Accidental Ambivalence

Things I Love Thursday

2010-12-02T13:02:00.002-06:00

Most weeks, I attempt to keep a running list of things that make me smile, but I've slacked this week. As such, this list may be...scattered, but here it is nonetheless.

Little favors The nearest Starbucks to my home in Small Town is 80 miles away. This is distressing most days, but particularly problematic during the holiday season because I am obsessed with the gingerbread latte. I've been lamenting and whining for a few weeks, and apparently the mom's been listening, because after she and my dad got home from a shopping excursion yesterday, I was gifted with a venti gingerbread latte. It was delicious and basically made my day.
Bradshaw chats I kind of like her, so talking to her is happy-making.

The best salad ever Mixed greens, crispy bacon, chicken, and pomegranate seeds equals deliciousness. So good. I've made that exact salad four times in as many days, and I'm so far from sick of it I can't even tell you.

Clean floors I've mentioned I'm a pretty terrible housekeeper; I don't like most household chores, so I tend to avoid doing most of them as long as it can't be called unsanitary. Mopping floors is on that list (I sweep, so it's really not so terrible). However, when I actually DO clean, I like the results. My floors are very, very clean today, and I like it.

Glitter and lights and smiles chamomile tea with lemon and a drop of honey - it's probably psychosomatic, but it totally puts me to sleep; learning that there's a new season of Celebrity Rehab (because if you're going to watch reality TV, might as well make it as awful as possible, right?); Hershey's candy cane kisses; downloading oodles of music (mostly Glee, but I also got Duffy's new album); picking apart pomegranates - strangely cathartic; leather gloves; thinking about making Christmas cookies (I have a lightbulb-shaped cookie cutter - so much cute, sparkly potential); stories that make me laugh out loud (most things don't); cherry-blue raspberry slushes; long walks; props vs. demerits; snow flurries (real snow soon, please, Mother Nature); planning excessive Christmas decorating while listening to the Glee Christmas album at a ridiculous volume; fantasies; drawing Secret Santa names at my parents' restaurant and getting the name of one of the few who doesn't suck; "We should throw possums at them."

Truth Project: Eight

2010-12-01T01:42:00.000-06:00

Someone who made your life hell or treated you like shit.

Like most people studying education, my final semester of classes included a methods course specific to my area of teaching. I love school. I've always loved school; if I didn't love it, I couldn't have pursued a career in that world. This class was my least favorite in eighteen years of school. Which is awful, considering that you can argue that it was the most important class of my entire education.

I hated my professor. First, I felt like she was unqualified. She didn't yet have her doctorate, she'd only taught high school English for a handful of years before being hired by the university, and for all of her criticism of her students' planning and preparedness, it never seemed to me like she was appropriately prepared for our classes. Second, I found her annoying as a person. That's life; people are annoying, even people we have to deal with. She certainly wasn't the first annoying teacher I'd had; she wasn't even the most annoying teacher I'd had. Finally, I felt like she had an unexplained dislike for me, a personal one.

Respect is paramount in my personal world. I struggle to work with and for people whom I don't respect, and I most certainly did not respect this professor. The class was held once a week, for three hours each Monday night. I dreaded it. I despised it. I made myself sick over it.

During the course, we were also engaged in a practicum. The high school teacher I worked with knew my professor. She also hated my professor, which was extremely validating. I was dealing with it all, putting up and shutting up and biding my time. I went to class, did my assignments, worked on the extremely important portfolio that all education majors complete, worked with my cooperating teacher in my practicum. It was fine.

Then, the professor contacted my cooperating teacher and expressed her concern about my performance and planning. Without discussing it with me. My cooperating teacher was furious; she saw it as a personal slight. If she'd felt that my performance was lacking, she would have discussed it with both me and the professor. She assured me that I was doing fine. Still, I was hurt. My pride and my feelings. I was also angry; I channeled the hurt into the anger and subsequently spent the rest of the semester furious. Because when you lie about your emotions the way that I do, being angry is infinitely easier than being hurt.

I did confront the professor. Though I didn't respect her, I respectfully asked her to explain herself. If she sincerely questioned my abilities and my performance, she owed it to me to tell me. If no one ever provides constructive criticism when I'm not performing appropriately, I can't fix the problem. Her inability to explain herself added hatefulness to my fury. If she can't provide me with an evaluation of my supposedly inferior performance, how on earth am I supposed to respect her opinion?

Had it not been my last semester of classes - the semester before my student teaching - I would have dropped the course and changed majors. I am incredibly grateful that she was the last professor I encountered instead of one of the first, because I am meant to be a teacher.

I'm not shy about expressing my opinions. When I wrote my detailed and scathing evaluation at the end of the semester, I signed it. I wish it had made a difference. Unfortunately, she was around through my student teaching, evaluating my portfolio and assigning more work. I'm grateful for my student teaching supervisor, who seemed to sympathize with my personal distaste for the professor and was so understanding that she kept me motivated. That was, of course, after the professor "inadvertantly" left my name off the list of students who required a placement for student teaching and I was forced to beg and scramble for a placement. (Otherwise, I would have spent a semester sitting on my ass and not graduated on time. More fuel for the hatred fire, really.)

No one has ever made me feel so terrible about myself. No one has ever made me question myself so much, so negatively. She made me feel awful, worthless. And as much as I hate her still, I'm grateful to her in that twisted way that "bad" people often make us. I will never, ever make one of my students feel that way if I can help it. And I will never let someone else make me feel that way.

Truth Project: Seven

2010-11-28T11:41:00.001-06:00

Someone who has made your life worth living for.

I don't like this. The only person who can make your life worth living is you, and when you start relying on others for your purpose, it's only a matter of time before it falls apart.

So instead, I choose to write about someone who has made my life better for being in it.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have good parents. My mom was one of those people who grew up with a terrible mother, and that's something she still carries with her. As much as she's moved past it, it's still there. She was, however, lucky enough to have an amazing grandmother, my Grandma. I'm grateful to Grandma for being who she was for me, but even more for being who she was for my mom. She made my mom the woman she is.

More than I love my mom, I sincerely like her. I feel lucky to be friends with my mom, because I know how selective she is with her friends. It's pretty great.

What You Want

2010-11-26T01:36:00.000-06:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-11-25T15:06:00.002-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving, lovelies! Since I missed TILT last week, we get a super-awesome Thanksgiving edition today!

Deliciousness Let's start by celebrating the gluttony of this most excellent of holidays. Turkey, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts with bacon, cranberry sauce. My excellent sugar-free pumpkin pie (for my grandpa, though it's pretty fantastic even if it is sugar-free). Ooo, and the leftovers. I like leftovers quite a lot.

Glee I'm a total sucker for...well, everything Glee is. Teen dramedy, clever cruelty, fun musical numbers. Add in a revolving door of excellent guest stars and Nic becomes a happy girl. Oh, and I started listening to their Christmas album, which makes me happier than almost anything. Ever. For serious, kittens.

Sparkles As part of the massive Sephora order my mother and I made, I chose two season nail polishes with sparkles. One, called Merry Me, has a ton of red glitter and is perfect for toenails (I kind of feel like Dorothy Gale every time I look down). The other, called 212, is gray with bronze and iridescent flakes in it. It's good for looking at when you get bored because your dad insists of watching episodes of The Lone Ranger while you wait for Thanksgiving dinner to finish. Yes, I can get this much enjoyment out of something as simple as glittery nail polish.

Side dishes sleeping in; Hershey's candy cane kisses; homemade pizza; Puck snuggles; substituting for kids whose parents I know (do you have any idea how effective it can be to look at a kid and say, "I have your mom's number in my phone, and I can make sure she knows how you've been acting today"? So great.); my mom's chili; finally saying it; sleeping in; pomegranate Jelly Belly jelly beans and the fact that my mom got them for me; the bambinos and their sweetness; online shopping; spending $350 at Sephora with my mom (before the 20% discount - excellence); sugar scrubs; strange text conversations (talking fragrance with Hawk = strange); using my imagination; thinking about baking Christmas cookies; the soundtracks from Spring Awakening and Wicked; taking the time to enjoy my coffee in the morning instead of sucking it back because I'm desperate for caffeine; blue raspberry slushes; getting showered and presentable-for-public-viewing (don't be dirty) in less than an hour - this almost never happens; sleeping off migraines; "You look really different today."; thinking of dozens more things to add to this list, but stopping so that I can instead go eat dinner.

Tell me, kittens, what are you thankful for this year?

Truth Project: Six

2010-11-24T01:29:00.000-06:00

Something you hope you never have to do.

This, like the last truth project prompt, could be an entire list, but I'll restrain myself.

I've learned, the hard way, that what if is the most hateful, hurtful phrase in the English language. The pain of wondering has to be worse than the pain that could be associated with finding out.

For almost five years, I've been saying that I didn't realize I was in love with Iris until I found out he'd died. I've been lying. To everyone else, and even to myself a little. I knew. I'm not sure how long, but I know I knew. And I was afraid. Of so many things.

I don't know exactly when I fell for him. I do, however, know the first time I acknowledged it. I was sitting in the exact same spot that I'm sitting right now, typing this. It was a Friday morning and I was home for the weekend, hanging out with Grandma like I always did. My mom called to tell me that Iris had been in an accident, had been life-flighted to College Town (the nearest large hospital). And I remember thinking that if he died, he'd never know.

I spent that weekend lying to myself, convincing myself that he'd be fine. I knew better. Because sometimes, you just know. And around 12:15 that Monday afternoon, right after eating lunch with a friend and telling her how I knew that Iris was going to be okay, I got the phone call that made me a liar. I fell apart.

Nothing has ever hurt so much. It hurt, physically. More than anything I've ever felt. More than a burn or a cut or an airbag to the face. I've never cried like that, before or since, literally sobbing. Those first few minutes were the worst of my life. Bradshaw was there; I called her and I think, in that moment, our friendship became absolute.

There are so many things tied up in Iris. Moments and emotions and fears and scars. The overarching theme, however, is what if. Never, ever again, please.

Shadow

2010-11-23T01:39:00.000-06:00

Truth Project: Five

2010-11-21T15:16:00.000-06:00

Something you hope to do in your life.

I kind of find this prompt absurd. Doesn't everyone have an enormous list of things they want to do and see and accomplish? Mundane, special, unrealistic, nearly inevitable, nearly impossible?

I want to inspire someone to change her life. I want to finish a novel and be published. I want to be recognized as an excellent baker. I want to actually manage to keep my house clean. I want to have a library in my home. I want to remodel my bathroom so I have a tub. I want to be seen as an excellent teacher. I want to live up to expectations. I want to have my name on a plaque as a major donor to my local library. I want to finish reading Atlas Shrugged. I want to go to England and explore by myself. I want to be in love with someone without it being a tragedy. I want to figure out how to have perfect skin. I want to teach mythology. I want to build a perfect wardrobe. I want to be a New York Times bestseller. I want to grow masses of tulips and hydrangeas. I want to decorate my house so that it looks like me when you walk in. I want to make the right decisions about marriage and children. I want to build a reality that's better than my fantasies.

I want to be half as wonderful as my grandma was. Just half as wonderful would be enough.

Truth Project: Four

2010-11-14T15:18:00.001-06:00

Something you have to forgive someone for.

I committed myself to being honest with this project, which is why this particular prompt took so long to answer. The thing is, I don't think there's anyone I have to forgive for anything. Like I said in the last prompt, I think forgiveness is overrated, and even when it's deserved it's something I struggle with. Holding grudges is exhausting, and it's not something I do often, but I'm far more likely to let go than to forgive.

I could forgive the former friend who failed to tell me that she signed a lease on an apartment with someone else the week that my Grandma died, three weeks after Iris died. The same friend who was planning to room with me the next year, who I don't remember speaking to once since the day Iris died. I've let that go though, and now feel indifferent about her.

I could forgive the professor who taught my final methods course in college for making me question my career choice (to the extent that, had it not been my final semester of classes, I would have changed my major) and my own abilities. I've never encountered another person who made me feel worse about myself than that woman. I do not forgive her.

I could forgive my aunt and my maternal grandmother for treating my mom and my grandma like dirt; while my aunt certainly knew better, more of my ire is directed at the grandmother, henceforth known as The Bitch. The Bitch made my mom feel awful, which I find deeply upsetting, but more than that, she hurt my Grandma, her mother. Attempting to guilt an 80-something-year-old woman is disgusting. It's upsetting to me that I share genetic material with this woman. I absolutely do not forgive her. Instead, I choose to ignore her existence.

If forgiveness is divine, what does it mean when you make the choice not to forgive? Is it evil, or just a mark of true humanity? And is that question philosophical or theological? And can you tell that I've been reading about Egyptian mythology too much today?

Things I Love Thursday

2010-11-12T11:34:00.007-06:00

It's a late edition!

Success with new recipes I know shepherd's pie is super-simple, but it wasn't something I'd ever tried to make before; it's not really a midwestern sort of dish, so I'd never eaten it either. Still, the recipe I found was pretty simple, and there's almost no way to make ground beef, onions, carrots, and mashed potatoes taste bad. My success was confirmed by my dad, who asked for a sample and then asked when I was planning to make more. It's really perfect for cool weather!

The Red Pyramid Last week I wrote about Rick Riordan's new Heroes of Olympus series. This week, I read the first book in The Kane Chronicles, which is built around Egyptian mythology rather than Greek and Roman. My grasp of Egyptian mythology is radically less than my knowledge of Greek, but I think that actually made the story more interesting; I was discovering the mythology and the history as I read, the way the novels are intended. I'm a fan.

Jim and Pam's wedding Netflix just got around to sending me the sixth season of The Office, and Jim and Pam's wedding made me really happy. The mental snapshots and cutting the tie and the Maid in the Mist and the dancing down the aisle. Happy happy happy.

Happy Ever After I spent Saturday reading Nora Roberts' latest novel. I get a strange satisfaction out of starting and finishing a book in a single day; I read a lot of childrens and young adult titles, so it happens pretty regularly, but still. I'm not a huge fan of the romance genre, but I actually think Roberts does it better than most, and I've been reading her books since high school. A series based around weddings? Fun. Fluffy, predictable, endearing fun.

"If you're not worrying about how to put food on your table, you [should be] worrying about why other people don't have food on their table." - Cher to Vanity Fair

Unintentionally cryptic bits "I'm always good for naked treats."; the end of Daylight Savings and getting my hour back; finding lost clothes - it's amazing the things you discover when you actually clean; lots of substituting - experience is good, as is money; the one girl (of three) that I'm training at my parents' restaurant who's picked up everything super-quickly - she's kind of saving my life and my sanity; reading cookbooks; being Miss Nachos; getting compliments on my shoes (they really are great shoes); grocery shopping - it's actually something I really like to do; "Is that a challenge?"; the Sephora holiday catalog - pretty, sparkly things that make me happy; Glee - this week's episode was lovely and I was genuinely surprised by part of it, something that rarely happens to me; Vanity Fair; "That is a rutabaga."; rainy days; the fact that I can wear not-cute shirts under my trench coat without anyone finding out; thinking about Christmas; discovering Ghiradelli white chocolate chips; Jon Stewart on Rachel Maddow; planning to buy the pretty hardcover Penguin Classics (to start, I need Shakespeare, Dante's Inferno, Alice in Wonderland, and A Christmas Carol); hearing that night owls have higher IQs than morning people - ha!

I'm so looking forward to reading your lists (even if they're now things you love Friday)!

Tolerance

2010-11-09T02:29:00.000-06:00

“You are not angry with people when you laugh at them. Humor teaches tolerance.”

W. Somerset Maugham

Truth Project: Three

2010-11-07T12:17:00.001-06:00

Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Forgiveness is hard for me. I've entertained the idea that forgiveness is an overrated virtue (right behind chastity). I can let things go, but I don't give second chances and I often don't truly forgive. It's probably not a coincidence that I have a hard time apologizing. I'm infinitely better at letting-go-and-moving-on than I am at apologies and forgiveness.

I'll never be able to forgive myself for missing a chance with Iris. Never. Living with that particular "what if" is my fate, and while it taught me an incredibly valuable lesson, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself.

When Iris died, the boy-girl part of my brain shut down. I was enticed by little and pursued nothing for two-and-a-half years. I feel like I wasted all of the opportunities college is supposed to present, and even though I know rationally that it's silly, I feel like it's my fault. Like I should have done something differently.

I need to forgive myself for grieving.

How absurd.

Things I Love Thursday

2010-11-04T00:40:00.005-05:00

Happy Thursday! My list of loveliness:

Cooler weather This week I added blankets to my bed and turned on the heater. I like being cozy. Hoodies and cardigans and scarves and coats and throw blankets and fuzzy slippers - all good.

The Tudors The final season was an excellent combination of horrific deaths and sex scenes that, I believe, approach the world of soft-core porn (and here come the google searches). By my (probably incomplete) count, there were two weddings, three beheadings, one burning-at-the-stake, a war with France, and one man being hanged, drawn, and quartered. Michael Hirst, the writer-creator, also knows his Tudor-era torture methods, including fingernail removal, tooth pulling, and the rack. I listen to those scenes more than I watch them; they turn my stomach. Ooo, and ghosts! At least four of those. Torture and death aside, watching The Tudors makes me want to wear brocade gowns, oversized accessories, and tiaras.

Being warm from the inside out Coffee, tea, cider, cocoa - hot beverages make me feel all cozy. I am, clearly, into coziness this week.

Voting It makes me feel all responsible and stuff. A couple of things that I felt passionate about were successful, so I'm going to choose to be pleased. I also had the privilege of discussing an issue with someone with opposite beliefs; this was a privilege because, while we disagreed, he was an idiot and I trounced him with my logic. I think we're all aware of how much I like winning, and this was both a win and a demonstration of my intellectual superiority. It's like a super-win.

The Lost Hero I cannot tell you how excited I was to discover that Rick Riordan is again exploring Greek and Roman mythology with his new Heroes of Olympus series. I love mythology, and I've written before about how masterfully Riordan incorporates it into his stories. So much happy.

This and that coffee ice cream; being so busy that time passes extra-quick; catching the "Treehouse of Horror" episodes of The Simpsons - they're really the best ones; a weekend spent with a cozy blanket and my DVD player; gchats with Bradshaw and Hawk; "I'll buy you one, baby." "Did you just call me baby?"; male posturing; sweet potatoes - I think I'm going to challenge myself to find three different, tasty ways to cook them; playing music from "The Rocky Horror Glee Show" really loudly, then going to work and singing "Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me" under my breath all night; realizing that I come first alphabetically in the list of people in my hometown with my surname (yes, I'm related to them all, and yes, this is silly - I'm easily amused, kittens); being responsible for the "yay!" on the other end of a phone call; making someone amusingly uncomfortable without speaking; downloading oodles of music, looking at the stars - it's easy to forget they're up there, but they're gorgeous.

Tell me, kittens, what's making you dance and smile this week?

Truth Project: Two

2010-11-03T00:17:00.000-05:00

Something you love about yourself.

I'm selfish. Yes, I'm aware that selfish is an adjective that typically has a negative connotation, but I like my selfishness. When I make life decisions, I make them for myself. If something blows up in my face, I'm the one who has to deal with the fallout and I'm the one who takes the blame. No resentment, no guilt.

Some of this selfishness is the luxury of not having a significant other or any dependents. I don't have to think about anyone else's career or education. I don't have to consider anyone's feelings but my own.

Part of this is independence and self-sufficiency, but part of it is being willing to make decisions without considering anyone else. It seems like everyone I know is so busy worrying about others that they forget to do what makes them happy or fulfilled.

Yes, I'm selfish, and I like it. I also think that I'm a generous, reasonably kind-hearted young woman. Quite honestly, I intend to embrace my selfishness for as long as it's not hurting anyone else, and I refuse to feel bad about it.

Joy

2010-11-02T00:14:00.000-05:00

“Beauty is whatever gives joy.”

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Truth Project: One

2010-10-31T12:06:00.002-05:00

Something you hate about yourself.

Note: This post is a euphemism-free zone. Sad, because I like euphemisms a lot, but necessary.

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but I'm a pretty happy person. I have a whole slew of so-called negative qualities - I'm an unforgiving, judgmental, solitary grammar Nazi - that I actually find really amusing. To say that I'm full of myself wouldn't be too far off the mark. All of this means that writing about something I hate about myself is a challenge; I don't really hate anything about me. If I did, wouldn't I be trying to change it? So I started thinking about things I'm not so fond of that I can't change, and I finally came up with something: I'm really self-conscious about myself when I'm asleep.

I know. You're thinking exactly what Bradshaw said when I mentioned this to her: "But...you're asleep."

That's kind of the point. I hate feeling out of control, and you don't get much more out of control than asleep. Combine that with a slew of less-than-attractive sleepytime activities and you get one of the few things that makes me really uncomfortable. The things I've been told that I do in my sleep range from the mundane (light snoring, flailing and kicking) to the potentially interesting (I talk in my sleep sometimes and have been known to insult others, and I once tried to leave my house while sleepwalking). I'm so convinced that I'm hideous when I sleep that I avoid sharing sleeping space with anyone else. In fact, with the exception of Bradshaw, I think the last time I fell asleep in the same bed with someone else was five years ago. And I'm 24 and single.

Since I live alone in a town where there are no potential bed buddies, this isn't something that comes up often, but it has in the past. Memorable moments of avoidance include leaving the bed of a sleeping dude at 6 am (likely coloring the rest of that so-called relationship) and the phrase, "You drove two hours to sleep with your back to me?" (No, I drove two hours to have sex with you and the idea of you watching me sleep makes my skin crawl. But I didn't say that.)

The idea of snuggling is another whole can of worms. I get hot, I worry about my hair being in his face (or mine), and I feel trapped. There's a whole litany of "wrong" things going on if someone is touching me when I'm trying to sleep. I don't consider myself claustrophobic, but someone else being on top of me (remember, euphemism-free zone) when I'm trying to sleep makes me reevaluate. Then, of course, is the sleeping-in-my-makeup guilt and the morning breath concern.

It would be nice to be able to let this go, but I'm not sure I can. For now, unless naughty things are happening, I'm going to limit the occupancy of my bed to one (plus two felines).

Burned

2010-10-29T14:28:00.002-05:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-10-28T12:34:00.005-05:00

Thursday dance!

Having my parents home Don't get me wrong, I'm more than grateful that I don't live with my parents: That would be disastrous for all three of us. That said, I'm glad they're home from vacation. I like looking out my window and seeing lights in their house that I didn't turn on. Plus, my mom's a pretty cool chick.

Stories that draw you in I almost never do only one thing at a time (I am a master of multi-tasking), so finding something that draws me in completely is a little bit special. It makes me smile.
Being a music teacher I am not an impressive singer. Really, I should limit myself to "Happy Birthday", Christmas carols, and singing in the car when I'm by myself. Monday, I was an elementary music teacher forced to teach first and second graders a new song. Singing in front of little kids isn't embarrassing in the least, and watching them catch on after the third or fourth time was actually a lot more entertaining than I expected. Good times.

Extra credit peppermint tea before bed; super-cozy pink blankets; sweet potatoes made spicy; my mom's vacation photography - so pretty; super-purr Puck; mixing eye shadows to make lovely new shades; getting compliments on cute shoes; clean dishes - hate washing them, like when they're all clean; "Time Warp"; maple syrup; The Tudors - I have to say, I'm impressed with their skill with aging the actors, though Henry Cavill looks much better in real life than as a middle-aged man; cooler weather, even if it does mean waking up with a cold nose; Hawk - I'm glad I know him because he makes me smile; beginning the Truth Project; discovering silliness that makes me really happy; cooking with garlic; wearing purple; reading things that make me think, even when I don't agree with them completely; waking up and not remembering my dream, but knowing that it was interesting all the same; Away We Go.

I loved your lists last week! Share, share, share, kittens!

Truth Project: Introduction

2010-10-27T12:26:00.005-05:00

That's right, I'm on the bandwagon, too. Bradshaw first sent me the list of prompts for the "30 Days of Truth" blog project, and I was apathetic. "I already tell the truth on the blog," I said. "More than a few of these prompts don't inspire me," I said. Those things are both true, but maybe finding inspiration in the uninspired is exactly the point for me. Maybe telling the truth about something beyond what pops into my head on a given day will elicit something really interesting.

First, the list:

1. Something you hate about yourself.
2. Something you love about yourself.
3. Something you have to forgive yourself for.
4. Something you have to forgive someone for.
5. Something you hope to do in your life.
6. Something you hope you never have to do.
7. Someone who has made your life worth living for.
8. Someone who made your life hell or treated you like shit.
9. Someone you didn't want to let go who just drifted.
10. Someone you need to let go or wish you didn't know.
11. Something people seem to compliment you on the most.
12. Something you never get compliments on.
13. A band or artist who has gotten you through some tough days (letter).
14. A hero who has let you down (letter).
15. Something or someone you couldn't live without - because you've tried living without it.
16. Someone or something you definitely could live without.
17. A book you've read that changed your views on something.
18. Your views on gay marriage.
19. What do you think of religion? What do you think of politics?
20. Your views on drugs and alcohol.
21. Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do? (scenario)
22. Something you wish you hadn't done in your life.
23. Something you wish you had done in your life.
24. Make a playlist for someone and explain why you chose all the songs. (with letter)
25. The reason you believe you're still alive today.
26. Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
27. What's the best thing going for you right now?
28. What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant? What would you do?
29. Something you hope to change about yourself and why.
30. A letter to yourself. Tell yourself everything you love about yourself.

A couple of notes. First, I'm not posting every day, so this will most definitely take more than thirty days. Second, the original idea from Bradshaw included photo project, and since I am semi-anonymous and don't post photos of myself on the blog, I'm not doing that part.

I'm going to do my best to be less cryptic in my honesty for this project. I never deliberately write that way, but when I come back and read things later, I often find that if you don't already know the story, the things I've written make little sense. I'm going to avoid doing that for this project.

I'm looking forward to reading what others do for this project even more than I'm looking forward to writing them myself. Here goes.

The Point

2010-10-26T12:05:00.002-05:00

via gala darling

“I guess that’s the point of it all. No one knows for certain how much impact they have on the lives of other people. Oftentimes, we have no clue. Yet we push it just the same.”

Jay Asher
Thirteen Reasons Why

Breathe

2010-10-24T11:36:00.002-05:00

It's been a while since I've had to remind myself to breathe. Holding my breath as a defense against pain hasn't come up in some time, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it happened today.

Last time I was here, it was November and it was night. I didn't realize you had a key or I would have come up with an excuse to come here before. Of course, once we got here I played coy: It's what I did best. You pretended to look for something while I pretended to care about replacement headlight bulbs and boxes of spark plugs. We played pretend a lot.

I was sitting on this bench when you finally gave up the act and joined me. And it could have been something elicit, a stolen moment in a wildly inappropriate place. Instead, it was a very PG moment in the movie of my boy-girl encounters: one kiss, my hand in yours, and quiet conversation that I can't even remember now. To be fair, I'm not sure I could have remembered it five minutes later, let alone six years. Being with you clouded my mind in the most wonderful way possible.

Sitting on this bench is, for me, worse than spending the night in a cemetery. The shades of my past sting enough on their own, but now they're touched by that most hurtful of phrases: what if.

My chest burns even though I've reminded myself to breathe.

To Live In an Undescribed World

2010-10-22T12:53:00.001-05:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-10-21T11:15:00.003-05:00

This week wasn't about big things, it was about little things. Dozens of little things that made me smile and feel wonderful. It's the small things that really matter though, right? Like getting a high five from a cute kid or getting a lipstick sample in the mail that turns out to be the perfect color for your skin tone.

The History of Sex Have you ever watched this on the History Channel? It's an academic, matter-of-fact look at sexuality in different time periods. It amuses me to no end. And, because I do and read and watch everything more than once, I've definitely seen it before. Never stops me from tuning in when there's nothing better on. And really, if they're airing it after eleven years, someone else must be watching too.

The Magic School Bus "Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!"

Excellence A New York state gubernatorial candidate, the former owner of an escort service, said the following (and I paraphrase): "All politicians are prostitutes, and I think I'm the only person here who knows exactly how to handle that." Potentially the best political line I've ever heard. If I lived in New York, I would seriously entertain voting for her based on that alone.

All the little things Gorgeous fall weather and spending time outside in it; feeling well-rested; serendipity; discoveries that make me smile and feel connected; naughty dreams (a girl takes what she gets, yo); reading; "Are there fluffers for women?"; the return of the parents; pre-schooler high-fives; discovering Rick Riordan's new Greek mythology-inspired book; Italian-style bread; maintaining a manicure for a full week - it usually chips after a day or two and I give it up; maintaining a relatively consistent sleep schedule; super-swirly thoughts and sharing them; perfect lipstick shades; long, straight hair and having it.

Oh, love, please tell me what makes you smile this week! I'm so looking forward to reading your list!

In Which I Show the Crazy

2010-10-20T11:22:00.004-05:00

I don't believe in ghosts. At least, not exactly. I guess it's more that I don't believe in ghosts in the Halloween-y, haunted house sort of way. Like everyone else, I've heard about spirits communicating through lights and sounds, and every time a street light goes off when I walk or drive by (which happens quite a bit), I wonder if it's supposed to be some sort of sign.

I have a ghost clock.

I live in my great-grandmother's house; she died five years ago in February. I sleep in her bedroom, and on the dresser sits a clock that's been there my entire life. It's battery-powered, and it used to drive me crazy when I would spend the night when I was little. It ticked really loudly, and I have a tendency to count such things: steps, beats in songs, clock ticks. It's hard to sleep when you're counting.

When I moved in a year ago, I left the clock, but didn't replace the batteries. One morning, lying in bed and pretending that I wasn't awake, I found myself incredibly annoyed. It took a while, but I finally figured out that it was the ticking clock. Which is weird, right? When I went to bed that night, the ticking had stopped, so I figured I made it up. I sometimes do things like that.

In the year since I moved into the house, the clock has started ticking a dozen or so times. Even in a low-energy device, isn't five years a long time for batteries to maintain power? Even intermittently? So the question becomes whether this is just a weird quasi-electronic thing that I'm reading too much into or if it's something more.

I'm not sure. But I'm still going to call it the ghost clock.

Power

2010-10-19T11:08:00.003-05:00

"The power of imagination makes us infinite."

John Miur

Dear Heart

2010-10-15T10:44:00.002-05:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-10-14T06:27:00.008-05:00

via icanhascheezburger

Perfect thunderstorms There was thunder and lightning, like any self-respecting thunderstorm, but the trick to being perfect is that it never rained so hard that it blocked my satellite signal. Excellence in little things.

source unknown

Being rescued Friday afternoon, on my way home from school, I got a flat tire. While I am certainly aware of how to change a tire, it's impossible to change your own tire when you aren't strong enough to loosen your own lug nuts. So, I called my friend Drawl, who took less than a minute to take care of them. That, kittens, is where it got interesting. The rim was rusted on. I did not know that could happen. Drawl saved the day with a sledge hammer, a 2x4, and brute strength. He will soon be the recipient of a tasty baked good.

via tumblr

Watching the miners being rescued It makes me smile and get a little teary-eyed. Seriously. I like watching things go well on the news.

via my mom

My library I read in an article in Vanity Fair that Marilyn Monroe had a library of nearly 400 books. Which, naturally, made me wonder how many books I have. So I counted. Then lost count because my books are all over the place; I have inadequate shelf space and decorate with them. My library stands somewhere around 200 books. Since I consider this anemic, it's hard telling where it'll end up.

via tumblr

Many little things ordering essentials online; little kids dressed up for picture day; homecoming excitement; the latest issue of Vanity Fair; painting my nails chocolate brown; sleeping so deeply that I wake up feeling as if time evaporated rather than just sleeping through it; gorgeous chrysanthemums outside and how long they last cut; playing Risk and conquering the world; Nutella on graham crackers; "catching up" calls from my mom on vacation; turning leftover roasted vegetables into roasted vegetable soup; feline fascination with bath bubbles; opportunities to gchat with Bradshaw; the reappearance of something thought missing; "You're what? Nineteen?"; feeling off-kilter and learning from it; biscuits and gravy for Sunday breakfast; being up early enough for breakfast, pet care, and early arrival; the endless antics of kittens; choosing clothes that feel good; getting a call to substitute for the preschoolers Monday (I'm actually really looking forward to that. Who knew?); Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver; the fact that I always have a blanket in my lap when I'm at home; only vaguely remembering my dreams and knowing that they involved kissing and little kids - separately, you creeps; teenagers who have manners enough to call a teacher ma'am when they don't know her name (even if it makes me feel a wee bit old); "You look really familiar - that's it!"; The History of Love by Nicole Krauss; fall - weirdly, I'm into it this year; foggy mornings; text message photos of the Statue of Liberty at night from my mom.

45 Ways to Cheer Yourself Up

2010-10-13T00:51:00.000-05:00

We all have days when we feel blue or frustrated. Whatever the reason, I think it's important not to wallow in such negativity, but rather to make an effort to cheer yourself up. Read through the list, take the things you like, ignore the things you don't, and if you have suggestions of your own, share them in the comments.

1. Watch your favorite dance music video. Learn the dance. Perform endlessly. If you have a partner-in-crime, all the better. (Bradshaw, my college roommate, and I learned Fergie's dance in the "My Humps" video. There was much hilarity. To this day, when I hear the song on the radio, I catch myself doing the dance. While driving. It's incredible.)

2. Write a letter to your future-self. If it's handwritten, hide it somewhere that it will stay hidden for a while (the bottom of the sweater drawer, inside a pair of shoes you never wear, behind a framed photo). Alternatively, use futureme.org and have the letter emailed in the distant future.

3. Try a kitschy-fun new-to-you workout: yoga for the first time, strippercise, hula hooping. If you feel silly, you're doing it right.

4. Bake something. Sugar cookies, chocolate cupcakes, an elaborate layer cake - whatever tickles your fancy. Bonus points for sharing with others.

5. Watch your favorite movie from when you were a kid.

6. Celebrate your favorite holiday regardless of what the calendar says. Set off firecrackers and play with sparklers in October. Make yourself sick on a mound of candy in May. String up lights and watch The Santa Clause and Love Actually in March. Get creative!

7. Have friends over for dinner. Make something you cook like an expert or order your favorite takeout.

8. Search your wardrobe for work-appropriate clothes that are as close to pajamas as possible. That's not to say that you should look like a slob. My go-to for day when I feel less-than-stellar but must work: a knee-length denim skirt, tank top, and long cardigan with ballet flats. Add accessories as desired.

9. Drink a smoothie. Satisfying and healthy.

10. Browse the childrens section of a bookstore, best done when there aren't strange children present.

11. Make and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. Whether you go for the classic white-bread-and-American or something a bit fancier (mozzarella and tomato jam, cheddar and apple), there's something wonderful about toasty bread and oozy, melty cheese.

12. Sit outside and appreciate what the season has to offer. Even (especially) if it isn't your favorite season. Bundle up or strip down accordingly and keep your eyes open to the things that are always there.

13. Wear a face mask.

14. Do something touristy. Even my boring little town has a slightly touristy quirk. If you live in a city with lots of things to choose from, pick the cheesiest or most stereotypical (Gateway Arch, Space Needle, Liberty Bell, I'm looking at you).

15. Read your favorite book from when you were a little kid. Where the Wild Things Are, Green Eggs and Ham, The Monster at the End of This Book. Remember why it was your favorite.

16. Celebrate a funny holiday, even if you have to make one up. There's a silly holiday for every day of the year, I swear. Use Holidays for Everyday to find one you like and celebrate it to the extreme.

17. Call a friend. Laugh until your stomach hurts.

18. Plant something. If you live in an apartment, go for a kitchen herb or a hard-to-kill houseplant like a philodendron or an orchid. If you have a yard, choose whatever is seasonally-appropriate that catches your eye at the nursery.

19. Watch a movie that makes you laugh every time. (The Hangover, anyone?)

20. Change your scenery. Go to a different neighborhood or a new town. Changing your environment can change your state of mind as well.

21. Feng Shui your books by lining them up with the front edge of the shelf. Bonus: Less surface to dust.

22. Do a small part of a larger task you hate. Just wash the plates in that sink full of dishes, only vacuum your living room, weed half of the flowerbeds, give one of the cats her bath. You get the idea.

23. Spend time with a little kid. The only thing to take seriously is safety (seatbelts, please, and always keep little ones where you can see them). Really, guys, spending time with little kids is one of the most freeing and rewarding things in the world, even when it's your job.

24. Watch a musical. Sing along.

25. Do something for someone else. It's true that doing for others makes you feel better about yourself.

26. Listen to music too loud. Sing along. Dance the way you only dance when no one is looking. (Limit time spent here if you live in an apartment. Otherwise, keep it up until your ears ring and you can't catch your breath.)

27. Have a picnic, as simple or elaborate as you like. If it's cold or raining, make it a living room picnic.

28. Wear extra eyeliner.

29. Indulge the negativity, then move on. Record yourself or write it out, then crumple it up or dump it in the recycle bin. Let go of the emotion along with the evidence of it.

30. Cuddle something fluffy, even if it's a teddy bear.

31. Play a game. I'm fond of Scrabble and Monopoly: Here and Now (which are on my computer).

32. Have an orgasm by whatever means are convenient.

33. Go for a drive. I do some of my best thinking when I'm driving. Rolling down the windows is optional.

34. Paint your nails.

35. Wear something sparkly. Buy sparkly undies for occasions such as this.

36. Take a long, hot bath. Have a beverage while you soak. Listen to music, watch a movie on your laptop (on a safe, stable, water-free counter, please), read a book, or just lie there.

37. Sleep naked, preferably between crisp, freshly washed sheets.

38. Hand-write a letter to your bestie. Decorate it. Add confetti to the envelope and mail it.

39. Concentrate on learning about someone interesting: John Lennon, Audrey Hepburn, Al Capone, Princess Diana, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Nelson Mandela, Mohondas Gandhi.

40. Fantasize about something radical. Be a movie star, a Greek god, a princess, an Olympic gold medalist - whatever makes you feel amazing and powerful.

41. Be selfish. Ignore everyone else's problems and dramatics and just be you.

42. Curl up with a warm blanket, your favorite book, and a tasty hot beverage - hot cocoa, coffee, tea - that makes you feel cozy from the inside out.

43. Have a drink. Just one, and make it worthwhile.

44. Go people watching. Make up stories in your head to go with the people you see.

45. Smile. The classic fake-it-till-you-make-it. The act of smiling makes you feel better, even if it starts as a grimace.

Friendship's Realest Measure

2010-10-12T02:29:00.000-05:00

What's friendship's realest measure? I'll tell you. The amount of precious time you'll squander on someone else's calamities and fuckups."

Richard Ford
The Sportswriter

Sixth Grade

2010-10-09T12:08:00.001-05:00

I've never been in a relationship. You know, a mutual, let's-hold-hands, I have a boyfriend relationship. I've only gone on two dates - both of which made me feel really awkward. Instead of relationships, I have liaisons, often overcomplicated by yours truly. I've done this with two different men with varying levels of interaction and insanity. I've decided (or convinced myself) that this is how I like it for a whole host of reasons that could be an entire series of posts. (Potential title: Nic's Justification for Life as a Spinster)

But in sixth grade for approximately two weeks, I did have a boyfriend.

I'm absolutely certain that sixth grade "relationships" don't count, but I caught myself thinking about this particular situation in the shower somewhere between the raspberry sorbet body wash and underarm shaving. The details are more than a little sketchy in my memory, but I've done my best.

We had social studies together, and our teacher was not a good one, meaning that it was more than easy to chatter to your neighbors for the entire hour. Unfortunately, he also made his seating charts alphabetically and with a weird arrangement of desks. This put me and the boy in a two-desk row between the wall and a row that had an empty desk and the requisite class "weird kid." We became chatting buddies because everyone else was too far away to talk to without getting in trouble, and somehow he ended up asking me to be his girlfriend. I think I would have said yes to anyone who asked me that (unless it was that weird kid).

I remember lying on the bed in my grandma's room (now my room) and chatting on the phone with him one day after school, though I have zero recollection of any conversation we ever had. And at some point in the next week, he ceased to be my boyfriend, though I don't recall having a conversation or officially "breaking up." It just ended. I knew at the time that it was the result of teasing by his friends.

See, I wasn't particularly cute at twelve. I still had prepubescent chubbiness, my hair was nearly long enough to sit on, and I was pre-braces. I've always believed that this meant that his interest in me was actually based on my personality, which I suppose is flattering. That, of course, is the adult view of the situation. The adolescent view was to be quietly mortified and hurt. I'm not sure if he and I continued to talk during class after that; I seem to think that we didn't. I was still a pretty soft heart back then.

I never told anyone about it, never discussed it after that. That's the sort of quiet embarrassment that I'm not sure you completely outgrow. Yes, it still makes me the teensiest bit twisty in the stomach. When something really hurts my feelings, I tend not to talk about it at all - apparently even after a decade and the recognition that the situation was laughable. I do wonder how much I internalized that and even now behave based on that foundation, the idea that someone wouldn't want to be with me because of what his friends thought.

I don't remember having another class with him in the next six years of school, strange given how small our school was. I'm fairly certain the last time I saw him was my freshman year of college when my roommate met another guy I went to high school with and we all ended up at the same party, and then I think all that was said was hello.

This is the sort of thing that makes me wonder if everyone remembers the sorts of things that I do. Does he even remember? Part of me hopes he doesn't because of that lingering embarrassment, and part of me would be sad if he didn't because it would make me feel insignificant.

No one wants to be forgotten.

In 10 Easy Steps

2010-10-08T06:11:00.000-05:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-10-07T00:13:00.003-05:00

"It isn't the great big pleasures that count the most; it's making a great deal out of the little ones."

Jean Webster

My mom's excitement about their vacation My parents are RV people, and it's pretty cute. My typically less-than-prepared mother has been pre-cooking meals and making plans for weeks. They're going east in search of pretty leaves to enjoy and photograph, and the current plan is to head up into Vermont. I've asked for maple syrup and white cheddar, but really, I'm happy to see how excited she is. (My dad is excited too, but my mom's cuter about it. And cute isn't usually a word I would attribute to my mother.)

The Thirteenth Tale I liked it from the beginning for Diane Setterfield's use of words, and it's clear that she values them very highly. Our narrator is a rather mousy character, but the story that is told is rich and complex and weirdly compelling. I found myself drawn into a tale in which the relationship between siblings - specifically, twins - is a central theme. Since I have no concept of sibling relationships as an only child, this particular literary theme is one that I rarely have interest in. But she made me care. Lovely and well worth seeking out at the library or bookstore.

Turning off the AC Hopefully, it's off for good. I waited until last Saturday to finally turn mine off, having tried earlier last week and come home to a sweat box after school. When I got up Sunday morning, I spent a while just listening to the ringing silence of my home before turning on the television. I'm not a fan of silence; I rarely turn off the television and use it as background noise no matter what I'm doing. But turning off the constant drone of the air conditioner is kind of like putting away the extra quilts and blankets on your bed in spring. The oppressive weight of the noise is gone. Happy.

Writing Just...writing. That's all.

Extra Credit the glasses Justin Timberlake is wearing while he promotes The Social Network; baked gnocchi with ricotta and marinara; cardigan weather; finding my favorite pasta sauce and buying 8 jars; long, quiet drives; others' assumptions that I am significantly younger than I am; Starbucks opportunities; lots of black eyeliner (further proof that I do everything in phases, including eye makeup); a very full pantry; awkwardness on scripted television; being so busy I barely have time to think for a couple of hours; new toothbrush day; steamed caramel cider - homemade!; paychecks; the gag reel on the last disc of a television show season - my favorite part, and particularly excellent when watching The Office; playing with wee kittens; the gorgeous stack of new books still waiting to be read; pink fingernails; another Sunday spent on a marathon (Entourage), but also using the time to write instead of being entirely useless; getting a call to sub in high school, finally; irreverence and heart existing together; polite people; thoughtfulness; Hawk, of course - hey, you, post more!

I remind you, again, that it's only polite to share. Let me know what's making your week!

Leaping Tall Buildings With a Single Bound!

2010-10-05T12:37:00.000-05:00

During a gchat with Bradshaw yesterday, she subject of superheroes came up. Naturally, it got me thinking about what persona I would take on if I became a superhero. Once, not so long ago, I was jokingly given superpowers which including shooting sparkly pink lasers from my eyes. It's a bit of an inside joke.

Grammar Girl Correcting every mistake you make! Her red laser pen blasts unnecessary commas into oblivion! She annoys her opponents into submission.

The Baker Rescuing the weak with magical cupcakes! She looks - and smells - sweet, but don't get on her bad side: She keeps a stash of exploding dragées in her apron pocket.

Mighty Midget Sneak attacking unsuspecting baddies from low to the ground! She's more than a little underhanded, and she always wears flats.

What is your superhero persona? Alternatively, or additionally, what is your super-villain persona?

Lawful

2010-10-05T11:38:00.001-05:00

"A lawful kiss is never worth a stolen one."

Guy de Maupassant

You Are

2010-10-01T11:31:00.001-05:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-09-30T17:10:00.000-05:00

Pre-schoolers Despite yesterday's post, I had a lot of fun in my two days as a pre-school teacher. With the exception of the tantrum kid, this was a group of bright, cheerful, adorable little kids who play house and make abstract art. And not once was I annoyed by being called "teacher" instead of Ms. Nic.

Inspiration It's about effing time. And it's not just the abstract sort of inspiration I usually have; it's like the planets have finally aligned to bring it together in a way that has potential to come to fruition. I think that probably sounds cryptic. It's not meant to, I'm just really pleased.

Planning baths You already know I'm insane and like to make plans. My parents are going to be on vacation for a couple of weeks, and that means I can take a long, hot bath whenever I want! No worrying about inconveniencing anyone or being naked when they get home. Some day, I will have a disposable income. And I will remodel the bathroom in my house so I can have a tub. I really like baths.

Being able to cook soon In the last year, I've gotten used to cooking dinner nearly every night. For the last few weeks, I've been working evenings at my parents' restaurant and either eating there or throwing together something completely weird when I get home. While they're gone, I'll get to cook again. I miss cooking. And apparently my entire TILT is going to be anticipatory.

Glitter and confetti parsnips; losing entire days to marathons on TV - this should probably annoy me, but I like it; learning about the tea party coloring book for kids - both extremely amusing and completely terrifying; actually managing to get eighteen milk cartons open without using my fingernails - I never get that lucky; being able to talk about teaching with another educator; "you dress like one of the bait girls on To Catch a Predator"; "good hair days (although, hate me if you must, I don't have a lot of particularly bad ones); the enormous chrysanthemum blooming next to my door and the lantana getting beautiful one more time; a freezer full of deliciousness; using the laptop in bed (again.); a dad who will kill the enormous wasp colonies outside my house for me; Nutella; stacks of books to read; throwing things together and getting a delicious outcome; little bits; Philippa Gregory's The Red Queen waiting to be read in my living room.

Please, lovelies, tell me what's making you smile this week!

In Which Four-Year-Olds Squished My Brain

2010-09-29T16:24:00.000-05:00

I had a post planned in my head. Then I spent the day substitute teaching in a preschool classroom. One little boy spent the entire morning having a tantrum. It began with a simple refusal to do what he was asked. It ended with screaming and banging his hands and feet against the wall until his parents were called to come get him.

I'm exhausted. Anything I write will be flatter than my hair.

Douse the Sunrise

2010-09-28T01:16:00.000-05:00

"Coffee is the best thing to douse the sunrise with."

Drew Sirtors

collage source unknown, but not made by me

Celebrating Autumn

2010-09-25T13:31:00.000-05:00

I once put a lot of energy into writing a missive about how much I hate autumn. I realize now that, while autumn isn't my favorite season, part of my prior hatred was the result of being forced to be outside walking to class during the bits of fall that are less enjoyable. Those chilly rainshowers that are so great for drinking coffee and reading books are not so great for walking to class.

But, in the spirit of recognizing that I don't actually hate autumn and celebrating the good rather than lamenting the bad, I've composed a list of things about autumn that I love.

not listening to a running air conditioner (why are they so loud?)
cardigans
blooming chrysanthemums
the handful of trees that turn pretty colors here (instead of just brown and dead)
wearing tights
extra-delicious apples
the end of daylight savings time
making and eating soup all the time
new episodes of scripted television
Halloween
trench coat temperatures
the yearly compulsion to buy school supplies
spending rainy days reading inside
the end of "beach book" buzz
cranberries
taking long, hot baths
hot, spiced apple cider
Thanksgiving
attending football games
cashmere

Happier

2010-09-24T02:19:00.001-05:00

Things I Love Thursday

2010-09-23T11:48:00.008-05:00

Embracing my old lady-ness Really, guys. I live alone with two cats, make others eat things I bake, engage in a whole host of old lady pursuits, and watch TV with the volume too loud.* I'm very particular about my space, I have tissues and ibuprofen in my purse, and I watch the squawking that is The View. I was already the crazy cat lady forty or fifty years early; now I'm a 24-year-old senior citizen.

Slow mornings I'm ready for a full-time job and I love substituting (and the money it makes), but I really love my slow, easy weekday mornings. I drink coffee sip-by-sip while watching Good Morning America. I have time to make breakfast if I want or wander around outside or read during commercials (ever the multi-tasker). I also get to sleep in. You see, Good Morning America is on at 6 am in my time zone, but I have DirecTV. They give me the west coast broadcast of the four networks, which means I get to watch GMA at 9 am instead. So this week I also love DirecTV.

Unclogging the vacuum Two Christmases ago, my parents gave me a vacuum (yes, a not-so-subtle hint). When living with the Roommate, she clogged it, put it back in the closet, and never said a word. Excellent. So when I moved back to Small Town, I started using the ancient-but-still-effective vacuum my grandmother had been using since the 70s. But it's heavy and cumbersome, so Sunday afternoon I decided to rip apart the fancy new upright. Giant masses of white hair and dust came out, and now the vacuum sucks! Because a vacuum is, after all, one of the few things you want to suck. (Oh, yes. Dirty.)

Food While reading my list, I realized how many of my things related to food. So, all together! Menu planning and grocery shopping accordingly - much better than running to the store a couple of times a week to grab a handful of things; berry smoothies; mini bananas, no matter how over-priced they were - so cute!; from-scratch mac and cheese with spinach and sun-dried tomatoes - read the recipe and try it, because it's really good; coffee caramel hard candies; Italian-style bread to use as a vehicle for homemade tomato jam; buying lots of apples and planning to cook with them.

"There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic."

Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale

Discovering Hawk has a blog! And I already love it. Go read it: Sobriety is Hardcore. You remember: Hawk is my fiancee.

Just a pinch learning about my own influence; clean blankets warm from the dryer; getting paid for big chunks of free time, which I use to read; improving others' grammar - I will never give up!; fun songs on the radio during the drive home, especially when it's a song I've been thinking about for a few days; tulip and hyacinth bulbs to plant and enjoy in the spring; the wonders of modern medicine: drugs that get rid of sinus headaches make life bearable; season premieres of House, Glee, and Gossip Girl; making a point of saying hello; believing; repeatedly resisting temptation; school supplies on sale - I love Post-Its; cleaning out my fridge (just a little, but it needs a real cleaning), seeing how excited my mom is about her upcoming vacation; magazine subscriptions - I now get Vanity Fair, Everyday Food, and Whole Living each month, and read Mom's Better Homes and Gardens after she's finished with it - I really like magazines.

Tell me, kittens, what's making you love life this week? Remember, it's only polite to share.

*There is a reason for that. My hearing was damaged when I was little and my couch is right in front of the (not quiet) air conditioner. If I sit elsewhere, I realize just how loud it is. But of course I'm not going to sit elsewhere!

Choices

2010-09-21T16:15:00.003-05:00

"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Albus Dumbledore

Obviously the work of J.K. Rowling. When I wrote this down, I didn't think it was important to specify which book it came from. If you're sure (I think I know), give me a head's up.

Influential

2010-09-20T11:48:00.003-05:00

I spent my evenings last week - and probably for the next couple of weeks - working at my parents' restaurant. They work with a small staff, and one of their employees was in an accident, so I've stepped in to cover her shifts for the time being. Friday night, I learned that I have a greater influence on others than I'd realized.

We're basically a burgers-and-fries place, and evening employees are typically girls in high school, and most evenings five people plus the cook take care of everything, and it's pretty simple to follow. It's a job that requires communicating and paying attention, but there's nothing about it that's hard. There's always downtime, which of course leads to chatting. Often banal, sometimes enlightening chatting.

I take issue with one current employee, who I am going to call B. He is twenty-four, like me, and got his job because he was dating a then-sixteen-year-old employee. (She's now 18. Yes, I still think he's too old for her.) I try very hard not to judge people. Okay, I try very hard to keep my judgment of people to myself instead of saying it out loud (or posting it on the internet). But this kid makes me crazy. We are the same age, but couldn't be in more different places in life. I may not be a pinnacle of success and determination, but I'm educated and I take care of myself. I pay attention to the world around me and maintain a certain level of social awareness. B fits right in with the teenage girls at the restaurant because his maturity level is right on par with theirs. He's not terribly intelligent and also lacks common sense, and he's consistently making that very obvious to those around him. He has a tendency to chatter even more than the teenage girls he's working with.

I think that, both on the surface and deep down, I am a kind person. I make an effort to bring people up instead of putting them down, and I think everyone deserves to be treated with respect. That said, I am intensely mean to B. Beyond the fact that I think he's an idiot and a little gross for dating a girl in high school, every time he speaks I have a single thought: "Shut up." I almost never say the phrase "shut up" - I think it's exceptionally rude - and I think it little more often than I say it. But every single time he speaks, I want to tell him to shut up. Instead, I'm just mean to him. I make passive-aggressive comments, mutter horrible things under my breath that only he can hear, and cut him down in front of the room with regularity. All things that I wouldn't feel compelled to do if he would only keep his mouth shut!

I need to pause here and say that I'm not exactly proud of the things I just wrote.

Typically, I work with only one of my parents at a time, usually my dad, but Friday night, they were both there. We were finishing up for the night when my mom paused to get a drink near where I was standing. "B talks a lot less when you're here," she commented. I was surprised - I still think he talks too much - so I confirmed her statement with my dad and one of the other girls. And it made me think.

Unless we're told, we have no idea how our presence effects those around us. We're very aware of how others make us feel: the friend who puts us at ease, the teacher who makes us feel brilliant, that guy who icks you out a bit. But how does your presence make others feel?

If I were a better person, I might feel bad about what I learned about B. I don't. But it does make me think about how I influence others, and I think B is probably an exception. I'd like to believe that I make others feel better, generally, and that is a goal that I work towards. As a teacher, I will work with teenagers, and substituting puts me in contact with even younger kids, and I think it's important to make every effort to be a good influence in every way.

How do I make you feel? What sort of feelings would you like to elicit in those around you?

Things I Love Thursday

2010-09-16T04:50:00.005-05:00

Books Reading articles about them on The Daily Beast, ordering them online, checking them out from the library - everything about them makes me happy. Like everything in my life, I read books in phases, and right now I'm in a books-with-substance phase, quite different from my nonfiction, young adult, and romance novel phases. Love books so much.

Lady Gaga on the VMAs With the exception of the meat dress (it icked me out), I was pretty happy with Gaga Sunday night. She wore McQueen because the designer provided the clothes for her much-nominated (and much-awarded) "Bad Romance" video, and while I thought that we'd moved past the armadillo heels, I'm pretty sure she's the only one who could actually wear them in public instead of just for a photo shoot. She walked the carpet with soldiers discharged due to the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, honored the late McQueen in one of her acceptance speeches, and told the cast of Glee that she loves them. Cher presented her the award for Video of the Year, and all I could think as the two of them stood there was how excited "the gays" (as Kathy Griffin would say) must have been. Cher and Gaga! Love love love.

Luck Fate. Whatever you want to call it. There was an accident last night at the end of the road I live on that I may very well have been a part of if I hadn't stopped to get gas on my way home. It seems simple, and it is, but I'm grateful either way.

Inspiration It comes from rain and quiet and the beautiful words of others. Now, I need to combine that with motivation and good timing and a healthy pinch of luck.

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”

Virginia Woolf

Extra Credit Johnny Weir on The Rachel Zoe Project; "I have shoes older than most of tonight's nominees."; Mom-made (better than homemade) vegetable beef stew; blasts from the past - and all the better when they put cash in my pocket; the season premiere of Gossip Girl waiting on the parents' DVR for my viewing pleasure; writing letters to the future-me; "you think you know me"; employing my baking skills to endear myself to my future boss and the very nice secretary who gives me work now; "they actually taste chocolatey instead of just being brown" - my goal, so that comment was much appreciated; so-cute kittens; painting my door pink - picture forthcoming!; gchats with Ms. B; lovely things on Tumblr; feline reactions to peacock calls on TV; playing Monopoly Here and Now on my computer; feeling more certain of myself; planning a rainy-evening dinner.

Idyllic

2010-09-15T16:15:00.002-05:00

Today, the sky is rumbly and dark. The dampness makes it seem cooler than it is. It's the perfect afternoon to curl up on the couch with a cozy blanket and a feline footwarmer, drinking a cup of Lady Grey while reading The Thirteenth Tale. Perfection.

Memories

2010-09-14T11:21:00.003-05:00

"Memories are absurd things. Some are vague, some crystalline, some too painful to recollect and some so painful it’s impossible to forget. Happy times are remembered with warmth and laughter, recalled as an anecdote in the pub, exaggerated for the crowd. The really good ones keep you company on an otherwise lonely evening. The clearest memories are of those occasions when you experience great highs or lows. It’s the emotion the situation inspires that you remember. That feeling of incredible exultation or terrible despair enables your brain to note the details that normally pass you by, like the color of someone’s shirt, a hand gesture or how warm or cold it was."

Anna McPartlin
Pack Up the Moon

Questions and Wonder

2010-09-11T14:01:00.000-05:00

When I was a freshman in college, four high school students in my hometown were in a car accident the night before Thanksgiving. Three of those students worked for my parents - and therefore with me, on weekends - so I had some interest in the circumstances and outcomes of the situation. Three boys and a girl. They were in her car, though she wasn't driving. We'd had an early freeze, so there were patches of ice to watch out for on the rural highway they were traveling.

Racing on, actually. Because that's one of the things that particular hilly, straight stretch of rural highway is good for. I have to admit that I've done it, too. However, I didn't do it driving someone else's car after I'd been drinking. That was, unfortunately, the combination of circumstances that led to the accident that Wednesday evening.

Everyone but the driver was ejected from the vehicle, despite later claims that everyone had been wearing seatbelts. Their shoes were literally pulled from their feet by the force, because they were each found barefoot in the middle of the cold pasture on the west side of the road. One of the boys suffered a broken arm and collarbone. Another boy suffered a broken femur that punctured the skin. He later needed skin grafts, like a burn victim, to repair skin that split when it swelled too quickly to stretch. The girl died, instantly they believe, of a broken neck.

The driver walked away with a mild concussion and some bruises.

As weeks slipped by, more information started to come out, most notably that the 18-year-old driver had been drinking earlier in the evening and had been driving recklessly (well over 90 mph) despite the iffy road conditions. The girl's family agreed to press charges. The other boys involved in the accident were in the impossible position of saying things about their friend that were true but had the potential to destroy his life; of course, they'd also lost a friend in the girl.

Things were long and drawn out, and I honestly can't remember what the outcome was. He may have been fined or sentenced to community service, though I don't believe he was ever sentenced to spend time in prison. He was a kid known for recklessness and a bad attitude, and popular opinion seemed to run pretty consistently to the burn-him-at-the-stake position. I thought he should be expected to pay for his poor decisions. I didn't thinking that living with the knowledge that he was at least partially responsible for killing her, his friend, an eighteen-year-old high school student, was enough punishment.

Now, it's less clear.

Without consequences, our choices are all ego-driven. Without the positive consequence of money, many of us wouldn't go to work each day. Without the negative consequence of losing recess time, kindergarten students would chatter constantly. We forget that consequence is a neutral word, but perhaps that's because negative consequences seem to carry more weight in the human psyche. We are more concerned about punishments than we are rewards. But that's another discussion.

Whatever the eventual outside consequences for his actions were, the driver still has to live every day knowing that he contributed to the death of another person. He now manages the meat department at the local grocery store, so I see him fairly regularly, both in my own shopping and in running occasional errands for my parents' restaurant. I'm not sure that he was ever a young man who was destined for "great things," but I wonder if he could have attained more without this set of circumstances hanging over his head.

He and this girl had dated a time or two, in that small town, high school way, in which, I think, teenagers go back to the same person over and over because there aren't any other options. I can't remember if they were on or off. Maybe he was in love with her. Maybe he wasn't, but on some level he had to care.

Every time I see him, I think about her, but because I wonder how he copes with that knowledge. I wonder what it was like to grieve when so many were placing the blame squarely on his shoulders. I wonder if he ever feels like people are still blaming him, because I know how near impossible it is to ever escape your past in your hometown. I sometimes wonder if I shouldn't take an extra minute to be kind to him, if he would be appreciative or confused or annoyed.

I wonder if he realizes that someone he barely knows spends this much energy thinking about him.

Things I Love Thursday

2010-09-09T11:45:00.007-05:00

Mmm, Thursday! This week, I am enjoying the following:

Little kids Tuesday, I substituted at my elementary school. Leaving my classroom-for-the-day to pick up the class from the library, I walked past the first grade hallway and saw one of the groups crossing the hallway from their classroom to the restroom. At the back of the line was a little boy pulling on a sweatshirt. He couldn't seem to get his head or arms through the proper holes, and was therefore crossing the hallway blindly. His teacher helped him, and I went on down the hallway completely amused by the antics of little kids. I'm also glad that I'm not an elementary teacher by training and that I don't have any children of my own. Much more fun to interact with them the way I get to.

Thunderstorms I prefer natural occurrences that don't harm people or property, and a good thunderstorm usually fits the bill. And did you know that hummingbirds will fly around in pouring rain to play and drink from a feeder? Seriously remarkable birds.

Unsolicited work I kind of dropped the ball on getting set up to substitute in the second district where I spent some time last year, but the principal at their elementary school called me Tuesday afternoon to see what my plans for the school year were. I spent six weeks covering his sixth grade class when their teacher had surgery last school year, so I guess it isn't surprising that he's happy to have me subbing there again this year. He was also one of my references when I interviewed (another unsolicited offer) for a job about sixty miles from home. This blurb is getting hard to understand...suffice it to say it's nice to get a vote of confidence from someone with a bit of power.

Coming together As someone who struggles to write - even though I want to do it so much - it's wonderful when inspiration, motivation, and time finally come together in my favor. Love.

This and that getting paid for a full day of work instead of the half-day I was there; playing with super-cute kittens; hot showers and a pot of coffee to chase away post-Benadryl haze; the convenience and cheapness of magazine subscriptions - it's easy to justify $12 for 20 magazines instead of $4 per issue; students who are shocked when a teacher uses the phrase "what the heck"; an allergic reaction that is not anaphylaxis - bright side, kittens; the apparent perception of myself as capable; a classroom teacher with substituting experience who therefore makes things super-clear and easy for the person coming in (read: me); breadsticks with marinara; using the laptop in bed, something I haven't really done a lot; the convenience of Netflix - seriously, think about it; roasted things - broccoli, corn, chicken; when food tastes better than you expected; knowing kids from substituting last year; October's Vanity Fair; unexpected trips with Starbucks rewards; "Wow, you really are short."; cooler weather; thinking about cupcake decorations; getting up early enough to shower, make scrambled eggs, and still be early to my destination.

What's rocking your boat this week, kittens?

photo credits via tumblr

Stories and People

2010-09-07T01:56:00.000-05:00

"Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we're quoting."

John Green

Let Them Be Choos

2010-09-04T19:25:00.005-05:00

via blinksoflife

My junior year of high school, I had an amazing English teacher, Mrs. W. Her class was specifically designed for college-bound students, so she was the first teacher who really asked us what we wanted to be. That year, I thought I wanted to be a psychologist (thank heavens I reconsidered). She taught my senior English class as well, and I was her student aide. She'd been teaching for nearly thirtyyears and was one of a small handful of teachers at my school who could be called a great teacher. She did everything that held any measure of notice or prestige in our school: senior class adviser, National Honor Society adviser, teaching the two most difficult classes for college-bound students.

For years, when someone asked what I was going to be when I grew up, my answer was always, "I'll end up being a teacher whether I like it or not." It's a marginalized profession, and for a while I bought into the hype while apparently also accepting my fate - or something. Mrs. W made me realize that I could be a teacher and have a real influence, because I knew what sort of influence she had on me and everyone else in my high school. I decided that I wanted to be an English teacher; I wanted to be the next Mrs. W.

I know that, from the outside, it didn't look like I spent much time making my decision. I think that's probably the case with most decisions that I make. The truth is, I just run through all of the potential scenarios really quickly. After I decided which school I was going to, my chemistry teacher, who had been teaching for about fifteen years and had a son my age, asked if I knew I was going to study. I told her, naively, the truth: That I wanted to be the next Mrs. W.

I remember everything about her reaction. The inflection, the expression on her face, and the fact that she didn't really think anything of it before or after she spoke. She said, "Those are big shoes to fill." A very true statement, absolutely. But the way she said it...it felt like she didn't think I was capable of living up to my own expectation.

It was strange. Never before in my life had someone reacted with anything but positivity and enthusiasm when I'd set out to do something. Perhaps because my pursuits before had always been relatively inconsequential. But that doubt, or my perception that she doubted me, was completely foreign. From then on, I stopped saying that I wanted to be the next Mrs. W. I minimized it, watered it down: "If I can be half the teacher Mrs. W was, I'll consider myself a success."

You know what? Bullshit. I call bullshit on myself.

No woman ever did great things when her goal was to be half as good as her idol. Will I be as good as Mrs. W in the first few years that I teach? Of course not, because Mrs. W had thirty-plus years of experience. But to tell myself that being half as good is good enough - not fair. It's unfair to expect so little of myself, especially when I know that I'm capable of greatness.

So here's my declaration: Not only will I be the next Mrs. W, I will be a better teacher than Mrs. W was. Those are big shoes to fill.

Things I Love Thursday

2010-09-02T12:05:00.010-05:00

Feeling tired because I've done work You aren't interested in hearing me talk about my summer, during which I had the opportunity to sleep in nearly every day and almost never had somewhere I had to be. But the thing is, I actually prefer running around and working and being busy. Last Friday, I spent my afternoon with second graders, then my evening working at my parents' restaurant. I worked at the restaurant on Saturday too (which was a little strange). I was tired Saturday night, and it's been long enough since I've been tired that way that I enjoyed it. Yes, I am in fact strange.

Daydreaming. Fantasizing. Planning. Visualizing. Scheming. Whatever word you want to use for it - all are accurate - it's more than a little fun.

An entire day of thunderstorms Some people think gray days are sad and depressing. I disagree. I love a day of lightning, thunder, and torrential downpours. I don't feel any less productive, and in fact they tend to inspire me to do things like write and self-pamper and clean.

Looking in other people's desk drawers I realize that this is a little iffy, and I'm sincerely not trying to invade anyone privacy. I just think it's interesting seeing how someone else organizes her desk: what things go in which drawers, whether they use organizers or just have masses of stuff. I like discovering interesting office supplies, teacher-specific things, and the random stuff that people squirrel away in their desks in general. Plus, teachers know that at some point they'll have a substitute and that person may need (or choose) to open their drawers. (Can you tell that I'm a little worried about how appropriate this is? I really have no sinister motives, though.)

Mockingjay Seriously, I'm writing Suzanne Collins a letter. By hand (because no one does that any more). I work hard not to build up expectations for books in series; I hate to be disappointed. Mockingjay, I'm so grateful to say, didn't disappoint me. It came last Thursday afternoon; I read it that night in about four hours. I've since read it a second time. It just makes me really happy. I cannot recommend The Hunger Games highly enough, kittens. For serious.

Getting bragged on Last Saturday, while working at my parents' restaurant, my baking skills were referenced multiple times. A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed that I baked cupcakes for my second grade teacher (after seeing her at the restaurant). I made that my facebook status, and when that same teacher came in Saturday afternoon, my mom had to tell her about my dream. Both of my parents then bragged on my baking skills, which felt pretty nice. Apparently I'm on the way to becoming "famous" for Pop Rocks cupcakes (thanks, Tiff!).

Whipped cream and sprinkles reading through my archives and finding old posts that make me laugh out loud; Better Homes and Gardens; plans to paint the inside of my back door bright pink - the kid who mixed my paint at the store looked dubious, which just proves that I made a good choice; getting ideas for decorating baked goods; toast - bread is really delicious, guys; learning that hummingbirds will brave a thunderstorm to get a tasty drink; drawing floor plans; Marilyn going crazy trying to find the cat meowing on the title menu of The Office (season four, disc two); for that matter, The Office - I watched the "Dinner Party" episode last night and laughed basically the entire time; learning that school content filters don't block my blog; deciding to really go for the hundred push-up challenge, starting with girl-style and perhaps moving on to the real deal; feeling needed; bonding a bit with the lady responsible for whether or not I get called to sub; impressing someone completely by accident; super cute furry things; finding pretty things on tumblr.

What's ringing your bell this week, kittens?

per usual, photo credits via tumblr

Fake It

2010-09-01T16:28:00.005-05:00

After spending my day badgering second graders into being quiet, I feel so energized! I'm inspired to write, clean my kitchen, fix the vacuum, and make gnocchi from scratch.

Nope, no sense to be made from the combination of image and words. I just like that comic.

Ideal Presentation

2010-08-31T11:14:00.002-05:00

In my fantasy, I see a woman who presents herself perfectly. No matter what the occasion, she is always appropriate. She gravitates to dresses and skirts, feeling more powerful somehow when she feels more feminine. She chooses pieces that accent her narrow waist and long legs, including a wide black leather belt and a pair of red stilettos with a hidden platform. She likes oversized rings and cuff bracelets, but never together. Her professional style is powerful and womanly, leaning just a smidge across the center into formality.

Her version of casual is built around cashmere and dark denim, and her hair is sleek and unfussy. She likes heavy eyeliner and a bold lip, but always chooses one or the other. Getting out of the house on time each morning is a bit of a struggle, but you'd never know that looking at her, climbing out of the car smoothly, scarf draped just so, leather-encased hands wrapped around a travel mug of coffee.

If she were to drink a cocktail, it would be something timeless and classic and built around gin or vodka, but it certainly wouldn't be in public. She seems unlikely to be bothered, but puts together an elaborate dinner for one every night. It might be nice to double a recipe now and again, but she's not willing to sacrifice the quiet of her evenings just yet.

She is somehow impervious and approachable at the same time. She guards her privacy as if it could be stolen and sold for profit, but she shares homemade baked goods on a distressingly regular basis. It is difficult to imagine what she must look like completely undone; a bare-faced, messy-haired, pajama-clad version of this women surely doesn't exist.

And under those carefully chosen and perfectly appropriate clothes, she wears impossibly sexy lingerie. It's just her little secret.

People Do Not Care

2010-08-30T16:06:00.001-05:00

and that's a good thing

Things I Love Thursday

2010-08-26T11:53:00.007-05:00

Hummingbirds Growing up, my Grandma always hung feeders for them, so I followed suit. For the first month or so, I never saw anything and assumed that the nectar was evaporating rather than being drunk. I let it run dry, then rushed to fill it when I saw the first hummingbird come and fly away disappointed. In the weeks since, that one lonely hummingbird has become a family of multiple males and females who play peek-a-boo (or go-away-I-hate-you - who can tell?) and completely mesmerize me. Love.

Getting calls to sub Last year, it took months after I'd given schools my information to get my first call to substitute. It was during that time that I was forced to suffer the indignity of asking my mom for enough cash to get bread and milk. Since summer began, I've been preparing myself for the possibility that I wouldn't work again until October or later. This year, however, I have an estabilished reputation with schools; I'm a reliable, competent substitute, and they like me. Which is why I already have a few days lined up, starting with Friday afternoon! It's a little like insurance, I guess, and it feels good.

Parents who will rescue me Being stranded three hours from home sucks. Sucks. Having parents who will come and rescue their adult child, forsaking one of their few nights off? Pretty awesome, and comes without the guilt I would feel asking a friend or a guy to come rescue me (though I'm totally a damsal in distress).

Synchronicity I'd already written TILT - referencing both Advice for All My Children and hummingbirds before I checked it this morning for the purpose of acquiring the link. This was the most recent post:

Last weekend Bradshaw and I don't get to spend nearly enough time together, but when we do, it's pretty excellent. If you read yesterday's weekend recap, you know that we aren't always the most exciting pair of ladies, but that's kind of the point. If you can't sit at home and watch TV with someone, are you really good friends? If you always have to be doing something, what does that say? Since B and I don't have to do anything, I think that says good things.

Plans to put myself on a writing schedule Since I was about nine, my mom has been expecting me to be a published writer. Not as something she's pushed me toward, but as something that I enjoy and have a talent for. I have the same expectation for myself, but I tend to lack that vital combination of inspiration and follow-through. I think that part of the Universe's reason for not presenting me with the perfect full-time teaching job (and at this point, I won't settle for a job that isn't what I want) is to give me the freedom to write. I squandered that freedom, honestly, last school year, and I want to instead take advantage this year. I'm going to make an effort to write every day, preferably fiction (though even writing blog posts is something, right?).

Glitter and sequins Mockingjay anticipation - UPS will bring my copy this afternoon (I hope); planning Christmas cookies - too early? no such thing; gorgeous, cool weather; seeing Hawk this weekend - I forget how much I really like that guy; Advice for All My Children; feeling super-cozy and comfortable in bed; writing grocery lists and planning my shopping trip; thinking ahead enough to bring a book with me this weekend, even though I didn't think I'd have time to read - totally saved me and now makes me think I should keep a book in my car at all times; working so hard to stick to my no-snacks plan; reading nonfiction; gaining clarity; thinking about painting inside my house - I want to paint my door pink and may look at paint this afternoon; eternally cute kittens; red velvet cupcakes (I ate that cupcake, which had cream cheese frosting, even after it sat in my hot car for four hours. Hooray for an iron stomach!); Radical Self-Hate? Stop the Madness!; Puck and Marilyn's excitement at my return; validation; pretty city landscaping; cake and cookie decorating toys.

all photos sourced at Tumblr

Cupcake and Clydesdales

2010-08-25T11:31:00.010-05:00

Budweiser period, kittens.

In writing the rundown of my weekend with Bradshaw, I decided that I am boring. I am at peace with that.

Friday was for enormous burritos and The Office at home. Hawk, my quasi-fiancée, joined us, though he left when I mentioned that Project was planning to join us. In hindsight, I wish Hawk had stayed. Perhaps I should explain my engagement: About a year ago, Hawk learned that I bake. More specifically, he learned that one of my specialties are chocolate Guinness cupcakes with Bailey's cream cheese frosting. He proposed, and we decided that if we're both still single in five years (four, now) we'd get hitched. It's all very '90s sitcom and I like it.

Saturday morning, I dragged Bradshaw with me to a shop with cake decorating supplies. Rather, she drove me to the decorating shop and didn't complain while I looked at everything. Cookie cutters, fondant tools, sanding sugar, luster dust - and that was just the start. Be ready for sugar cookie Christmas lights and gingerbread snowflakes!

Part of what I bought. Look at those cookie cutters!

We headed to the Central West End for cupcakes at The Cupcakery, so my lunch was a yellow cupcake with chocolate buttercream frosting. Worth it.

And that evening? We watched more episodes of The Office. More specifically, we finished watching all of seasons two and three. I've decided that I want to be the Pam to someone's Jim. Not in a romantic sense though; I want to work with someone who's that much fun and amuses me that consistently.

Sunday morning was bagels, Starbucks, and the tour of the Budweiser brewery. The information about the brewing process? Honestly, nothing special. Beer is beer, even when you're picky like me. The history of the company and the brewery, however, was interesting. How they managed to survive Prohibition, the school that operated on brewery property, the inclusion of Grimm's Fairy Tale characters in their marketing and architecture - all very cool.

The end of my sample

You might think that the best part of a brewery tour is the samples at the end. Yes, those are good, but the best part of a Budweiser brewery tour is the animals. Clydesdale horses and dalmatians, kittens! And these animals live better than people I know; their stable is air conditioned and has stained glass windows. If I am reincarnated as an animal, I choose to be a cat in my mom's house or a Budweiser Clydesdale.

Blurry, I know, but do you see the window? Lucky horse. He's probably been on TV.

I'm going to say that the weekend ended there, because the nine-hour debacle that was getting home is kind of a drag.

Yes, I took the photos. That's why they are mediocre at best.

It's Like Squishing a Spider Under a Book

2010-08-24T12:15:00.002-05:00

via

I didn't have particularly high hopes for meeting Project this weekend. I'm young enough that not seeing someone for a "long time" is rarely measured in years with double digits, and even so, I try not to let people slip out of my life unless I want them to go away.

Late Friday evening, after giant Qdoba burritos, I invited Project to come watch episodes of The Office with Bradshaw and me. I proceeded to get more antsy and more awkward. I think, if forced to put a name to the feeling in my stomach, it was dread. The moment I invited him, it felt like a bad idea. After Bradshaw gave him directions, I realized that another part of what I felt was embarrassment. I was embarrassed of him, a bit, and of myself for having been "with" him - or whatever it was that we were. I suddenly didn't want Bradshaw, who knows me better than most anyone and from whom I keep very few secrets, to even meet him.

It was very uncomfortable and he hadn't even arrived.

When he arrived, I felt more relaxed. It was immediately clear that I'm no longer attracted to him (in fact, I had that moment of 'what did I ever see in you?'). I caught myself comparing him to my Quasi-Fiancee, who had been there before - and Project was not coming out ahead in any of my vague internal categories.

I caught myself putting physical barriers between myself and him, first taking a seat on the couch next to Bradshaw and later pulling my feet up to the side between us. I was sleepy, and every time an episode ended, I wished fervently that it was the last on the disc. Eventually, that was the case and I basically told him to go home. Given the former nature of our relationship, I made it very clear a few weeks ago that if we did meet up when I was in the city, nothing physical would happen between us. I think he thought I was kidding, because he seemed a little miffed when I said I wanted to sleep; he asked if he did something wrong. I explained that I'd been up for a while and I was worried about disturbing Bradshaw who I knew had gotten up earlier than I had. There was an incredibly awkward side-hug, he left, and I paced through the apartment for thirty minutes trying to unravel the weird in my brain.

At one point, he looked over and asked if I thought he had changed. I answered, honestly, "not really that I can tell." He considered me for a moment, then said, "yeah, I don't think you have either."

And all I could think was I have I have I have!

I've grown and changed and matured. I'm more intelligent, more positive, more jaded. I approach situations and people with different attitudes and standards. Project seems exactly the same as he did five years ago, and the person I am now finds that more than a little off-putting, to be frank. The person I am now can't seem to help judging him for being exactly the same. I kind of wish I'd left well enough alone.

In Which Mercury Bites Me in the Ass

2010-08-23T12:05:00.003-05:00

Mercury's retrograde cycles tend to be pretty kind to me, but I knew that if ever one was going to get me, this was going to be it. And, in fact, it did.

After a fantastic weekend with Bradshaw (about which you'll get more information later), I left the city at almost exactly 4 pm to start my four-hour drive home. I was pretty proud of myself; I was always the girl who didn't make it back to the dorms until almost midnight after a weekend home (and that drive was only an hour and a half), and this time I managed to leave early enough that I'd make it home around sunset.

A little over an hour into my trip, I stopped for gas and a snack. Filled the tank, reset the trip, toyed with the GPS, situated myself. I turned the key and, predictably, the car started.

Then died.

Repeatedly.

I called my dad, who proceeded to berate me for really ridiculous and inconsequential things ("Why did you go to that gas station instead of the truck stop? Why didn't you tell me you were planning to get food? Why didn't you get food before you got gas?") and stress me to tears. So while I sat in my car, sweltering in the sun and crying, it was decided that my parents would come with the tow dolly they use with their RV and drag my car home.

I called Bradshaw and stress-cried to her for a bit, but finally managed to quell the annoying tears. I walked to a nearby fast food restaurant and suddenly felt homeless, which I shared in a text message. Then my phone began to beep, informing me that it was going to die. Awesome. I went into battery conservation mode (don't touch it no matter how much you want to know what time it is) and stepped into the bathroom to attempt to make myself look presentable without sunglasses. And learned that my lady time* had come early. Super awesome.

Let's review. It is now 6:30 pm, I am three hours from home with a dead car sitting in a gas station parking lot off the interstate, and the death of my phone is imminent. Additionally, I am female, very petite, and it is obvious that I have been crying.

I sat at a picnic table until the sun set around 8, pretending to read Catching Fire and hiding my laptop under my purse next to me on the bench. I say pretending because sitting outside alone at a gas station made me a little anxious. When it started to get dark, I locked myself in the car, leaving behind some of the anxiety; now there's metal and glass between me and my would-be attacker.

At 9:30 (four hours after my arrival at the gas station), my parents rolled up. My dad got in my car, turned the key, and drove out of the parking lot.

Motherfucker.

I've always known that my car was female. See, I believe that cars, particularly older cars, have genders and personalities. Mine is a female prone to throwing hissy fits. Bradshaw and I named her S&M a few years back, a play on the name of the paint color**, but she certainly lived up to the sadistic part of the equation.

It was decided that instead of towing the car, I would just follow my parents home. Unfortunately, there was fog, so taking the 30 miles of rural highway that would cut almost an hour off the trip was a bad idea. We had to take the long-but-safe way. Sigh.

I like driving. I especially enjoy taking these sorts of trips alone; I sing with the radio at ridiculous volumes, dance in my seat, and tell stories in my head (and sometimes out loud). I like being in control and I like the solitude. I like these trips even more when I'm not in a hurry to get to my final destination, though I still speed and get annoyed when another driver forces me to slow down.

I did not enjoy the trip home this time around. What was meant to be a drive that took about four hours ended up being a nine-hour debacle. I had plans for that drive, kittens. All thwarted. I don't typically find driving exhausting, but when we rolled into town at one a.m., all I wanted to do was get. out. of. the. car.

Mercury bit me in the ass. Hard.

*All of the euphemisms we have to choose from for the lady time? They suck. And I will probably never mention that natural occurrence ever again on this blog. I'm actually shocked that I did it this time.
**The sticker lists the color as "spruce metallic." My car is not green by any stretch of the imagination. It is gray.

Things I Love Thursday

2010-08-19T12:01:00.000-05:00

Cooler temperatures It's like the hideous heatwave finally broke! The nice weather probably won't last, but it's been gorgeous for the last few days. When I went outside at night, I kind of wanted - wait for it - sleeves! Excellence, especially on the heels of last week's celebration of air conditioning.

Breakfast at Tiffany's I haven't watched my favorite Audrey movie in nearly a year, and I can't remember the last time I watched it beginning-to-end instead of using it as background noise to fall asleep to. I never forget that I love it, but watching it serves as an excellent reminder. It also makes me want to wear lots of eyeliner and call everone darling.

Making plans for my weekend with Bradshaw Tomorrow afternoon I will drive four hours to spend the weekend getting into trouble with Ms. B. Of course, our biggest plan at the moment involves The Office, a couch, and potential baked goods. There's probably an old-and-boring joke in there, but there's definitely a young-and-broke explanation for it. We don't have the sort of friendship that requires entertainment; sitting on a couch with or without something to watch really is enough to get excited about.

Sprinkles on top September's issue of Vanity Fair; Leverage; delicious in-season peaches; Ellen on So You Think You Can Dance; reading in the bathtub; Christiane Amanpour with my coffee; completing the food photography project; browsing online cake decorating resources and making Grand Plans to let them take all my money this weekend; cleaning my house before I spend the weekend away - it'll be nice to come home to tidiness (this isn't done yet, but it's another Grand Plan); soap opera-style storylines - I'll never get tired of them; getting a chance to chat with "the girls" (hi, Spiff!); putting someone in her place; things that fall together with little or no effort; doing laundry, something I actually do enjoy; watching Puck and Marilyn stalk crickets across my kitchen.

original photo sources available at tumblr

Moving Backwards

2010-08-18T08:11:00.000-05:00

Mercury retrograde is one of the few astrological concepts that are a part of the public consciousness. It's a phrase that I think the majority of people have probably heard, though I'd bet that most of them have no idea what it means.

Mercury is considered retrograde when it appears to move backwards in the heavens from our position on Earth, though its orbit around the Sun hasn't actually changed. Astrologically, this is said to be a time when those things that are associated with Mercury go a bit haywire and when we are forced to revisit recent Mercury-related things.

Mercury is the planet of communication, thought processes, dualities (think twins), our perceptions. Its Greek mythology equivalent is Hermes, making it also the planet of tricksters and thieves, liars and actors. It rules our personal communication, thoughts, and travel. In retrograde, Mercury is blamed for everything from crashed email inboxes to lost luggage. We are cautioned to avoid signing contracts, purchasing electronics and appliances, and to keep our words sweet for the inevitability of having to eat them.

I've done my best to pay attention to Mercury's retrograde cycles so I could decide if they were really worth all the fuss. This year, Mercury was retrograde for New Year's (until January 16th) and then again from mid-April till mid-May. During neither of these retrogrades did I have any issues with electronics or appliances, my car didn't conk out or wind up wrapped around a tree, and I didn't stick my foot in my mouth (or if I did, it wasn't egregious enough to remember just a handful of months later).

I've read - though I have no idea where - that people born under a Mercury retrograde are perhaps less affected when the planet retrogrades in transit; they were born under that influence and are therefore more comfortable with it than the general population. I'm not sure if that theory holds water on a large scale, but it seems to work for me as I was born under one of these cycles.

Mercury will retrograde again on August 21st, and it seems that I've decided to tempt the cosmos this time around. I'll be traveling the four-ish hours to visit Bradshaw and seeing Project for the first time in nearly five years. Who knows what sort of issues I could be walking into?

Have you ever had a Mercury retrograde experience or do you think it's much ado about nothing?

Project: Food Photography Results

2010-08-17T20:04:00.003-05:00

I spent the last week photographing my meals. It was an exercise in mindful eating and completed alongside my current no-snacks plan. I don't always manage not to have snacks (I'm very weak) so you aren't seeing everything I ate in the last week, but the extreme majority of it. I missed one photo, an unremarkable Sunday afternoon lunch.

My first draft of this post included two paragraphs defending and explaining my choices, but after sleeping on it, I realized that I don't need to explain myself. So I deleted it, and I'm going to stand by that.

I think the real question is whether or not it made a difference to my mealtimes. Taking the photos took approximately three seconds, though I admit to taking a bit more time "styling" the food before I ate. And in fact, I think that's a good thing. We eat with our eyes first, right? It definitely influenced my choices, but that was the fact that I'd be showing the photos not the simple act of taking one. I wanted the photos to be at least a little visually appealing, and beige food (often bad for you) is not so visually appealing.

Perhaps this is the sort of project to be undertaken periodically. For me, the accountability was key, not the actual photographs. It is interesting, however, to see them put together in a collage like this and use it to consider colors rather than specific foods. The unhealthiest meals? Brown and beige. (Though to be fair, I'm pretty sure that oatmeal with peaches and pecans was pretty nutritious and it's mostly beige too.) This also really brings your less healthy meals to your consciousness, and while I think we all need to indulge, I could stand to indulge less.

Overall, an interesting and successful project. Is this the sort of thing you might want to try? Any questions about my odd eating habits?

Amusements

2010-08-16T16:34:00.004-05:00

via The Cherry Blossom Girl

I like to share things that entertain me. Herewith, things that have entertained me in the last couple of weeks.

Not That Kind of Girl is a super funny and very well-written blog chronicling the adventures of a girl doing "uncharacteristic" things. It's so entertaining to see the results when she steps outside of her comfort zone, and I'm seriously sad that I found the blog just a week before she finishes her project. Posts I particularly enjoying: The Kind of Girl who...seduces you with her eyes and TKOG Who smiles whether or not the whole world smiles with her

I've never been a huge microwave cooking fan - you have to make everything at least twice to get the timing right due to differences in microwaves - but this recipe has changed my life (probably for the chubbier). Cheesecake in a Mug is delicious and super simple. If you like cheesecake, it's absolutely worth trying.

True Story: I'm a Genius at yes and yes was so interesting. I admit, I found it more interesting when I began to think about it from my own perspective as an educator, but Sarah's True Story series is really excellent.

Over at Ravenesque Tarot, Karen's Weekly Tarotscope is excellent. In fact, most of what she writes is excellent, incorporating tarot and astrology, which I find is an education in both fields of study. For a quick and easy version, scroll down and check out the weekly card for your Sun sign and (if you know it) your Ascendant. Sometimes, if I don't like the card for one, I ignore it and pay attention to the card for the other!

Completely the wrong season, but I'm so planning ahead with these gingerbread houses for the rim of your mug. So. Cute.

Bradshaw has posted on this, and she has a far more interesting perspective than I do. First, I read a feminist critique of Twilight: Feminism Doesn't Sparkle: What Twilight Teaches Young Girls. Then I read through summaries of each book written by a young lady who was raised in a Mormon church (like the author, Stephenie Meyer): LDS Sparkledammerung is HERE!. Then I showed both to Bradshaw, and she wrote this: My Endless Love and I believe more is forthcoming from the lovely Ms. B. (I did some reading on the LDS church and I'm fairly certain a post on religion is forthcoming.)

Lady Gaga is on the cover of September's issue of Vanity Fair. I dig her music and her style (like a lot of people), but I'm really interested in her astrology. Born the day before I was, she's the closest thing to an astrological twin I may ever get - at least one that might be written about extensively. Everything in our charts is near-identical with the exception of the placement of our Moons in Scorpio and likely her unknown Ascendant, though I present myself nothing like Lady Gaga. You can read a teensy bit at Vanity Fair, but the article in the magazine is pretty fascinating, including her attitude toward her fans and her thoughts on sex and creativity.

The Cherry Blossom Girl takes beautiful pictures.

Finally, pretty foods on Tumblr. Food porn is always fun.

Martha vs. Snooki

2010-08-13T12:58:00.004-05:00

Confession: I want to be a type-A person.

I feel like there's a weird tendency to both revere and tease type-A behavior. Our culture is alternately obsessed with things like organization and hedonism, perfection in appearances and embracing our imperfections. We like the fastidiousness of Martha Stewart and the train wreck that is Jersey Shore. We're obsessed with organizing our times and our belongings, but we seek out expressions of lost inhibitions (think textsfromlastnight and The Real Housewives of Wherever). And I'm just as bad as everyone else because almost all of those examples come from my own interests and habits.

I love the idea of being something who is ruthlessly organized. I want a spotless kitchen and a refrigerator where all of the labels face forward and the leftovers are neatly stored. I want perfection in color scheme and the objects I display in my home. I want my wardrobe to be perfectly cohesive, and when I get dressed I want people to think it looks just like me. I want to make and complete dail to do lists, to make my bed every morning, to eat perfectly portioned and balanced meals.

That's so far from my truth.

I have my type-A moments. I alphabetize my books and DVDs, I color-code planners (when I keep them), and I'm completely anal about the placement of things in my makeup bag, purse, and computer files. But for the most part, I can't keep it up. As I write, I can see the following: five dresses strung across the top of my heating stove, a kitchen table scattered with random things, a sink full of dishes, carpets that need vacuuming, floors that need mopping, and a stack of magazines sliding from the arm of the couch onto the seat and against sleeping Puck. I also know that my bathroom counter is strung with stuff, there is an enormous pile of clothes (mostly from spring) at the foot of my bed, and the passenger-side floorboard of my car is filled with trash.

For all of those organizational tendencies and jealousies, I am a slob. I find none of the things listed in the previous paragraph particularly distressing. At some point, I will either convince myself to take care of them or they will, suddenly, begin to be absolutely unacceptable and I'll be absolutely nutty until they're gone, but there isn't anything that can make me maintain the fastidious organization that I'd like to have.

For years, I've tried to make myself into a type-A person. I've made detailed schedules for cleaning and organizing, read books and websites, berated myself, asked others to berate me - all to no avail. I'm not quite ready to let go of it either. While I've accepted that dishes in the sink and and an unmade bed are far from things to worry about, I'd still like to get rid of my habits of filling every horizontal surface in my home with random stuff and leaving piles of clothes in various places instead of hanging and putting them away.

There are all sorts of negative connotations that go along with this type-A thing. Even my awareness of those doesn't change my mind. I took this quiz and learned that I am 70% type-A, which the quiz seems to think is a good thing, a balanced thing. I'm sure that's true, but it still annoys me a bit.

Where do you fall on the organizational spectrum?

Things I Love Thursday

2010-08-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

Air Conditioning Sweet baby J, how did people get anything done before AC? As I type this (at two in the afternoon), it is 98 degrees F in Small Town. The heat index? 107! Honestly, without air conditioning I think I would be a worthless, half-sick blob all summer. Hooray for air conditioning and the productivity allowed by it.

Contradictions My mom is one of those don't-eff-with-her sort of chicks. It is from her that I inherited my belief that fewer, closer friends is better than a slew of acquaintances. She's among the worst gossips in the world, but not like you think. She doesn't gossip. When I was living in College Town I'd find out weeks later that so-and-so had gotten divorced/pregnant/arrested. She hates drama. So it was insanely amusing to learn that she watches The Real Housewives of Wherever with all of their nonsense and dramatics. She almost never sits and watches TV without doing something else, but the fact that it's even the channel she chooses to turn to when she's cleaning or doing paperwork is endlessly amusing to me.

My body My no-snacks plan is apparently paying off. I haven't really modified the meals I prepare - that would be too much change all at once - but I've still lost 1/2 inch off my waist, hips, and thighs (the three things I measured when I started). Hooray, results! I've also decided to challenge myself with push-ups. Currently I can do about 10 girly-style push-ups before my arms give out, and my goal is to graduate to grown-up push-ups. When I get there, I'll set a new goal. I'm enjoying feeling my muscles ache. Weird, but happy.

Jabberwockey peach crostini (toasty French bread, ricotta, sliced peach, honey drizzle - yum); The Rachel Zoe Project; tarte lip stain, again, because it's so amazing; my new desk space and the inspiration that's come from it; The Nanny; Little Reminders of Love; Zoey Deschanel's wardrobe in (500) Days of Summer - covet covet covet; cats who eat lettuce (read: mine); feeling strong; microwave cheesecake-in-a-mug; the deliciousness of legumes; walking into a hardware store in heels and the subsequent appraising looks; Mars in Libra kicking my ass into gear; cute new earrings; letting my mind wander when I go for walks; paintings created for the wall above my desk; shirtdresses; On the Road with Austin and Santino - I saw this advertised and thought it would be ridiculous, which is is, but in the BEST WAY POSSIBLE.

all photos via my tumblr (see sidebar). appropriate credit given there.

Costume Change

2010-08-10T21:03:00.001-05:00

source unknown

"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character.... Would you slow down? Or speed up?"

Chuck Palahniuk

Project: Food Photography

2010-08-10T15:59:00.003-05:00

via

I recently came across an article on mindful eating, and it piqued my curiosity. The author began with an anecdote about seeing other patrons in restaurants pausing before they eat to photograph their food and her own impressions and opinions of it. Ultimately, she seemed to think that it was an interesting facet of the habit of mindful eating - really paying attention to what you're putting in your mouth and all of the sensations that go along with it. It's about focusing your attention on your meal rather than on the television or the book you're reading and listening to the signals your body is giving you about that meal.

Maybe you love a dinner of nachos with spicy cheese, beef, and jalapenos washed down with a giant margarita, but an hour after you eat, you feel sluggish and you have heartburn. Your body is telling you that it was a bad choice; nachos and margaritas make you feel bad. Then you can pause to consider why you like them in the first place. Sure, you like spicy food and tequila, but really, this is a meal that you associate with late nights with your college roommate. In fact, when you eat mindfully and really pay attention to the food as you eat (instead of watching Jersey Shore and rolling your eyes at Snooki's sunglasses), you begin to notice that most of the chips are soggy, the cheese is congealing, and you added a bit too much ice before you blended the margarita. It's actually a poor substitute for a meal you had at a time when you had a lot of fun.

I am among the last people who should tell anyone how to eat. The fact that I don't weigh 300 lbs and suffer from a whole host of medical issues is a testament to good genes and good luck. When I was living in College Town (and honestly, through most of high school), almost everything I ate was crap. I was completely addicted to Totino's pizza rolls for about three years, my shopping trips always included large amounts of junk food, and I ate fast food constantly (my apartment was a block from a Taco Bell that was open till 5 am - seriously).

When I moved in with the roommate, having someone see what I was eating did shame me a bit into pretending that I was eating healthier, but the fact was that I still fed myself predominantly with junk. And our house was a different culture than that of my parents' home, a dorm, or my solo apartment: We were drinkers. Beer and liquor were a part of daily life with the Roommate instead of a sometimes thing or a going-out-binge-drinking thing.

Moving back to Small Town where eating fast food became more challenging (the only fast food establishments in Small Town are McDonald's and Sonic; the only other chain restaurant is Pizza Hut) meant that I was going to have to cook more. Combine that with my four months of not making a single dime and preparing my meals became the norm. While I occasionally ate at my parents' restaurant and they would occasionally bring me takeout, I made nearly everything I ate. I'd like to think I've cultivated some good habits in the last six years, and particularly in the last year. I switched from the whole milk I was raised on to nonfat, unless the bread is French I buy whole wheat, I've taught myself to like peas and broccoli and onions, and I've made an effort to eat meals that are more balanced, even if they aren't always the height of health.

For the last two weeks, I've sworn off snacks in an attempt to look hot(ter) when I see Project later this month. It is absolutely vanity and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I struggle with eating snacks that are a) a reasonable size and b) not junk food. So I didn't allow myself to buy any junk and I'm not allowed to eat between meals. Because I'm thinking about how long it's going to be before I can eat again, I'm thinking about balancing my meals better than I ever did before, and I think that's probably the best thing that will come from this little experiment.

Still, I've fallen off the wagon a time or two. One night last week I had such a craving for sugar - of any kind, really - that I sent a despairing text mesage to Bradshaw. I then proceded to pit some of the cherries in my fridge and warm them with a bit of butter and brown sugar before gobbling them up. (Apparently just the sugary-ness of the cherries themselves wasn't enough for me.)

I'm going to experiment with mindful eating. There are plenty of aspects to this, but I'm not going to promise that I'll sit at the table and avoid watching television while I eat (in fact, I almost certainly will be watching television). What I will do is take a photograph of each meal before I eat, and as an act of accountability, I will post about the experiment in one week.*

Wish me luck. And, if you're at all intriguied, I challenge you to play with me. Photograph one meal each day if you aren't feeling as ambitious as I am.

*And I swear I won't make you look at a slew of poorly styled photos of my food. I'll make a collage that you can give a cursory glance and then ignore.

Journey

2010-08-09T00:55:00.000-05:00

I never started blogging for other people to read. My goal at the beginning wasn't for anyone to discover my writing and suddenly become wildly interested in me and what I had to say.

That sounds strange, and for an attention whore like me, unlikely, but it's true. My very first blog post was on livejournal in the summer of 2006. I was mourning and lost and depressed and I didn't feel like I could talk about it. What I could do was write, but somehow it wasn't enough to write in a journal and put it away. So I wrote and posted it online. I think there was something in the idea that someone could read it that was appealing, and something in the fact that it was unlikely to be read that was comforting.

I think forcing myself to tell my story made a difference. And at some point, I decided to move to blogspot and begin writing in the hopes that someone would read it. I wanted to step away from the soul searching introspection and just put myself out there. And for a long time, it seemed like no one read it at all. Maybe no one did.

Eventually I decided that Bradshaw was, in fact, trustworthy, and I gave up a little piece of my anonymity. Part of the motivation to keep the blog a secret from those in my day-to-day life was the freedom to write not-so-nice things about them if I felt compelled. I finally realized that it was extremely unlikely that I would ever feel the need to write not-so-nice things about Bradshaw. I wanted to share this part of myself with her, so I did. I've never regretted that, and in fact I've shared the blog with a handful of other people who matter to me.

But now that I've worked through most of the issues that first prompted me to begin blogging, what is the point of writing now? What is the purpose of my blog? It's more than a place to blow off steam or ramble - handwritten journals are far superior to the internet for that. I want it to be more than a place to share gratitude and quotations and pretty images and my kitchen adventures- though I think those things have a certain value of their own.

It was about two years ago that I started working deliberately to pull myself away from those difficult things that were hanging over my head when I started writing. I began to actively avoid writing negatively to take the power away from those days and those emotions. If we assume that I've "conquered" my grief and negativity, why am I still writing at all?

I don't think the internet needs another make yourself happy/be positive/you're awesome/hooray for gratitude blog. It's been done to death and by people who do it better than I can. There aren't a lot of things I know or do better than anyone else. Maybe the only thing that I know better than you, kitten, is how to teach Romeo and Juliet to a classroom of high school freshmen. I'm still trying to be a better person. Not a poised, self-actualized, perfectly positive karmic goddess: I just want to be happy. I think that maybe the first step on that road is really learning who I am to begin with. Then I can embrace what is good and beautiful, work towards changing what's less-than-fantastic, and learn to love even the unattractive.

This blog is my journey toward being that person. I want to explore and think and read and try different things. I want to experiment and to grow, to learn what works and what doesn't - for me. I want to own my quirks, conquer my fears, and revel in the things that make me happy. I'll stumble and fail and probably get hurt, but I think I'll also succeed and triumph and become a better person for my efforts. Here, I want to share my journey with you and maybe, if you're game, drag you along for the ride.

I'm so glad that you've joined me.

A Space of My Own

2010-08-06T21:23:00.004-05:00

Today, I created office space for myself. I am weirdly happy about it.

I never really used my desk in high school, but when I went to college, that was where the computer lived, so I began to find it useful. Not for sitting and doing reading or handwritten assignments. I really just used it for computer time. Granted, most of the works I completed in college (that wasn't simply reading) was done on the computer in some way, but if I'd had a laptop instead of a desktop, I know I would've done all of that work on my bed or couch.

A day or two ago, I discovered yes and yes (see the sidebar, kittens) and Sarah's photos of her compact Office Space. Apparently it inspired me, because this afternoon I relocated Grandma's sewing machine and turned an end table into my new desk. With a bulletin board and all of my writing references in easy reach, it seems perfect even if it is humble. As soon as I put away the mountain of clothes next to it, I'll take pictures for you.

I've been hearing for years that people are more productive when they have a place dedicated to work, and I think it's time I test it out. I've always written it off, to be honest; I made it through high school and college doing homework on beds and couches. Of course, there were also deadlines and due dates that were imposed by someone other than me, and I work better with expectations. Perhaps having the space will help the good habits and the self-regulation to come.

I'll never know if I don't try.

Image from tumblr. I wish it was mine.

Things I Love Thursday

2010-08-05T12:41:00.006-05:00

Things I Love Thursday is one of the things I consistently missed when I stopped blogging last fall. A concept originally borrowed (read: blatantly stolen) from Gala Darling, it forces me to stop and recognize all of the lovely things in my life that bring me happiness. I have a feeling that living in Small Town again will change the way these lists look, but I'm no less excited to write them!

Food Food in general, yes, but lately I'm loving some things that are newer additions to my diet. Ricotta cheese is good with everything - it's so much more than lasagna. My current favorite way to eat it: mixed with fresh basil and dolloped on top of linguine with marinara sauce. So yum. I've begun to appreciate the protein-y goodness that is lentils, sometimes just eating a bowlful (with a bit of white wine vinegar and olive oil) instead of preparing a real meal. My final food love: homemade tomato "jam." I peel, seed, and chop roma tomatoes, then cook them until they're thick and sweet and jam-like. I add a splash of balsamic vinegar and enjoy, mostly on bruschetta (and often with little blobs of the aforementioned ricotta).

Astrology For me, it's kind of an exercise in narcissism. I study my own chart almost exclusively and am always most interested in topics that pertain directly to me. This means that when I do look at someone else's birth chart, it's because they're important to me. Impure motives aside, it's fascinating. My favorite moments in astrology are those in which something you've never quite understood about yourself is crystalized through an aspect you never paid much attention to. One example: I believe my Mercury in Pisces has predisposed me to the ambivalence which is so pervasive in my life. (Mercury is also my chart ruler since I'm a Gemini Rising; Gemini is another sign of duality.)

Rediscovering When I took a break from blogging, I also took a break from reading a lot of the blogs and sites I'd once read regularly. And, honestly, for a while I spent almost no time on the internet. This week, I've been exploring some of the archived material I missed from Gala Darling. I prefer her "lifestyle" work to her fashion work, and I can't get behind all of it, but I do believe her heart is in the right place. Self-loathing is an issue for our generation, and her series in February on Radical Self-Love is a wonderful counteraction to that. It's worth a browse to absorb the tidbits that speak to you.

Nature It is unbearably, hideously, sickeningly hot right now. Still, nature gives me the gorgeous blooms that I planted (lantana, celosia, coleus, verbena, dahlia, geranium, and petunias are still going strong) and Grandma's favorite hummingbirds enjoying the feeder I hung outside the kitchen window. The Moon, stars, and planets have been particularly bright this week and absolutely beautiful. About a week ago, the most gorgeous rainbow I'd ever seen painted the sky - and it was a double rainbow on top of that. Beautiful.

Brad, Jen, and Angelina - in cupcakes Ignore most of the writing parts. Look at the pictures and captions. Snicker.

Bunches and bunches watching Puck chase his tail; caramel frappuccinos; So You Think You Can Dance; catcalls ("Nice ass!"); making petit fours for Mom's birthday; the new khaki shirtdress; Atlas Shrugged; 1000 Awesome Things; sticking to my guns for nearly two weeks; hula-hooping; baking experiments; Gossip Girl on DVD (I'm so predictable); preordering Mockingjay for less than it'll cost in-store - including shipping; acceptance; psychoanalysis; slipping into familiarity; Everyday Food magazine; having my ass kicked by Carmen Electra; Nigella Lawson's choice of words when she cooks; long, long baths; Rachel Maddow; Tarte lip stains.

Now, here's how it goes. I shared, so you share. Because it's only polite.

What are you loving this week?

Loneliness. Solitude.

2010-08-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

Recently, and through a rather strange series of events, Project reentered my life. That, and all of the stuff that goes with it, is another post in itself, and I've not quite sorted out the way I feel about all of it. It's for another day.

Since we hadn't spoken in over four years, we had a bit of catching up to do. Given our quasi-romantic history, the subject of relationships came up, and my lack of relationships seemed to surprise him. When I explained that I had accepted and was embracing a solitary life as the way that I'm meant to live, he seemed almost upset. Since, like so many other people, he's apparently been in a serious, committed relationship (mind-bending as that is), his reaction didn't surprise me. In our society it seems unthinkable that someone would choose and actually enjoy being alone and not having a "significant other." He asked me if I didn't think that choosing that sort of life would be lonely.

I've always been a little judgmental of people who seem unable to spend any time alone, particularly those girls when I was in college who would complain about how they wanted someone to share their bed because they wanted company. While I realize that people enjoy companionship, I can't understand how someone can't entertain herself and learn to enjoy solitude. I don't understand people who are bored when they're alone, who seek the company of another simply because they can't enjoy the company they provide for themselves. I know those people exist, and if that's how you want to live I'm not going to judge, but I don't get it.

No, I'm not lonely. No one steals the covers or crowds my space in bed, there isn't anyone expecting me to make polite conversation before coffee, no one to compromise with when choosing what to watch on television, no one expecting me to make dinner or complaining about what I choose. When I choose to spend my whole day at home - which is more days than not - I get to spend time sans-makeup, something I couldn't do if there was a man in my house (my pride wouldn't allow it). There isn't anyone talking when I'm engrossed in a book, no one judging when I get sappy movies from Netflix or choose to spend my weekend in a Gossip Girl marathon, and food I put in the fridge never disappears.

I'm the opposite of lonely; I revel in my solitude. When I do want company I know where to find it. And sure, I have moments when it would be nice to have someone around, but those moments of want rarely come from inside myself. I watch a silly romantic comedy and catch myself wanting someone to look at me like that, to kiss me like that. Then I remember that romantic comedies omit the hard parts of sharing yourself with someone. I crawl in bed and catch a bit of a chill and think of how nice it would be to have someone to snuggle up against. Then I remember that I've never been able to sleep peacefully with another person in bed with me. I pour my first cup of coffee and think how nice it would be if someone else made it just the way I like it before I woke up.

Then I remember that the coffee pot has a timer.

Nic Returns, Part 73

2010-08-03T12:44:00.001-05:00

I have succumbed to peer pressure.

I've always been a sporadic blogger, and it wasn't really surprising to me when I abandoned the blog again about a year ago. I'd just moved back to Small Town and I felt like I didn't have anything interesting to talk about any longer. I wasn't working, I was far from friends, and I had no romantic - or sexual - prospects on the horizon. Unless you wanted to read post after post about what I was watching on television and the indignity of being forced to ask your mother for money to buy cat food, the blog was going to be pointless.

Ten months back in Small Town, I've found my way. I started substitute teaching, I discovered a love of (and talent for) baking, and I've made peace with my solitude. People have slipped out of and back into my life. My interests have deepened and broadened.

I'm happy.

So, while I can't promise that it will be consistently - or ever - interesting, and I can't swear that I'll even post with any sense of predictability, I'm back.

Potential topics up for discussion in the near future: astrology, my adventures in baking, the reappearance of Project, loneliness and its lack of presence, my desire and failure to be type-A, my thoughts on philosophy and Ayn Rand, and what's going on with my career. I will also continue to share favorite quotations and to celebrate Things I Love Thursdays.

Here we go.

Ka-Pow!*

2009-11-16T14:02:00.003-06:00

Since I last posted, I've been busy. Celebrating Bradshaw's birthday, working a book signing, and then being incredibly ill. There's no way that I can present you with a coherent post explaining all of that, so today you shall enjoy updates and observations in bullet points.

I really dig french fries.
Since I have no access to espresso in Small Town (if I thought a stranger would send me an espresso machine for Christmas, I would post my address online, seriously), when I find myself in a place where I can get it, I drink far too much of it all at once.
Politicians are always late, and Mike Huckabee's fans are, at least, not the crazy Conservatives.
Making photo collages with Picasa is addictive and inspiring.
I cannot finish anything.
Blowing my nose sets off my gag reflex about a third of the time, which is really frustrating when you have a head cold.
The first part of the Project Runway finale is never good as I want it to be for one big reason: no runway show.
Smoked chicken makes awesome soup, and I really like making soup in general.
My living room isn't big enough for my Christmas tree, and I have no idea where to put it. This is the only reason that I do not have Christmas decorations up yet. That may change today.
I actually managed to take cold medicine without turning into a raging bitch.
Carrie Underwood is adorable.
It's going to start feeling like winter, which makes me fabulously happy. The cats can feel it and are therefore doing weird stuff.
I spend all of my money on groceries. Mostly because I have very little money, but also because I have almost no expenses.
This year I will be mailing the gifts that I bought for people last year. I'm awesome.
I skinned my knees for the first time since I hit double-digit age last weekend.

*Like a gun. Bullets...get it? Yeah, not funny.

Links to Share

2009-11-04T15:05:00.005-06:00

It's time to show you what I've been reading lately! News, astrology, style, and, as always, fluffy stuffs. Enjoy!

Battle for the GOP's Soul

Lately, I've turned into an old man with my interest in politics - largely because I have too much free time. That said, I'm not usually able to read long articles about political parties without rolling my eyes or getting bored, and this was a huge exception. The author's insights about the problems facing the Republican party as a whole were, from my point of view, both interesting and insightful. The beginning of the article is rooted in the bygone local elections from Tuesday, but as you move past that, he evaluates the health and future of the GOP. I found this particularly interesting:

According to one recent survey from Public Policy Polling, 35 percent of GOP base voters think the party is too liberal even as 46 percent of independent voters label it too conservative. ...found major gulfs between Republican voters and conservative independents in their perception of President Obama, with the latter group especially turned off by the “socialist” accusations popular with the GOP base.

Sarah Palin's Lost Speeches

I share with you, without comment, the victory and concession speeches prepared for Sarah Palin with the intention of being read on election night.

Obama Foodorama

The blog's focus on the food - both that consumed and the policy discussed - in the White House is absolutely sincere if slightly overzealous, at least to me. Still, it is interesting to focus on something that is political without being quite so contentious. Plus, I like food and cooking and pretty pictures, all of which are present here. The posts about the White House Halloween are particularly charming.

Mrs. O is a charming look at Michelle Obama's sartorial choices, and since my taste is in the same realm as hers, I like it. It doesn't matter that she's older than my mom: I totally want to raid her closet, if for the cardigans alone.

I've linked to Mystic Medusa before as well, but as my astrology obsession rears it's head again, so does my enthusiasm for her site. Since the Sun is in Scorpio, she has a few pertinent posts for the Scorpios in our midst (like Bradshaw, whose birthday is tomorrow!) including Hi-Lo Astro: Haute Scorpio, Low Scorpio. Searching the D.I.Y. Astro tag is also good for eating up an hour or two of your time as you analyze your astrological chart.

Dealbreaker offers up a healthy dose of the snark, which we know I love. Typically, some of the stuff is far funnier than other stuff, but just browsing their archive is good for a laugh or two.

*Original photo credit can be found at my Tumblr. Lyrics in the photo are by Duffy.

Faces

2009-11-03T07:18:00.000-06:00

"A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction."

Oscar Wilde

False Eyelashes*

2009-11-02T14:12:00.004-06:00

Admittedly, I have nothing terribly exciting to write about today. I had written a post about my undying love for winter and Christmas, but I think that you're aware of that by now. And, if you aren't, just go back to the archives and see what I've written before. We'll save the Christmas love for December and the winter love for when it actually appears, rather than celebrating it preemptively.

Then I thought I might tell you about the excitement that's coming this week - tons of fun is cooking - but then I thought that it might be more fun to tell you about how much fun I had rather than how much fun I will have. So, the exploits of my weekend celebrating Bradshaw's birth will be forthcoming.

I considered sharing my to do list with you, then realized that it was largely populated with things like "do the massive pile of dishes" and "vacuum the living room" and "sort the laundry." These things are not interesting to me, so why on earth would I expect you to find them anything but snoozy?

Since I clearly have nothing of substance to tell you about, you are going to get an update of my weekend in bullet points while Puck digs in the couch cushions looking for the feather toy that is no longer stashed there.

Friday was productive. I did dishes, made a "Lemon Lemon Loaf," did the dishes from that, made the cupcakes for what I have dubbed the "Trick and Treat Cupcakes," and then left those dishes in the sink. Did I mention that I no longer have a dishwasher and therefore must do the dishes by hand? And also that I detest doing dishes? Well, now you know. I also watched the DVR'ed episode of Gossip Girl from Monday and found myself quite amused. Admittedly, it's another show that I prefer watching on DVD; it's somehow better when you can watch several episodes in just a few hours rather than over several weeks.

Saturday was spent assembling the "Trick and Treat Cupcakes," the idea and recipe for which came from the ever-lovely Spiff. In the center of each cupcake was the hidden surprise of....Pop Rocks! Comments about my love of lemon prompted me to use white cupcakes instead of lemon, but I did maintain the lemon frosting. I have a rule about cupcakes particularly and desserts in general: Keep three, pass off the rest. So, the cupcakes were taken to my parents' restaurant, where everyone was surprised and strangely amazed by the effervescent filling. (Actual stupid comment: "I would have thought that they would melt if you baked them." This would be less stupid if it came from a real child, but it came from a 23-year-old moron.) I rounded out the evening with a marathon phone call with Bradshaw.

Sunday was lazy day, spent primarily with scrambled eggs with Asiago cheese and the book I just started reading, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing. I watched the new Storm Chasers and reruns of House. And did not do my dishes.

My current plan for today involves housework, phone calls, writing, and planning. I am going to take this week to enjoy autumn - which I'm hating far less this year than in those previous - and be content. Next week, I'll start decorating for Christmas. All that's left is to figure out where to put the tree....

*Nope, the title of this post has absolutely nothing to do with the content.

Waving My Flag

2009-10-26T12:33:00.003-05:00

I am an astrology nerd.

This is probably not a revelation, but I'm curious about the opinions of others. Is astrology gospel or garbage? Or, like me, do you feel somewhere in the middle? I think most of us know our sign, but do you know your Rising Sign? Do you know what a Rising Sign is? Do you have any astrological anecdotes for me?

Essentially, I have a one-track mind, and this is what I'm thinking about at the moment.

In unrelated news, share your fabulous links now! I would love to see what's been tickling your fancy and share it!

Things I Love Thursday

2009-10-22T20:19:00.006-05:00

America's Queen: The Life of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis by Sarah Bradford; pretty autumn leaves; Puck's odd sleeping positions; the sound of rain; Read My Pins, a book by Madeline Albright about her use of pins in politics; chicken salad on croissant; incredibly cute kittens; wide open windows; corn muffins; "vintage" television; meeting incredibly nice people; feeling needed; anonymity; thoughtful neighbors who bring me dinner (these neighbors are also known as Mom and Dad).

Glee; long, detailed conversations regarding astrology; meeting childrens' author Kate Klise; excellent espresso, something I haven't been able to get since moving back to Small Town; physical exertion; the mind and social dysfunctionality of Gregory House; "shut up and write"; exfoliating with Optimism; cashmere weather; Gossip Girl; my cute new bag from Giant Bookstore - and the fact that it was a gift.

Holding out hope for snow (Small Town is just far enough north of College Town that we get more snow; my personal proof of global warming); The Daily Beast; defeating Bowser and executing a double fist pump while having a conversation with my dad (I have Super Mario World on compy); the now far-reaching legend of the chocolate Guinness cupcakes; Project Runway night, though it isn't the same without Bradshaw on the couch next to me, and I'm still not completely used to it; Twinings Lady Grey; physical exertion; the sound of typing; attempts to follow my dreams; conserving makeup; reading things outside of my ordinary and expanding my knowledge; spending a day with my favorite Giant Bookstore manager.

Smiling; discovering treasures; an opportunity to browse; gaining perspective; anticipation of making birthday cakes and holiday goodies; finding good use for all of my college sweatshirts that I no longer wear on a day-to-day basis; drinking coffee; whipped yogurt - and sharing it with Marilyn; the bookshelf in my living room and the reasons for the things on it; rewriting history; being Little Red Riding Hood; forcing myself not to get caught up in the details; the hope that my shower will be fixed within a week; judging via text message.

Inconsolable

2009-10-20T16:39:00.002-05:00

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.

Sydney J. Harris

Seen and Heard: Marriage Edition

2009-10-19T18:45:00.002-05:00

Sunday, 18th October '09, via text message

Bradshaw: [friend] would like to know if you would marry him. I told him about your Guinness cupcakes.
Nic: Did you mentioned the Bailey's cream cheese frosting? And the plethora of other tasty goodies I can make?
Bradshaw: Bailey's yes. Just mentioned tasty goodies. He says any time you want to get married give him a call. It's been commented that your would be the shortest wedding ever. :)
Nic: We'll do the old school pact: Still single in ten years, I'm his.
Bradshaw: *double fist pump* Quote, "I'm engaged!!"

Monday, 19th October '09, in the middle of the road, following a conversation about my moving back to Small Town

Neighbor: So, you aren't married?
Nic: No.
Neighbor: Never have been?
Nic: No.
Neighbor: And no steady boyfriend?
Nic: No.
Neighbor: Well, if you want, I can keep my eye out for you.
Nic: You know, I think I can handle it. But thanks.

In chatting with Bradshaw this evening (actually, as I type this), I decided that I should have told him that I was, in fact, engaged and he could expect an invitation to a wedding in a decade or so.

Things I Love Thursday

2009-10-08T22:38:00.009-05:00

Baking My last facebook update was "Nic is going to fatten up her family." This is because I keep baking, and if I keep all of the stuff I make in my own house, I will weigh 200 pounds by Christmas (oh god, Christmas baking = love). In the last two weeks I have made sour lemon scones (to be cut smaller next time), sour cream coffee cake (to be made for no less than six people next time), and pear plum crisp (which was perfection in an 8x8). After several perfect and much-complimented batches of cupcakes from a mix, I decided that it was time to branch out and start making things from scratch. The chocolate Guinness cupcakes were a smash hit, and since then I've been branching out even further. My new goal is to have a collection of excellent baked goods to make for myself and for others. I love the idea of people being excited when I mention that I'm planning to bake, of people raving over things I've made and anticipating what is to come. Plus, you know, making giant messes like that is excellent fun. (Read: coffee cake batter all over my kitchen.)

Rain This part of the country is going to end up being a soggy, muddy, dangerous mess, but when I'm sitting inside with a fleece blanket, a tea kettle, pear plum crisp, and various diversions, the rain is pretty fantastic. Not to mention the fact that it gives me a really awesome reason to wear my trench coat, which I'm pretty much in love with. On top of all of that, I adore the sound of rain and it makes me sleep even more like the dead than I already do.

Television Living for nine months with no television whatsoever, in hindsight, made me crazy. The first six months, I didn't really miss it too much. Then I started to miss having the background noise that comes from having the TV on when doing things like reading a magazine or cleaning up the clutter. Then I started missing things like America's Next Top Model marathons that eat up entire Saturdays and falling asleep to The Colbert Report and the forthcoming seasons of Gossip Girl and Project Runway. But now, I have DirecTV and have seen all of the things I listed and more. I have, of course, already become addicted to new shows (Rescue Ink Unleashed, Glee, and Trauma).

Vacation I decided to enjoy some much-needed time off to decompress from the retail headache of Giant Bookstore before jumping into the glorified babysitting of substitute teaching. I think my slight happiness about the fact that it's flu season and I have an exceptional immune system is probably a recipe for disaster, but I'm willing to risk it. The most mentally challenging activity I've undertaken in the last two weeks is playing Mahjong and chess against my computer. Love.

Living alone I sincerely do love my former Roommate; she and I got along beautifully and I cannot imagine having had a more positive experience that came from nothing. That being said, I am so incredibly happy to be living alone again that I'm not even sure I have the words - and I have a lot of words in my brain. Being able to live without worrying about anyone else's reactions or problems is so freeing and lovely.

The laptop There are so many things that I love about this computer. The mobility is even more excellent given that I don't have wireless set up in my house yet. I just go across the yard and steal my mother's. Fab.

Bits and bobs Lady Grey; windowsills big enough for giant white cats; Kennedy week (my own invention); Stephen Colbert; sleeping in a comfortable bed for the first time in years; alphabetizing books; roasted garlic; cooking for myself consistently (tonight is the first that I've eaten something I didn't cook); Vanity Fair; pretty glass cookie jars; pink candles; singing The Beatles a the top of my lungs; Project Runway; beautiful quotations; receiving compliments; homemade passion tea lemonade; in-season pears; leisurely morning coffee; DVRing my favorite manager's local television appearances at my parents'; Mom's chili; reaffirmed beliefs; black eyeliner; beef taquitos; my living room bookshelves; irony; scrambled eggs with Asiago cheese; naked time; extra storage space; autumn nail polish; Tumblr; clean laundry; wearing heels to the grocery store; saving a significant amount of gas; considerate neighbors (read: Mom and Dad).

*All photos, with original sources, can be found at my Tumblr through the sidebar!

Love Like That

2009-10-07T13:44:00.001-05:00

High-Maintenance

2009-10-06T20:54:00.000-05:00

Bradshaw and I are excellent at talking on the phone. From five-minute chats after important life events (last hurrahs, surprise kisses, quarter-life crises) to the marathon calls that last longer than we've realized, this is something that we have down to a science. We could say that it's because we've been living in different cities for the last two years, but I think this was a skill that we brought to the friendship (I remember having some weirdly long phone calls when we were going to see each other just a few hours later).

Last night, we had something in the middle, and she mentioned something that set my mind working. At a baseball game, the men sitting next to her mentioned that she seemed like a low maintenance kind of girl, which, of course, made me wonder if I'm a high maintenance kind of girl. It forced me to attempt to define what that means, and I'm not entirely sure.

The example the boys used was the jacket that she wore in lieu of something fussier, and I don't really follow. Does the fact that I don't even own a jacket (but do own a trench, a purple military-style wool coat, and a houndstooth wool coat) mean that I'm high maintenance? Somehow, I think that's too general. It's been suggested that my propensity for skirts might make me high maintenance, but I can do anything in a skirt that I can do in jeans - unless you ask me to stand on my head, but I can't do that at all.

Cosmetically, I am most certainly high maintenance. I don't go out without makeup on, my preferred hairstyle takes at least twenty minutes (though I'm not always willing to work that hard), I'm a fan of the half-hour shower, my skincare routine is very involved, and last night I spent an entire episode of The Rachel Zoe Project* painting my toe- and fingernails. I sometimes wear extremely precise liquid eyeliner, I do a twice-weekly clay mask, I would have my hair cut and colored every six weeks if I could manage to keep up with it, and I have eight different pots of eyeshadow in my bathroom (at $18 a pop, that's pretty bad).

I alphabetize my DVDs and books and I tend to hate loaning them out. I wash my whites, delicates, and other clothing separately. My computer folders are arranged to exacting specifications. I can tell when things in my bathroom have been moved - and I can tell the different between things people have moved and things nudged by nosy cats. My makeup brushes have their own little bag separate from the actual makeup, and all of the bristles must be facing the same way.

Having said all of that, I'm not sure that describing me as high-maintenance is true. I need alone time far more than I need to spend time with other people. I am more than capable of feeding myself, cleaning up after myself, and entertaining myself. There is no one in my life that I feel the need to speak to every day. I live alone - and I love it. I can figure out how to open the most stubborn jar, kill spiders, find flashlights and candles when the electricity goes out with minimal anxiety, talk myself down from a nightmare, go to the movies alone, and choose outfits without asking anyone's opinion.

Maybe I am high maintenance. In pondering this, I've realized something a lot more interesting: I like who I am, whatever that means. And if there are people - and I do know some of those people - who love me for being this person, that's fantastic. I am constantly being reminded that I would much rather have fewer friends who love the girl I am than more friends who either don't know me or don't care. And those people, who think I am too high maintenance, aren't the sort of people that I need in my life.

*The fact that I'm watching The Rachel Zoe Project is probably a red flag, huh?

This Week I've Learned...

2009-09-29T23:52:00.002-05:00

...that telling my father, "I have a fridge full of naked lemons," will garner an amusing reaction.

...that sometimes, if you give someone the benefit of the doubt, you will be pleasantly surprised.

...that animal stories will, without fail, make me cry.

...that my body knows it's supposed to be up before 6 am on Tuesdays.

...how rarely appearance matters when considering an animal, neither yours nor theirs.

...that the way to have your expectations met is to lower them - even when you know you shouldn't have to.

...that there truly is nowhere else in the world where I am as comfortable as in my Grandma's home.

...that wish fulfillment has its place in my growth as a person.

...that roasted garlic is one of the world's perfect foods.

...how glorious a day that starts next to a purring cat can be (and how much better they've been, for me, than waking up next to a man).

...that often when I question myself, I come back to the knowledge that I've been right all along.

Back Among the Living

2009-09-18T18:14:00.002-05:00

In five days, I will be officially moved back to Small Town. Currently, my bedroom contains my bed, nightstand and lamp, television, and the laundry basket that I am living out of. The bed isn't going with me. My life isn't here any more.

Things of note: Next Tuesday I will have my "final" Piano Bar Tuesday night. It's been months since I've gone - my last experience wasn't exactly a positive one. Hershey - who I, of course, haven't eradicated from my life - is now their in-house drummer. The evening has potential to be interesting on that basis, but more so due to the fact that I will be out with Spark and whomever else decides to attend with me. The only thing that could make the evening's plans better would be if Bradshaw were able to attend.

Wednesday morning will mark my last before I head back home. So excited am I about that first night in my own house (!) again that I've already made plans. There will be grocery shopping and kitty snuggling and nudity. I am going to make myself a pizza and I may enjoy a tipple or two. I have every intention of baking something delicious and completely terrible for me - in short, I'm looking forward.

I read somewhere that anticiption and anxiety are simply the manifestation of living in the future rather than in the moment. True enough, I think, but it's not always something one can control. I cannot help how excited I am, and I don't want to. Yes, there are certainly people who I will miss seeing every day. But they aren't people that I will never see again, and it isn't as if keeping in touch will be an issue - I'm less than two hours away!

I choose to stop writing now and leave you with the promise of more cohesive, well-thought posts at a later date. At the moment, I am simply too distracted to write you something of substance and focus. Forgive me.

Also, because I am very pleased with it: I bought a laptop. It is black and shiny and allows me to write to you from the library and other excellent places.

Change for the Better

2009-09-02T17:09:00.003-05:00

So, yes, for the last month or so, Nic has fallen off the face of the blogger planet. I would apologize, but I try not to say that I'm sorry unless I truly am - and I think the break was a good idea. I was starting to be an exceptionally negative person, and since I made a vow back in February to stop being negative on the blog, that meant simply not writing. It took a few more weeks to realize exactly why I was so unhappy, but I think I've gotten there, and now I'm taking steps to rectify the situation.

Three weeks from now, I will be moved back to Small Town. Part of my unhappiness was rooted in this feeling of stagnation. I took a year off after I graduated to figure out exactly what it was that I wanted; it was important to me to make sure that I was going to miss teaching if I wasn't there and to make sure that the place, geographically, that I was would make me happy long-term. I spent the last six months resting on my laurels far too much, and the second I realized that I couldn't do this for another year, I realized that it was too late to feasibly do anything about it. I decided that this school year, I would focus on substituting instead of working at Giant Bookstore. Then the problems with that started to make themselves apparent.

First, I cannot live with the Roommate and attempt to be awake at six every day; our schedules would be too much at odds, and since staying up late is my body's natural rhythm, fighting that natural rhythm while also trying to live with someone else was unrealistic. So, I decided that I needed to live alone again. I cannot afford to live in an apartment by myself on what I make at Giant Bookstore, and to substitute - which is, by nature, unreliable - I would have to reduce those hours. Meaning that I couldn't live alone here in College Town. I felt stuck, so I called my mom. In tears. She reminded me of a very simple option.

Move back to Small Town.

Since my grandmother died two years ago, her house has been sitting empty and untouched. I can live there rent-free and pay only for gas and electric - which will be far more economical in the little house with just me and the felines. There are several nearby districts where I can apply to substitute, including the one that I graduated from and in which I have several former teachers who would write lovely recommendations for me. I'll have free evenings and weekends to maintain a social life . With consistent work, I'll be able to save money. It was a simple, perfect solution that I can carry through in a few short weeks.

And so, I am happy and hopeful again.

The handful of drawbacks that I came up with were nearly all trivial and things that I can work around. The list of benefits was so large that I'm still coming up with new ones, both small and large. Proximity to my parents, more space for Puck and Marilyn to be undisturbed, more free time, less stress, more future career opportunities and time to hone my management skills, more time and space to cook, fewer fast food options that will lead to me being healthier, proximity to cheeseburgers at my parents' restaurant, time to devote to writing (to get some of these ideas out of my head), as much noise or quiet as I want, setting the schedule in my own home, not having to share (remember, I am an only child), cooking on a gas stove, and having satellite television again!

Put simply, I am a very happy girl right now. I keep reminding myself to live in the moment instead of just anticipating what's to come, but that anticipation is so wonderful that it's difficult. I moved some things this weekend, and the strongest thing that I felt when I went into the house was a sense of peace. There is a teensy bit of me that mourns her every time I walk in the door; knowing that my own scent will take over hers and that necessary changes will be made to the space for maintenance and to suit my needs hurts a little. But the larger part knows that if I didn't take this opportunity for those reasons, she would be so dissapointed in me. I cannot imagine ever loving anyone else as much as I loved her, which is a thought that both hurts and is incredible.

Any time that something begins to drive me crazy - an angry customer, disappearing tea, or guilt-tripping - I remind myself that it's just for three more weeks. In three weeks I'll be little more than a glorified baby sitter for mouthy children, a diversifying cook, a dedicated writer, and a spinster cat lady in Small Town.

It sounds gloriously sweet.

Wicked

2009-07-28T23:58:00.000-05:00

"All truly wicked things start from an innocence."

Ernest Hemingway

Things I Love Thursday

2009-07-23T20:47:00.008-05:00

***

Mmm, lists of love.

Drinking massive amounts of coffee; Dr. Pepper; euphemisms and innuendos; "It's not my fault you aren't finished quick enough." "Dirty."; dry shampoo; twisting my hair in a bun that lasts all day and leaves my hair all wavy and cute; "A Rose for Emily" by Faulkner; adding Tarantino movies to my Netflix queue; getting there in time to drink "the good stuff."

***

"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."

E.B. White

The realization that Dawson's Creek was the meta fiction of television - but on a less intelligent level; bright red pedicures; silk nightgowns (so very Sunset Blvd. of me); doing what I want, consequences be damned; enjoying a long drive; once-a-year fair pizza; quotations about reading and books; adding Gilmore Girls to my dad's DVR - ha; not having a child yet and not feeling guilty for not having a significant other; lacy black lingerie.

***

Drinking peppermint tea before bed; reading entire books in one hot tub session; exfoliation; being told to prove the statement, "I could run in these wedges if I had to."; threatening to destroy the violin CD; actually plotting ways to destroy the violin CD; DVD commentaries that are interesting rather than boring or annoying; realizing how things happen for a reason, whether I like it or not.

***

Considering how much we'll all be making fun of Gossip Girl in five years, even though we love it now; extra cash; cheeseburgers and fries that can't be found anywhere else; the Proust Questionniare; photos of balloons - it's a new thing; eating a half-pound of cherries all at once; playing dress up; rescuing th neighbor from his bee sting (my god did this kid have a set of lungs); YouTube videos and getting stuck in endless viewing cycles; fanfiction; chats with Bizz - those don't happen often enough any more; anticipating the laptop the universe is just waiting to hand me.

***

"All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. … But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not."

Nick Hornby

Hearing "I barely recoginzed you." and knowing somehow that it's a compliment; playing a role; the amazing abilities of the simple bobby pin; "Call me if you need a ride."; quiet, easy time alone and refusing to think about its impending interruption; the ability of the body not to crush the thing lying beside it; talking about The Godfather; enjoying the weekend at home.

I realized the other day that this is where I got it from. I might be ashamed if it wasn't such a great show, as well as a really fun game.

Tell me what you're loving, kittens. I beg you! Nay, I demand that you tell me!

Proust Questionnaire

2009-07-22T14:16:00.005-05:00

***

Every month, the last page of Vanity Fair is the Proust Questionnaire as completed by someone of note. I usually can't think of my own answers to the questions - they are deeper than they seem - but when I received my last issue, it was suddenly incredibly easy. I thought I would share my answers with you.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

At the moment, drinking a perfect cup of coffee in my nightgown.

What is your greatest fear?

Never again experiencing love.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

Impatience, which leads to short-temperedness.

What trait do you most deplore in others?

Willful ignorance.

Which living person do you most admire?

My mother for being apologetically herself.

What is your current state of mind?

Slightly introspective mixed with "mmm, coffee."

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Chastity.

On what occasion do you lie?

On occasions when I prefer not to be honest, nearly always about myself.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?

My skin.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Honesty.

What is the quality you most admire in a woman?

Honesty.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Probably the verbal tick, "you know." Also, "dirty."

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

My late great-grandmother.

Which talent would you most like to have?

To write beautifully.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I would be more patient.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Getting from nineteen to twenty-one.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?

A very pampered cat or a lovingly abused book.

What is your most treasured possession?

My memories.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Being forced to live with "what if."

What is your favorite occupation?

Reading.

What is your most marked characteristic?

My height, physically. Probably my candor.

Who are your favorite writers?

I could list for days; different authors, different styles, different moods.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

Albus Dumbledore.

What historical figure do you most identify with?

Someone like Greta Garbo who craved attention, then hid from it.

Who are your heroes in real life?

My great-grandmother and my parents.

What is it that you most dislike?

Being ignored, liars, and spinelessness.

What is your greatest regret?

Not telling someone how important they were.

How would you like to die?

In my sleep.

What is your motto?

If you don't want the truth, don't ask my opinion.

There we have it, kittens. If you feel compelled, I urge you to complete the questionnaire for yourself, then let me know so I can read it!

Trouble

2009-07-21T23:02:00.002-05:00

"I've never known any trouble that an hour's reading didn't assuage."

Charles de Secondat

Five Years Later

2009-07-20T21:57:00.003-05:00

This weekend, I went to my five-year high school reunion. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol to warrant any excellent stories, but I did have a few observations.

First, apparently five years does change some people. I admit, the nasty, schadenfreude-seeking part of me was thrilled to see that several people have visibly gained weight, particularly the my image obsessed, pseudo-vegetarian ("I don't eat pepperoni, just chicken.") once-upon-a-time Meals on Wheels partner. I've seen a lot of my former classmates in the last few years - I spent my first three years of college going home every few weekends to work at my parents' restaurant - but others I probably haven't seen since the night we graduated. The first thing I heard when I walked through the door was, "Wow, I barely recognized you," from a guy I've known since...well, probably forever. I found this strange. While I'm aware that we rarely notice changes in ourselves because they are gradual and we look in the mirror every day, I feel like most of the changes in me are superficial. I've lost braces and gained bangs. I am three pounds heavier at this moment than I was when I started college. Whatever, I was also complimented, so if there are changes, at least they're for the better.

Seeing my classmates run around with their significant others was strange. Living in a small town always feels a bit incestuous, and the rules about never dating your best friend's ex tend to count for a lot less; it was bizarre to walk into a room where a third of the people, who I didn't know at all, were dating people that I've known for as long as I can remember.

Stranger than husbands and girlfriends and bed buddies were the children. A few babies, several toddlers, and a handful of four- and five-year-olds. Some of the most selfish girls I've ever known are now responsible for raising small people, and that's terrifying. And I realized, watching a bunch of little kids whose parents I've seen in seven different states of disarray running around, just how happy I am that I'm not there.

I always knew that college was next. I always knew that I was destined to do more than stay in Small Town my whole life; I needed to get out and learn more and see...something. Of course, when I graduated, I was completely infatuated with Iris and hated the idea of leaving him. I had it in my head that after four years, everything would work itself out. He and I would finally move beyond our chronic bad timing and get together. I was going to get my teaching certificate, move back home to be with Iris, and be known for my triumphant return. We would get married and have adorable little kids, hopefully with his eyes. I would teach at the same high school that I attended, coach cheerleading, and be the reincarnation of the excellent English teacher that I was blessed with. Between my tiny family and his huge one, we would have an amazing support system and I would never feel like I was missing anything.

But when Iris died, my future became extremely foggy. I suddenly knew that going back to Small Town wasn't what I wanted, not just because he wasn't there, but because his memory was. Now, it feels much too small for both of us. I'm so incredibly glad that, at twenty-three, I'm single and free to do whatever I please, however selfish it may be. I'm not ready for the compromises that come with marriage or the sacrifices that come with having children. I'm absolutely content to worry about myself and my cats and know that whatever I decide to do will be perfect.

Things I Love Thursday

2009-07-16T12:09:00.000-05:00

***

Another week with a long list, simply because I like it that way lately.

Plowing through three books in a week after taking three weeks to get through another (it was non-fiction, in my defense); Gilmore Girls and their wonderful wordplay; trimming my bangs and giving myself more options; unexpected color combinations that come out wonderfully; Elsewhere and the entire concept of it in Gabrielle Zevin's book; empty house singing.***

Air conditioning; reblogging; sleeping eleven-and-a-half hours and depleting some of my sleep debt; the prospect of attending my five-year reunion on Saturday (apparently we're having a five-year - strange, right?); red fingernails; healthy pets.

***

Fantasizing; I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell movie - how did I not know that this was happening and that Matt Czuchry is playing Tucker Max?; learning about A Fine Frenzy's impending album; drinking coffee at 11:30 pm, consequences be damned; spending time wandering around the library and finding things I had forgotten that I wanted to read; doing the silly thing because it felt like the right thing; my Gossip Girl playlist in iTunes; dancing around my room like a lunatic; the return of our trash cans.

***

Finding lovely new Tumblrs to follow; deciding that I'm going to try Atlas Shrugged again (for you, Bizz darling); realizing that I'm not where I thought I would be, but being so glad that I'm not; believing that it will fall together the way that it's supposed to; anticipating the loveliness that will be the Universe dropping a laptop in, well, my lap; Bradshaw's impending visit; anticipating so many lovely things!; associating people with books and authors; writing.

On My Ambivalence

2009-07-15T20:07:00.002-05:00

"I happen to feel that the degree of a person's intelligence is directly reflected by the number of conflicting attitudes she can bring to bear on the same topic."

Lisa Alther

Stop Worrying

2009-07-15T19:51:00.002-05:00

Yes, I disappeared for a few days, and if you were concerned, I apologize. Between working six days in a row, doing turnarounds (closing, then going back the next morning), and having insomnia, I wasn't terribly inspired to write anything. I'm back.

You can stop worrying now.

Things I Love Thursday

2009-07-09T14:49:00.004-05:00

Because this week I don't have anything exciting to expound on - thus making entire paragraphs difficult - you are getting a list along with a collection of shiny things. This week I am digging on:

playing the same songs over and over and singing along - loudly; the way my legs look in heels; "The shoes are very Audrey, the dress is very Marilyn."; the Magnetic Poetry calendar; watching an entire season of Gilmore Girls in three days; hair that stays all the way off my neck with just three bobby pins; receiving my first issue of Vanity Fair in the mail; the Muses in Disney's Hercules; bright, crisp images; wedges; the smell of vegetable stock cooking; Pandora Gets Vain and deciding that I am going to track down and read as much childrens' literature that references or involves Greek mythology as I can; playing dress up; thinking about other people's pets; Gilmore-isms.

Tumblr and finding people who post lovely, interesting things; waking up to the face of a handsome man - Puck; the concept of hedonism - my god I want to be a hedonist; Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy; unseasonably cool weather meaning that spending time in the hot tub is both realistic and infinitely comfortable; oversized sunglasses; remembering that I do not need anyone to come and protect me from the creepy neighbor; marathon phone calls with Bradshaw; Panera's strawberry poppyseed salad - oh yes, again.

Reading stories online; extra-long necklaces; drinking coffee again - it took long enough to get my taste back and now I remember its deliciousness; hearing A Fine Frenzy's newest song; the word "funsies"; "One Week of Danger" by The Virgins; spending an entire day all alone and not getting pretty; tasty burgers; thinking about 1969 and how much I wish I would have been cool enough to be a hippie - though I have the self-awareness to realize that I probably would have been a spinster teacher, just like I am now (sort of); Heck: Where the Bad Kids Go; love rocket (not dirty); never being reprimanded for wearing potentially-against-dress-code clothes to work because they are always cute and appropriate; chatting with the Roommate when she returns from a brief vacation; cute sundresses; shopping the Roommate's closet and finding excellent things - I love sharing; I mentioned coffee already, but I just finished a cup and it was very tasty; frozen pizza; Leighton Meester, Alexis Bledel, Blair Waldorf, and Rory Gilmore - girl crushes.

Blinds on windows; getting back my Tuesday morning shift and feeling accomplished, needed, validated, and vindicated; reccommending excellent books; thinking about hearing all of the things that everyone else is excited about this week; drinking huge bottles of water; lime fruit bars; dancing in my underoos.

All images can be found at my Tumblr. See the sidebar, kittens.

Shine

2009-07-07T16:37:00.002-05:00

"Everyone is a star and deserves a chance to shine."

Marilyn Monroe

Feature Presentation

2009-07-06T17:57:00.002-05:00

Just now, I was walking through my house, still dressed for work and listening to my stomach rumble, thinking about a boy. He has these great blue eyes, probably his best - or at least most noticeable - feature. And I thought to myself, "Of course he knows they're his best feature. Everyone knows their best feature. Mine is-"

And I stopped. Because I realized that while I'm aware of the features that I like about myself physically, those things aren't necessarily my best features. For some people, I'm sure that their best feature is something that they don't even know about themselves. I would also wager that while most people are aware of their most distinguishing physical characteristic (for me, it's my height, or lack thereof), the most distinguishing isn't always the best either.

I tried to decide what would be my best if someone else chose, and I'm still not sure. So I wonder how many other people have some insight into this. Perhaps you've been told, like the boy I was thinking of, over and over about how you have great eyes or hair or abs. Maybe you're like me and are completely clueless. Does anyone care to comment about how their best feature is one that they hate? Or, alternately, one that they love?

Things I Love Thursday

2009-07-02T13:39:00.005-05:00

***

Staying awake all night No, I wasn't out being debaucherous. I was in my own bed, watching entire seasons of Veronica Mars and enjoying the quiet. Between shifting work schedules and insomnia, the best time for sleeping has become after sunrise - and I like it.

Alone time It makes me happy, plain and simple. Lately I've preferred being left alone more than simply being alone, but both are worth celebrating.

***

Movie dates with myself I know people hate it, but it makes me happy every time. I hate sharing the armrest.

"Honesty is not synonymous with truth."
The Departed

Showing off my cat You've seen pictures, and Puck is a very handsome cat who is quite the curious little attention whore. Taking a 17 lb. white cat to the pet store on a leash tends to get noticed, and, quite honestly, we both love it. He gets treats and meets new friends - an encounter with an excited pug was particularly amusing - and gets to think about just how tasty all those pretty birds would be if he could only get to them. Very happy. Watching him attack the pet grass when we got home was just cake.

Something about the mock-seriousness amuses me beyond explanation.

This and that Watching multiple episodes of Veronica Mars in succession - she's snarky and I like it; coffee with whipped cream; mashed potatoes; pretty things on Tumblr; childrens' books that incorporate mythology - Pandora Gets Jealous is the beginning of another such series and it's cute; Sweet Tarts; finding so many things I want to read; strawberry poppyseed salad at Panera - my favorite things are always seasonal; Transformers; being handed a beer as soon as I walk in the door; Hercules; pimp kitties; work hugs; Magnetic Poetry; curls; increased sales on my staff rec; Leighton Meester and having a girl crush - sheesh I'm a nerd; wish fulfillment; the physical act of writing; Leinenkugel; rooting for the girl to be with the bad boy; the chuckle that comes when you tell someone that you named your cat Marilyn Monroe; oversized sunglasses; Reese's peanut butter cups; eating dinner outside.

This clip and the accompanying quotation:

Everyone knows you can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends. And in a world ruled by blood lines and bank accounts, it pays to have a pal. As much as a BFF can make you go WTF, there’s no denying we’d be a little less rich without them. And Serena and Blair? They do besties better then anyone. No, that’s not a tear in my eye. It’s just allergies. Without you, I’m nothing.

Books

2009-06-30T16:00:00.005-05:00

***

"She had been right. The world was a terrible place, cruel, pitiless, dark as a bad dream. Not a good place to live in. Only in book could you find pity, comfort, happiness - and love. Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly."

Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

Quotation courtesy of the wonderful Bizz.

Taking Suggestions

2009-06-29T20:59:00.004-05:00

I am taking suggestions for ways to spend my Tuesday and Wednesday off. Current ideas include new library books, sleeping all day, and a marathon of something on DVD - perhaps some Gilmore Girls? Does anyone else have a great idea that I should hear about?

Additionally, are there any subjects that you'd like to see me blog about? Unless your favorite thing is listening to me complain - which I'm avoiding - let me know what you like reading. I'm curious.

Fireflies

2009-06-28T18:02:00.002-05:00

***

Last night, I sat in the park just before sunset, reading a book and sipping passion tea lemonade. I looked up at just the right moment and saw the fireflies rising out of the grass all over, signaling to each other and lighting up the park.

And it was beautiful.