 21. But look at the examples of the past. Most of these guys either lost their money, ended up looking haggard as hell before they were 50 (sup Keith Richards?) or died at 27. Do you really only want seven more years to say what you feel you need to say? Calm down. Drink responsibly when you legally can in a few months, and don't smoke pot or cigarettes because they're gross.
What I'm trying to say is, stop acting like the girl who shows up to the party completely intoxicated before anyone else has started drinking. We don't want to have to worry about you and check your pulse and make sure you're laying down on your side. We don't want to make sure you don't get too close to the fire pit or have to constantly get you in a chair that has a back rather than that stool you keep gravitating toward. You're 20 years old. You have soooo much potential. And you have an enormous audience before you. Don't waste this moment by trying to be "urban" and offending everyone in your tracks. Shock acts have very little shelf life, and we rarely have time for them anymore. Focus more on doing stuff like this:
And stop being "that girl."
Sincerely,
A girl who's four years older than you, and really doesn't want to see you under a 5150 hold when you've got a mother that's just like Amy Poehler in Mean Girls
Saturday, August 24, 2013
On Song Lyrics...
I've been on a nostalgic music binge, lately.
There's this pretty awesome Twitter account called @YourAwayMessage that tweets examples of what you probably used as an away message back in high school when you lived on AOL Instant Messenger, aka, AIM.
I love it.
The girl who created the handle also made an excellent Spotify playlist with the songs we typically quoted and loved during those days. So that's what I've been listening to.
So I'm on the train home yesterday when Usher's "U Remind Me" comes across the playlist. I'm immediately transported to 2001, 12-years-old, 6th grade, middle school. I received his 8701 album for Christmas that year, and I played it pretty much all the time. That song, "U Got It Bad" and "U Don't Have To Call" were my jams.
I'm listening to the lyrics, and the situation goes a little something like this:
Am I the only one that thinks Usher is making some lame excuse not to commit? You can't "get" with me because I look like a girl that did you wrong? There's no way I look exactly like her. And you don't know me. YOU DON'T KNOW ME. Honestly, you're better off using the typical, "I'm just not looking for a girlfriend right now," excuse.
Guys, I used to sing every word of this song thinking Usher was hitting on me. Apparently I had some selective listening/interpretation skills.
This got me thinking, what other things have I missed in the songs that I loved? Let's take a look...
"Crash" by Dave Matthews Band
Obviously, when this song came out I pretty much knew all the words. Or at least I thought I did. Apparently I made some of them up? For example, let's look at one of the last parts of the song:
And what exactly does it mean to "crash" into someone? THINK ABOUT IT.
"The Sign" by Ace of Base
So this song was one of my favorites in maybe, kindergarten? This is what happens when you have two older sisters that you want to be JUST like. You listen to their music instead of the childrens' music you're supposed to enjoy.
When I first heard this song, I imagined the singer seeing an actual sign. Like, a billboard. That later evolved into seeing a peace sign in the sky because, you know, I was five and had a great imagination. To this day, I still think about the singer seeing a peace sign in the sky, and how it opened up her eyes. And then I actually listened to this song, and it's empowering?
"Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Deep Blue Something
I had not seen or heard of the film Breakfast at Tiffany's before hearing this song, so naturally I thought this band was referring to that one time they had breakfast at a place called Tiffany's diner. And then I learned that Tiffany's is a jewelery store and I thought, "Well that's stupid."
I have since seen this movie and consider it my favorite of all time. But let's look at the lyrics of this song:
"Too Close" by Next
When I think of this song, I think of doing my homework in my old bedroom, windows open to let a warm breeze in as the school year is winding down. My little nine-year-old self had my radio on next to me and I bobbed my head as I sang...
That's all I've got for now. I'm glad I still managed to grow into a somewhat normal adult after all these subliminal messages were pushed on me through my radio, but really, I wouldn't have it any other way.
There's this pretty awesome Twitter account called @YourAwayMessage that tweets examples of what you probably used as an away message back in high school when you lived on AOL Instant Messenger, aka, AIM.
I love it.
The girl who created the handle also made an excellent Spotify playlist with the songs we typically quoted and loved during those days. So that's what I've been listening to.
So I'm on the train home yesterday when Usher's "U Remind Me" comes across the playlist. I'm immediately transported to 2001, 12-years-old, 6th grade, middle school. I received his 8701 album for Christmas that year, and I played it pretty much all the time. That song, "U Got It Bad" and "U Don't Have To Call" were my jams.
I'm listening to the lyrics, and the situation goes a little something like this:
You remind me of a girl, that I once knew
See her face whenever I, I look at youAww, Usher! I look like someone you knew once? You're actually talking to me? ~*~swoon~*~
You wouldn't believe all of the things she put me throughThat bitch, how dare she hurt you!
This is why I just can't get with youExcuse me?
Am I the only one that thinks Usher is making some lame excuse not to commit? You can't "get" with me because I look like a girl that did you wrong? There's no way I look exactly like her. And you don't know me. YOU DON'T KNOW ME. Honestly, you're better off using the typical, "I'm just not looking for a girlfriend right now," excuse.
Guys, I used to sing every word of this song thinking Usher was hitting on me. Apparently I had some selective listening/interpretation skills.
This got me thinking, what other things have I missed in the songs that I loved? Let's take a look...
"Crash" by Dave Matthews Band
Obviously, when this song came out I pretty much knew all the words. Or at least I thought I did. Apparently I made some of them up? For example, let's look at one of the last parts of the song:
Hike up your skirt a little more, and show your world to meWhy was I going around singing, "Hack up your skirt, little boy"? And what did I think that meant? Why was this boy wearing a skirt? And why was he "hacking" it up? And why was I actually singing about a girl lifting up her skirt?
And what exactly does it mean to "crash" into someone? THINK ABOUT IT.
"The Sign" by Ace of Base
So this song was one of my favorites in maybe, kindergarten? This is what happens when you have two older sisters that you want to be JUST like. You listen to their music instead of the childrens' music you're supposed to enjoy.
When I first heard this song, I imagined the singer seeing an actual sign. Like, a billboard. That later evolved into seeing a peace sign in the sky because, you know, I was five and had a great imagination. To this day, I still think about the singer seeing a peace sign in the sky, and how it opened up her eyes. And then I actually listened to this song, and it's empowering?
I, I gotta new life
You would hardly recognize me, I'm so glad
How could a person like me care for you?
Why, why do I bother, when you're not the one for me?Seriously, every hormonal teenage girl should heed the advice of this song. We've all seen the signs. He's a jerk. He's not returning your calls. He's flirting with other girls. Let the damn thing open up your eyes and move on with your life. Thanks, Ace of Base, for making this mantra so catchy.
"Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Deep Blue Something
I had not seen or heard of the film Breakfast at Tiffany's before hearing this song, so naturally I thought this band was referring to that one time they had breakfast at a place called Tiffany's diner. And then I learned that Tiffany's is a jewelery store and I thought, "Well that's stupid."
I have since seen this movie and consider it my favorite of all time. But let's look at the lyrics of this song:
You'll say that we've gotten nothin' in common, no common ground to start from
And we're falling apart
You'll say the world has come between us, our lives have come between us
Still I know you just don't careAnd then that chorus we all love to shout...
And I said what about Breakfast at Tiffany's
She said I think I remember the film
And as I recall I think we both kind of liked it
And I said "well that's one thing we've got"Dude, you are so pulling at straws here. First of all, you've already acknowledged the fact that she doesn't care, and she's clearly making excuses to break up with you. Let. It. Go. I know a lot of people who love Breakfast at Tiffany's just like me, but that actually means nothing to me, because I usually don't like the girls who love Breakfast at Tiffany's because they actually haven't seen it and just think they like Audrey Hepburn and all things glamorous.
"Too Close" by Next
When I think of this song, I think of doing my homework in my old bedroom, windows open to let a warm breeze in as the school year is winding down. My little nine-year-old self had my radio on next to me and I bobbed my head as I sang...
Step back you're dancing kinda close
Feel a little poke comin' through, on youWow. WOW. Seriously, I had no idea what I was singing about, and then someone dropped some knowledge on me last year and I listened to the lyrics and thought, "Oh dear god, I was singing this before I hit double digits." I suppose I should've known when the chorus starts with...
Baby when we're grinding, I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it, I try but I can't fight itIn my defense, we hadn't learned about such things in health class yet.
That's all I've got for now. I'm glad I still managed to grow into a somewhat normal adult after all these subliminal messages were pushed on me through my radio, but really, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
On What Goes Through My Mind On a Daily Basis...
Throughout my formative years I was known as the kid that would go with the flow. My parents could tell me to get in the car and I would just do it, no questions asked, no trouble caused. My friends would decide what we were going to do on a play date, and if I didn't agree with it, I usually just went home without causing a scene.
And then I think high school hit me along with (probably) hormones and my calm, cool, collected mindset disappeared.
Don't get me wrong, I put up a pretty calm front most of the time. And it's usually very genuine. But when something gets under my skin, I maintain that front and internalize all the stabby feelings I have, and it's probably not good for me. My blood pressure goes up, my hands get cold. My breathing gets shallow.
No place has been able to do this to me more than New York City. Within the first few months of moving here, I thought I needed to see a doctor because I kept getting really lightheaded and dizzy. And then I realized that this place was giving me anxiety and that it went against social mores to confront those who were making me crazy.
So let's take a trip inside my head on a regular day...
Like today. Get on the subway. I'm wearing high-heeled boots, carrying two bags and an umbrella. At the first stop, a seat opens up. I don't normally take a seat (because sitting is killing us all...and it's what I'm doing now), but I should've known the boots would be an issue, and so I took it. It was an old school F train that has some forward-facing seats, so I took one next to a window to avoid being the person that takes the aisle seat and refuses to move in. I thought I was doing the world a service. And then an oblivious older (but not old) woman sits next to me. Puts one purse on her lap, puts her iced coffee between her legs, plops her other (open) bag between us...when there really isn't any room between us (really, Bloomberg, the width of the subway seats is enough to discourage us from drinking soda and being obese), and that's when the instant anger hit me.
I hate when other people or their stuff is touching me when it doesn't need to be. Like, feeling it on me seriously infuriates me. It's the worst if it's their hair (disgusting), but just them or their stuff does the trick, too. So this woman's bag is all up on me. I try moving over more, but I can only go so far over without clinging to the wall of the car and getting my legs all up on the person in front of me (who was minding her own business and not putting her crap all over someone). So I did what any typical New Yorker does. I shook my head. I glared. I gave out a loud sigh. Nothing.
I thought for sure she would eventually move the bag because, common sense, yeah? No. Some people are actually just that oblivious. She got on one stop after me, and got off one stop before I did. And I was furious the entire time.
The anger built up inside me to the point where I actually thought I might say something. But when you say something, suddenly you're the asshole. I couldn't be like, "You know it's really rude to put your bag on someone," because god only knows what scene she would've caused. She practically caused a scene getting off the train as she poorly carried her open bags that were begging for a pickpocket. And why were her bags all over the place? So she could read The New York Post. Hey guess what, I was reading a book (getting more than anyone will ever get from the Post) and was able to put both of my big bags on the ground AND prevent my umbrella from injuring anyone. NO EXCUSES.
During my lunch break, my lunch buddy and I hung out at the fountain at Lincoln Center. This was probably the most calming moment of my day. Water has always been something that completely mellows me out. I closed my eyes (because I was trying to look at the top of the water and the sun was blinding me) and the sound made me want to be at the ocean. I can't tell you the last time I was at the ocean. Oh wait, I can. It was 2010 with my college field hockey team in Bermuda. It was a great trip that I can't stand seeing pictures of because I wasn't all that field-hockey-ready and someone decided it would be a great idea to take a team picture in bathing suits. Jerk.
Actually taking in something like this in New York makes me think, "this place isn't so bad." And then I go back to my desk and check my bank account and go, "LOLYEAHRIGHT."
I guess I can give it some credit for being a free attraction. Some kids wanted to go in it too, which would've then provided free entertainment.
After work, it was time for a five mile run in Central Park. I dread my run all day, and then I change into my workout clothes (aka my badass look) and suddenly I'm ready to go.
And then I get to Central Park and the frustration sets in again. As a runner, I realize I need to share the road with cyclists and walkers. But they also need to share the road with me. Don't bike in the run/walk lane when there's a wide bike lane right next to you. Don't go speeding through the narrow bike lanes due to the addition of car lanes (what??? Yeah, it's a thing. Ugh.) and then slalom into my lane as if to scare me. You'll get the arms-spread WHAT?! look and make me run faster when I shouldn't be. If you're walking at a leisurely pace and not for exercise, it's probably a better idea to use the walking path that's right next to the run/walk path, because no one is moving fast on those. You know, let's be smart. C'mon.
And for the love of god, don't just stop dead in front of me. And if the crosswalk doesn't say you can cross, and I'm running through it, don't play chicken with me. I know my rights and my right-of-ways, jerk. And there are run/walk, bike and car lanes in the park. I don't see any skateboard or rollerblade lanes. This isn't the '90s. And you're all going too fast! Oh, you want to go around the reservoir? Too bad, bikes aren't allowed, and there's not enough room for them, plus there's so much dirt on that path it's like running on the beach. You wouldn't bike on the beach, would you? And that sign? It says you have to go around the reservoir counterclockwise. You know, because it's narrow and we allow tourists and walkers up here and us runners need to pass them because TIME MATTERS DAMMIT. And don't take forever to take a picture here, because I'm gonna run through it.
And seriously, if you cut me off as I get to the top of the hill, I will contemplate tripping you or calling you a name, but I probably won't actually do it because I'm not wearing a bullet-proof vest, and I'm too tired to use any self-defense skills on you.
Guys, I would make such an awesome Central Park ranger.
So then my run is over, and I'm in much better spirits as calories have been thoroughly burned. I get back to the office and feel like a superstar and pick up my stuff. And then I get on the subway again, sweating like a pig, because there isn't any A/C on the subway platforms. Seriously, Bloomberg, this would be more important than a soda ban. Get your act together, sir.
I get on the train and refuse to take a seat this time around because I'm considerate. I'm literally dripping sweat despite how much I've attempted to dry off, and despite the fact that I've changed out of my running shirt, and I don't want to get the seats sweaty for other passengers. I mean, I would be pissed if I saw someone doing this.
I take my usual standing area by the door that's opposite the side that will open the most. The train isn't too packed, and there's plenty of other standing areas. Yet a woman decides that right next to me is the best place to stand. Not even against the poles on the other side of the door, but right next to me. At this point I can't feel bad. She's the one who has to smell my sweaty self. And I know I smell bad, because one time after field hockey practice, my mom picked me up with my then 3ish-year-old niece in the car and she said, "Auntie B, you stink." Kids don't lie. So I can't really care if this woman smells me at this point, but I can be annoyed that's she's within a foot of my personal space.
The rest of the ride is uneventful as the woman, luckily, gets off at the next stop. I get home, take a shower, then get to my laundry that needs to be done. One good thing about training for a race? It forces me to do laundry more than once a month, since I run out of running clothes after a week.
I get down to the laundry room in my building and all the machines are being used. But they all only have about 10 minutes left, so I decide to wait and play on my phone. I get caught up on all the games I've neglected for weeks, because I'm the worst person ever to start an app-based game with. One washer finishes, and no one is there to empty it.
Ever since college where if you weren't there to get your stuff within five minutes someone would leave it out for the world to see, I make sure I get to my washers and dryers at least five minutes before their cycles are done. Apparently I'm alone in this thinking, because three more washers finished, and no one was there to get their stuff.
I think the college shaming of touching someone else's laundry (a task that always skeeved me out and I only did once and got caught doing. oops.) is probably inappropriate in the adult world, so I sat there fuming at someone thinking they're the only person who needs the laundry room on a Monday night. Don't do this to me, person. Mondays are usually my golden laundry days. I think about how I'm going to say, "Hey jerk, I was waiting here for 15 MINUTES, which is practically a year for a millennial like myself. WHERE. WERE. YOU."
And then a little middle aged woman came skittering in, apologizing for not getting there sooner, and of course I donned the sweetest smile I could muster and said, "It's ok, it happens!"
Not to me it doesn't. That woman used four washers and commandeered the laundry room as her own folding factory. I could never live in an apartment complex without my own washer and dryer if I have enough people living with me that I need to use four washers.
Thank god for cats as therapeutic animals, otherwise I would've blown a gasket by now in this city. How can you not be stoked to come home to this:
So those are the thoughts that go on in my head during the day. It's not a pretty place to be. It's pretty exhausting, actually. But it's also something I can't help, and it's the reason I sometimes get lightheaded and stop breathing regularly. So if you're ever around me when this happens, help a sister out and get some chocolate or an iced drink or something to me, stat. Thanks?
And then I think high school hit me along with (probably) hormones and my calm, cool, collected mindset disappeared.
Don't get me wrong, I put up a pretty calm front most of the time. And it's usually very genuine. But when something gets under my skin, I maintain that front and internalize all the stabby feelings I have, and it's probably not good for me. My blood pressure goes up, my hands get cold. My breathing gets shallow.
No place has been able to do this to me more than New York City. Within the first few months of moving here, I thought I needed to see a doctor because I kept getting really lightheaded and dizzy. And then I realized that this place was giving me anxiety and that it went against social mores to confront those who were making me crazy.
So let's take a trip inside my head on a regular day...
Like today. Get on the subway. I'm wearing high-heeled boots, carrying two bags and an umbrella. At the first stop, a seat opens up. I don't normally take a seat (because sitting is killing us all...and it's what I'm doing now), but I should've known the boots would be an issue, and so I took it. It was an old school F train that has some forward-facing seats, so I took one next to a window to avoid being the person that takes the aisle seat and refuses to move in. I thought I was doing the world a service. And then an oblivious older (but not old) woman sits next to me. Puts one purse on her lap, puts her iced coffee between her legs, plops her other (open) bag between us...when there really isn't any room between us (really, Bloomberg, the width of the subway seats is enough to discourage us from drinking soda and being obese), and that's when the instant anger hit me.
I hate when other people or their stuff is touching me when it doesn't need to be. Like, feeling it on me seriously infuriates me. It's the worst if it's their hair (disgusting), but just them or their stuff does the trick, too. So this woman's bag is all up on me. I try moving over more, but I can only go so far over without clinging to the wall of the car and getting my legs all up on the person in front of me (who was minding her own business and not putting her crap all over someone). So I did what any typical New Yorker does. I shook my head. I glared. I gave out a loud sigh. Nothing.
I thought for sure she would eventually move the bag because, common sense, yeah? No. Some people are actually just that oblivious. She got on one stop after me, and got off one stop before I did. And I was furious the entire time.
The anger built up inside me to the point where I actually thought I might say something. But when you say something, suddenly you're the asshole. I couldn't be like, "You know it's really rude to put your bag on someone," because god only knows what scene she would've caused. She practically caused a scene getting off the train as she poorly carried her open bags that were begging for a pickpocket. And why were her bags all over the place? So she could read The New York Post. Hey guess what, I was reading a book (getting more than anyone will ever get from the Post) and was able to put both of my big bags on the ground AND prevent my umbrella from injuring anyone. NO EXCUSES.
During my lunch break, my lunch buddy and I hung out at the fountain at Lincoln Center. This was probably the most calming moment of my day. Water has always been something that completely mellows me out. I closed my eyes (because I was trying to look at the top of the water and the sun was blinding me) and the sound made me want to be at the ocean. I can't tell you the last time I was at the ocean. Oh wait, I can. It was 2010 with my college field hockey team in Bermuda. It was a great trip that I can't stand seeing pictures of because I wasn't all that field-hockey-ready and someone decided it would be a great idea to take a team picture in bathing suits. Jerk.
Actually taking in something like this in New York makes me think, "this place isn't so bad." And then I go back to my desk and check my bank account and go, "LOLYEAHRIGHT."
I guess I can give it some credit for being a free attraction. Some kids wanted to go in it too, which would've then provided free entertainment.
After work, it was time for a five mile run in Central Park. I dread my run all day, and then I change into my workout clothes (aka my badass look) and suddenly I'm ready to go.
And then I get to Central Park and the frustration sets in again. As a runner, I realize I need to share the road with cyclists and walkers. But they also need to share the road with me. Don't bike in the run/walk lane when there's a wide bike lane right next to you. Don't go speeding through the narrow bike lanes due to the addition of car lanes (what??? Yeah, it's a thing. Ugh.) and then slalom into my lane as if to scare me. You'll get the arms-spread WHAT?! look and make me run faster when I shouldn't be. If you're walking at a leisurely pace and not for exercise, it's probably a better idea to use the walking path that's right next to the run/walk path, because no one is moving fast on those. You know, let's be smart. C'mon.
And for the love of god, don't just stop dead in front of me. And if the crosswalk doesn't say you can cross, and I'm running through it, don't play chicken with me. I know my rights and my right-of-ways, jerk. And there are run/walk, bike and car lanes in the park. I don't see any skateboard or rollerblade lanes. This isn't the '90s. And you're all going too fast! Oh, you want to go around the reservoir? Too bad, bikes aren't allowed, and there's not enough room for them, plus there's so much dirt on that path it's like running on the beach. You wouldn't bike on the beach, would you? And that sign? It says you have to go around the reservoir counterclockwise. You know, because it's narrow and we allow tourists and walkers up here and us runners need to pass them because TIME MATTERS DAMMIT. And don't take forever to take a picture here, because I'm gonna run through it.
And seriously, if you cut me off as I get to the top of the hill, I will contemplate tripping you or calling you a name, but I probably won't actually do it because I'm not wearing a bullet-proof vest, and I'm too tired to use any self-defense skills on you.
Guys, I would make such an awesome Central Park ranger.
So then my run is over, and I'm in much better spirits as calories have been thoroughly burned. I get back to the office and feel like a superstar and pick up my stuff. And then I get on the subway again, sweating like a pig, because there isn't any A/C on the subway platforms. Seriously, Bloomberg, this would be more important than a soda ban. Get your act together, sir.
I get on the train and refuse to take a seat this time around because I'm considerate. I'm literally dripping sweat despite how much I've attempted to dry off, and despite the fact that I've changed out of my running shirt, and I don't want to get the seats sweaty for other passengers. I mean, I would be pissed if I saw someone doing this.
I take my usual standing area by the door that's opposite the side that will open the most. The train isn't too packed, and there's plenty of other standing areas. Yet a woman decides that right next to me is the best place to stand. Not even against the poles on the other side of the door, but right next to me. At this point I can't feel bad. She's the one who has to smell my sweaty self. And I know I smell bad, because one time after field hockey practice, my mom picked me up with my then 3ish-year-old niece in the car and she said, "Auntie B, you stink." Kids don't lie. So I can't really care if this woman smells me at this point, but I can be annoyed that's she's within a foot of my personal space.
The rest of the ride is uneventful as the woman, luckily, gets off at the next stop. I get home, take a shower, then get to my laundry that needs to be done. One good thing about training for a race? It forces me to do laundry more than once a month, since I run out of running clothes after a week.
I get down to the laundry room in my building and all the machines are being used. But they all only have about 10 minutes left, so I decide to wait and play on my phone. I get caught up on all the games I've neglected for weeks, because I'm the worst person ever to start an app-based game with. One washer finishes, and no one is there to empty it.
Ever since college where if you weren't there to get your stuff within five minutes someone would leave it out for the world to see, I make sure I get to my washers and dryers at least five minutes before their cycles are done. Apparently I'm alone in this thinking, because three more washers finished, and no one was there to get their stuff.
I think the college shaming of touching someone else's laundry (a task that always skeeved me out and I only did once and got caught doing. oops.) is probably inappropriate in the adult world, so I sat there fuming at someone thinking they're the only person who needs the laundry room on a Monday night. Don't do this to me, person. Mondays are usually my golden laundry days. I think about how I'm going to say, "Hey jerk, I was waiting here for 15 MINUTES, which is practically a year for a millennial like myself. WHERE. WERE. YOU."
And then a little middle aged woman came skittering in, apologizing for not getting there sooner, and of course I donned the sweetest smile I could muster and said, "It's ok, it happens!"
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| [via tumblr] |
Thank god for cats as therapeutic animals, otherwise I would've blown a gasket by now in this city. How can you not be stoked to come home to this:
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| [Budstah Malone] |
Sunday, August 11, 2013
On Killing the Job...
During the summers before my sophomore and junior years of college, I had the best job ever. I worked for my high school's tech department, working on computers, uploading software and prepping new laptops for teachers. Sounds boring, right? No. There was a lot of waiting involved, so I played DJ with Pandora radio stations, colored pictures and did crossword puzzles. And I was paid for this.
But it didn't start out this easy. The first few days I was there I finished every single assignment given to me - in record time - and then had nothing to do. Or I would be given a terrible job that no one wanted to do. So one of the guys I worked with told me I was doing great, but I was killing the job. And if I kept this up they wouldn't have anything for me to do all summer.
I've been killing jobs since I became an overachiever in pre-school and could read before anyone else in my class. It's just kind of what I do. It probably has something to do with the fact that my mind is always on the future and the tasks in front of me are just obstacles preventing me from getting there. Or maybe it's because the jobs I kill are things I don't want to do and want out of the way ASAP.
For example, I killed two of my runs last week. Granted, they were fueled by frustration and stress, but I managed to run four and five miles well under a 9 minute pace. What?
I really just wanted those runs to be over so that I could go home and veg and not think about anything. But in killing those runs, my legs were dead for the rest of the week, and then I could barely finish out my required training miles. Lame.
Binge watching has also allowed me to kill many a job. Like when I finished House of Cards in less than a week. Then followed that up by finishing Orange is the New Black in less than a week. And then I had nothing to watch (everyone keeps telling me to try Breaking Bad again, but we'll see).
And then I killed the job when I finished the last quarter of Bioshock Infinite in one night, and then cried because I was overwhelmed with the ending, the game being over and suddenly having free nights to socialize.
Guys, I was born to kill a job. Pretty much the only jobs I can't kill involve writing, because if I did that they would turn out terribly.
The result are weekends like this past one where I do pretty much nothing. Where I want to do something (preferably that doesn't involve money) but I can't think of what I want to do.
So now it's time to start a new project. I've got about seven books waiting to be read. I've started learning HTML. I'm still training for a half marathon (and some weeks are better than others). I've been given other games to play. Oh yeah, and I have a vacation to sort of plan :)
Which job am I gonna kill first?
But it didn't start out this easy. The first few days I was there I finished every single assignment given to me - in record time - and then had nothing to do. Or I would be given a terrible job that no one wanted to do. So one of the guys I worked with told me I was doing great, but I was killing the job. And if I kept this up they wouldn't have anything for me to do all summer.
I've been killing jobs since I became an overachiever in pre-school and could read before anyone else in my class. It's just kind of what I do. It probably has something to do with the fact that my mind is always on the future and the tasks in front of me are just obstacles preventing me from getting there. Or maybe it's because the jobs I kill are things I don't want to do and want out of the way ASAP.
For example, I killed two of my runs last week. Granted, they were fueled by frustration and stress, but I managed to run four and five miles well under a 9 minute pace. What?
I really just wanted those runs to be over so that I could go home and veg and not think about anything. But in killing those runs, my legs were dead for the rest of the week, and then I could barely finish out my required training miles. Lame.
Binge watching has also allowed me to kill many a job. Like when I finished House of Cards in less than a week. Then followed that up by finishing Orange is the New Black in less than a week. And then I had nothing to watch (everyone keeps telling me to try Breaking Bad again, but we'll see).
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| [via thatscarolyn.tumblr.com] |
And then I killed the job when I finished the last quarter of Bioshock Infinite in one night, and then cried because I was overwhelmed with the ending, the game being over and suddenly having free nights to socialize.
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| [image via forbes.com] |
The result are weekends like this past one where I do pretty much nothing. Where I want to do something (preferably that doesn't involve money) but I can't think of what I want to do.
So now it's time to start a new project. I've got about seven books waiting to be read. I've started learning HTML. I'm still training for a half marathon (and some weeks are better than others). I've been given other games to play. Oh yeah, and I have a vacation to sort of plan :)
Which job am I gonna kill first?
Saturday, August 3, 2013
On Making Plans in the City...
If you're an avid Buzzfeed reader as I am, you may have seen this:
The 16 Stages of Canceling Plans
I'll admit I'm pretty guilty of doing this, but it wasn't until I moved to the city that I even started doing so. When I lived at home I had a car and I loved driving, so plans were a great thing to have, particularly if I got to drive into the city of Buffalo and show off my parallel parking skills (no but really, I was really good at it). It usually only took about 20 minutes to get anywhere and I was always up for whatever.
And then I moved to the city where the train dictates how quickly I can get anywhere. And everything seems to take place in Manhattan and I live in Queens.
For example, tonight I'm going to a show in Manhattan that's about 11 miles away if you were to drive. It will take 45 minutes to get there by train. I could drive from Buffalo almost all the way to Rochester in that time. But I'm not going to cancel these plans because I said I would go and want to support my friend.
But if I had made plans myself today to go to the Met or try a new Frozen S'more from Dominique Ansel, I would've instead said, "nope!" and continued to watch Orange is the New Black on my couch. That's a recurring theme: me watching TV on my couch.
Seriously though, if you get sucked into House of Cards or Orange is the New Black, say goodbye to every plan you've made for the week. Thirteen hour-long episodes will probably only take you a week to finish, don't worry.
When plans get canceled, ordering in also happens. Normally this involves me eating a lot of french fries or pizza, and sometimes Thai food, but today I played it healthy and ordered from Ripe Juice Bar. I also got a free juice from there (actual juice made from extracting the juice from fruits without any added sugar) thanks to GrubHub's yummy rummy.
I digress.
Living in New York has made canceling plans so much easier, and gives me great excuses for not saying "yes" to plans in the first place. "Oh yeah I would totally go but, you know, I live in Queens and the F train is just TERRIBLE at that time." "Oh you live along the G train? Sorry, it's currently not going all the way to Queens so I just can't."
New York makes it soooo easy to be lazy. Granted, it also makes it easy to be active given how much walking you generally do here, but overall it makes it easier to be lazy. Because you would rather stay home than deal with the train or pay money for anything.
All this being said, I have to go get ready.
The 16 Stages of Canceling Plans
I'll admit I'm pretty guilty of doing this, but it wasn't until I moved to the city that I even started doing so. When I lived at home I had a car and I loved driving, so plans were a great thing to have, particularly if I got to drive into the city of Buffalo and show off my parallel parking skills (no but really, I was really good at it). It usually only took about 20 minutes to get anywhere and I was always up for whatever.
And then I moved to the city where the train dictates how quickly I can get anywhere. And everything seems to take place in Manhattan and I live in Queens.
For example, tonight I'm going to a show in Manhattan that's about 11 miles away if you were to drive. It will take 45 minutes to get there by train. I could drive from Buffalo almost all the way to Rochester in that time. But I'm not going to cancel these plans because I said I would go and want to support my friend.
But if I had made plans myself today to go to the Met or try a new Frozen S'more from Dominique Ansel, I would've instead said, "nope!" and continued to watch Orange is the New Black on my couch. That's a recurring theme: me watching TV on my couch.
Seriously though, if you get sucked into House of Cards or Orange is the New Black, say goodbye to every plan you've made for the week. Thirteen hour-long episodes will probably only take you a week to finish, don't worry.
When plans get canceled, ordering in also happens. Normally this involves me eating a lot of french fries or pizza, and sometimes Thai food, but today I played it healthy and ordered from Ripe Juice Bar. I also got a free juice from there (actual juice made from extracting the juice from fruits without any added sugar) thanks to GrubHub's yummy rummy.
I digress.
Living in New York has made canceling plans so much easier, and gives me great excuses for not saying "yes" to plans in the first place. "Oh yeah I would totally go but, you know, I live in Queens and the F train is just TERRIBLE at that time." "Oh you live along the G train? Sorry, it's currently not going all the way to Queens so I just can't."
New York makes it soooo easy to be lazy. Granted, it also makes it easy to be active given how much walking you generally do here, but overall it makes it easier to be lazy. Because you would rather stay home than deal with the train or pay money for anything.
All this being said, I have to go get ready.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
On Finances...
Super boring, yeah? Totally. Finances are the most stressful part of my life and I credit New York City for that (no pun intended).
You can get a job in New York City that pays a good salary - a salary that would be enviable in your hometown - but then you get here and realize that one paycheck doesn't even cover all of your rent. Unless you have a roommate, and then maybe it does. You're a smart one for doing that, but I didn't have that kind of luck (and secretly-but-not-so-secretly, I love living alone with my cat).
Then you say, it doesn't matter how much I get paid or how much my rent is, I live in the greatest city of all time! There's so much to do here! Who needs money when you're surrounded by EVERYTHING!
Wrong.
Everything here costs money, aside from sitting in a park and people watching. Don't get me wrong, that's a very awesome and entertaining thing to do. You might even see a woman bring her big fluffy white cat to the park to play. Or see a man in a white tuxedo playing a flute extremely off-key. And then it gets old after about an hour.
The biggest struggle I've found in living in New York isn't planning my weeks and days around the subway or managing the stress of a "real person" job (I think I've handled that one pretty well), it's been managing money. I've done a decent job of this only because I stress out about it. A LOT.
Having worked at a bank call center right out of college (if you're desperate for a job, do it. If you want to keep your sanity, don't), I have kept a check register like an 80-year-old. You can knock it all you want, but I always know exactly how much money is in my account regardless of what has or hasn't cleared. Take that, online banking.
So I'm good at not overdrawing my account. That's definitely the worst feeling. I used to do it all the time in high school and college because obviously debit cards equaled free money, and when you get to the register and your card is denied, you're beyond embarrassed. It happened a couple times when I was serving unpaid internships in New York as well while buying groceries. It broke my heart to put those Hint of Lime Tostitos back every time, but milk and cereal and lunch items were far more important.
Things I'm not so great at? Trying to balance spending money on having a life and doing things with friends that cost money, while also being able to pay for all my bills. Don't worry, the bills win out every time, but what a drag to pay over a thousand dollars a month to live in a city that I can't even take advantage of?
But if I'm paying that much for rent, shouldn't I take advantage of my apartment? How do I get my money's worth out of that? Stay inside whenever I can? Because I tend to do that a lot. And then because I do that, I pay for cable because what the hell else am I supposed to do while inside? I like reading, but I can't read all day. My eyes do not do that.
One tool I've found that's helpful in managing this issue is this software called You Need A Budget. You enter in all the expenses you know you'll have for the month (rent, utilities, loan, etc) and then allot money for other areas of your life (groceries, restaurants, household goods, medical expenses), and then you add in all the purchases you've made that month - which I recommend doing as you go. I was doing great with this until I started going out to lunch everyday because I haven't had time to go grocery shopping, and when I do have time I don't have the money for it (end-of-the-month-I-have-to-pay-rent-soon woes). I plan on using it more as a way to stop myself from going out to lunch everyday, but I also kind of like getting out of the office once a day to clear my head as well as the social aspect that goes along with it. I also love bringing a homemade lunch - particularly if it's delicious leftovers - but eating at your desk is depressing. And then I don't end up taking a break at all.
But YOU should totally use You Need A Budget. If you do in fact need a budget.
Where's all this ranting and rambling going? Nowhere really. Don't worry, I'm not starting a "Bri Needs Money to Live!" Kickstarter. I'm not taking on a second job, because running basically is my second job (and the best way to clear my mind. It's necessary for mental health). And I already got a small raise so there's no use asking for another. If you happen to have tips and tricks of how to make it in the city that don't include eating ramen everyday or shutting yourself in at all hours, there's a comment section, and you should use it.
You can get a job in New York City that pays a good salary - a salary that would be enviable in your hometown - but then you get here and realize that one paycheck doesn't even cover all of your rent. Unless you have a roommate, and then maybe it does. You're a smart one for doing that, but I didn't have that kind of luck (and secretly-but-not-so-secretly, I love living alone with my cat).
Then you say, it doesn't matter how much I get paid or how much my rent is, I live in the greatest city of all time! There's so much to do here! Who needs money when you're surrounded by EVERYTHING!
Wrong.
Everything here costs money, aside from sitting in a park and people watching. Don't get me wrong, that's a very awesome and entertaining thing to do. You might even see a woman bring her big fluffy white cat to the park to play. Or see a man in a white tuxedo playing a flute extremely off-key. And then it gets old after about an hour.
The biggest struggle I've found in living in New York isn't planning my weeks and days around the subway or managing the stress of a "real person" job (I think I've handled that one pretty well), it's been managing money. I've done a decent job of this only because I stress out about it. A LOT.
Having worked at a bank call center right out of college (if you're desperate for a job, do it. If you want to keep your sanity, don't), I have kept a check register like an 80-year-old. You can knock it all you want, but I always know exactly how much money is in my account regardless of what has or hasn't cleared. Take that, online banking.
So I'm good at not overdrawing my account. That's definitely the worst feeling. I used to do it all the time in high school and college because obviously debit cards equaled free money, and when you get to the register and your card is denied, you're beyond embarrassed. It happened a couple times when I was serving unpaid internships in New York as well while buying groceries. It broke my heart to put those Hint of Lime Tostitos back every time, but milk and cereal and lunch items were far more important.
Things I'm not so great at? Trying to balance spending money on having a life and doing things with friends that cost money, while also being able to pay for all my bills. Don't worry, the bills win out every time, but what a drag to pay over a thousand dollars a month to live in a city that I can't even take advantage of?
But if I'm paying that much for rent, shouldn't I take advantage of my apartment? How do I get my money's worth out of that? Stay inside whenever I can? Because I tend to do that a lot. And then because I do that, I pay for cable because what the hell else am I supposed to do while inside? I like reading, but I can't read all day. My eyes do not do that.
One tool I've found that's helpful in managing this issue is this software called You Need A Budget. You enter in all the expenses you know you'll have for the month (rent, utilities, loan, etc) and then allot money for other areas of your life (groceries, restaurants, household goods, medical expenses), and then you add in all the purchases you've made that month - which I recommend doing as you go. I was doing great with this until I started going out to lunch everyday because I haven't had time to go grocery shopping, and when I do have time I don't have the money for it (end-of-the-month-I-have-to-pay-rent-soon woes). I plan on using it more as a way to stop myself from going out to lunch everyday, but I also kind of like getting out of the office once a day to clear my head as well as the social aspect that goes along with it. I also love bringing a homemade lunch - particularly if it's delicious leftovers - but eating at your desk is depressing. And then I don't end up taking a break at all.
But YOU should totally use You Need A Budget. If you do in fact need a budget.
Where's all this ranting and rambling going? Nowhere really. Don't worry, I'm not starting a "Bri Needs Money to Live!" Kickstarter. I'm not taking on a second job, because running basically is my second job (and the best way to clear my mind. It's necessary for mental health). And I already got a small raise so there's no use asking for another. If you happen to have tips and tricks of how to make it in the city that don't include eating ramen everyday or shutting yourself in at all hours, there's a comment section, and you should use it.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Things I'm Currently Loving...
It's been far too long since I've done one of these posts, and I kind of need one right now. I cleared my head during a five mile run today, but it's still bogged down with a bit of negativity, ergo, it's time to focus on some fun things.
Here are some things/people/trends I've been loving lately.
Chrissy Teigen
I first heard about Chrissy Teigen when she got engaged to John Legend. Naturally, I had to look her up, and she's gorgeous.
She also loves food. When I first started following her on Twitter (@chrissyteigen) she was in the middle of a snack chat. Literally, she was chatting about snacks. I was sold. She's quickly become my favorite Twitter account to follow, and my current girl crush.
Know what else? She likes video games. She's been playing Animal Crossing - one of my personal favorites - and tweeting about it, and I'm pretty sure I've retweeted at least five of her comments on it. I can't get enough.
So all of this points to the fact that she and I should probably become best friends. She loves video games, I love video games. She loves food, food is my life. She's engaged to a musician, I'm dating a musician. Chrissy, girl, let's chill.
Vine
My obsession with Vine is completely out of hand. When I first downloaded the app, I stayed up until 1 am laughing my ass off at six second videos. I've since had to make a rule of "no Vine-ing in bed" so that I fall asleep at a decent hour.
I've also become that girl that shows everyone her favorite Vine videos. Thankfully, they're only six seconds long, so I'm not waiting there with them for five minutes saying, "waitwaitwait, this is the good part," but I'm sure I'm embarrassing my self. Shut up. There are worse addictions.
Flushing Meadows Corona Park
I learned that I have an obsessive personality back in my freshman year of college when I found out there was a Disneyland in Paris and I stayed up all night learning everything I could about it. This lasted a solid week. These infatuations come along every so often and occupy my life for a week or so. Flushing Meadows Corona Park is one of those things.
You might recognize parts of this park from Men in Black, but perhaps you didn't know that it was host to two World's Fairs? Or that those towers and that pavilion were part of them? Or that the pavilion was where the Munchkins were in The Wiz?
I am so interested in the history of this park. And the Unisphere. Because it's amazing and HUGE. Seriously, visit this thing in person, you will not be disappointed. I love how some of the Fair's buildings have been made into museums, and that some are still around but abandoned (because who doesn't love a mysterious abandoned place) and that Willets Point and Citi Field are like, right there. And that it's a simple two mile walk from my place.
Basically, I need to know everything you can possibly know about this park. Like, now.
CHVRCHES
This is a trio from Glasgow that I heard about from a playlist that CMJ compiled on Spotify. It included their lead single, "Recover:"
I've had this song on repeat for a few weeks now. Imagine my disappointment when I found out they they only have an EP out right now, and I have to wait until September 24th to get my hands on a full album.
Millers Near & Far
Ok so this one is kind of a shameless plug, but it's also just a REALLY great restaurant. A friend of mine is a server there and told me and another friend to come in for dinner, because the food is good and affordable (by NYC standards). She delivered on both of those promises.
Millers Near & Far is on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on Rivington between Eldridge and Allen. It serves "New American" cuisine at prices that won't break the bank. When I went, I opted for the Brocolini Ricotta Cavatelli. Oh. My. God. It was cavatelli pasta with broccoli, scarlet runner beans (beans that are red when raw that turn green when cooked), lemon, garlic, breadcrumbs and a fried egg on top. When you stab that yolk, it adds to the sauce and gives it a rich flavor that's not too heavy.
I've told all my foodie friends about this place because I seriously feel it's amazing. I only endorse food that I believe in.
That pretty much covers my current loves. What I'm currently not loving? Distance and time.
Here are some things/people/trends I've been loving lately.
Chrissy Teigen
I first heard about Chrissy Teigen when she got engaged to John Legend. Naturally, I had to look her up, and she's gorgeous.
 |
| [photo via dailyglow.com] |
Know what else? She likes video games. She's been playing Animal Crossing - one of my personal favorites - and tweeting about it, and I'm pretty sure I've retweeted at least five of her comments on it. I can't get enough.
10pm in hamburg, been asleep all day. Just woke up to a phone alert I set. It is the frog's birthday on animal crossing and I must be there.Just when I thought she couldn't get more perfect, I found out today that she has a FOOD BLOG. Yes. A food blog! It's called So Delushious, and the tagline is, "personal random ramblings from a girl who loves bacon and can't be fat." In case you didn't know, she's a model. Girl, I love bacon too, but I don't want to be fat. We're in the same boat.
— christine teigen (@chrissyteigen) July 21, 2013
So all of this points to the fact that she and I should probably become best friends. She loves video games, I love video games. She loves food, food is my life. She's engaged to a musician, I'm dating a musician. Chrissy, girl, let's chill.
Vine
My obsession with Vine is completely out of hand. When I first downloaded the app, I stayed up until 1 am laughing my ass off at six second videos. I've since had to make a rule of "no Vine-ing in bed" so that I fall asleep at a decent hour.
I've also become that girl that shows everyone her favorite Vine videos. Thankfully, they're only six seconds long, so I'm not waiting there with them for five minutes saying, "waitwaitwait, this is the good part," but I'm sure I'm embarrassing my self. Shut up. There are worse addictions.
Flushing Meadows Corona Park
I learned that I have an obsessive personality back in my freshman year of college when I found out there was a Disneyland in Paris and I stayed up all night learning everything I could about it. This lasted a solid week. These infatuations come along every so often and occupy my life for a week or so. Flushing Meadows Corona Park is one of those things.
 |
| [image via panoramio.com] |
 |
| [image via metacafe.com] |
Basically, I need to know everything you can possibly know about this park. Like, now.
CHVRCHES
This is a trio from Glasgow that I heard about from a playlist that CMJ compiled on Spotify. It included their lead single, "Recover:"
I've had this song on repeat for a few weeks now. Imagine my disappointment when I found out they they only have an EP out right now, and I have to wait until September 24th to get my hands on a full album.
Millers Near & Far
Ok so this one is kind of a shameless plug, but it's also just a REALLY great restaurant. A friend of mine is a server there and told me and another friend to come in for dinner, because the food is good and affordable (by NYC standards). She delivered on both of those promises.
Millers Near & Far is on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on Rivington between Eldridge and Allen. It serves "New American" cuisine at prices that won't break the bank. When I went, I opted for the Brocolini Ricotta Cavatelli. Oh. My. God. It was cavatelli pasta with broccoli, scarlet runner beans (beans that are red when raw that turn green when cooked), lemon, garlic, breadcrumbs and a fried egg on top. When you stab that yolk, it adds to the sauce and gives it a rich flavor that's not too heavy.
I've told all my foodie friends about this place because I seriously feel it's amazing. I only endorse food that I believe in.
That pretty much covers my current loves. What I'm currently not loving? Distance and time.
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