one more thing...

mono y mono

2010-09-29T22:30:00.003-05:00

holy shit it has been a long time. i don't even know how i got out of the groove of writing. i use to want to put everything here in this blog, but then one day i didn't. one day turned into a week and then months got away from me.

it would be totally awesome if i could say that a whole lot has changed in my life. on some levels it has, but on most it is about the same as where i left off.

i'm still working. i still have that awesome CTA story to share. and, i still wish i could sleep in every day.

i've been itching to get back into this blog. it's sort of like a phantom pain...you know the one you get when you have a limb amputated and you have an itch that you can't scratch because your arm isn't even there anymore. or maybe that analogy doesn't make sense at all. either way, i wanted to write again so here i am.

i got some interesting news recently. turns out i had mono and never even knew it. i sort of got pissed off because i couldn't get mono to save my life in high school when i wanted it and then i get it and didn 't even know it. i would totally have milked the mono sympathy train for all it was worth. because everyone knows that if you can milk any kind of train it is a sympathy train.

anyway, i am choosing to believe that i had mono while i was not working which would shed some light on to my marathon sleeping. not that i'm not a little proud of my ability to sleep for 24 hours straight, but it isn't normal. all this time i thought i was super bored and i may have been sick. good thing i never played any contact sports while i was unemployed or my pancreas could have totally ruptured. i dodged a bullet there.

a little bit of nothing and a whole lot of other stuff

2010-06-14T20:57:00.007-05:00

Who lost all knowledge of how to juggle a life and work? This girl. I was basically off the grid last week. This work thing is much more time consuming than I remembered. With nine or so hour days and a commute that is over an hour both ways...I am spent when I get home. I look at the clock and cry a little on the inside knowing that I have only about three hours to do shit before I need to go to bed if I want to sleep for 8 hours. And who has slept for 8 hours every night this week? Not this girl. I've been rockin' like 6 or 6.5. Totally unlike me and the cause of my marathon sleep session on Saturday.

I have good news to report though. I am totally digging my job. I know it is temporary and I know that I have only been there a week and a day, but I like it. I tried to enter this work experience with a different attitude and approach than I have ever really taken before...and it is working. I do think I have always been a relatively good employee (see: awesome), but I think this new approach I am taking is making me happier and an even better employee and coworker. So yeah. I like what I am doing. The program is totally awesome and I just know it will make some monumental changes in the lives of others. I'm sad that it is temporary and sort of a band-aid fix for the clients we are working with...but, change doesn't happen overnight and it is often about small victories.

Anyway, in my last post I went on and on about how I didn't do much during work sabbatical. (Yes, I realized it wasn't a sabbatical. It just sounds so much nicer than unemployment.) I feel the need to share the things that I did get to do with my time off that I may not have shared with you...

Got a library card
Hung curtains in my room
Watched the 5th season of Weeds
Returned to being a brunette after spending four months as a blonde
Rearranged the furniture in my apartment 3 times
Finished a photo album I've been working on for at least 3 years
Learned to fold origami cranes
Hung pictures on my walls
Used my sewing machine
Got a second tattoo
Sat in the audience for a taping of Oprah
Watched seasons 1-3 of 30 Rock
Began painting one nail off
Went on some bad dates
Read A Million Little Pieces (and loved it)
Took a yoga class
Downloaded a shit ton of music
Drank a lot of wine
Visited my dad for over a week...which I haven't done since perhaps middle school
Ended a friendship
Went on long walks in the city
Memorized my library card number
Hung out with my high school best friend
Went to a candy convention
Made almost all my Christmas presents by hand
Threw up in a cab (it was New Year's Eve...give me that)
Installed my window air conditioner all by myself
Met one of my new favorite bloggers for drinks and Mexican food
Rode on the back of a scooter for the first time
Realized I don't hate all salad dressings
Went to Wisconsin
Helped my mom do flowers for a wedding
Met Craig Ferguson
Talked on the phone for hours to my best friend
Learned who my real friends are
Bought a plant for my apartment, so I was not the only living thing here
Ordered spray paint online
Went to a St. Louis Cardinals game
Saw Michal Jackson's childhood home
Got taken care of by my mom
Made coffee at home
Started this blog

So, I did a whole bunch of nothing...but, I also did a whole lot of stuff too. I'm not going to lie and say that I wouldn't be happy if I didn't have to set my alarm in the morning, but I am glad to be where I am right now. I don't think I can ask for much more.

P.S. I have an AMAZING CTA story for you, but you will have to wait a few days. A girl can only write so much when she is trying to get adequate sleep.

10 months and four days...

2010-06-07T21:36:00.004-05:00

That's right, 10 months and four days ago today I worked my last day at my former job. It was the day that I was laid off and quasi dumped via a Facebook message (I say "quasi dumped" because we weren't even dating and he was way over dramatic).

When I started writing this blog I had grand ideas that it would be some Adventures in Unemployment (a la Adventures in Babysitting); however, unemployment wasn't all I dreamed it would be. I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn't totally bitchin' to never have to wake up or go to sleep at a set time. I won't say that never having to say, "I don't want to go to work tomorrow," wasn't awesome. Visiting my family for over a week, did it. Had friends come in town, check. Okay, it unemployment sort of did rock. However, it sucked too. I lived on hardly anything. I got stuck on an insane sleep schedule. I lost all idea of purpose. I would go days without leaving my apartment. And, I missed almost a whole year. If it were a drink...unemployment would have been half empty with only a little bit of goodness at the bottom. So, the blog didn't really chronicle my adventures in unemployment. I apologize.

But wait, you caught on to the fact that I speak of unemployment in the past tense? That's right bitches...I started a new job today. It fell in my lap and I did little to no work to get it. Before anyone who is unemployed stops following me or gets all pissy because I did very little to break the unemployment trend...take satisfaction in knowing that it is temporary. It is a four month program that I was asked to help start up. It is somewhat impossible to sum up my first day. I was busy, but didn't even have an assigned desk and didn't even know what my actual title was until about noonish. So, we will see.

The good news for you is that I will have some fucking awesome CTA stories to share. I basically travel the length of the red line to get to work. On the way home, while waiting for the train, I was approached by a man who looked about my age. He said, "you got a man at home?" I said, "Yes," which is a lie but who wants to tell a stranger on the train platform, "nope...I'm single. I've been that way for a little while now." I will answer that...no one. Anyway, he then said, "well, it won't hurt if we are friends." I, for some unknown reason, entertained this and said, "no, it won't hurt." He responded, "well, it might a little." I put my iPod ear buds in at that point.

Later bitches. I have to get to be because I have to be at work tomorrow. Weird.

i'm no meteorologist

2010-06-02T02:27:00.006-05:00

I once kissed this guy and lost all track of time.

At some point he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He opened them again and slowly turned to face me, looking me right in the eye he said, "wow, when it rains it pours." He shook his head slightly as he said this and gave me a little smile out of one side of his mouth. Then, we both pretended as if he had never said it.

That kiss launched what would be a year and a half relationship. It was a relationship filled with wonderfully good times and some I'd rather forget.

I really liked him and a small part of me might even admit that I loved him. I chose to ignore what he really meant that night in July when he talked to me about raining and pouring. It took a year and a half, but the reality of what he said on that first night was the final nail in the coffin we built for ourselves.

In the end, he was right though. When it rains...it definitely does pour. I thought about him tonight. I thought about what he said because it is pouring in my world right now. But, I am welcoming it.

While can I hear the rain and thunder outside my apartment right now...I'm not talking about the weather and neither was he. We just speak of very different rain.

just a spoon full...

2010-05-31T22:11:00.004-05:00

I forgot to mention something really monumental last week. I am going to blame it on the sugar induced coma I have been in for the past few days. Anyway, I attended this:

Think:

It is pretty much a sweets lover's dream come true. Think five football fields full of candy samples. When I walked away at the end of the day, I had a shopping bag full of candy from all over the world. Many of which are new products that have yet to be released. To sum it up, it is pretty much like Trick-or-Treating for adults without the costumes, which equals awesome in my book.

P.S. They even had a tiny bit of booze there too!

why did I not know about this?

2010-05-29T15:35:00.003-05:00

did anyone else?

(via)

the apple wasn't so sweet

2010-05-28T13:39:00.003-05:00

Remember how I expressed my undying love for Apple just yesterday? Remember how they granted me access to re-download all of the music I've purchased on iTunes over the past three years? Well, I completed the download process....and about 75% of the songs sound like they are being played on a skipping CD. Biggest download fail ever. So, my heart is once again broken in the absence of my music.

I've crafted a nice little letter to my Apple representative and am compiling an excel spreadsheet of all the damaged songs. I am only in the E's and the list has 75 songs. Fingers crossed they come through for me again.

Updates to come.

he stepped out of the shadows...

2010-05-27T12:47:00.005-05:00

...and into the hallway. To be fair it may be more appropriate to say he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway. That's right, friends. I saw my motherfucking vomiting neighbor. Now, if you haven't been reading my blog since I started writing or you haven't gone back and read the archives (shame on you), you must read this post about my vomit-tastic neighbor.

Now that you have read aforementioned blog post, you understand why this is a big deal. I've lived in this apartment for over a year now. I lived next door to the most vomiting person on the planet and I've never seen him. Not once. Never have we passed in the hallway, taken the elevator together (what, I live on the third floor and take the elevator...deal with it)...we have never seen each other...that is until this morning. I got up to go do some impulse spending at Walgreens and grab a cup of coffee. Upon my return I got to my door and his door swings open. I almost wanted to turn my head to the side so I couldn't see the man behind the...vomit veil....let's run with it and pretend it makes sense. I couldn't resist though. I looked right into his throw up eyes and responded when he said hello. And you can bet your sweet ass it took everything in me not to blurt out, "So, what the fuck is up with all the throwing up? I mean seriously. Not only are you seriously playing with the health of your esophagus and teeth, but I am worried about my plumbing." 80% worried about my plumbing 20% worried about his health. Sorry...I don't know him. I have to say though that I was disappointed. In front of me stood a slightly pudgy Asian dude. Totally dorky. And not at all bulimic looking. He had hair, that needed cutting, pretty much ruling out the chemotherapy theory.

So, I am sort of pissed at him for letting me see him. He has ruined the magic. Now every time he throws up with the violence that I have come to know and expect....I will see he dorky ass vomit face and it will be slightly less funny.

Why vomiter? (Yep, you are downgraded to a lower case letter) Why did you ruin my throw up dreams?

in which i tell you a story about how technology hates me...

2010-05-27T11:02:00.003-05:00

Yes, once upon a time there was a girl who tried to live harmoniously with the technology that rules modern day life. She had a computer, a smart phone, an iPod, and....well, okay maybe that is it...but still. This girl loved the technology and how it advanced her life. How could she ever tell time without a cell phone? Or, how could she keep in contact with friends and family without a computer and access to email? She couldn't, right? Unfortunately, the love was not mutual. Technology hated her.

A year ago her motherboard completely fried and she lost everything. The frying of said motherboard may or may not have occurred while she was viewing the personal website of Joey from Real World Hollywood and Celebrity Rehab 3. A mistake I will never make again because I am confident that it caused the crash of my computer. Don't risk it! Anyway, it turns out that the motherboard was recalled so HP fixed my computer for no money. There was a cost though...it cost me all of my data. Big sad face. I tried to get over it. Surprisingly, Apple helped ease the pain by allowing me to redownload the hundreds of songs I had purchased on iTunes that were now lost. Big kiss to Apple. For real.

So, I learned my lesson and purchased an external hard drive. (Full disclosure: purchase of said external hard drive took about a year...so what) All would be right with the world, correct? I could live through another computer catastrophe because all my data was safe and sound on my little black passport. When my computer was infected by a virus, I confidently performed a system restore. All my data was safe, so I didn't care if I had to wipe everything off my computer.

I didn't care until about two or three weeks after restoring my computer when I plugged in my external hard drive and it made a crazy noise and didn't work. That's right boys and girls. DEAD! The asshole Geek Squad man was less then apologetic or understanding and said, "it's a machine. they break." When I said all of my data was on the hard drive he shrugged his shoulders.

That's right. No picture, no music, no nothing. Clean slate. So, one year later I again had to kiss Apple's ass and send them an email begging for the rights to redownload my music. Once again they came to my rescue, which basically makes me heart them. Although, I am thinking I should just switch to a wind-up clock, a bicycle powered television, and a solar powered watch because technology clearly has it out for me.

lost and found

2010-05-24T11:53:00.005-05:00

(via)

prick and stick

2010-05-21T18:32:00.003-05:00

I'm thinking about this....

I would like opinions and feedback. Have you done it? Did you like it? Did you see changes in your health/well-being? If you haven't done it, would you do it? Please, share away.

pursuit of happiness

2010-05-20T18:10:00.017-05:00

"It is not in the pursuit of happiness that we find fulfillment, it is in the happiness of pursuit."

-Denis Waitley

There is a lot of truth to this statement.

Very often, it is the journey that brings us the greatest happiness...

the destination becomes less important.

We find happiness in unexpected people, things, and experiences.

And, I found a strange sense of peace in this video.

I actually can't stop watching it.

Besides the obvious bias I have due to it being filmed in Chicago...

I am just insanely drawn to it.

It looks so freeing.

Enjoy...

Pursuit Of Happiness from Nick Brazinsky on Vimeo.

2010-05-17T16:27:00.001-05:00

"For what it’s worth: it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

-The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

i've got a crush on you...

2010-05-17T06:08:00.001-05:00

(via)

That's right, I'm lookin' at you Chicago.

you didn't get away...i let you go

2010-05-17T05:43:00.004-05:00

It's been coming up with increased frequency lately...the one that got a way. This theme of being reminded of my "one" started a few weeks ago over drinks with a friend. Then, I came across a picture of him in the background of some group shot on a friend's Facebook page. And yesterday, I swore I saw him in a little vintage shop. I even doubled back and looked again. It was his twin. Or him. Who knows. I walked away not even knowing totally if it was him or not. I can pretty much promise it wasn't. He doesn't live in Chicago as far as I know. But, it sure looked like him. He has popped up in my dreams and his name appears places. He is haunting me.

It is funny. The idea of "the one that got away." That person is romanticized. You remember only the loveliest of qualities and times. You remember the way they did cute stuff like call you on your way home from work to say they really wanted to make you dinner...if that was okay with you. Or, wink at you across a crowded room to let you know that you might as well be the only two people there. Stuff like when they kissed you it was as if the world didn't exist but in your kiss. How they told you they were proud of you. Or said you were the most favorite friend. You forget about when they dropped off the face of the earth for days at a time. Or how they couldn't say certain words that you needed to hear. You push from memory that they wouldn't come to your family Christmas party. Or that there was a time when you weren't the only one in the room or their heart. You forget all the bad and remember the stuff that makes your heart skip a beat.

But, today as I walked away from that little shop still not knowing if it was him, I thought of something. He wasn't "the one" that got away. I was. Your "one" doesn't get away. They are the one for a reason. They aren't perfect, but they surely don't break your heart in a way that if they ever came back...they wouldn't fit in it anymore.

This isn't a sad realization. It was almost exciting. The whole concept of having one that gets away is a fallacy. No one gets away if they are suppose to be there.

crazy loves to party

2010-05-14T22:23:00.000-05:00

At about 11 o'clock this morning, I was riding a nearly empty bus downtown on my way to run some errands. I was settled in to my favorite seat on the bus (yes, I have favorites...don't judge) and was enjoying my Starbucks coffee and the peace of the quiet bus....when the doors opened at the next stop.

In busts a woman who loudly announces, "Let's get this party started!" She continues down the aisle dancing the whole way. She stopped a few times, stepped back, and continued on dancing. "Parrrrrrtyyyyy!" she sang. Awesome right? But wait, it gets more awesome. She chooses the seat directly next to me (despite the fact that there were only about five other riders and a plethora of open seats) and instructs me to dance, "walk it out," and "shake that body." While I appreciated her enthusiasm, I don't think that 11:00am or the 145 is the time or place to "get the party started."

So, sadly, her efforts were in vein. The party never got started; however, there is always tomorrow...or the next bus.

i want to be an olsen twin

2010-05-14T10:28:00.001-05:00

(via)

ey, ey

2010-05-12T23:05:00.005-05:00

I love my friends. And, I love their stories because they definitely add value to my life.

My best friend has been dating her boyfriend for almost six years now. Wow, I just now realized when I typed it that it had been that long. Anyway, as would happen in a six year relationship they have discussed children once or twice. (And by once or twice I am sure the numbers are up there in the hundreds because come on people...it has been almost six years.) Anyway, besides the normal hesitation about children there has been one hurdle she has felt needed to be overcome before ever seriously going down the baby road. And, it isn't marriage or joint home ownership as you may think. Nope. It is....

Captain. Don't be fooled into thinking that it is alcohol she doesn't want to give up. Truth be told, that will be a hurdle in and of itself. Yet, alcohol is not the problem. No, no, my friends...it is Captain. As in a name. As in Captain Edwards...the name her boyfriend has proclaimed will be that of his first born son. Captain. Captain, of what? Life I guess. Captain. That's right. Like the child's name would be, Captain. A name, I don't even know I would use for a dog. Captain.

Good news though. She recently spent a long weekend with her boyfriend at the beach and the topic of children's names came up. When asked what he wanted to name children one day, he responded, "I don't really know. I haven't given it serious thought." Which was a secret victory for my friend and for their future child.

Looks like Captain went out to sea never to be heard from again. We hope, at least, because I am NOT calling any baby Captain.

in which i buy something to make me smile

2010-05-08T16:16:00.007-05:00

(via)

Yep, this little guy found his way into my heart and onto my wall. Love.

P.S. You must immediately go to the artist's page linked above and purchase something. The entire collection is amazing!

i heart nashville

2010-05-05T22:43:00.001-05:00

(via)

I am updating my last post with pictures. Have a look.

Back Where I Come From

2010-05-04T16:00:00.011-05:00

UPDATED

I write about my love for Chicago often. And, let me tell you...I love this place. I get antsy anywhere I live and I think about leaving. It may be a fight or flight type of thing. I'm not sure. However, I've only ever thought of leaving Chicago for a second. This is because the thought of actually leaving this place makes me more anxious than staying. I want to fight for Chicago, not flee it. It is my home, as if I were a native Chicagoan in a past life.

With this said, I am not from here. Originally, I was born in New Jersey. Don't think Jersey Shores. Or The Sopranos. Nothing like that. It is the Garden State for a reason. I am fiercely loyal to New Jersey and will defend it any day; however, Tennessee holds a place in my heart like no other. I've probably never admitted that before. It's true though. I've spent a combined 13 years in Tennessee...longer than I've ever been in any other state by far. And, while I moved from one border to the other and then back to the center...Tennessee is a home to me just as New Jersey and Chicago are.

And it is what happened in Tennessee this past weekend that breaks my heart. The Nashville area, which is where my mom and two brothers live, was engulfed by flood waters as the city had its highest rainfall totals since records began. People drowned and were washed away. Homes were lost and businesses ruined. Ten to twenty feet of water swallowed up landmarks. The devastation is really inconceivable to me. What is perhaps worse is that it is getting very little attention. It was and still is a catastrophe.

My family was extraordinarily lucky and hardly saw any damage. I am eternally grateful for that fact. With this said, those that were not so lucky are in my heart.

(Pictures via Facebook pages of friends and family and The Tennessean)

Just a few hours later....My mom used to work at a flower shop across the street from this car dealership. It was almost completely swallowed up by the flood. Oh, and as a note...this guy is kayaking on a street that is four lanes wide.

This is the LP Field, where the Tennessee Titans play. It resembles a swimming pool now.

P.S. I definitely listened to Back Where I Come From by Kenny Chesney as I wrote this post despite not being a country music fan. Oh, and then of course I followed it up with Tennessee by Mindy Smith. I cry almost every time.

2010-05-03T20:16:00.003-05:00

(via)

in which i write about music...again

2010-04-25T08:33:00.004-05:00

I've written multiple times about how I love music. You are probably sick of hearing (or reading) about it. But, I do. I love it. Music had me at hello. We are totally sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-Ging.

My little brother introduced me to this band and this video in particular. I will admit that I wasn't sold the first time I watched it, but I gave it another try. About 100 plays later I am enamored. It is amazing and beautiful and I want it to be my anthem.

'cause there is always a wrong to your right

and there will always be a war somewhere to fight

and god knows i've had some rough fucking years (ooh)

oh lord, oh lord, keep on keeping on

if there was any one thing that could make me smile...it would be this

2010-04-25T07:13:00.007-05:00

Just in case you were concerned that I missed this amazing little nugget of news:

PHILADELPHIA — A New Jersey man is facing charges after police say he intentionally vomited on an 11-year-old girl and her father in the stands during a Phillies game…
Police say Clemmens made himself vomit on an off-duty police captain and his daughter after a companion was kicked out for unruly behavior.

I didn't. One word: AMAZING!

putting it back together...

2010-04-23T16:47:00.007-05:00

My last entry was March 14th and I went silent. It was a picture of umbrellas in the sky and the title was, "When the sky is falling..." This is all information you know. What you don't know is the story and how I needed an umbrella to keep the sky from falling on me. Simultaneously, the sky caved in on me and the ground crumbled beneath my feet. And, I couldn't do anything about it...I was paralyzed by the magnitude of it.

For those of you who have read what I've written before or who know me personally, it probably comes as no surprise. I struggle at times with some intense anxiety and depression. I would give the world to be able to remove it from my being. To sit in a place of serenity and remove clouds of doubt and unrest. I would love to know what it feels like to have no demons to fight or cross to bare. This isn't something I can do though.

I mask my feelings pretty well a majority of the time. I have it down to an art. I know how to fool even those who are professionals at removing the mask. I say I am fine and will laugh it off. This is not to say that I don't know how to be happy and I don't sincerely laugh and enjoy life. I most certainly do....but, when I wear the mask it is difficult to see beyond.

There was no hiding this though. I was shattered and people were finding out. I lost the energy to wear the mask or to pretend. It became piercingly obvious. The self doubting part of myself wanted to believe that no one would take notice or even if they did they wouldn't act. How could they? Why would they? I don't quite know the answer to those questions. What I do know is that they did. They told me I wasn't okay and had to do something about it. They offered to stay with me. They sat on the phone even when I was silent. And, they picked me up. Both figuratively and literally. Despite all efforts to push it away, I was showered with love. It was an outpouring I could never repay or even begin to express the extent to which I am forever grateful. When I was sinking I didn't just have a life preserver thrown to me, but people jumped in after me.

I can't make a false promise and say I am all better and the sky is hung right back where it is suppose to be. It isn't. I have to be honest. The ground is still unstable. But it is getting better every day. What I am learning to accept is that I can not count on some, but there are others who will go to the ends of the earth for me. And, I just have no words for that...a very rare thing.

I'm a story teller. I talk. I write. I love the experience of sharing. I love details and often get wrapped up in them. When I was a little girl, my parents would hurry me along and say, "get to the point," because my stories were inevitably twice as long as they needed to be. I'm not a "point" kind of girl. To me, it is the process of getting there that makes it worth it...not the actual point. I want to draw it out...experience it. I want to take as long as I can getting to the point.

So, while I considered ending this whole process of sharing and writing publicly...I couldn't stop. I am back. Not to write some sad blog about being sad, but to be honest. Share it all. And, that is what you will find here. Good, bad, ugly, weird...all of it. It will be the continuation to my journey.

I give you my story...there will never be any long story short about it...

when the sky is falling

2010-03-14T20:25:00.003-05:00

(via oh brooke)

2010-1981 does not 35 make

2010-03-14T12:36:00.004-05:00

Yesterday afternoon I rode the L home and overheard the conversation below. It's probably a little more fun if I set the stage.

I am not a good judge of age. Hell, you could be 15 or 25 in my book. 30 or 52. I don't know. I've never been able to tell how old people were. When I waited tables, I thankfully rested on the "gotta card everyone" policy. I would have accidentally served minors all day long had I not been required to check. I just can't tell.

Flash forward to my L ride. Three girls get on a stop after me. No clue how old they are. I notice them, though, because they are making a hell of a lot of noise. Talking loudly. Laughing. Generally shattering the quietness that existed before their entrance onto the train car. So, I can't help but stare at them. (It's a bad habit.) They look like my age. I guess. But, there are a few things off. I had a strong feeling these girls were definitely NOT my age. Well, the one girl is talking with a really pronounced lisp. I mean, there is nothing wrong with a lisp and I guess adults have them. But, this girls was REALLY pronounced. Her friend, looked normal until you got to her waist. She was wearing a black (faded) cotton knee length skirt with giant flowers on it....OVER jeans. On her feet? Crocs. Not just any Crocs, but ones with those decorations in the little holes. A flower. A heart. And, a teddy bear holding a basket ball. Something was telling me these loud ass girls were not my age. Then, it happened. This...

girl 1: so, wait, when was he born?
girl 2: 88.
girl 3: yeah, and she was born in 90. she just thinks he is too old.
girl 1: that is only like 2 years.
girl 2: i know!
girl 3: so, when were you born? 88?
girl 2: (laughing) NO! 90.
girl 1: oh, i thought you were older then that.
girl 3: me too.
girl 2: (laughing harder) NO!
girl 3: so when was matt born?
girl 2: 81...oh my gosh...i mean 91! oh my gosh!
(laughing uncontrollably)
girl 1: 81! he would be like 35!
girl 3: yeah, he'd have like gray hair!
girl 2: oh my gosh I can't believe I said 81. no! that would be old. he was born in 91.

the girls continue to laugh very uncontrollably and blurt out things like "81!" or "oh my gosh!"

END SCENE

I laughed to myself (very visibly while shaking my head) and looked up to find the girl directly across from me doing the same. She then mouthed "I feel old." I didn't feel old. What I did feel was a strong urge to stand up and say, "Excuse me. First, if Matt was born in 1981 he would be 28. Not 35. And, 28 is NOT OLD!"

I didn't. I just held in the mouth vomit and got off at the next stop. Which was not an attempt to be dramatic, but because it was my stop. It would have been slightly awesome if I threw my scarf around my neck and said, "I've had enough of this," as I exited the train and waited for the next one.

So, moral of the story is: I may be getting better at determining age then I was in the past. It has nothing to do with getting "old." And, these children need to get themselves to a math class. Stat. 2010-1981 does not 35 make!

P.S. In a slightly related story. I took the bus home from the train because it was raining. It was rather crowded so I had to sit next to someone. I would have done anything for a sign like this:

reading

2010-03-12T19:16:00.005-06:00

That's right. I'm currently reading this. Don't judge. I checked it out at the library. And, I'm enjoying it.

P.S. The follow-up book, Sweet Little Lies: An L.A. Candy Novel, might just be in my hold queue at the library. By might, I clearly mean totally is.

stroke of genius

2010-03-05T03:56:00.007-06:00

About a year and a half ago I watched a video on TED.com where Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroanatomist, discussed a stroke that she had in December 1996. She spoke of the two hemispheres of our brains and the different functions they are responsible for. As she shared her story of the morning of her stroke, she discussed how she became acutely conscious of those two functions: the right hemisphere that connects us as beings of the outside world, where we are "at one with all that is;" and the left hemisphere that allows us to recognize our beings as being individual from all else that is in the universe. During her talk she discussed how the left hemisphere of her brain was effected by the stroke, yet tearfully shared the positive experience of losing the ability to separate herself from the universe and live (if only for moments) in a space where she was truly connected to all that is.

At the end of her talk she challenged those in the audience to make choices regarding which hemisphere we allow to guide our lives. She questioned the audience as to what they would choose. She stated, "I believe that the more time we spend choosing to run the deep inner peace circuitry of our right hemispheres, the more peace we will project into the world and the more peaceful our planet will be."

It inspired me. At the time, I was experiencing stress at work and it reminded me again why I chose to be in a helping profession. It reminded me why I chose to go to work each day.

It seems as if eons have passed since that reminder. I'm not exactly sure what path I am supposed to take in life. What I do know is that I hope to be a part of a large change in the world. I want to make great waves and leave my footprint. I want to leave things better when I leave then when I enter a space...this space...any space. While I feel lost on how to make that happen, I am reminded that I need to find a way to figure it out. I need to reconnect.

Here is her talk. I think it can change your life:

2010-03-03T14:30:00.003-06:00

I can't even begin to express how much my family and friends mean to me. I would never be able to carry on without their love and support. They lift me up and walk with me when I need it. And, they know even if I don't say the words.

Some of them read this blog. Some of them don't. Some know when I struggle. Some don't. But, all of them are there. All of them love me. Even when I feel unlovable. They fill my heart with love and know just when to hold my hand. I am blessed beyond belief and thankful to the core of my soul.

true that...

2010-03-03T14:29:00.002-06:00

outlook not so good...

2010-03-03T02:34:00.010-06:00

I apologize in advance. I am going to be Negative Nancy for a second here. I am working on finding a solution, but part of that solution for me is being able to get it out in some form or another. So, bare with me for a moment and I will get back to happy nothing little posts soon.

Have you ever really followed your gut and had it be wrong? I think I am sitting in a place of recognition that my gut lied to me. But really, I'm not even sure it was my gut that lied. Perhaps my gut was telling me what to do the whole time and I just ignored it. I'm not even sure anymore. I'm not sure how to trust myself to know the difference.

I'm usually one of those people that once she makes a decision, stands firm in it. And they are usually really good for me. It's true that I can be indecisive and take time to weigh options, but when I take that leap...when I decide...I'm all in. There is very rarely a moment of turning back wondering if I took a wrong step.

I'm looking back now.

I hate this feeling. I am disappointed in myself. Embarrassed. And I feel broken because of it. I have this desire to have someone swoop in and rescue me or be there for me, but at the same time I am so afraid of hearing "I told you so," that I don't even know how to begin to ask for support. I just want to drown in this feeling because I don't know how to make things right.

one day...

2010-03-03T00:15:00.001-06:00

...one of these little guys will find a home in my bedroom. (I think the cheetah is my favorite.)

(via Berkley Illustration!)

a pee in your pants kind of love

2010-02-28T17:49:00.009-06:00

Emily from Emphasis Added! posted this on her blog...cutest thing ever!

This may just be the cutest thing I've ever seen. Apparently, this couple has been married for 62 years (he is going to be 90 years old this year) and they are still getting into trouble and having fun with one another. They walked into the Mayo Clinic for a checkup, spotted this piano, and got down to business.

I used to worry about love. I didn't think it really existed. I didn't trust it. And, I lied and said things like, "I don't believe in true love." Or, "I don't really want to get married." The truth is, I desperately want to believe in love. I want to trust love. And, I want to get married. You see, what I was doing by saying those false statements was masking my fear. I'm scared of love in a way. I don't trust it because I know that love can be amazing and powerful, but it can also be hard and painful. Also, as a single woman I feel this pressure to be independent and reject a pining for love. I don't want to be "one of those girls." Whoever they are. Those girls who talk about falling in love and getting married and plan their wedding before a groom even enters their life. I just don't want to be "her." However, I am slowly learning and accepting that it is okay to be both independent and want love. It is okay to say out loud that I want to be loved, that I want to be married, and that it scares me at the same time. It just isn't okay to push it away anymore just because it terrifies me.

I want to be part of that couple that is married for 60+ years getting into trouble and making a scene because of we love being silly together. I want people to think and write about how they want a love like the one I share with my husband. I want to never stop talking and having fun. I want to stay young as I grow older with my partner. I want to play the piano at the Mayo clinic and pee my pants because I am laughing while I do it. (Come on, you know she was peeing a little...it happens.) I want that. I want what they have. Love.

I just need to learn to play the piano first.

i thought i was over it

2010-02-28T06:05:00.008-06:00

Apparently this cold I've been fighting all week wants to stay around a little longer. It was not nice for it to take a one day vacation, as it caused me to celebrate no longer being sick. Now, I sort of feel like I was run over by a truck and I can't sleep.

don't tell...

2010-02-25T23:41:00.003-06:00

..but I am really procrastinating finishing this writing project I am working on.

if music was renee zellwegger, i'd be jerry maguire because it had me at hello

2010-02-25T23:26:00.004-06:00

I've written before about my love of music and I apologize, but you are going to have to read about it again. There is something about it. It makes my blood flow in a different direction, my heart skip a beat, and my soul come alive. I feel a good song stirring in my bones and some times I could just jump out of my skin...I am so in love with a sound.

I have this dream of walking the sidewalk with ear buds in, music playing, and just breaking out into some intuitive dance. Freeing my body of the sound or becoming one with it. Totally trippy, I get this. But, it takes over. I heart it.

Wherein the pigeon gets his 15 minutes...

2010-02-24T15:29:00.002-06:00

Hi, my name is Emily and I love pigeons.

I know pigeons are not popular things to like. People like to call them all kinds of nasty names, but I call them beautiful. There is something about them that I am just drawn to. Some of them have the most beautiful coloring with iridescent greens, blues, and purples. And, they just have this "I don't give a shit what you think" kind of attitude. They are weird and awkward and under appreciated. And that kids, that is a recipe for making something I love.

I apparently have a style. Let's just get it out of the way right off the bat that my style isn't "good" or anything. Style doesn't mean you are walking a runway. It just means you have things that inherently make sense for you to wear or surround yourself with. There is some common thread. In my case that thread may be weird and tacky, but I am okay with that.

In actuality, I can't describe my style. I wouldn't know how to tell you what really makes something "me." My friends on the other hand, they have my style down pat. They are always saying, "of course you do" in response to me saying, "I love this!" When I buy something, I often hear, "that is very Emily." I'm not sure what this really means, but I kind of love it. My friend (and sister-in-law) says that she has to make herself stop shopping for me when the holidays roll around because she is most in tune with what would make a good "Emily" present.

Anyway, this was all to say that I love pigeons and it seems to me that I am not alone. Pigeons are taking over the internet recently. Everywhere I look, there they are.

Am I teaching myself how to fold an origami pigeon as we speak? Maybe...just maybe.

Love this! (via Origami Bijou)

Best! Thing! Ever! (via Chinnychinchin) I want it! I want it!

Now, let's be real folks. How can you not love the pigeon when you see how responsibly he rides on public transportation?

could i possibly want these any more?

2010-02-24T02:00:00.008-06:00

answer, "No."

(via Elizabeth Soule Photography)

wisconsin: a far away and exotic land

2010-02-24T01:26:00.006-06:00

I had an amazing weekend filled with fun, friends, and indoor swimming. To celebrate the birth of two friends and escape the winter reality of Chicago (their wish not mine), a handful of us headed to what can only be described as an African sister city...that's right...I'm talking about Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin. Yep, we went on a safari to the exotic Kalahari Resort where it is 84 degrees every day of the year. The Midwest's largest indoor waterpark (don't fact check please) was our playground. Lazy river. Yes please. Hot tubs and water slides. Check and check. It was an absolute blast. Oh, and let's not leave out our excursion to the Dells' one and only gay bar to experience some of Wisconsin's finest drag queens. Did they have a lady wearing a dress made out of a curtain (rings attached)? Yes, yes they did. Did they have a queen who was pushing 70? Sure did. Oh, good times kids. Good times.

Oh, one more thing. We spent much of the three hour car ride there and back with our eyes peeled for the elusive Wisconsin Werewolf that my friend assured us existed.

Only problem with the weekend...somehow the massive amounts of chlorine they pump into the air in the waterpark didn't kill whatever was growing in my throat. I am now sick as a dog and have been laid up in the bed for two days. Not happy. The gallons of tea I have been consuming have not been doing anything but keeping me awake and running to the potty. Boo hiss.

saving the best of last is for assholes

2010-02-18T23:23:00.010-06:00

I've never really been athletic. I don't like to run. Hell, I barely like to walk. And for the record, this didn't start as an adult. I didn't like running around and shit like all other little kids. So, naturally, I wasn't a big team sports sort of girl growing up. There was one exception though, T-Ball.

The town I grew up in in New Jersey was fairly small. My brother and I pretty much knew everyone on our t-ball team and my dad, who was one of the coaches, knew all the other coaches.

While I was on the team, I wasn't always really into the game. I'd get bored and walk off the benches to go swing on the swing sets that were next to the field or I would wonder off with a friend. I just wasn't too into it. Add that to the fact that I was the last to bat every time. My dad would lovingly tell me that they were saving the best for last and I had to wait my turn. At four maybe five years old, I didn't like this answer but I accepted it. I was, in fact, the best.

The coaches (and sometimes the parents in the stands) would call me back to the field when it was time for me to bat. This is where things got interesting. The ringer of Bohm's Sod Farm T-Ball team would step on to the plate. Watch out mother fuckers. I meant business. It is true that my business meant missing the tee every now and then. I dare you to try to hit a stationary ball perched on a tee some time. It isn't as easy as it sounds. Back off.

When I did make contact with the ball, it was magic. Suddenly it was clear why they were saving me for last. One for the win. Home run should have been my middle name. I'd hit the ball and take off running. The kids on the opposing team would yell, naturally, as I ran around the bases. I couldn't bother with them. It was my moment. A fuckin' t-ball legend. I'd make it to home and return to clapping and my dad picking me up telling me what a good job I did. Saving the best for last, that's for damn sure.

The concept of saving the best for last was something I really took with me long after my t-ball days were over. It really made sense to me. It seemed like a good motto to live by.

However, it wasn't.

Yes, I didn't learn this until years after my t-ball hay-days. My jersey number, 0....yeah I forgot to mention that one...well, it wasn't just luck of the draw. And saving the best for last? Well, turns out I wasn't really on the team. They were just letting me hit once everyone else did. Nothing I did really mattered. All those "home runs?" Fake. Oh, and the cheering and yelling. It's true that there was cheering from the parents in the stands who knew the real deal, but the yelling from the opposing team's players...wasn't in support. I ignored their "but she didn't even touch the base" or "let me tag her coach" as I ran by them. I didn't pay attention to the coaches holding the other players back to keep them from tagging me with the ball. I was in my own world. High off of the saving the best for last glory of it all.

there's something about mary...

2010-02-17T23:59:00.011-06:00

I can be a total anomaly at times. My room is often very messy and unorganized, but when I am working...my desk is immaculate. I am not a fuss and frills sort of girl, but I'd get a manicure every week if I had the money (and this used to be my habit). I prefer when people follow the rules, but I make few for myself. I don't have a daily routine. Sometimes I wash my hair before soaping up and sometimes it is the last thing I do in the shower. There are a great number of things in my life that are unstructured, but if you followed me around for a full day, upon close examination,you'd find that hidden amongst the chaos I create in my life I'm just like everyone else. I'm a creature of habit. True, my morning is anything but routine. I rarely put things back in the place I found them. And, I don't ever get up at the same time in the morning. However, I always walk on the same side of the sidewalk to the train and cross at the exact same place. My grocery list could practically be carved in stone. I always always take the right contact out before the left. And, when I worked, I always took the same routes when traveling to and from work (one for the morning and another after work). Usually I stood on the same spot on the platform and rode the same car each morning and evening. I'd see the same people everyday during my commute- proof that more people fall into the comfort of a routine than would like to admit. The only thing that would change were our outfits.

These people that I saw became part of my environment...I'd expect to see them. When one of the supporting characters in the commuter show was missing, I'd notice and wonder where they went and if they were okay. I would want to know their stories. And sometimes I'd make their stories up in my head. I never knew them though. None of us broke that unspoken code of silence you take when we stepped onto the train. We saw each other every day, but never talked.

It was weird, when I first stopped working, I felt like I had been watching a good television show only to find out that it had been cancelled mid season. Just like that. The world stopped and I would never know what happened to my fellow commuters. Luckily for me, they weren't the only people that were part of my environment. In reality, the cast of the commuter show paled in comparison to Mary.

(actual picture of "Mary")

Mary may not be her real name, but to me it very much is. I don't know where Mary lives. For months it seemed as though she lived on the side walk outside of Walgreens. It was her habit and she wasn't quitting Walgreens any time soon. She would stand there morning and night having deep conversations...with herself. She'd make a good point and she would nod her head in agreement. She would get carried away and she would talk with her hands. Sometimes she took walks. Once, while sitting at the tables outside of Argo tea she spoke to me and my friend. She ran her hands across the smooth metal table next to us and them abruptly looked up and said, "I'm just looking." That was the day she became Mary. We needed a name for her. From that day forward she took on a whole new life in my eyes. I was acutely aware of her and her comings and goings from the Walgreens. Yes, I am aware that she is most likely a very ill woman. That is perhaps what drew me to her even more. I am a social worker at heart and I feel connected to others very easily. I even defended her when a server at a restaurant in the neighborhood said that she was "fake" and that it was "all an act." She apparently frequented the restaurant often and would have others buy her food. (If you are wondering how I got to talking to a server about Mary, it is the same way that I usually step out of a cab knowing the drivers life story...how long he has been married, how many children he has, what he did as a career before driving a cab, etc.)

Mary was no fake. Mary may not be her real name, but everything was totally genuine. From her two toned hair right down to her paint splattered sneakers. No one talks to themselves in public for shits and giggles. No one stands outside day and night for the fun of it. Plus, she never asked me for money. Not once. She was sick. It was obvious. And, I wanted to know all about her.

I feel drawn to people some times. Just like Mary, there was a man who stood in the underground walkway between the blue and the red lines at the Jackson station. I passed him almost every day on my way home from work. He held a cup, a cane, and mumbled to himself. Some days he looked very bad. Others, he looked nicer with his hair freshly braided. Some days he was gone and I worried. Some days I gave him money. Some days I didn't. Every day I wanted to say hello and ask his name. Never did this happen.

Early on in the fall Mary just wasn't there any more at her usual post outside of the Walgreens. I thought perhaps she went for a walk and was hanging out somewhere else for a day or two. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. It's true, my friends and I joked that she went to stay in her lush house in the north suburbs for the winter and would return when the weather grew nicer. Yet, beneath the joking, I was actually worried. I was sad that I allowed someone to be so present in my life, in terms of sharing physical space, yet never took the opportunity to move into a place of familiarity. Why had I never said hello? Why was I so set in the routine of seeing her, yet so comfortable with not really acknowledging her? I was disappointed in myself.

I was sitting in my apartment this evening and had a strange sudden craving for a cookie. Without really even thinking I sat up, put on shoes, and walked to Walgreens. I didn't even have to cross the street before I noticed her. She was back. Beneath a HUGE over coat, a hood, and sunglasses (despite the fact that it wasn't even a little light outside) I knew it was her. She was in the same spot she always was before. It was as if she had never left. It really made my day.

The Mary Show was apparently signed on for another season. And, I couldn't be happier.

I am left with a few thoughts though: How do I step outside of my routine and habits? How do I say hello first? And, how many other people do I miss by allowing them to blend into the background of my life?

What are your thoughts? Do you have a Mary?

mr. president

2010-02-16T17:29:00.005-06:00

I may be a day late on this one, but let's all pretend that I was wildly celebrating President's Day and had no time to sit down and blog.

I'm also going to pretend that a grown up Mary Kate and Ashley celebrated by getting together with Bill to do their annual remake of this hugely popular song.

i might need to change professions

2010-02-10T04:31:00.012-06:00

I can't sleep. Surprise!

Yep, I am trying to look on the bright side. As a result of me not sleeping, I have two really weird things to tell you about. The first, well, just see for yourself:

Please make sure you look at the picture closely. No, I didn't edit this. Yes, apparently, "A DOOZY" is a meteorological term. Who knew?

The second thing you ask? Well, as I lay in my bed trying to sleep I began to hear this annoying clicking sort of noise. It was coming from my kitchen, but I couldn't figure out what it was. It was a clicky rattley noise. I sat up and was about to go look when all of the sudden my apartment jolts. The jolt is what I would describe as somewhat violent. No, not me...my whole apartment. My heart immediately began to race and I went into the kitchen. The clicking noise was coming from a mug that was sitting on top of this tin on my counter. It was rocking back and forth. Now, I will admit that I have a tendency to over react and jump to conclusions about things like this. My imagination just tends to run a little wild. No joking aside though. We just had a FUCKING EARTHQUAKE! Seriously! And, while it may have been a touch crazy, I headed over to the U.S. Geological Survey website (I had to google it first to find out where I should go...I don't have it as a favorite or anything crazy like that) turns out...there was an earthquake! Don't believe me? Here you go...a magnitude 4.3 earthquake. Or you can read this about the earthquake. Totally crazy. Although my heart was still beating out of my chest, I felt a little proud that I felt it and knew exactly what it was. Basically, I'm a seismic genius.

UPDATE: I just got a CNN breaking news alert text on my phone about the earthquake. Too late CNN, tell me something I didn't already know!

square state

2010-02-06T10:36:00.005-06:00

So, my bestest bestest friend is in town. We are two wild girls let me tell you. We are sitting in my bed drinking coffee and looking at my google analytics for this blog. I went to the map overlay from the day I started writing until today. Let me tell you I was a little too excited. Cambodia? Thank you for spending 20 minutes here! Sri Lanka? Slovenia? Wow. But, let's talk about you America...

I was looking at the US map and I have to say that I was excited- 45 states. But, why do you not like me: Maine, North Dakota, South Dakota, New Mexico, and square state that is not Colorado? That's right, I said other square state. My friend laughed, but then said she didn't know what state it was. There we sat for a good three minutes trying to figure it out. We are very intelligent I'd like to say, but geography apparently is not our forte.

We eventually figured it out. So, I'm looking at you Wyoming. Start reading. Please.

Thank you.

(P.S. As I read this to her before hitting publish she said, "Wait, is Colorado square?" I hesitated, looked at the map and said, "Yes, of course it is.")

Lucky McLuckerson

2010-02-03T13:27:00.007-06:00

I feel like Charlie...I got the golden ticket...except my golden ticket was in the form of a call from an unknown number. Who knows what made me answer the phone because I never answer unknown numbers, but you bet your sweet ass I'm glad I did.

That's right, I won 10 free burritos from Chipotle! Happiest. Girl. Ever.

P.S. I am accepting bribes for an invite to the burrito extravaganza that will be happening very shortly at my local Chipotle.

it's not you. it's me.

2010-01-31T16:57:00.003-06:00

Dear New York,

I don't even know where to begin. I first want to start by asking you to please understand and not to hate me. It's me. It's not you. You did nothing wrong. We apparently were not meant for one another. What with your high rent, boroughs, hot dog street vendors, frequently used water taxis, and residents such as this guy....I say no thank you. Chicago just swept me off my feet. It came out of nowhere. I didn't plan for this to happen. And again, you did nothing wrong. I think have been moving in different directions for quiet some time now. I don't know what the future holds for us and I am definitely not ruling out the possibility of us being together at some point. But, for now. Right now. Chicago is who I have to be with. Chicago has my heart. I hope you understand. I want the best for you New York.

Much love,
emily

(via StevenBrisson)

It's funny. I spent the majority of my life being completely obsessed with New York City. I wanted nothing more than to live there. I always said, "I won't be happy if I don't live in New York City for at least some part of my life." I just felt this amazing connection with the city. It was a relationship. New York was my first love. But, like most love, you go through transition. About two and a half years ago I moved to Chicago and slowly the city began to take over the real estate that New York used to claim in my heart. I moved here sort of on a whim. I had never been here when I decided to move. I did come for a weekend to see that I really liked it. And, I did. So, here I am. About two years into this adventure and I couldn't be happier. I will always love New York City. It has something magical about it that can not be replicated; however, what I began to realize once I moved here is that perhaps some of my love was just about as city...not necessary The City. That's right New York...you get a capital T and a capital C. You're that important. Anyway, I think it was just that I belonged in a city and that is why New York appealed to me so much. Chicago isn't New York, but it is pretty amazing in and of itself. And when I got here, I learned that it was something much greater than New York...it was my home.

So, today I celebrate what it is that I love about Chicago and that I am one of the millions in this big city:

Starbucks, Caribou Coffee, Argo Tea, and a plethora of other cafes within walking distance
BYOB restaurants
Diversity
Unlimited selection of take out places
Public transportation
Cabs at my doorstep
Street festivals all summer long
Never being woken up by a lawn mover, weed wacker, chirping birds, etc.
Two airports to choose from
Two baseball teams
More bars within walking distance than I can count
Doormen
Peapod
Dog walkers
The Redeye
Never calling it Willis Tower
Always giving cardinal directions
The CTA Christmas Train
Walking
$12 manicures (and 5 places to get them within a 1/2 block radius)
Hating the suburbs
Never having to shop at a mall
$1 burger nights
Alcohol delivery
Beer gardens
The Lake
Swimming with the skyline in the background
The winter (for real)
Hot Dogs
City themed bars
Penny rides on New Year's Eve
Zipcar
The green river on St. Patrick's Day
Comedy
My Chicago friends that have become family
and much, much more...

friendship

2010-01-29T09:29:00.006-06:00

I am extraordinarily blessed to have some amazing people in my life. I had to just edit that sentence and take out my use of the word lucky and substitute it with blessed. I put a lot of stock into the belief that things happen for a reason. I think that we take our own path, but if something is supposed to happen or enter our life...it will find us regardless of the path we take. And, I believe that to be true for friendships. I guess I know this to be true because my own life has been shaped by the friendships in my life. I can't imagine a life without the people I have around me. And as hippy dippy as it may sound, I know they came to me because they were meant to be there. I wouldn't be who I am without them.

I was sent this video by a good friend of mine this morning and it made me cry. It is just the sweetest thing AND I feel like it proves my point.

put on your bladder control undies for this one

2010-01-27T11:26:00.006-06:00

First, someone posted this question on Yahoo Answers:
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20081017195134AAWT7Ez

Then someone made this:

Then I died laughing.

(@vaieel i owe you my first babby for sending me this)

mission accomplished

2010-01-26T08:06:00.013-06:00

So, remember this post about that guy who sent me a facebook message saying he didn't want to see me anymore (the day I was laid off of work)? If so, you probably remember this post about when I drunk text said dude and it resulted in a conversation that resulted in drinks. Well, drinks were had.

I went into this drinking summit with very defined boundaries. Friends. Even though my gut instinct told me that I already had too many friends and did not need to add this dude to the roster. Damn gut. Right?

Anyway, we met up for drinks at my favorite bar in the city. I wanted the home field advantage. This particular bar is small, but not too small. It is in Wrigleyville, but is not like a Wrigley bar. And, it has board games. Love. It.

I arrived five minutes later per the usual. He had already ordered me a drink. We had to stand for a while because it was packed, but I poached a table and we sat down mid drink two. We had a good time. Conversation was easy. We played Master Mind and I was a total fucking mind reading rockstar. He sucked, which gave me more pleasure than it should have. After that, we played Guess Who? and somehow I lost a round...not because he guessed first but because I messed up somewhere along the way. Not even sure how that happens. I think the game is suitable for like two year olds.

So, the good stuff? There wasn't really until the next day. We left the bar and got some pizza after having way too much to drink for having not had dinner. He had paid for all of our drinks despite my protests, but I paid for the pizza just to be clear...this wasn't a date. After pizza he got on the El and I walked home. Mission Friendship accomplished.

Well, it was about as accomplished as the time another (not so friend of mine) declared his "mission" accomplished.

The next day I get this text:

"I feel really bad about this because I like you and I wanted to give this a second try. I just don't feel like the chemistry is right with us. I wish it was...because you're such a great girl."

I don't even know how to fully verbalize what I thought at this point. Now, I never responded to his facebook I don't think we should see each other anymore message. There was nothing to say. This, however, pissed me the fuck off. This was my reply:

"Seriously? I am sort of blown away that you thought this was a second try sort of thing. We went for drinks because you asked if we could and I assumed it was as friends. Had I thought you were hoping it would be more than that I would not have gone. A second chance was never an option even if you thought there was chemistry."

Apparently you can.

true

2010-01-25T11:09:00.002-06:00

in love...

2010-01-24T12:58:00.006-06:00

...with my new boots.

coco...not chanel

2010-01-24T12:23:00.007-06:00

I just watched the final episode on Hulu.com and almost cried. I have been a Conan fan forever, but what got me about this episode was his humility and his expression of gratitude to those who have supported him. Yes, he has made jokes at NBC's expense these past couple of weeks. However, in the final hour, Conan humbly spoke of his time with the network and the joy it has brought to his life. He spoke about how things don't always go as you plan or how you are told they will...and basically, said that it is alright. He then asked his fans, especially young adults, to reject the urge to be cynical. He said, "if you work really hard and you are kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you. Amazing things will happen." And it really was perfect.

rehab

2010-01-22T08:37:00.004-06:00

Okay, so I totally watched the entire season of Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew online yesterday and cried my eyes out like a baby.

I have come to the conclusion that Dr. Drew is one of my favorite people on the planet. Seriously, I want to go to rehab just so I can interact with him. Please tell me I am not alone.

for rent

2010-01-18T19:06:00.005-06:00

I got some rockin' news slipped under my door the other day. Yeah, they came to my house to deliver it! If you are thinking that I got a big check with my name on it and cameras and balloons, you may want to stop reading. You will be terribly disappointed.

Anyway, I got my lease renewal. I know what you are thinking, "It's January. Your lease doesn't end until May. Why so early?" I don't have an answer for that. I thought it was weird too. But, when I opened the package they slid under the door I was hit in the face with some awesome news. First, if I return the lease renewal by February 1st, I will get half off May's rent. And, here comes the best news of all. Sit down. My rent is GOING DOWN! Yeah! When does that ever happen? I know, like, never!

I am taking this as a sign that good things are coming down the pike and not just in the form of $2o extra a month. (This does mean that I will have to potentially endure another year of the vomiter, but I think I am okay with that.)

Just Say No

2010-01-16T04:34:00.005-06:00

For you to be able to grasp the full effect of this post I'm going to ask that you read this: My First Blog Post Ever.

It is very important that you read that first because if you don't you won't understand why you are shaking your head back and forth and giving me that "really emily? really?" look upon reading this post.

I have a habit. Or, affinity for engaging in some late night calling or texting. Not the dirty kind...just the "I might not remember this in the morning" kind. I don't really discriminate. I will contact anyone. If you are saved in my phone, you are fair game. Be warned now. Block me or something.

Anyway, I attended several holiday functions over this past month or two. Many of these functions involved lots of holiday cheer, which I consumed. So, we appropriately queue late night calling and texting at this point. What's the harm you say? A sibling? A best friend here? An old roommate there? Nothing really. Totally harmless. Right? Wrong.

Real fast, I'm just going to say that they really should devote some time in DARE teaching kids about the dangers of drinking and dialing. Maybe Nancy Reagan will jump on board and do some Just Say No shit. She was all over that in the 80's. (P.S. I did just have to google Nancy Reagan to make sure she was still alive and available for said Just Say No campaign. Turns out she is. Also turns out that her real name is Anne Frances Robbins. Like, for real. I'm feel a little duped, Nancy Reagan. If that is even your real name...oh wait, IT ISN'T!)

Anyway, let's fast forward to the part where I discovered that douchebag's (mentioned in the post that you were required to read earlier) phone number wad still saved in my phone. That's right...we're going down that road. Totally text him. Four months later. No communication since said facebook message...not even a response. Yep. Who is awesome now?

Making matters worse, he responded the next day. Later that night he had his roommate try to pull some grammar school sleep over tactic on me as he text me and was all "who is this? I have your number saved in my phone, but no name. I'm trying to figure out if I should delete you." His fatal move was disclosing his real name when I responded, "who is this?" Yep, my next text was, "My guess is you can delete me. My other guess is that your roommate got a text from me last night and doesn't know who I am so he asked you to text me to try and figure it out instead of doing it himself." I totally felt like a rockstar and wanted to high five myself for that one. Douchebag immediately text me apologizing. He somehow tricked me into an hours worth of text exchanges during which he apologized like ten times and got me to agree to meet up for drinks some time which I thought would never really happen but as it turns out "some time" is actually Sunday night. (Imagine that last sentence said in one breath. No breaks. Fast like ripping off a band-aid.)

Yeah, you can shake your head. "Really Emily? Really?"

I'm Michelle

2010-01-14T21:14:00.004-06:00

I feel like that last post was heavy, so I feel the need to lighten things up with a confession. I was about to type embarrassing, but I then realized that I am not embarrassed about it at all. Come on, I am sharing it with the entire internet. That's right kids, the ENTIRE internet will read this. Jealous?

Okay...here it goes.

I love the Olsen twins. And I may or may not have seen like every movie they were ever in. More like may...okay, totally have.

I think it started when I was little and would watch TGIF with my step sisters. When shows would come on we would quickly say who we were going to "be" while the show was on. Think credits rolling...my oldest step sister would loudly announce, "I'm DJ," when Candace Cameron appeared on the screen. My other step sister would always F'in jump in and claim Jodie Sweeten before I got a chance to. (But really, who's laughin' now...she turned out to be a meth addict...Jodie Sweeten. Not my step sister. Although, I haven't talked to her in a few years so don't take me at my word on that one.) Anyway, I was always stuck being Michelle, which meant I was Mary-Kate and Ashley...or both. I'm not sure how the rules worked. I hated it. I wasn't an effing baby, but at some point things turned around. It may have been To Grandmother's House We Go or Double, Double, Toil and Trouble. I can't quite be sure. All I know is they hooked me. I can't get enough. And if we ever watch Full House together, don't even try "be" Michelle. I'm her. You can be Aunt Becky or something.

my parent's daughter

2010-01-12T03:01:00.001-06:00

I am going to pretend that I didn't take the longest blog hiatus ever and that the power cord fire thing didn't even happen. I would appreciate if you close your eyes and pretend too. Please open them again to start reading though.

There is no denying that I am my mother's daughter. I sound like her on the phone. I have her weakness for sweet foods. I stare at strangers and even smile at them sometimes if they catch me. I make up new words to songs or make songs out of things that don't need to be made into songs in the first place. I get annoyed and want to tell everyone about it. And, if you cover up her hair in pictures from about 20 years ago...it might as well be my face. There is no denying I am hers.

My dad is another story. Besides his stick straight brown hair and propensity to get overheated and break a sweat when temperatures reach 70 degrees, our similarities are harder to find. He is sometimes painfully private (to the point that he won't even tell me who he votes for in elections...even local ones). He could be outside all day long and is most days. He's not a "talk it out" kind of guy. He doesn't like change. He has blue eyes. And, he despises being in a city.

You have to squint to see the similarities.

...

It was Thanksgiving night and everyone in the house was asleep. I was laying in bed listening to music on my iPod and playing some iPod game. Right after a random pop song, Death Cab for Cutie's Bixby Cannon Bridge came through my ear buds.

Musical euphoria. I can't even think of a better way to describe it. There is something about music that can completely move my soul. Touch me and evoke the rawest of emotions. This song struck a cord and really always does. Things don't always go as planned. Sometimes your mom says that she misses your dad's family and really wishes she could be there with everyone for the holiday. Sometimes you look across the table and know that your grandfather is sick. Sometimes someone tells you there are no good memories. Sometimes you close your eyes and know that this moment will never happen again.

My dad and I were sitting in his den the other day and he put on a CD of bagpipe music. My dad has forever said that he wanted Amazing Grace and Coming Home played on the bagpipes at his funeral...as his coffin is lifted up onto a firetruck (since he has been a fireman for over 30 years...it is fitting). As we sat there, my dad told me that one day he came home from work and put this same CD on and listened and just cried. He said, "Sometimes it just feels so good to just cry. Really, cry." I've seen my dad cry a few times. I'm not one of those girls who thinks her dad is invincible. We left my dad. A lot of kids of divorced families talk about when their fathers left. Mine never did. He stayed in our house for weeks after we moved out. He stayed. And, he is like me. He hurts. He listens to sad music to cry. To feel.

So...on Thanksgiving, I was overwhelmed and so happy that this song came to me on shuffle. I just started crying. I'm thankful for a lot, but I am really sad about a lot too. I wish I could pull my sadness from my being and rid myself of it. I wish I knew how to do that, so that I didn't carry it with me. But, I'm sad. Sad about things I can't even make sentences out of. Sad about things that don't form into words and roll off the tongue. These are things you are sad about in your soul and they well up in your eyes. Sad in your stomach muscles and tightened lips. And in this song...this beautifully emotional song I can let it all go for a fleeting moment...and be thankful for that.

And, it was this that made me see it. Squinting. I saw it. Our likeness may not be physical. It may not be our mannerisms or habits. But, it is found in how we feel. Or, don't. Or, try to. We turn on a song to feel and we do. We are the same.

p.s.

2010-01-04T17:11:00.004-06:00

The person using the computer next to me (at the public library) smells like pure grain alcohol. This= Awesome!

i'm alive and stuff

2010-01-04T17:04:00.007-06:00

I haven't dropped off the face of the earth or anything...I know everyone was worried. I merely had a slight fire in the power cord for my laptop that has rendered me internet-less. I came to the library just to post this for you so that you can all rest easy. As soon as my ebay power cord replacement arrives I will blog your socks off.

(the above picture is a total dramatization)

next stop: awesomeville

2009-12-15T21:49:00.004-06:00

Something totally amazing happened this weekend and no it was not that I threw up in a sink at a bar (which may or may not have happened).

This is my third Christmas in Chicago and I've begun to loose faith...I see posters and I hear people talk, but never have I witnessed it. All of that changed this weekend.

I saw it...

The em effin' CTA Holiday Train! Could there be anything better? I mean, I wouldn't even fight if they raised the fare to $4 if it was decorated year round. But, it won't be. It will be gone soon. Regardless, all faith has been restored. Thank you CTA Holiday Train. Thank you for making this girls holiday dream come true.

more leftovers

2009-12-11T11:22:00.003-06:00

Okay, so to pick up where we left off....

Cuddle Gate 2009. Yeah, we had a layover in Pittsburgh for about two hours and the second the train stopped I was out of there. Not that I was in a race to do nothing at the train station...I was just in a race to do nothing at the train station away from my train buddy. Sad thing is that the Pittsburgh train station is about the size of my studio apartment. Well, this is what I had to say about the experience:

The upside is that I believe that passing out on my bosom and remaining alcohol free for a few hours sobered my friend up a little bit. Hopefully he was embarrassed when he woke up in my chest and decided to avoid me as much as I avoided him in the closet they call a train station in Pittsburgh.

The rest of the train trip was uneventful. Long and uneventful. Just like I wanted. I will leave you with the highlights of my trip home because you don't want to read all the details and I don't want to type them:

I lounged around at my dad's house...a lot, which was basically awesome.
My dad plays an embarrassing amount of Spider Solitaire on his computer. After a few days I found myself rushing to the computer to play it.
I had a sleep over with my grandparents.
I went with my grandparents to get them hearing aids.
My grandmother scolded the hearing aid lady and said, "You really don't need to scream at us." This was once she got the hearing aid in and on. Awesome thing was that the woman was actually talking quietly.
Learned that my grandfather LOVES flipping through the channels on the television NON STOP! This is a little lie because he did stop a few times and once was after about 100 channels. He stopped...on the Terminator...in Spanish. My grandfather doesn't speak a lick of Spanish. He may be thinking of learning though. Watching Spanish television may be his way of immersing himself in the language.
My brother and sister-in-law came the day before Thanksgiving.
Baked a kick ass pumpkin cheesecake
Ate and drank too much on Thanksgiving
May have gotten slightly drunk, but was overshadowed by my uncle who definitely got drunk.
Played LCR and now I want a set of LCR dice so bad
Got no pity during LCR when I proclaimed, "Remember, I have no job. I need money."
Went to the beach. Yes, the Jersey Shore, but without the spiked hair and spray tans.
Had some great talks with my dad.
Played about ten rounds of Catch Phrase with my family. Young People vs. Old People.
Young People kicked ass.
Laughed my ass off when my cousin Keirsten was trying to get us to guess "Detroit Tigers," and gave the clue, "capitol of Michigan." (She is a high school teacher.)
Oh, and when she was trying to get us to guess tiger she yelled, "God dammit another cat name!" after we guess, "Lion, jaguar, panther..."
Threw up in my mouth watching zit porn. (Be. Warned.)
Enjoyed a relatively boring train trip home and no one tried to molest me.
I did have to listen to a crazy man who didn't pick up on social queues of when to stop talking to strangers. He went as far as to tell this 80 year old woman that he loved her and was so happy they met. He gave her a hug and over his shoulders she rolled her eyes at me.
She became my hero.
Developed a disdain for Pittsburgh after my four hour lay over there.
Found out that the entire "city" of Pittsburgh shuts down at 9pm.
Took a cab home and was reminded why I love Chicago as we drove down Lake Shore Drive during the sunrise.
Realized that New Jersey will forever hold a special place in my heart and I will always love it, but Chicago is my soul mate.

left overs

2009-12-10T18:34:00.008-06:00

Sweet gsus it has been forever since I last wrote a real post. And I guess I have proved myself quite the liar with the whole "for real, tomorrow...I'll write tomorrow," crap I did a few days ago. In my defense, when it was a today...it clearly was not tomorrow anymore...it was today. So, I had to wait until tomorrow came. Right?
Anyway, Thanksgiving and Cuddle Gate 2009. So, I took the train from Chicago to New Jersey because I am a touch crazy about flying. Another story all together. I was pretty jazzed about the trip though. I had a couple really good books to read, some movies, and lots of sleeping to do. I bought dinner to eat on the train because we pulled out of Union Station at 6 something in the evening. Real fast, train travel is the way to go if you are a late person. I mean, not that I am or anything, just saying. I mean, I am assuming that you can show up at the train station with a little less than 30 minutes before you train leaves and still have plenty of time to check your bags and board and stuff. Just a guess.

So, I board the train and see that I am assigned an aisle seat. Not. Happy. (Jan.) I get ready to put my stuff down and this youngish guy says, "Are you in seat 27?" Why yes, yes I am. He responds, "I'm 28. Looks like it is you and me babe." Ugh. With his use of the word "babe" to me...a total stranger...I knew what I was about to do next was totally going to work. "Oh, I am totally jealous of your window seat." (Bat eyelashes, pout lip, girl stuff, girl stuff) "Take it. It's dark out anyway. I'm not going to see shit anyway." Yes, it worked. And, he is apparently an idiot. I don't want to see anything outside. I wanted to lean against the window while I slept. What I didn't know was that this whole plan would fail. Majorly. With no window...he had very few options for where he would rest his head when he slept. And, if we get technical, he chose two options...my right boob and my left. We will get to that in a second.

We have barely gotten out of Chicago and he proceeds to tell me that he is 36. Divorced four months ago. Don't worry, it was his second marriage. He has three kids. Two boys and a girl. The girl is 18 months old. Both of his ex-wives are strippers. He is done with strippers. He has been on a train since yesterday. Oh, surprise...he is traveling to the SAME DESTINATION AS ME! 24 hours together he proclaims. "We have a lot of time to get to know each other." I think, "I can't fall asleep soon enough. Does anyone have any horse tranquilizers? I would rather not get to know him further. They can be for me or for him." He continues to say that he is traveling from Texas. He hasn't been outside of Texas in 15 years. He is moving to Atlantic City to live with his dad. Winner. He can't wait to live in Atlantic City because there is "so much to do there." Oh, he is super drunk too. Sort of like frat boy drunk, but not frat boy because he didn't go to college. He lists everything he has had to drink in the last 24 hours. I wonder why he is not dead. He tells me he could never live in Chicago because there is "nothing to do here. It is the middle of no where." He again says he is very jazzed to live in Atlantic City where there is "so much to do: the beach, casinos, strip clubs, bars. They have everything." I am officially over him at this point. No you don't dis on my city! I tell him that there is surprisingly a lot to do in Chicago because it is...I don't know...just the third largest city in the country. (fact) He shrugs his shoulders and says we can talk some more, but for now he is going to go get a drink.

He comes back about two hours later...just when I am trying to go to sleep. He mumbles about being drunk and making out with some girl a few cars up. Confusing the hell out of me. Whatever. He says that she will probably "totally sleep with [him]." He asks me if he should go back and "do her." I say he definitely should because I want him gone. He leaves again.

He comes back about 45 minutes later. I have my eyes closed at this point. He ignores this and puts his arm on my legs and leans in and tells me has my back. He "won't let anything happen to me." I, stupidly, entertain this conversation and ask if he is talking about on the train because I doubt he will have to "get my back." He tells me he loves me and that even though we don't really know each other well he thinks I am a "really awesome chick." I ask if he even remembers my name because I know the answer. Surprise! He doesn't. He begs me to tell him and I say, "Emily," and roll over. He goes on and on about how Emily is "such a sexy name," which I don't even understand. How is it sexy? Like, would it wear hot lingerie if it could? Apparently it would because he says it is "mad sexy." He tries to cuddle in to me and tells me that he didn't sleep with that girl. He tells me she is a "freak." Funny, coming from him. He asks if he should bring her back to our seat. I am over this. He then says she would get really jealous if she came back here and saw us together. This is odd because we are most definitely not together. I tell him to finish his drink because I do not want the red wine in his plastic cup to spill on me when he passes out. I roll to the side and go to sleep.

I wake up several hours later and wish I could show you in person what I saw. I looked down to find his arm around my waist. And, his head resting on...MY BREASTS! We were entering a station and the train was going slowly and bumping around. I watched as his head bounced on my tits. Awesome, right? Funny thing is, I was faced with a decision and ultimately felt that leaving him there was my best bet. I didn't want to wake him up and start the talking machine. I went back to sleep.

it's only a day away...

2009-12-08T03:06:00.003-06:00

I think it was a genius who said, "why do today, what you can put off until tomorrow?" Right? Boo Thomas Jefferson and his whole, "never put off till tomorrow what you can do today." Have a little fun Jefferson.

Seriously though. I PROMISE to write tomorrow. My head is getting too full with stuff I need to write.

my to do list...

2009-11-24T11:07:00.004-06:00

For those of you wondering, I only did half of everything on my to do list before I left for New Jersey. Half. Of. Everything. That was like the biggest fail ever. I didn't do one thing completely at all...well, besides pack.

I did all of my laundry, but I didn't put it all away. I cleaned my room, but not completely. I washed my sheets but never remade the bed. And my favorite...I washed half the dishes and put the rest in the oven. Yep. I store dirty dishes in the oven. You should think about doing it too.

snuggie

2009-11-21T17:02:00.004-06:00

Okay, I'm gonna just give you a little nugget of a story from my 23 hour train trip. You will have to wait for later for a full recap.

Did I wake up with a very intoxicated man snuggling up into my breasts with his arm around my waist? Yes, yes I did.

i'm leaving on a midnight train to georgia...

2009-11-19T09:39:00.004-06:00

....okay it is really a 6:30pm train and I am going to New Jersey, but it sounds better saying it that way.

Yep, I can't wait! I am also jazzed about this long train trip. I know. I am crazy. I have two Netflix movies and three books and plan on updating my iPod. Even though, if I am totally honest, I will probably sleep for a good 85% of the 23 hour trip. That's right. I can sleep for a really long time. Deal with it.

Before I leave I need to do laundry, wash probably every dish I own because they all sit dirty in my kitchen, change the sheets on my bed, clean up the mess I have made of my apartment, and pack. Just a few things, ya know? So, what am I doing right now with this long To Do list waiting to be completed? Lounging my my office (i.e. my bed). Have I said before how much I enjoy not working? If not, I heart not working.

spice up your life

2009-11-18T20:28:00.001-06:00

I always had pet growing up. There was always some animal or something living in our house. Most of the time it was dogs, but we did have our fair share of fish, turtles, cats, and hamsters.

My younger brother was probably too little to remember the turtles or the hamsters...and he wasn't even alive for the cats. But, he always asked for a pet of his own. You see, we had a dog for the majority of his life. The dog was mine, Alfie. Although he was a "family" dog, he was really my dog. He was given to me for Christmas in seventh grade. He was probably the best present I have ever gotten. I loved him like he was my child.

It wasn't that my brother didn't like Alfie. On the contrary, he loved Alfie. He just wanted something to call his own. So, after much begging my parents gave in and bought him a hamster. I'm not really sure why. We had done the whole hamster thing in the past. It never ends well. Hamsters are kind of boring pets. They don't do much. You lose interest after a while. Its probably a terrible thing to say, but it's just the truth. But, for whatever reason, my parents decided on a hamster for my brother.

My brother went through an interesting stage in late elementary school. He was very into music. I'm sort of at a loss of words for how to describe his musical taste, so I will just share that he named the hamster Baby Spice. That's right, after the Spice Girl.

We quickly learned that Baby Spice was no regular hamster. There was the whole incident a few months after we got her when my mom was very concerned Baby Spice was pregnant because she had a weird "growth." My mom called the vet to describe what the hamster looked like and to have her suspicions confirmed. Turns out my mom was very wrong. Baby Spice was definitely not pregnant...she just had giant balls. That's right, Baby Spice was a boy. She was a he. Even after learning her true sex we never changed his name.

But, the mistaken gender issue aside, Baby Spice was unlike any other pet we had ever owned. (Forgive me in advance because I will probably get the the gender appropriate pronouns mixed up from time to time.) Yes, in addition to being well endowed, Baby Spice had a taste for adventure. He was constantly escaping his little hamster cage. Nothing ever stopped him. At one time he chewed a hole through the side of the plastic hamster cage just to get out. Baby Spice went missing on more occasions than I can even recall. His favorite thing to do was to escape and run through the air vents of our house for a few days. He would usually come out after we would set up food and call him through the vents. But, for the sake of entertainment I will list for you some of the most memorable places Baby Spice was found including the length of time that had elapsed from his escape.

In a small trash can, waiting to be emptied, that was sitting on the steps leading to the garage of our house- missing for a couple of days
In the bushes in the front yard- missing for about a month
In the air vent in my bedroom- missing for a couple days
In the air vent in our laundry room (lured out by a song my mom made up about Baby Spice...and food)- missing at least a week
In the garage- missing for almost two months

Yep, Baby Spice had a taste for adventure. We were sure that last trip was it. After over a month went by we were sure Baby Spice was gone. We cranked up the heat and then the air hoping to flush him out of the air vents if that is where he was hiding. No luck. So, we sort of gave up. With no weird smells we figured Baby Spice found some pack of wild hamsters and was gone for good. Or dead somewhere. It was the middle of summer and it was over 100 degrees almost ever day. How could one little hamster survive all alone? Apparently by taking up residence in your garage and eating through a 40lb. bag of dog food. That's right. I found Baby Spice in our garage really late one night. I wanted to wake everyone up in the whole house because I was so amazed. It was like capturing Big Foot or spotting Loch Ness. Baby Spice was considered to be gone forever and he was back!

Since it was late I left notes on every one's bedroom door saying to check Baby Spice's cage...he had been brought back into captivity.

Turns out captivity didn't suit him very well. He died the next day. You took the whole, "give me liberty or give me death," thing a little too far don't you think, Baby Spice?

Needless to say, we will never get another hamster. You should think about not getting one as well.

to see my dad...

2009-11-18T00:22:00.004-06:00

I don't think I ever shared that I am, in fact, going to see my dad for Thanksgiving. I am leaving Thursday evening. And, yes, I am taking the train. It will take me about 23 hours, but I am looking forward to every minute of it. Honestly, I am. Even more exciting is that my brother and sister-in-law decided to come to New Jersey as well for the holiday. While they will not be there nearly as long as me (I'm going to be there for over a week), I am super pumped to see them and get to spend time with them as well.

I won't lie that going to see my family causes me some anxiety. I have all these irrational thoughts and fears about them thinking I am too fat, that I will want to come home as soon as I get there, that for some reason my clothes are going to look really out of place, blah blah blah. Like I said, these fears are all irrational. No, I don't look like a model. I won't blow my family away with how I look, but I bet that the first thing they think when they see me is, "Wow, Emily sure hasn't lost any weight."

But, aside from my slight anxiety, I am really excited. I haven't seen my dad in over a year. I will be honest and say that I have learned how to miss my dad. I mean, it is not in the cold hearted way that it may sound. It is just that we moved away from my dad when I was nine years old. I have lived in different states than him for pretty much two thirds of my life. You learn how not to constantly miss someone. One main reason is that it is hard to miss thing about people that you don't know. You don't miss the little things about them because you never got to learn them.

I love my dad a lot though. And, I have not doubt that he loves me. I won't say our relationship is without complication. Clearly there will be some complication when you grow up removed from a parent. But, I don't think I have some weird daddy issues. I've had therapists who have tried to get me to admit I have daddy issues...that I have some great hurt over my relationship or at times lack of relationship with my father. I don't. But, protesting and saying how much I really don't have any issues with my dad only makes them think that I must have some underlying problem. I get it. I use to make that same mistake with clients before. You ask them something and they adamantly protest...it's like the old "thoust dost protest too much" argument. Problem with that is that sometimes it is honest. Sometimes things are as people say. But anyway, now that I have gone on for a while about how I don't have some pent up daddy issue and probably thoroughly convinced you that I do...I will say a few things. While my relationship with my dad is at times complicated, its complications pale in comparison to those I have with my mother. My dad has been nothing but supportive of me in my life and makes a point to tell me that he supports whatever it is that I want or need to do. Whenever I think of taking a leap of faith, he is always the first person to tell me he believes in me. He may not always say he will pick me up if I fall, but I have no doubt that he would. He says he will and does put my brother and I before anyone else in his life. He tells me how it broke his heart when we moved away. He always says I love you. And, I always believe him.

The last one...is hard for me. To be loved and truly believe it...for me is rare. There are few people in this world who I can say that I don't question. It's a flaw. It is something I hope to overcome, but in the mean time I am glad my dad sits in the small camp of people I can trust when they say those three words. So, I guess it doesn't matter that he doesn't know the names of all my friends. That he probably couldn't tell you my favorite TV show. That he doesn't know what I eat for breakfast (or that I really only eat it after 10am). That he doesn't know my bad habits. That he rarely ever saw a report card. That he doesn't know my favorite restaurant or what kind of wine I would order. He can't tell my mood just from a hello on the phone. But, he loves me, which is bigger than any of the small details.

And, I'm excited to see him.

hey!

2009-11-12T10:55:00.003-06:00

Wow, it has been a long time since I last updated. I was on a pretty good roll there updating frequently and pow...dropped off the face of the blogosphere. I didn't slip into a coma, get hit by a bus, or any other terrible thing that you may have been imagining. I'm sorry to have kept you up all night worrying where I was. I've been safe and sound all this time. I do have some catching up to do though.

So let's jump right in. Do you know what I am terrible at? Okay besides updating my blog, apparently. Email. Mother. Effing. Subject. Lines.

I believe myself to be a relatively creative person. Right? But, no. All creativity and wit go out the window when it comes to email subject lines. As does my ability to summarize what it is that I am writing about. I end up putting some bullshit like, "hey," or "hey!" "Hello," works just as well. Oh, and I do throw out the "so..." quite often. I mean, read the fucking email. Get over what I put in the subject line. I've never been known for my ability to wrap things up quickly. There is no "long story short" with me. It is always more like, "short story long." So how on earth am I supposed to summarize a whole email in a few quick words? I am lost on this one. I get that it is email etiquette and all, but can Emily Post or who ever is in charge of the interweb etiquette world throw me a bone on this one and accept a "hey?"

life on wire

2009-11-06T15:11:00.006-06:00

There is a rush that comes along with stepping out into the unknown. It is a combination of excitement, anticipation, nervousness, terror, and overwhelming joy. Funny how one act can bring about so many emotions. The door to each one is open and you somehow walk through them all simultaneously. Close your eyes and walk in. It is perhaps the only way to do it. Walking out on faith. With your eyes closed and your heart open. Open to the experience. Living in the moment. There is a deafening silence and you can hear everything around you. It is the juxtaposition of all that is in the world. Past and present intersect.

What a wonderful feeling. And, what if we approached everyday this way? Perhaps not as dramatic or intense, but if we truly seized each day, each second and never looked back. That would make for true significance.

I watched the movie Man on Wire the other day. Let me tell you that it was amazing. There are no words to describe. I was simply in awe.

The movie tells the story of Philippe Petit's high-wire walk between the towers of the World Trade Center in 1974. For over six years Petit and his friends planned his walk. Planning began before construction of the towers was even complete. Petit spoke of being mesmerized by the towers. Infatuated. They were his destiny. And, in August of 1974 Petit walked his destiny for almost an hour. Making eight trips back and forth 1,350 feet above the ground.

To me it's really so simple that life should be lived on the edge of life. You have to exercise rebellion. To refuse to taper yourself to rules. To refuse your own success. To refuse to repeat yourself. To see every day, every year, every idea as a true challenge. And then, you are going to live your life on the tightrope.
-Philippe Petit

If I can live my life with his passion. His intensity. His purpose. Well, I can think of nothing better.

old chapters

2009-11-04T17:55:00.008-06:00

I've written before about privacy and how it has evolved in our lifetime. I don't know my neighbors' names. I never even met them. I mean, clearly if I had met them I would have an answer to what was up with all the vomiting that happens next door. But, alas, I've never met nor do I know anything about them. Not one thing. Well, besides all the vomiting. What I do know are the stories of people I've never met before. I knew when Georgina found out she was pregnant with a girl. I knew when David decided to return to life as a manwhore. I knew when Lilu's B peed on the cat. I knew when Lexa was called a glorified secretary. And, I know a lot more...about a lot of other people....people I've never met before. All compliments of our friend the interweb.

Problem is, I also know a lot about people I have met. I know stuff I never wanted to know. And, it was a couple of weeks ago that the book of faces let me down again by allowing me to find out information I never needed to know.

I'm not quite sure why it bothered me so much. But, as soon as I saw it I immediately shut the laptop. Apparently shutting the laptop would make it go away. I looked around as if to find out if anyone else saw what I saw. Why book of faces? Why? Why did you allow this to pop up on my news feed?

I had never been in a relationship like the one I was in with him. I hated and loved him with more intensity then anyone I had ever met before. I believe the feeling was mutual. We were too young and too intense. We fought. We saw each other way too often. We probably made each other miserable. And, we couldn't get enough of each other. I remember one night we were in a bar and his friend turned to me and said, "He really does love you. I don't know what he would do without you. He seriously loves you more then you know." The funny thing was that we were celebrating my new job. My new job in another city. The new job I looked for, in another city, to get away from him. He was toxic for me.

It was the intensity that I loved though. It was the intensity that caused this seemingly short lived romance to live way beyond its shelf life.

He use to say we were going to be together forever. He would talk about our children and the kind of mother I would be to them. He told me he loved me and never wanted to be without me. He said he was more in love with me each morning when he woke up next to me...on account of my messy hair and snuggly nature. He drank more then any person I knew. He lied when I confronted him about cheating on me. He never introduced me to his mother. He turned away from me when I cried. And, he left when he promised he would be in the waiting room when I got out.

He cemented my fears that people would turn away from me. He made my suspicions reality. He made me feel more unlovable than I thought possible.

It was years ago. And, I wasn't perfect. I didn't deserve to be treated as I was, but I didn't treat myself well either. I kept returning. I went back for more. I forgave and pretended to forget. I looked the other way and only discussed my concerns for him in anger. He was young. He was hurting his body in ways I didn't even allow myself to acknowledge. His choices were clouded by abuse that he put his body through. It wasn't a free pass. He should not receive a pardon for it, but I should have rested my case and given in. I should have stopped looking for love from someone who couldn't even treat themselves well.

The announcement of his marriage made me sad. Sad that I allowed myself to be hurt so badly by someone. Sad that he didn't want to treat me better. Sad that I believed the untruths I told myself in response to his behavior. Sad that I couldn't "win" by appearing to come out on top.

The sadness faded though. I reminded myself we were young. He hurt me, but I don't believe it was intentional. We didn't know how to treat each other. And, I probably hurt him as well. He wasn't a terrible person. He was funny. He was loyal. And, he could be incredibly loving when he wanted to be. It wasn't me. We just didn't work. And, we were kids. We needed to grow up. Move away. Make more mistakes. And learn to love ourselves.

So, I sent him a message. I told him that he looked really happy and I congratulated him. He didn't respond and I think I am okay with that. In the past I would have been crushed by his lack of response. I had and still have this strong desire to be on good terms with him. He once occupied space in my heart and a piece of him will always remain a tenant. But, relationships don't get their loose ends tied up nicely. The frayed ends linger until you can accept them and understand why the end is much harder to define then the beginning. An email would not have given me closure because what I realized was that I found it long ago. He will always hold a place in my life story, but I am chapters beyond what we were. I got closure long ago. I was just reminded that it comes in your heart and not an email or a moment in time.

The other plus about having closure is that today I can totally laugh when I retell the story about how he peed in my bed. And how I told the dry cleaner that the dog peed on my down comforter because I didn't quite know how to say, "my boyfriend peed on this" and look her in the eye. Let's hope he has learned to keep his drinking bladder under control or that he and his new wife registered for a plastic mattress protector. Bitchy much? Yes, yes I am.

2009-11-02T15:24:00.005-06:00

I had an awesome weekend. I decided to forgo the Halloween public debauchery this year and had a spooky sleep over with my boys. We watched scary movies, ate pizza, drank wine, and did a little yelling at the TV. I was a total scary movie virgin, so they took the liberty of popping my horror flick cherry. Too much? Never.

We watch three scary movies back to back. I rather enjoyed myself minus the bad dreams I had that night. I kept waking up expecting to see that Freddy had slashed my PJ's or something. Good news is that that never happened.

The next day we got coffee, walked around, and then grabbed lunch. We capped the day off with a two or three hour discussion about the future of our world. In the end we decided we needed to move close to the border of Canada just in case shit starts to go down in America. It's basically a flawless plan.

I leave you with the funniest quote of the weekend. (Knowing that I don't work is key to getting the funny.)

Alex: I love lazy Sundays.

Me: Me too...oh wait....

Everyone turned around and glared at me. They act like I make them work.

my boo boo(B)

2009-10-31T12:37:00.005-05:00

So, I may or may not have changed my Facebook status to, "booB!" this morning. It was very mean of the Blackberry people to make the B button the same as the exclamation mark button. Surely they foresaw this problem and got a big kick out of it. I guess it serves me right for trying to use two punctuation marks in a row. I should know better than that.

Happy Halloween!

(Me circa 1985-ish... just before societal pressure kicked in for me and every other girl to wear a slutty costume.)

just beet it

2009-10-30T15:36:00.002-05:00

Just a little piece of advice...leave a sticky note for yourself to read the next day reminding you what you've done if you ever decide to eat a whole can of beets. It will save you the panic attack of thinking you are bleeding internally. I mean, not that I've had to learn the hard way or anything like that.

all aboard

2009-10-30T11:54:00.007-05:00

So, I came to this realization the other day that I haven't seen my dad in over a year. That just seems like such a long time. It is not because we have some strained relationship or tension. We don't. I guess that not seeing him has become normalized for me and I let a year get away. There is much more detail I could go into about my relationship with my dad and whatnot, but I will leave that for another post. Today, I will be talking about what came from my realization that it had been 15 months since I had seen my father.

Visit him. Yep, pure genius. I know. Amazing isn't it? With all this time off. Not working and all, why not visit him? Money has been a factor, but I came up with an even more ingenious plan. I called my dad up and said, "Wouldn't it be great if I could come to New Jersey for Thanksgiving?" He said that it would and I responded, "I have been thinking. What if you bought me a ticked to come see you for Thanksgiving? That could be my Christmas present. You wouldn't have to get me anything else."

So, a ticket hasn't been purchased at this point, but I am feeling pretty optimistic that it will be. I am actually really pumped. Not that I don't get excited to see my dad and the rest of my family...it is just that it feels like it has been so long. I am excited to just hang out. Eat lots of good food. Do a puzzle with my grandmother. Show my grandfather pictures. Laugh with my cousins about stuff we did when we were kids. Just enjoy my family. So fingers crossed that everything works out.

Oh, and because I don't do things without a touch of crazy I need to note that this ticket I am requesting is an Amtrak ticket. Before you go freaking out that I am opting to spend 20 some hours on a train as opposed to 2 hours in a plane, I need to explain. One, I do not like flying. I actually hate it. I actually feel like someone is torturing me. Terrible. Anxiety. This doesn't mean I don't do it. I do, but when I have all the time in the world why do I need to go the quick and painful route? Second, I actually really enjoy the train. Like, I embarrassingly love it. I. Heart. Train. And third, the ticket was cheaper because it is like the busiest travel time for airlines. People normally don't have the time for train travel over the long weekend that is Thanksgiving. I do. So, I am going Amtrak.

However, the above does not really get at my crazy. This does:

Yep, somehow I found myself on the Federal Railroad Administration Office of Safety Analysis website looking up train wreck statistics. Awesome.

trying to get to the bottom of things...

2009-10-29T11:13:00.005-05:00

I am just going to begin by saying that the entire contents of this post may be completely inappropriate or way more information then you want or need to know about me. But, this mouth isn't filtered. Sorry. Deal with it.

I called my older brother last night to chat. I text him earlier in the day and he said he would call me back. I was getting impatient, so I called him around 6pm. He said, "Oh weird. Don't do that again. I was just thinking that I forgot to call you back and then the phone rang." I'm pretty much a psychic...if you didn't know that. Just letting you know.

Anyway, we talked about our plans for Thanksgiving and then I interrupted him and said," Wait, real fast, can I ask you a question? I just started drinking coffee so I don't know if this is normal. Does your pee smell like coffee if that is all you drink for the morning? Normally my pee doesn't have a smell because I drink so much water, but today it totally smelled like coffee."

Brother is laughing uncontrollably.

I continued, "Like, I know your...or any one's pee smells weird if they eat asparagus or something like that, but does coffee do the same thing?"

Brother still laughing.

Me, "I'm serious." I start laughing.

He never really gave me an answer. He said, "Emily, you're a freak. What happens in your head?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I don't know. All I know is what happened in the toilet. And, it smelled like coffee.

I. Want. Him.

2009-10-29T10:08:00.002-05:00

I totally have puppy fever right now. Someone buy me a puppy. Please.

p.s. You will also have to rent a new apartment for me because my current leasing company does not allow dogs. Shouldn't be that big of a problem. Thanks!

2009-10-28T06:35:00.006-05:00

I came across this a few days ago and couldn't put it out of my mind. Sometimes the most simple of signs are the ones we need to see the most. And, when we need to see them, they make an impact.

This whole unemployment thing that I've been doing for the past couple of months has been an interesting journey. It is odd. I have almost forgotten what it is like to actually get up for work and have a daily responsibility. My weeks generally revolve around two or three different commitments. After that, the rest is up to me. Regrettably, I have not been making the most of that time. I will say that I have a tendency to be very hard on myself. Extremely. Hard. In the past couple of weeks I have been struggling with my purpose. I put a lot of stock in my purpose in life...the footprints I leave in this world. I've begun to fear that no matter how hard I walk right now...those footprints are non-existent. It's one of my biggest fears.

I will admittedly share that I am not really looking for a job, which makes it a little difficult given that I put a lot of emphasis on my career to give my life purpose. The fact that I am not even looking is much to the chagrin of some of my closest friends and some family members. There is a reason for my decision though. In addition to putting stock in leading a purpose driven life...I put an equal amount in happiness. I fear that I won't find happiness if I just seek out any random job that will hire me. I want to find it within. What better way to do that then to have all the time in the world to discover it?

You see, if I were a betting woman I would say that all my chips get evenly split between purpose and happiness. I just truly believe that when you do that...all in...the returns are tenfold.

For those who are concerned, I do have a plan. I'm working with two great friends on a start-up company, which I am over the moon excited about. I really do believe that it will be a great thing and afford all of us some amazing opportunities to be happy, creative, playful, energetic, free, expressive...

So, in the mean time, I wait. I've had big plans to do this "Month of Emily" thing. I've wanted to focus on discovering happiness, taking care of me, and doing good things for myself. For some reason, it just seems to get fucked up on day two (okay maybe one) every time I try. It is just that in this time I have a lot of varying emotions: excitement for what may be, anxiety for what currently is, paralysis from fear, and a host of others. They seem to get in my way.

Perhaps the trick is simply saying it out loud (or as out loud as the blog allows). Today, is day one of the "Month of Emily." I will work on making sure I don't hold back on any of my proverbial chips and place them all in happiness and purpose. Holding back gets you in trouble.

As simple as that sign is, it was just what I needed to see. Everything is going to be amazing. I don't need to worry. All I need to do is play my part in making it a reality.

i don't like it...

2009-10-26T23:34:00.004-05:00

So, I feel like we are in need of some nonsense around here. Those last posts seemed really heavy. I leave you with this:

I wrote a post (#2: Jump Right in...) a while back about the guy who asked me to be his girlfriend on the second date. He was not the best catch I even caught. No relationship should begin with you wondering if your new partner roofied you or not. Sadly, this one did.

What I failed to discuss in that post about him was how things actually ended. Amazing. It's about the only word that I have for it.

We went downtown to see the fireworks for the 4th of July. More accurately, we went to the lake. I grew up by the ocean and always watched the fire works from the beach. It seems ludicrous to watch them anywhere but by the water. Anyway, we watched the fire works and drank Captain and Diet Dr. Pepper out of Nalgene bottles. (side note: I do not like Diet Dr. Pepper. Despite what the commercials will tell you, it tastes nothing like regular Dr. Pepper or any dessert I've ever tried. I did not choose to pollute Captain with Diet Dr. Pepper. The guy for whom I was about to end things with did. He said, "I know what my Baby likes." Never could a statement be less true...I was not his Baby nor did he know what I liked.) So, yes, fireworks and alcohol in Nalgene bottles. I ended up drinking a lot. A lot. He tried to talk about meeting my family. I tried to drink as much as I could.

We went back to his place after the fireworks. The fireworks were over...in more way than one. He ended up passing out and I was left laying next to him. I am not sure whether it was all the Captain Morgan or the artificial sweetener, but I was in a mood. I immediately began crying. Yep, laying in bed next to passed out dude...crying. I managed to get up, grab my phone, and make my way onto the balcony. I promptly called my dear friend and said, "Molli, I don't like it." She tried to ask clarifying questions, but apparently all I could do was repeat, "I don't like it." Awesome. I there I sat in a tank top and panties on the balcony of some dude's apartment crying on the phone. Because she is an awesome friend she said, "Get up now. Grab your stuff and cab over here. I am at a party. You need to get out of there." I explained that I had no money and because she is amazing she said, "I will pay the cab driver when you get here. You just need to get out of there." Brilliant idea. Seriously, it was some amazing advice.

I didn't want to be totally rude. After all, I was up and leaving him in the middle of the night. Leaving a note was the least I could do. One problem. The boy had no paper in his apartment. Literally, no paper anywhere. I looked. Really hard. I just couldn't not leave a note though, so I did what any reasonable person would do. I tore off a piece of the Dr. Pepper fridge pack and wrote, "I'm sorry. I just can't do it. I had to leave."

That's right boys and girls. I ended things with a note on a torn off piece of a Dr. Pepper fridge pack.

(If you are totally horrified, it might be good to note that I did end up talking to him later and properly ended things. Those details are just not as interesting. Hopefully I've renewed some faith you had in me.)

pulling up the rug

2009-10-21T15:19:00.009-05:00

I've struggled with writing this post because the magnitude of this topic is so far reaching for me. As many of you are aware, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. A handful of you probably know that it is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, as well. I would say that it surprises me how few people actually know about Domestic Violence Awareness Month, but that would not be true. Domestic violence, at its core, is something we shy away from. So, it makes sense that the month dedicated to raising awareness is not always highlighted as it should be.

It's something people don't like to talk about. Don't like to acknowledge. It is something that many people would be happy just sweeping under the rug. The one flaw with this mentality is that there is not a rug big enough to hide the realities of domestic violence. One in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. And while it's not something that is exclusive to the female experience, 85% of all domestic violence survivors are women.
I spent years working in the field of domestic violence. It is an issue very close to my heart and perhaps the topic I can discuss with more passion than anything else. I used to say that I would never do anything else professionally. I saw myself working in the field until retirement. Something changed along the way. It wasn't that it was too depressing. In fact, when I told people what I did for a living the first reaction of a great majority of people was, "that's so sad." Others changed the subject as quickly as possible. I always explained that it wasn't a sad career. My time working in shelters was quite often happy. Yes, there were very sad stories. Heartbreaking stories. Yes, I closed my office door on more then one occasion and cried. However, the shelter was a place of hope. The shelter represented change, whether for a lifetime or a day, in the lives of the women and children who walked through the doors. It was a choice I made, but I chose to see it as a very positive place.

So, it wasn't "sad." And, I didn't leave because it became too depressing. But, it became heavy. I have an insane memory. I can recall a name or a face of someone I met once, years ago, almost instantly. This skill was often called upon at the shelter. I would be asked to join a meeting and would be given a few facts about a woman and her children- I could usually recall her first and last name and the details of previous shelter stays. It came in handy. I knew the details of the stories of almost every woman staying in the shelter. I took notes, but rarely needed them. I just absorbed it all. I could see their faces and their stories in my head. I still can. As I type I remember their names. I moved away and was offered a job outside of the domestic violence field. The break allowed me to reflect and what I realized was that the work became so heavy on my heart. I still see their faces. I still remember their stories. What became harder was that I saw and still see the faces and story of my own family.

You see, we have our own rug we do some sweeping under. We rarely ever talk about it. Once when I was practicing in front of my brother for a public appearance I was going to be making, he questioned the 1 in every 4 statistic. He said, "that's really high, isn't it?" So, I get why someone who hasn't experienced it first hand has trouble grasping the sheer gravity of how widespread the problem is. I get that people can't put a face to it. My brother, who had my face, who had my mom's face...who had his own face...couldn't.

I know the story of a woman who said she didn't deserve better. I know the story of a girl who feared going to school because there was a chance her mother would not live to see her make it home. I know the story of a woman who said she didn't feel loved by a man who didn't beat her. I know the story of a boy who knew his mother only by the name "Bitch," it was all he ever heard her called. I know the story of a woman who said, "he only choked me a little." I know the story of a child who called the four walls of a shelter the only home she ever knew. I know the story of a woman who died at the hands of the one she loved the most.

I know their stories. One of them is mine.

Please, know how real it is. Talk about it. It is the only way to shine light under the rug.

...pants on fire

2009-10-18T23:00:00.007-05:00

I would like to say, "I never lie." However, saying that would in and of itself be a lie. That's right, I lie, so do you. And according to a researcher at the University of Massachusetts, whose report has sat as an open tab in my browser for far too long waiting for me to write this post, a reported "60 percent of people lie at least once during a 10-minute conversation and tell an average of two to three lies." If you do the math for a whole day...it's a lot of lies being told.

The study speaks about the differing content of the lies of women versus men. One being to make another feel good and the other being to make the liar look better. The study found "women were more likely to lie to make the person they were talking to feel good." I get this and think that it has been the motivation for a great number of the lies I've told in the past, "I love it!" or "You were the best I've ever had," etc. But, I think that is only half of the truth. Women lie all the time to make themselves look better. (see: makeup, fake eyelashes, hairspray, Spanx, push-up bras, etc.) If you ask a woman how much she weighs (note: DO NOT EVER DO THIS), I have my money on the fact that she will lie.

We all have our own motivations for being dishonest, but I began to think back at some of my most notorious lies. Now, I am not a huge liar. I think honesty is the best policy and I have a very guilty conscience. If I lie, I quite often come back and tell on myself. But, I do have one lie that I told that still makes me giggle to this day. The ridiculousness of it is outstanding. And, it was all told in the vain of looking better.

My family moves. A lot. Or, moved. A lot. Growing up I went to eight different schools before I graduated from high school. My parents had this extraordinary knack for finding the least opportune time to uproot our lives. It was usually just as I was getting used to our latest destination. Seventh grade, which is also known as the worst grade ever. Everyone in seventh grade is ugly and awkward. It is this pit of hormones and puberty and none of it is pretty. We moved in October during my seventh grade year. Everyone was settled into their school routine and cliques already were formed. Then, I bust up on the scene. Let's just say I wasn't Ms. Popularity when I arrived. The kids in the upper class community in Memphis, Tennessee were very different than the kids I went to school with in South Florida. They were very different than me. Or, I was different than them...whatever. Anyway, I made one really good friend- April. April lived just down the street from me and we had a lot in common. We began to talk on the phone and hang out. We'd go on walks in the neighborhood and trespass on the golf course that backed up to our subdivision. She was a welcome distraction from my normal activities of going home and crying and complaining to my mom about how I hated Memphis and wanted to move back to Florida. There was one very big difference between April and I. She smoked. I didn't. Enter: My Lying.

I cooked up all kinds of excuses for why I couldn't smoke with her in my head, but when it came down to that moment where she offered me a smoke all rational lies flew out the window. I panicked. I was like a deer in the headlights. Paralyzed. I blurted out, "I used to smoke, but I quit. I don't want to start back up." What? I love the image of me being some hard core smoker in fifth grade and having to kick the habit and go on the patch. She responded, "Oh, that's cool. Yeah, I should quit some time." Wait, she bought it? Or did she? Were we both staring at each other lying our faces off knowing that the other one was just as much a liar as we were? Was our attempt to save face so desperate that we would tell and accept any lie? Apparently, yes.

This lie went on for well over a year, basically until our friendship started to fade and she started taking prescription pills for fun. She was well ahead of me. It would be years before I did this.

Anyway, it makes me laugh because I wonder what would have happened if my seventh grade self had just looked her in the eye and said, "No, I don't really have any desire to smoke." Life would have probably been easier. You see, if I had the courage to say that to my one friend, I probably would have had more than one friend. If I had the attitude of "take me or fucking leave me," I probably would have surprised myself how many people would chose not to walk away. They (whoever "they" are) say that nothing is more attractive than confidence. That could be a lie, but I buy it.

While I have more confidence than that seventh grade girl I once was, I still think we can all learn a lesson from her and her mistakes.

What would happen if we stopped looking for acceptance in lies? How would our lives change if we always told the truth...no matter what? Is honesty always the best policy?

This made my day.

2009-10-18T22:06:00.001-05:00

This little nugget...

...was awarded to me by one of my favorites, Amanda at A Silvertongued Serenade.

When I started my blog I wasn't sure if anyone would read it or if I even wanted anyone to read it. It took about a month before I even told most of my friends I had a blog. And, if you know me personally, you know I keep very little private. But, as I gained readership and began receiving comments I can't tell you how special it has made me feel. To know that other people appreciate what I write is beyond what I can express in words.

Thanks!

tweet all about it...

2009-10-14T01:27:00.012-05:00

Has it ever happened that you read something or see something and you can't even get the words out to discuss it because you have so much to say? You think about it in the shower and over morning coffee. When you fall asleep you can't get it out of your head. But, despite your propensity to be overly verbose and share more than anyone ever asked you to...you can't even talk about its magnitude. I'm not sure if I am alone. Perhaps I am. Sometimes things happen or I read something and I just ruminate over it for a while. I know. It may come as a shock to some of you that somethings render me speechless.

Now, to just quickly get it out of the way, I wasn't all up in arms about how someone could dare tweet about miscarriage or abortion. I wasn't passing judgement or planning out carefully crafted insults. No, I was more in awe.

I have to be honest that I first came across this tweet while reading one of my favorite blogs: The Rest is Still Unwritten. Apparently, more than the world wide web was abuzz about this tweet heard (or read) 'round the world. That's right, CNN even got in on the action by having Rick Sanchez interview Penelope. And, it was this interview that rendered me speechless.

Mr. Sanchez began the interview by saying, "I'm gonna ask you a tough question, young lady, do you have no shame?"

Besides the fact that the host of a show on CNN referred to a 42 year old woman as "young lady," which I have a feeling was more out of condescension then respect...and that he asked, "Did you literally just have it? Or, did you excuse yourself?" (referring to her miscarriage as if it was a moment in time sort of thing) I guess I am speechless because this stirred so many emotions up for me. And, I am left to wonder why it is that people can't tweet about miscarriages or abortion. Really, when we boil everything down, why tweet about anything? Does the world really need to know this?

Or what about this earth shattering news?

You see, no one needs to know anything that anyone tweets about. Twitter is there. People use it. Why is there suddenly some unwritten rule that says you can tweet about what you made for dinner, but you can't talk about a very personal experience. Why is some stuff off limits?

And, I get it. Really, I know the answer to this. I'm not that naive. I understand that some people believe that there are topics that are to be kept private. But really, why do others get to set those rules for us. Why are we made to feel that there are some things we can share, but others we can't. What if we want to share them? What if we need to share them?

We live in a time where we don't keep much private. Or perhaps it is more fitting to say that we view privacy differently. I don't even know the names of my neighbors, but I know the life stories of people that I've never even met because of TV and the Internet.

So, why is it that we are shamed for making choices about how we share our own lives? Why do others get to set the rules for our lives? Why do they judge when we choose to set our own rules?

That may have been the kicker for me. It may have been the way that Rick Sanchez said, "...do you have no shame?" Why? Why do we have to feel shame in sharing our life experience. I won't tweet or blog or post about the personal business of others on my Facebook status, but why can't we decide on our own what we give of ourselves?

I'm a huge proponent of sharing the personal experience. Probably to a fault, at times. I think you should discuss things. Get it all out. Say what you feel. I do believe that the best way to do that is through face to face interactions, but I also find great catharsis in doing it through the written word. And, in the world we live in today...the written word usually has an http:// before it. There should be no judgement in that.

So, this may have been all over the place, but the point is that I was speechless because I felt so many things. While I was in awe of Penelope's free expression of her own personal experience, I was sad because I was reminded that we shame each other for the human experience. There is no one person to point the finger at, but the truth is that at times we all contribute to the shaming of others for experiences that are out of their control or feel larger than us.

I remember posting something a while back and having a conversation about how I didn't need my family to read it because it said something about sex or something. The response I got was, "well, why put it on the Internet?" It was a valid response, but what I responded with was that it felt good. It sometimes feels good to get things out that are taboo and ugly in the eyes of others. Life isn't always beautiful. And, if that makes others uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Sometimes, there is more than just the pretty stuff to share. We sometimes experience hurt, abuse, miscarriages, abortions, depression, anxiety, pain...and sometimes we just make ravioli for dinner. It's life. There should be no shame in any of it.

woot woot

2009-10-08T22:45:00.002-05:00

One hour and 15 minutes until the partying begins...

I heart my birthday!

Never, ever, ever, ever...

2009-10-07T22:45:00.007-05:00

On October 29, 1941, United Kingdom (Great Britain) Prime Minister Winston Churchill visited Harrow School to to hear the traditional songs he had sung there as a youth, as well as to speak to the students. This became one of his most quoted speeches, due to distortions that evolved about what he actually said.

The myth is that Churchill stood before the students and said, "Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, give in. Never give in. Never give in. Never give in." Then he sat down. In reality, he made a complete speech that included words similar to what are often quoted.

There is a part of me that thinks these words could not be more perfect. However, the other part thinks that giving in can sometimes be the best and most freeing thing.

What should one do? Should you always stick to your guns and never back down? Or, do you open yourself up to something other than what you always stood firm on and allow for a new reality to set in?

Really?

2009-10-05T23:43:00.003-05:00

I'd like to think that most people preparing to use a toilet in a place where this sign is posted have, in fact, used indoor plumbing in the past. Is this a problem? Do owners of public toilets have to deal with the hassles of cleaning up after people that are fishing in the toilet? Or, marking it like a dog?

I will argue with the makers of this sign that two of the improper uses are actually the correct way to use a toilet, if you are 1) a guy, or 2) throwing up.

It's a little chunky...

2009-10-04T02:40:00.008-05:00

It's time to get serious here.

I'm not even sure how I haven't blogged about this before. Perhaps it has become as natural and normal as breathing that I forgot to mention it. Perhaps I was trying to avoid talking (or blogging) about it. It can be somewhat of a taboo topic for some...I guess some people just get uncomfortable. But, I can't let it go unmentioned anymore. It is time to talk about the elephant in the room (or the next room in this case). That's right, boys and girls, I'm talking about my neighbor. The vomiter.

Side note: I was enjoying that build up and could have gone one much longer. I love that it made it sound like I was about to reveal some deep dark secret or something. Mwuh-haha...I laugh and tap my fingertips together. I fooled you this time.

Okay, a little background. So, I moved into my apartment at the end of March this year. My apartment leasing company was awesome enough to allow me to move in early since April 1st was in the middle of the week and it is much nicer to move on a weekend...when friends are off of work. Anyway, I moved out of a house that I lovingly call The Orphanage after living there for about a year and a half. It was very fittingly called The Orphanage, as in the year and a half that I lived there I had a total of eight roommates. That's right. The front door was definitely revolving. Needless to say, it was nice to finally get my big girl place and be alone for a little while. My first night here was odd. It was so quiet and no one was home...no one would ever be home but me. No one was there to say goodnight to me or turn out the light if I fell asleep with them on. It was just me in my quiet little....WHAT THE FUCK? Suddenly I heard the most violent vomiting that I've ever heard. And trust me, I've heard some violent vomiters. I used to asked my friend Stacey to quiet her vomiting when I was hung over because it was too loud and making me sick. No, no, this vomiting...the vomiting I heard on my first solo night in my apartment blew all other vomiters out of the water (the toilet water). This vomit was intense. As I lay in bed unsure of whether I am disgusted, impressed, or concerned I think to myself, "Wow, someone had a bad night." Without much more thought about it I rolled over and went to sleep. Yay new apartment.

I woke up the next day still super pumped about my new place. I had all but forgotten about the vomiter. I was too excited to be in my new place. Yes it was a big change, but one I had been looking forward to for a while. I spent the first day running errands, unpacking, and enjoying my new space. As I am sure everyone knows, moving is exhausting. My first weekend in my new place was not spent going out and celebrating. No, it was spent unpacking and going to bed early. So, I snuggled into bed for my second night in my new place and began slowly drifting off to...WHAT THE FUCK?!? He's back. Seriously dude, AA much?

What I learn was that the events (i.e. vomiting) of that first weekend were not going to be isolated. This dude meant serious business. Serious vomiting business. I came to learn that his vomiting didn't follow any schedule. Nope. He vomited in the day. Sometimes early evening. Sometimes at night. He wasn't time discriminatory. He lived to vomit on no man's schedule. The only thing that was habitual about the vomiting was the frequency and the rhythm. Oh yeah, three big hurls at least once a day. Every time. Always the same. Huwahck. Huwahck. Huwahck. Done. (Yes, h-u-w-a-h-c-k. That is how you spell the noise made by a vomiter. Look it up.)

The vomiter has become quite the legend amongst friends and family. Everyone knows about him. We all have our own theories as to what is causing this chronic vomiting. Alcoholism. Terrible gag reflex when brushing his teeth. Chemo therapy. Bulimia. Weak stomach. There are so many theories. All I know is that this guy is a mystery. Like Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster. I've never seen him. I've been living next to the dude for over six months now and have not seen him once. I really am beginning to wonder if he is he even real? It isn't just me though. I've had witnesses here to experience the vomiting. It is always the same combination of shock and amazement.

Okay, the other day I was awake at about 6am and he was up to his old vomiting ways when I realized that if I stood at my peep hole long enough I would probably see him exit his apartment. I couldn't bring myself to do it though. It is almost like how you don't want to know to real identity of a superhero. Next time I heard him vomit would be like the Christmas after you find out that there is no Santa Claus. It isn't even worth waking up at 5am to see what your mom bought you at the mall. It ruins the magic.

I did have a friend say that I needed to find out what he looked like because what would happen if I hooked up with someone and it turned out that the person I hooked up with was the vomiter. I shot this down pretty quickly because the fatal flaw is that I am pretty sure if I hook up with someone, regardless of whether it is my apartment or theirs....one of us would be all, "Hey, weird. We are neighbors." I would quickly gasp and be all, "Hey, weird. You vomit like all the time. What's up with that?"

In a way I feel like we are a match made in heaven. I once had a friend tell me that I spend like 60% of my time fake throwing up...this vomiter has given me so many more ways to work vomiting into conversation and to do some fake throwing up.

So, in a way, I guess I should really thank the Vomiter (that's right, he deserve a capital letter now) for all that he has done for me. Thank you Vomiter, you complete me. You had me at Huwahck....

Again with F*cking Disney stuff...

2009-10-02T16:07:00.009-05:00

I just got off of the phone with my little brother. He called because I emailed him this video. You see, after I wrote my last post with this video linked I became nostalgic and started watching other videos. Twenty minutes later after singing along I had this out of body experience where I saw myself watching effing Disney videos on youtube at about 1AM...I wanted to hide from myself because it was that embarrassing.

Anyway, I sent my brother the video (linked above) because he was this huge Lion King fan when he was little. He would bring all of his stuffed animals into the living room and blast the soundtrack. It always ended up with him hobbling around and triumphantly holding his Winnie the Poo stuffed animal up in the air (a la Rafiki and Simba).

Oh, he would also sit at his little plastic piano and pretend to be Elton John as he would sign along to Can You Feel the Love Tonight.

As a twelve year old, I didn't find this cute. As an almost twenty-eight year old (yes, my birthday is one week from today even though I am sure you already know that because it is on your calendar and you have a countdown just like I do), I think it is adorable and it makes me miss my brother.

This brings us to today. He called to say he got my email and it made him laugh. He asked what I was doing and why this even crossed my mind. I explained the whole Little Mermaid link from my last post and he started laughing. He then busted out, "Look at this stuff. Isn't it neat? Wouldn't ya think my collections complete?" He laughed. I laughed. And then I said, "Wouldn't ya think I'm a girl, a girl who has everything." He again laughed, as did I. Then he says, "I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty." To which I joined in, "I've got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs, I've got twenty." Five minutes later finishing the song off...we officially became losers.

This, right here, is why I need a job.

Collections

2009-09-30T23:48:00.006-05:00

I was recently at a friend's house and he went into the other room, leaving me alone for a second to look around. Everything was neatly in its place. Everything was practical. His place is not empty by any means, it is comfortable and warm and very nicely styled. There are awesome little works of art on his walls. A sentimental photo or two. But, it was all very minimal. Clean.

I look around my room as I type this and am almost embarrassed to list out some of the things in my direct line of sight (a stuffed gall bladder, a wooden letter E, a Zack Morris phone, a snow globe of NYC, an Eiffel Tower, a Chilean three legged good luck pig). My room is by no means minimal. I have weird gadgets and whatnot. I'm like the Ariel (The Little Mermaid) of the studio apartment world. I have "treasures" all over my place. I am a collector. A collector of all things.

I know that the timing of this post doesn't hep the whole "I am not a hoarder" argument, as it comes dangerously on the heels of the In My Bed post. But really, I am not a hoarder. I just collect things, which I get is probably the same argument they use. But really, I'm not. Hoarder I am not. Collector I am.

This practice I have of collecting is not discriminatory. No, no, my friend. I don't just collect items in my apartment. I also collect friends and exes and a whole host of other things as well.

I guess this whole topic also comes up because I was having dinner with a friend tonight and we were discussing how to end relationships that are toxic. It's hard. I think I have shared quite a bit about my view on friendships, dating relationships, etc. I know you may have gotten a skewed version of me if you simply read about my bad dating experiences and how I walked away from those so easily. Don't be fooled though. I put my heart into stuff. I will give all of my soul to fix and mend things...even when it isn't mine to mend...meaning that I have many times in the past taken on fixing the wrong doings of others and have taken on some of the responsibility and burden that comes with "breaking" things. I collect the relationship in my heart. The person. I don't know how to let it go sometimes.

I'm doing much better at purging the bad stuff in my life than I used to. I guess you could say that I am becoming more selective on what it is that I collect and place sentimental value on. When something becomes toxic in your life, it is okay to walk away from it. This is a lesson I've learned with time. With lots of time. Walking away doesn't mean that the thing or the relationship or the person didn't have value at one time. That it wasn't the best thing for you...at one time. But, time moves on and things change. Things evolve. Short of Alzheimer's or serious head trauma, memory of relationships or treasured possessions can't be taken away. I've had relationships that meant so much to me, but what I've learned or had to learn was that ending them is sometimes the best and healthiest thing. Cutting ties doesn't mean that at one point in time they weren't important. They just can't live on and hold the same value for all time. Things change. Not having them in my life anymore doesn't cheapen the past. It doesn't make it disappear. It will hold a special place forever in my history, but it needs to live there...in my past.

I know this is a little all over the place, but I guess the point is to say that as I've come to realize with relationships the same can hold true for personal possessions as well. I can purge belongings from my life and not strip them of their one time importance.

So, I'm not suddenly going to become completely minimalistic. I'm not going to have a closet that will ever just have clothes, shoes, and maybe a box or two. I will always have stuff under my bed and knick knacky stuff on my shelves, but perhaps I will move forward with caution about what I choose to keep. Perhaps I will purge a little. Perhaps I will realize I don't need to hang on to that t-shirt from the company softball team from a company I don't even work for anymore. Perhaps I will realize that while I loved trolls as a kid, I don't need my entire collection as an adult. (don't tell my mom that though because it lives at her house and I am not quite there yet....this is all hypothetical)

I guess I just got to thinking after looking at my friends apartment and talking over dinner tonight:

If I make room by getting rid of some of the collections I don't really need to hold on to except in memory, what good things will I be making room for in my life?

And, just because I know you are wondering...below is a picture of my amazing stuffed gall bladder. It was a gift from a dear friend who knows that I needed one given that my original gall bladder was surgically removed.

Seriously?

2009-09-30T21:30:00.002-05:00

Could there be anything cuter?

AC and I'm not talking Slater

2009-09-30T04:26:00.005-05:00

I was tricked yesterday when I became very sleepy at 9pm. I thought, "This is your night. A full night's sleep is actually going to happen!" I was so pumped up for real sleep, during real sleeping hours. I ran to my bed and quickly fell asleep. Off to a good start....that quickly ended at 1am. That's right, four hours. After four hours I was wide awake again. I decided that I wasn't going to play this little game that I've been playing with sleep for over a month now. I decided to embrace my awakened state and spent my time very productively cruising the internet and watching tv shows online.

The weird thing was that when I woke up I heard this strange noise coming from my air conditioner. It sounded like it was mad or something. Well, it was. I opened the vent thing to find that it was all frozen and frosted up. I turned it off and pouted that I would have to wait for it to defrost before turning it back on. I think we have gone over my love for the AC before. I. Heart. Air. Conditioning.

Seriously, if there was a support group for people with an unhealthy love for air conditioning, I would collect chips and introduce myself to the group, "My name is Emily and I am an air conditioneroholic."

Anyway, I turned the fan on in my room and hoped the AC would defrost quickly. Well, at about 4 or 5am I realized it was fully defrosted. Mind you that it was solid ice, so it took a while. Anyway, I turned it back on and felt a moment of pure joy. I returned to my computer where I was obviously doing some very important work to find the local temperature displayed on my screen...48 degrees. Oh, and I am talking Fahrenheit. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I was trying to use the air conditioner when it was 48 degrees outside. I have a problem.

Before you freak out too terribly, I turned it back off and opened the window. Happy now?

activities

2009-09-29T17:28:00.003-05:00

Amazing? What?

I washed and folded four loads of laundry today.

Suck on that, dirty clothes.

in my bed

2009-09-28T02:41:00.004-05:00

I have this weird habit of hoarding stuff in my bed. Let me clarify a few things.

My room doesn't look like this:

I'm not going end up like this poor woman and die in underneath the rumble in my home. And, my bedroom is my whole house given that I live in a studio apartment. So, let's stop the judging.

Anyway, about what I was saying...hoarding. I just spend lots of time in my bed. I am usually in or on my bed when I am home; therefore, a lot of stuff ends up in my bed.

So, let's play, "What's in my Bed?"

10 pillows (not too crazy)
the remote for my DVD player
a plastic bag
two hoodies
a toolbox
two books, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell" and "The Five Love Languages"
a pair of glasses
a business card
my cell phone
a spoon
a hair clip
a receipt

Believe it or not, it has been worse.

Needless to say, "clean the room" is on tomorrow's agenda.

rain, rain, go away?

2009-09-25T22:32:00.003-05:00

I just go off of the phone with Rebecca. While we were on the phone she asked, "Is it raining there as much as it has been here? I feel like it hasn't stopped for a month."

I responded, "No. It hasn't been raining that much." I then paused and said, "Well, I don't really go outside everyday, so I could totally be making that up."

Note to self: go outside or open blinds at least once a day.

vodka, sprite, and a splash of irony

2009-09-25T01:53:00.006-05:00

I went to a charity event this evening. It was hosted by the agency I used to work for. The agency that just laid me off. (There is a little more to the story, but who really cares about details?)

All night (as I enjoyed the open bar) I kept giggling to myself thinking how funny it would be to go up to other attendees with tears in my eyes and say, "I hope they make enough money tonight for me to get my job back," and then walk away.

#1: The Biggest Loser

2009-09-24T01:50:00.008-05:00

I have to admit that I struggled with who to give the coveted Worst Date Ever award to. I've had so many winners...and by winners I totally mean losers. It wasn't all that the guys were losers. They weren't. Some of them were, in fact, very nice. We were just very not right for each other. Unfortunately, I've gone out on more dates that were bad than were good. I guess it would make sense though given that I am neither married or in a long term relationship. This is also not to say that I haven't gone on some amazingly wonderful dates. I have had my fair share, but it is always more fun to talk about the terrible ones in hide sight than the ones that made me go home and talk to my best friend and tell her how much I really liked the guy. This is also because I (to date) have not ended up with said guy, so I feel I have license to spill about the bad ones.

Anyway, as I was saying, I struggled to come up with Worst Date Ever. I really was leaning toward the date that ended with the guy telling me that I made him feel like a prostitute. Real fast, we had gone on several dates. I was never quite sure about him. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something not right. What I realized after....well, I made him feel like a prostitute and we didn't see each other again was that he was trying to sleep with me hard core on each of our dates. The irony of all of this is amazing. On our first date he drove me home and then said he might be too drunk to drive. I said that it was good I live in a neighborhood where it is really easy to get a cab. He then asked if I had a couch he could sleep on. I wasn't buying it. I responded, "not one you can sleep on." The second date we went to a show and went back to his apartment. He again gave the too drunk to drive excuse and said that I should just spend the night. No. I told him I was fine taking a cab. When he realized I wasn't budging, he agreed to take me home. On our third and final date we went out to dinner (it was BYOB and he brought a bottle of wine) and then went to a bar. He came up to my apartment and we did a little...adult stuff. Nothing crazy. It would just not be in a PG movie...or a PG-13 movie. I know it would make it into an R rated movie...they let anything go now a days. Anyway, midway through I started to realize I was very drunk and he needed to leave. I was not okay laying on the bathroom floor or resting my head against the toilet while he was there, so I told him he needed to leave. I apologized and said I really didn't feel good. Apparently my mistake was not throwing up in front of him to prove I didn't feel good. Despite another apology the next day and an explanation, he still said (and this is a direct quote), "for a second there, I kind of knew what it felt like to be a prostitute." Give me a break. Needless to say we didn't see each other again.

But no, he was not the Worst Date Ever. Close. But, he just gets an Honorable Mention. No, the Worst Date Ever happened on a little night called Election Night.

I have to make two disclaimers before I tell about this date:

If you are in anyway related to me, for both of our sake, stop reading and skip to the next post. This is information neither you nor me will be happy you know about. While I am not about to spread all my business up on the internet, it is still more than you need to know about me. I am still the sweet and innocent person you know me to be. Don't let this disclaimer cause you to think otherwise. I'm just saying. It is in our mutual best interest if you don't continue reading. And, I would like to be able to look you in the eyes (and vice versa) at future family functions. So, move ahead. You will thank me for the information you do not know.
This date perhaps was not the all time worst, but it goes on record for me as #1 because I will never be able to shake the memory of this date. It will haunt me. It will cause me to have to lie to my children. It is a moment in time I will never get to relive or experience. That's right...get ready.

We had been on a few dates at this point, but I have a habit of making dates on holidays. I don't even know how it happens. I guess since I don't have family that lives in town, I sort of skip over them in my mind. I end up making plans and then realizing it was a holiday. I've gone on dates on Easter, Father's Day, MLK Day, 4th of July (twice), Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Election Day.

I live in Chicago. I lived in Chicago during the 2008 Presidential Election. It was the most significant political moment of my lifetime. And, I was on a date. We went to dinner, but I had election fever and said I really wanted to get to a television to see the results as the polls came in. He obliged and we went to his apartment. His awesome apartment on like the 35th floor of a building with views of the Sear's Tower and the John Hancock Building. Just a few blocks away from Grant Park....where all the action was taking place.

When my children ask me where I was when the country elected our first African American President, what am I supposed to say? How do I tell them that I didn't really see it?

I will leave you with this very funny Saturday Night Live clip. Believe what you wish.

#2: Jump Right in...

2009-09-20T02:04:00.001-05:00

Clearly there is a purpose to dating. For most people, there is an objective. As I typed that last sentence, I felt it important to recognize that the objectives of people can be very different...some could be looking for a free meal, others a relationship, or some could be looking for "a good time" if you know what I mean.

My objective, if you will, is companionship or maybe all of the above. It would be nice to find someone I enjoy spending time with. It would be even nicer if the feelings were mutual. So, I guess the hope is that we both like each other enough that we want to keep spending time together and something more develops. Now, I'm not one of those girls fantasizing about my wedding. I don't have some weird scrapbook with wedding dresses cut out and cakes and flowers that I like. No, I didn't start imagining my wedding when I was five. It's just not me. That isn't to say that I don't want to get married one day. I do. I like the idea of loving someone for the rest of my life...and vice versa. But, I also am not in the wedding race that some people my age seem to have entered.

Oh, and let's be clear...this race is not exclusive to women. No, no my friend. Men have taken their number and put on their running shoes in this race to the alter. Exhibit A:

Our first date was fun. We went for drinks and tapas. We had good conversation and some good chemistry. We hopped around from bar to bar for a little while and on our last stop we sat at a table, he tucked my hair behind my ear telling me how much he enjoyed being with me and gave me a kiss. It was sweet. He offered to walk me home, but only after he asked me to come over and "watch a movie." Cute right? It was about 1am. We ain't watchin' no movie. I was very proud of my self control when I said, "No," because at this point I was feeling somewhat intoxicated. He walked me to the door, kissed me some more, asked if he could come in, I said no, and he left...saying he would call me. What happened next was weird. It was morning. Right, one minute I am saying goodbye and the next memory I have is waking up...in my roommate's bed. (She was out of town.) I have no idea how I got there or why I was in there. My jewelry was on her dresser. It looked as if I walked in like I owned the place and just went to bed. Odd, right? In hind sight, I was probably roofied because I didn't have THAT much to drink and I've only blacked out once in my life...and I learned my lesson. This was not drinking black out.

Regardless, we went out again. I make poor choices. I think I said that before.

On our second date we went to this awesome restaurant and had a pretty good time. Although, he did ask me some odd questions about kids, when I wanted to have them, etc. Later in the night I agreed to go back to his place for a drink. Just a drink. Gosh boys and girls, I am a lady. We just kissed. I think.

But, sitting on his couch kissing was when it happened.

Date: I really like you.

Me: Thanks.

Date: No, I really like you. I've had a good time with you.

Me: I know. Thank you. I've had fun hanging out with you too.

Date: Like, I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you think of that?

Me: Uhm. Thanks. But, you don't really know me.

Date: Is there something I should know?

Me: Yeah. Do you even know my last name?

Date: Well, no. But, I know that I really like you and want to date just you.

Me: I'm not trying to be bitchy, but you don't know me enough to want me to be your girlfriend. You may get to know me better and change your mind...I may change my mind. Let's just get to know each other.

Date: It's just that I really like you.

Me: Thanks. But...

Date: So, no girlfriend.

Me: No girlfriend right now.

I get that it seems like perhaps he was just trying to sleep with me. Maybe he thought that would work on me. Clearly it didn't. But, I don't think that was the case. It became apparent that he was serious. Just wait.

As stated before, as stated before I sometimes make really bad choices. We continued to see each other and his push toward a serious relationship continued. His jealousy kicked in too at some point. He made weird comments about my roommates- two of whom were guys. Saying weird stuff, like how I should lock my door at night because they were probably trying to sleep with me. P.S. They weren't. He would also make comments about waiters or guys at bars. Oh, and not even a month in he made some comment about me fitting in nicely with his family...who I had not met.

Shortly afterwards I ended things with him. It all got too weird. The potential roofie incident. The asking me to be his girlfriend on the second date. The jealousy. The projections about "our" future. We didn't have a future.

Perhaps he wasn't racing to the alter, but he was racing for a commitment of some sorts from me. And, it freaked me out. I took some time off after him to figure out if it was the commitment that freaked me out. Or was it him? In the end, I realized that it was clearly him.

I spent some time feeling bad. Like, perhaps I should have jumped at the opportunity to be in a relationship. But why is it not okay to be alone? Why did I even make myself feel guilty for choosing to be single over entering a bad relationship? I like being single most of the time. And, I'm not going to suit up for the relationship race. I'll walk thank you. Get over it.

#3: Small Bar...Long Date

2009-09-18T11:50:00.007-05:00

In the movies people on dates always have some escape plan. They have a friend call and they answer it stating there has been some emergency and they need to leave. There are a few flaws with this plan:

It's pretty rude to answer your phone mid date. And, your date will be clued in to the fact that you aren't giving them your full attention if you are answering calls from anybody and everybody.
You would have to be pretty comfortable lying because it's got to be something really off the wall to require you to leave in the middle of the date.
You also have to be comfortable with your date knowing deep down you are lying....because seriously, you didn't forget an appointment or your roommate doesn't need you home for some emergency...

So you see, while in theory it seems like a flawless plan to have an out in the event that a date isn't going so well...it isn't practical. Which leads me to the longest date ever.

Okay, it wasn't the actual longest. I've oddly been on some marathon dates. Longest date at this point has been 9 hours. (I know. Don't ask.) Anyway, this date just seemed to drag on forever because I didn't have an out. And, going by the flaws listed above in the escape plan, I'm not so good at #3. I don't know how to make an exit. I don't know how to wrap things up when they aren't going well. To this guys credit, he wasn't terrible. I just wasn't feeling it.

We met up at this bar in Chicago, which is supposedly the smallest bar in the city- Matchbox. It is teeny tiny. No room inside. It is basically- wall, bar, stools, wall. There was an outside area, which we sat in. For the record, I don't like sitting outside. For the sake of trying to keep a hold on my rambliness, I will go over that at a later date.

Anyway, we sat down at about 5pm and ordered drinks. I knew right away there was no connection at all. I felt like I was on an interview or something, which generally means you don't want to make out afterwards. We talked about all kinds of first date stuff- where we were from, where we went to school, what jobs we have done, etc. I was out of topics of conversation. It was about 5:30pm or 6pm. I was hoping he was feeling the same way because there was no sake in continuing this. No. He said, "Let's order food. I am starving."

What do you do? How do you tell someone you aren't having a good time and that a free meal isn't even worth staying? Do you stay?

In my case I did. To save you on the long drawn out details, I will share that the date continued until 10pm. I lost all filter and didn't follow rules on "things that shouldn't be discussed on a first date." We talked about gross youtube videos, throwing up, seeing eye ponies, conjoined twins, kittens, nose bleeds, traveling, Fraggle Rock, and a lot of other ridiculousness.

When the meal was over, drinks were drank, and we still sat there...it verged on miserable. I would like to believe that he too was wanting to leave, but neither of us knew quite how to make an exit. Perhaps it is the Achilles heel of being too polite. Eventually at 10pm, I felt it was reasonable to say, "Man, I should go home. I have to be at work early tomorrow." That just didn't seem like an option at 8pm. He quickly agreed.

I'm not sure we hugged. We definitely didn't kiss. We said goodbye and both knew, we weren't going out again. I'm pretty sure it was the throw up talk that tipped the scales. And, I'd like to take credit for that one.

#4: All You Can Eat is never sexy

2009-09-15T00:39:00.006-05:00

Dear potential suitors,

Please take note of the details of this date...and do the opposite of everything that went down. The outcome will be better for both of us.

Sincerely,
emily

How excited was I got a call from my date two days prior to when we were supposed to go out and he asked if I wanted to go to a Cubs game? Very excited. Okay, I wasn't over the moon excited. There is nothing wrong with the Cubs, I'm not saying that...it is just that since moving to Chicago I have been very spoiled in the the Cubs game attendance arena. My former roommate has season tickets and also sells shares of his games to friends. I split a share with another former roommate, which has resulted in my ability to attend many many games. Regardless, it is always a fun experience and a cool date. So, I was excited.

We made plans to meet at a bar before the game. Pre-game it a little. I called as I was on my way and he said we could grab a few drinks at the bar before "moving on." As the first inning was wrapping up I became slightly curious of when we would begin the long walk across the street to Wrigley seeing as how we had tickets and all and it didn't make much sense to watch the game on TV- tickets in hand. Right? Didn't "moving on" mean "to the game?" But, I'm not one to complain (at least not to someone I don't know really well....friends or complete strangers...all bets are off), so I didn't say anything and I slowly sipped my beer. He ordered another. He rambled on about how he worked for his dad, but didn't really do much. He said that he "worked from home," but did very little work. He continued by stating that he never woke up before 10am. None of this is terrible. I mean, I wouldn't brag to a date about doing "nothing" for a living, but whatever. And, I would love to sleep in forever. The weird turn came when he started talking about how much money he made a year and how his parent's bought his house for him.

Two things:

1. I don't care how much you make. Really. I don't. I'm not one of those girls. I mean, that's cool for those girls who want to be those girls. A guy will just never impress me with his bank account or material possessions. Just don't talk about it. I might like you less if you do...in fact, I will.

2. After bragging about how much money you earn, how about we not mention Mommy and Daddy still buy you stuff...especially when that stuff is a HOUSE!

Back to the date.

Mid-way through the second inning I couldn't help myself.

me: So, were we going to head over to the game?"

date: Oh, no. I couldn't get tickets for a good price. Some guy was trying to sell them for like $90 and I'm not going to buy tickets for $90. Someone else offered me two rooftop tickets for like $110, but even if it is all you can drink and all you can eat. I'm not paying that much. I can get tickets for much cheaper.

me: (in my head) If you could get tickets for much cheaper why didn't you? AND, could you stop with the money talk? Just say it was crazy expensive and apologize. Oh, and another thing, why didn't you say that we didn't have tickets right away or when I called you on the way home from work?

me: (out loud) Oh, that's fine. Don't even worry about it. (fake smile. fake smile.)

date: (not quite sure because I was getting annoyed) I love where I live. It's so close to Wrigley....charge people to park....make lots of money...blah blah blah...money. blah blah blah

After having another drink we decide to grab something to eat. The date proclaims that the drinks are too expensive at the bar and he doesn't want to pay that much for draft beer. Classy.

We decide to go eat sushi and this awesome little place near my house, which also turned out to be near his house. Because let the awesomeness continue...he lived one street over from me. Yep, ladies and gentleman, same house number and everything. One street over.

We get to the restaurant and date sees a sign for all you can eat sushi $29 a person. He proclaims that we should order the all you can eat sushi. I explain that I'm not all that hungry and I am not sure I can eat $29 worth of sushi. He doesn't listen. He orders it anyway. Oh, and when the server tells us that we have to eat everything we order of they will charge extra...I begin to freak out. He starts the ordering. When I suggest a spicy tuna roll he says that it is not expensive enough and we "really need to get our monies worth." Ohhhhh-kay. So he goes on an ordering spree. Gyoza, miso soup, veggie eggrolls, monster sushi rolls, beef teriyaki over rice...the order went on and on. I ate and ate and ate. All to a sound track of "you have to keep eating. We have to get our monies worth." Really? When I believe I ate my weight in raw fish and rice I waved the white flag. I couldn't do it anymore. And, one person is not suppose to get that stuffed....forced to get that stuffed on a date! He ate the remainder of the food. You know, don't want to be charged extra. It was terrible.

As I waddled back to my place...and his place as well he asked me to come see his house. I think it was the food coma that stopped me from even having the energy to say no. He walked me from room to room to show me his huge flat panel TVs...in every room. Bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen....BATHROOM. Not impressed. And, I think he finally got the hint because he stopped pointing them out midway through. He walked me out onto his deck and began to talk about the awesome barbeques he could have out there. He said, "You totally have to come over and we'll barbeque some time." Right.

He offered to walk me home, but I told him I would be okay. He gave me a hug and said he would call me so we could go out again.

He did.

I didn't answer.

I didn't eat the next day either.