I've been back in the Casa de Theurer since August, and did okay for the first few months. Of course, we had our little annoyances as we readjusted to life as it had been four years earlier, but for the most part I was content at home. Looking back, I realize that the 5-day/week commute to Lawrence for class and work, as well as a few hours of homework a night were huge contributors to my poor coping abilities. But ever since the homework ended, and I've had more face time to socialize with the 'rents, and I've started to make a little bit more money... the desire to escape has slowly but surely taken over my psyche, rendering me completely desperate for escape!
In case I've come to you lately with pleas to restore my sanity by getting me out of the house, I think you'll appreciate a little more explanation. So here it is, the
TOP 7 REASONS I NEED TO MOVE OUT OF MY PARENTS HOUSE (in no particular order)
7. My father has claimed authority over the one good TV in the house, therefore I have no access to cable television until after he goes to bed around 9/10 PM. Also, he controls the DVR, which means that the few shows I record to watch later, may or may not be cancelled if he decides that there is a particularly interesting PBS special or episode of Dog Whisperer he'd prefer to record over my show. Oh, and if the DVR seems to be getting too "full," in other words, over 30% full..... he will delete my shows! At least I have Hulu and Netflix, which is basically what I survive on, alone in my room for a few hours every night.
6. I wake up early every morning to my parents' dog, Pete, standing next to my bed, pacing back and forth, nails clicking on the floor, usually panting, for about 5/10 minutes because he is afraid to jump up on the bed. I feel sorry for the guy, he's getting arthritis, but seriously, dude, lay on the floor or go back downstairs. Oh, and if Mona wants to sleep in my bed with me, she has GOT to do something about the dog farts. WHOA.
5. Both of my parents are losing their hearing, and are unaware that setting the volume on the television to 70 makes life a little less enjoyable on the top floor of the house, where SOMEONE is usually trying to have some quiet time after work. As I write this I can hear every dirty innuendo of Charlie Sheen's on Two and a Half Men.
4. If I have to watch or listen to any more MetroSports, ESPN, or Deadliest Catch, I'm going to smother myself in honey and lay on an ant hill. Or cut the cable line that runs into our house, most likely falling to my death next to dad's giant, crucifix-shaped tomato garden in the backyard.
3. My dog is fat. She was not fat before we lived here. She gets more treats in a day than Lindsay Lohan gets lines of coke. When I buy light dog food for her, mom forgets about it, and gives her regular. OR, she spoons a little of the Alpo gravy ON TOP of the light, in essence doubling her caloric intake, because Miley Likes How It Tastes. What...? Oh yeah, and did I mention that we now buy Corn Flakes especially for the dogs? Mom puts it over their food with milk in the mornings. I have no joke for that.
2. I can't invite anyone over for dinner, drinks, date night, etc. You may or may not be surprised to learn that I like to entertain. I like to cook for people, I like to have movie and wine nights, and I'd like to spend a few more nights in with Miley instead of going elsewhere. I can't wait to be able to return some of the hospitality that has been shown to me lately.
And the number 1 reason I need to move out of my parents' house:
1. Dad thinks that you can put metal into the newer microwaves... It's only a matter of time before the house explodes.
Really, I love my parents, and I know others have a lot more to complain about, but it is time to cut the cord for good. Sayonara, moms and pops! See you when I stop by to drop your granddog off for weekend playdates!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
So many questions... (hypothetical, what ifs...)
Ever since I was a little kid I've always been pretty skeptical of established religion. I feel like I need to preface this post by telling you that, but no worries, I have no intentions of pushing any of my personal beliefs on to you. I've just always had a natural curiosity towards religion, and I feel that the questions running through my head tonight are the same ones I've had forever. I would definitely benefit from more education into religion and history, but I'd rank my knowledge up there with the average person, so don't judge this too harshly.
This turned out to be one of those unusual nights where your mind begins stirring with thoughts of a mystical or profound nature. Everyone has those moments of deep speculation, where you get a bit lost, and usually finish by wondering how the train of thought even began. They don't happen terribly often (unless you're a theologian or philosopher...), but every once in a while you just get stuck on certain questions.
I just finished watching the movie "The Invention of Lying," and *SPOILER ALERT* there is a scene in which Ricky Gervais' character comforts his dying mother by assuring her that there is everlasting joy in the afterlife. In a world where he is the only person capable of lying, he is soon after swarmed by people wanting to know more. He decides to run with it. Basically, he creates the concept of a "man in the sky," a joyful place and a horrible place in the afterlife (heaven and hell), the consequences of sin, and essentially lays the foundations of Christianity. And as he was whipping these "commandments" out to people, it struck me as remarkable how easily religion could have been created.
Hopefully leaving any of my personal beliefs out of this, here are a few of the questions that I've been pondering for the last hour:
First- where was the proof? I think it would be impossible for any new major world religion to spring up today. The world is entirely too advanced in science and technology to "buy into" a new religion with our frantic need for solid evidence or proof. However, hundreds or thousands of years ago... how could you legitimately question it? How did the Greek and Romans KNOW that there were multiple gods? How does anyone KNOW that there is a God, Buddha, Allah? There just isn't any tangible proof. I'm not saying that miracles haven't happened, or that prophets didn't really experience something divine, but I'm just not sure I'm entirely comfortable taking someone else's word for it... I would be interested to read a bit more of Flavius Josephus, who wrote in 68 AD about Jesus from a historian's point of view. Now there is a piece of literature that could shed some more light on Christianity.
WHAT IF... some unusually creative person, perhaps even a delusional person, or perhaps even a chemically imbalanced person, just made it all up? Look at the profound creativity that human beings are capable of from art to music to story-telling. Some of the most influential and brilliant people in history were totally off their rocker. If you look at the tenets of major religions, for example the Bible or the Koran, how can you say that someone didn't just invent them? What if some Schizophrenic Greek imagined the gods on Mount Olympus and everyone bought it? I am by no means a history buff, so I don't know the actual stories behind their development, but I'd bet no one was there recording these processes as proof of their legitimacy for the next couple millennia. I just have to wonder why so many people believe what they're told. I've always had issues buying 100% into what I was told as a child.
What if the thousands of years of persecution, wars, and crusades had turned out differently? Would the major religions of the world be something else if armies of MEN had fought differently? Think about it, if one or two battles had gone differently in the Civil War, the United States might be two separate nations right now. If the Allied powers had been less successful, would Europe have eventually been dominated by a Nazi regime? These major events in the course of history were the results of human beings taking violent action for their beliefs. Obviously, in hindsight it is easy to see those specific examples as good conquering some "evil", but how can anyone say that a war fought solely on the basis of one person thinking their religion is truer than another turned out "right" or "wrong"?
I do think religion is an immensely important thing for a person. Now that could be a belief in one God, multiple gods, fate, supernaturalism, or just a sense of spirituality in the universe, either way if it brings people joy and inspires them to be good, happy people, then how can anyone say that is wrong? Adversely, if someone chooses not to decide between any of that, or refuses to believe in something, period, then that is probably the right thing for them. I am not going to tell someone one way or the other, because the bottom line is- no one can prove that what they believe is true. What you believe should be a gut feeling. You should be comfortable with it, and if you can find someone that appreciates or even shares your beliefs, that's great! But I draw the line at people in the 21st century who still find it necessary to impose their personal beliefs on others. We can't prove any of it, so the choice is up to the individual. Ask your own questions, and try to be satisfied with your own answers.
That's what I try to do.
This turned out to be one of those unusual nights where your mind begins stirring with thoughts of a mystical or profound nature. Everyone has those moments of deep speculation, where you get a bit lost, and usually finish by wondering how the train of thought even began. They don't happen terribly often (unless you're a theologian or philosopher...), but every once in a while you just get stuck on certain questions.
I just finished watching the movie "The Invention of Lying," and *SPOILER ALERT* there is a scene in which Ricky Gervais' character comforts his dying mother by assuring her that there is everlasting joy in the afterlife. In a world where he is the only person capable of lying, he is soon after swarmed by people wanting to know more. He decides to run with it. Basically, he creates the concept of a "man in the sky," a joyful place and a horrible place in the afterlife (heaven and hell), the consequences of sin, and essentially lays the foundations of Christianity. And as he was whipping these "commandments" out to people, it struck me as remarkable how easily religion could have been created.
Hopefully leaving any of my personal beliefs out of this, here are a few of the questions that I've been pondering for the last hour:
First- where was the proof? I think it would be impossible for any new major world religion to spring up today. The world is entirely too advanced in science and technology to "buy into" a new religion with our frantic need for solid evidence or proof. However, hundreds or thousands of years ago... how could you legitimately question it? How did the Greek and Romans KNOW that there were multiple gods? How does anyone KNOW that there is a God, Buddha, Allah? There just isn't any tangible proof. I'm not saying that miracles haven't happened, or that prophets didn't really experience something divine, but I'm just not sure I'm entirely comfortable taking someone else's word for it... I would be interested to read a bit more of Flavius Josephus, who wrote in 68 AD about Jesus from a historian's point of view. Now there is a piece of literature that could shed some more light on Christianity.
WHAT IF... some unusually creative person, perhaps even a delusional person, or perhaps even a chemically imbalanced person, just made it all up? Look at the profound creativity that human beings are capable of from art to music to story-telling. Some of the most influential and brilliant people in history were totally off their rocker. If you look at the tenets of major religions, for example the Bible or the Koran, how can you say that someone didn't just invent them? What if some Schizophrenic Greek imagined the gods on Mount Olympus and everyone bought it? I am by no means a history buff, so I don't know the actual stories behind their development, but I'd bet no one was there recording these processes as proof of their legitimacy for the next couple millennia. I just have to wonder why so many people believe what they're told. I've always had issues buying 100% into what I was told as a child.
What if the thousands of years of persecution, wars, and crusades had turned out differently? Would the major religions of the world be something else if armies of MEN had fought differently? Think about it, if one or two battles had gone differently in the Civil War, the United States might be two separate nations right now. If the Allied powers had been less successful, would Europe have eventually been dominated by a Nazi regime? These major events in the course of history were the results of human beings taking violent action for their beliefs. Obviously, in hindsight it is easy to see those specific examples as good conquering some "evil", but how can anyone say that a war fought solely on the basis of one person thinking their religion is truer than another turned out "right" or "wrong"?
I do think religion is an immensely important thing for a person. Now that could be a belief in one God, multiple gods, fate, supernaturalism, or just a sense of spirituality in the universe, either way if it brings people joy and inspires them to be good, happy people, then how can anyone say that is wrong? Adversely, if someone chooses not to decide between any of that, or refuses to believe in something, period, then that is probably the right thing for them. I am not going to tell someone one way or the other, because the bottom line is- no one can prove that what they believe is true. What you believe should be a gut feeling. You should be comfortable with it, and if you can find someone that appreciates or even shares your beliefs, that's great! But I draw the line at people in the 21st century who still find it necessary to impose their personal beliefs on others. We can't prove any of it, so the choice is up to the individual. Ask your own questions, and try to be satisfied with your own answers.
That's what I try to do.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Love an animal, they'll love you back
So I just read an update from the KC Humane Society's Facebook page, and am amazed once again at the inhumanity that exists in the world. Tomorrow at 5 PM, a dog named Gilmore will be going home with his new family, after spending the first 7 years of his life on a 6-foot long chain. How do you describe crying out of anger and happiness at the same time? It's the most frustrating feeling.
How is it possible that there are still people in the world who could exhibit horrific cruelty to an animal, and feel no remorse? I understand that to many people a dog is a dog, a cat is a cat, and that animals are just there as pets, not as family members. I understand that they may not let their pets sleep on the bed. They may not give them toys and treats. They may not even play with them. I don't agree with these people, but I can't fault them for cruelty. If giving the bare minimum to an animal still means that they are fed, medicated, and able to live an adequate life, I can't make enough of an argument to say that their owner doesn't deserve them.
However-
It absolutely blows my mind to see, hear about, or read about the blatant neglect and cruelty suffered by pets in the United States. I have one thing to say about that: IF YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT AN ANIMAL, GIVE THEM TO SOMEONE WHO WILL. And it's not only the fault of the bastards who are being cruel, it's the fault of the neighbors/friends/strangers walking by who fail to take action against it. If you see a dog constantly chained in a back-yard with no water in July, if you see a skinny dog who is itchy and has matted fur, if you hear kittens under your neighbors porch, CALL THE HUMANE SOCIETY. Just because someone isn't taking responsibility for their own pets, doesn't mean you can't act like a human being and pick up the phone. It doesn't mean their pets will be taken away, it just means that a professional will inform them of how to provide adequate care.
The only explanation I can come up with for people that chain their animals, or don't feed them, or flat out beat them, is that they get some sort of sick pleasure from it. If you can look at an animal who is obviously suffering and feel no sympathy, then you must be feeling some kind of twisted satisfaction. I don't think anyone could be apathetic towards that. And based on the thousands of incidents of animal cruelty in the US each year, I don't even want to think about how many sick people there are out there.
If you can't adopt more pets, or can't afford to have one, at least do something to help. Go walk a dog at the Humane Society. Donate old sheets, blankets, even office supplies to your local shelter. If anything, just be aware of what's going on with the animals in your neighborhood. We can help ourselves, those animals can't.
How is it possible that there are still people in the world who could exhibit horrific cruelty to an animal, and feel no remorse? I understand that to many people a dog is a dog, a cat is a cat, and that animals are just there as pets, not as family members. I understand that they may not let their pets sleep on the bed. They may not give them toys and treats. They may not even play with them. I don't agree with these people, but I can't fault them for cruelty. If giving the bare minimum to an animal still means that they are fed, medicated, and able to live an adequate life, I can't make enough of an argument to say that their owner doesn't deserve them.
However-
It absolutely blows my mind to see, hear about, or read about the blatant neglect and cruelty suffered by pets in the United States. I have one thing to say about that: IF YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT AN ANIMAL, GIVE THEM TO SOMEONE WHO WILL. And it's not only the fault of the bastards who are being cruel, it's the fault of the neighbors/friends/strangers walking by who fail to take action against it. If you see a dog constantly chained in a back-yard with no water in July, if you see a skinny dog who is itchy and has matted fur, if you hear kittens under your neighbors porch, CALL THE HUMANE SOCIETY. Just because someone isn't taking responsibility for their own pets, doesn't mean you can't act like a human being and pick up the phone. It doesn't mean their pets will be taken away, it just means that a professional will inform them of how to provide adequate care.
The only explanation I can come up with for people that chain their animals, or don't feed them, or flat out beat them, is that they get some sort of sick pleasure from it. If you can look at an animal who is obviously suffering and feel no sympathy, then you must be feeling some kind of twisted satisfaction. I don't think anyone could be apathetic towards that. And based on the thousands of incidents of animal cruelty in the US each year, I don't even want to think about how many sick people there are out there.
If you can't adopt more pets, or can't afford to have one, at least do something to help. Go walk a dog at the Humane Society. Donate old sheets, blankets, even office supplies to your local shelter. If anything, just be aware of what's going on with the animals in your neighborhood. We can help ourselves, those animals can't.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
It is your birthday.
I hope my fellow Office-lovers caught the reference above...
So today I turned the big 2-3. Nearly a quarter of a century old! 7 years away from 30! Old enough to drink, not old enough to rent a car! Any way you put it, today is my 23rd birthday.
The day started out wonderfully, I woke up extra early to send a bon voyage text message, then managed to get in a few more hours of ZZZs before I had to get up for work. Despite going to bed before 11 PM last night (a very rare occurance), I could not get myself motivated to actually get up at my 9 AM alarm, and pressed snooze till 10:15, when I absolutely had to get up. The day got off to a bit of a rough start...
I've gotten into the habit of leaving my clock radio on as I get ready in the mornings, and lately I've been on a bit of an NPR kick. The Walt Bodein show plays from 10-11 when I'm getting ready, and it's usually pretty entertaining! Well, today the main topic of discussion just happened to be: (duh duh duuuuh) suicide! How to prevent it, how to cope with it, and various statistics. Needless to say, I took it as a bad omen for the rest of the day. While hurrying about to get dressed and hair dried, I got a nice, albeit, awkward phone call from an ex wishing me happy birthday. I realize that I do have some difficulty forming complex sentences before noon, so I'll take the blame on that awkwardness. As I got downstairs, expecting to find the usual birthday card from my mother on the kitchen table, I was disappointed to see no cards or presents, but shook it off anyway and was determined to be in a good mood!
So I managed to get out the door, fully dressed, hair dried, makeup on, feeling great! During the drive I started to contemplate what kind of goodies I'd like to pick up for work, debating between cookies or bagels, when I get my first birthday surprise. As I was in the right lane on K-10, a guy in a crappy brown acura pulled up beside me, honked his horn to get my attention, and in the few seconds I look over managed to drawn my attention downward where he was blatantly pleasuring himself at 70 MPH. Absolutely disgusted, I looked away, but not before noticing the empty child's car-seat in the back of his car. Awesome.
When I got to Lawrence I picked up some bagels and my favorite garden veggie shmear, and spent the afternoon reading the 18th century French equivalent to a daytime soap opera, otherwise known as Fantômas. Overall, a boring, dreary day at work, but interrupted by a few pleasant text messages. Unfortunately, I could not get the image of my freeway flasher out of my head. So I headed home feeling somewhat dejected, hoping, but doubting, that I could be cheered up at dinner with my parents.
When I got home, my second birthday surprise was waiting for me. A lovely bouquet of spring flowers with a very sweet note had been sent to my house. Then, my mother presented me with a small box of gourmet chocolates and one of her signature, corny birthday cards. Within 5 minutes I had a smile on my face again! So I went to dinner with the 'rents and Katie/Steve-o, where I got my favorite grilled mahi tacos- yum! And when I got home, I got a great phone call from Amy, Katie, and Sam wishing me happy birthday. Tonight- a warm bed, some chocolates, and probably reruns of The Office on Netflix.
Needless to say, this was a day of ups and downs. But the thing that leaves me smiling at the end of it are the efforts made by my family and friends. The ones who really, truly love me. When I was convinced that the day was ruined, and my mood couldn't possibly be improved, a few people really swept in and proved me wrong. There also something to be said for all of the facebook wall posts which I've been reading since I got home. I know that it's a small effort, but it really does make me happy to know that I know so many great, friendly people. So, to anyone and everyone that made today great, THANK YOU! It meant a lot to me, and I hope that I can return the favor to some, if not all, of you someday!
So today I turned the big 2-3. Nearly a quarter of a century old! 7 years away from 30! Old enough to drink, not old enough to rent a car! Any way you put it, today is my 23rd birthday.
The day started out wonderfully, I woke up extra early to send a bon voyage text message, then managed to get in a few more hours of ZZZs before I had to get up for work. Despite going to bed before 11 PM last night (a very rare occurance), I could not get myself motivated to actually get up at my 9 AM alarm, and pressed snooze till 10:15, when I absolutely had to get up. The day got off to a bit of a rough start...
I've gotten into the habit of leaving my clock radio on as I get ready in the mornings, and lately I've been on a bit of an NPR kick. The Walt Bodein show plays from 10-11 when I'm getting ready, and it's usually pretty entertaining! Well, today the main topic of discussion just happened to be: (duh duh duuuuh) suicide! How to prevent it, how to cope with it, and various statistics. Needless to say, I took it as a bad omen for the rest of the day. While hurrying about to get dressed and hair dried, I got a nice, albeit, awkward phone call from an ex wishing me happy birthday. I realize that I do have some difficulty forming complex sentences before noon, so I'll take the blame on that awkwardness. As I got downstairs, expecting to find the usual birthday card from my mother on the kitchen table, I was disappointed to see no cards or presents, but shook it off anyway and was determined to be in a good mood!
So I managed to get out the door, fully dressed, hair dried, makeup on, feeling great! During the drive I started to contemplate what kind of goodies I'd like to pick up for work, debating between cookies or bagels, when I get my first birthday surprise. As I was in the right lane on K-10, a guy in a crappy brown acura pulled up beside me, honked his horn to get my attention, and in the few seconds I look over managed to drawn my attention downward where he was blatantly pleasuring himself at 70 MPH. Absolutely disgusted, I looked away, but not before noticing the empty child's car-seat in the back of his car. Awesome.
When I got to Lawrence I picked up some bagels and my favorite garden veggie shmear, and spent the afternoon reading the 18th century French equivalent to a daytime soap opera, otherwise known as Fantômas. Overall, a boring, dreary day at work, but interrupted by a few pleasant text messages. Unfortunately, I could not get the image of my freeway flasher out of my head. So I headed home feeling somewhat dejected, hoping, but doubting, that I could be cheered up at dinner with my parents.
When I got home, my second birthday surprise was waiting for me. A lovely bouquet of spring flowers with a very sweet note had been sent to my house. Then, my mother presented me with a small box of gourmet chocolates and one of her signature, corny birthday cards. Within 5 minutes I had a smile on my face again! So I went to dinner with the 'rents and Katie/Steve-o, where I got my favorite grilled mahi tacos- yum! And when I got home, I got a great phone call from Amy, Katie, and Sam wishing me happy birthday. Tonight- a warm bed, some chocolates, and probably reruns of The Office on Netflix.
Needless to say, this was a day of ups and downs. But the thing that leaves me smiling at the end of it are the efforts made by my family and friends. The ones who really, truly love me. When I was convinced that the day was ruined, and my mood couldn't possibly be improved, a few people really swept in and proved me wrong. There also something to be said for all of the facebook wall posts which I've been reading since I got home. I know that it's a small effort, but it really does make me happy to know that I know so many great, friendly people. So, to anyone and everyone that made today great, THANK YOU! It meant a lot to me, and I hope that I can return the favor to some, if not all, of you someday!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Too Many Clichés to Count (sorry it's just one of those days)
I've often heard the phrase, "starting a new chapter in life," when people are going through a change- whether it be a breakup, a new job, a new home, or even just a new haircut. I've said this myself in the past year . . . too many times to count. I always anticipated that this stage of my life would be a rough one, and I feel that I've almost turned that pivotal page. The problem lies in the fact that although I might be moving forward (or sideways or diagonal or up a flight of stairs), the rest of the world isn't always with me.
I'd be interested to know how many people out there feel like I do. Who else thinks there's just a few things we're having difficulty moving on from? And I don't mean moving out of your parents' house or missing Lawrence drink prices. I know we're all working our butts off to get where we want to be job-wise, money-wise, and home-wise, but there are other areas of life that are a bit stickier. With all this change taking place, why can't we accept that we're becoming different people? It's naive to believe that in the midst of so many transitions, people and relationships will remain static. They just can't.
It's not only that the world isn't moving forward at the same pace, but I feel like I'm on the short end of the tug-of-war rope, about to be pulled into the mud. Those of us who are more than ready to move forward and start our new chapters are quietly nudging some of our companions along. The trouble is, I feel like too many people around me are desperately resisting change, and yanking on that rope to pull me back into their comfort zones. Seriously, I wouldn't mind having a few more people on my side of the rope. (Have I used enough metaphors for you yet? At least I'm not talking about spreading my wings or leaving the nest. Yet...)
We don't have to be sad that things aren't staying the same. It's okay to let some people and experiences pass into memory, and acknowledge that people are always changing. What was good for us in the past might not be right for us today.
So I've come to the conclusion that, inevitably, some things must be left behind. I'm not happy about it, but I'm surprisingly not that sad either. It just needs to be done. I know that twenty-somethings are renowned for their attitudes of self-centeredness, and our egos are as big now as they will probably ever be, but that's a good thing if you think about it. It's imperative to take a look at yourself and decide what is important, and what needs to be let go. It may come off as selfish, but it's really just part of life. You've got to get what you want now, don't waste time.
I'm hoping that my next post will be comparatively lighter, possibly on the following topics: the Pygmy Marmoset (the world's smallest monkey, so freaking cute), the upcoming birthday, searching for an apartment, or the perfect hangover food. Suggestions?
I'd be interested to know how many people out there feel like I do. Who else thinks there's just a few things we're having difficulty moving on from? And I don't mean moving out of your parents' house or missing Lawrence drink prices. I know we're all working our butts off to get where we want to be job-wise, money-wise, and home-wise, but there are other areas of life that are a bit stickier. With all this change taking place, why can't we accept that we're becoming different people? It's naive to believe that in the midst of so many transitions, people and relationships will remain static. They just can't.
It's not only that the world isn't moving forward at the same pace, but I feel like I'm on the short end of the tug-of-war rope, about to be pulled into the mud. Those of us who are more than ready to move forward and start our new chapters are quietly nudging some of our companions along. The trouble is, I feel like too many people around me are desperately resisting change, and yanking on that rope to pull me back into their comfort zones. Seriously, I wouldn't mind having a few more people on my side of the rope. (Have I used enough metaphors for you yet? At least I'm not talking about spreading my wings or leaving the nest. Yet...)
We don't have to be sad that things aren't staying the same. It's okay to let some people and experiences pass into memory, and acknowledge that people are always changing. What was good for us in the past might not be right for us today.
So I've come to the conclusion that, inevitably, some things must be left behind. I'm not happy about it, but I'm surprisingly not that sad either. It just needs to be done. I know that twenty-somethings are renowned for their attitudes of self-centeredness, and our egos are as big now as they will probably ever be, but that's a good thing if you think about it. It's imperative to take a look at yourself and decide what is important, and what needs to be let go. It may come off as selfish, but it's really just part of life. You've got to get what you want now, don't waste time.
I'm hoping that my next post will be comparatively lighter, possibly on the following topics: the Pygmy Marmoset (the world's smallest monkey, so freaking cute), the upcoming birthday, searching for an apartment, or the perfect hangover food. Suggestions?
Monday, March 15, 2010
"My Problems" People
I had an interesting conversation with someone a few weeks ago regarding a potential blog topic, and the idea has popped into my mind quite a bit lately. It's one of those topics of conversation that strikes you at first, whizzes around your brain for a few moments, and is quickly passed over as you move onto further stimulating chit chat. But then a few days later, something happens, and you have that Ah ha! moment of remembering "that really interesting thing that you heard last Friday night." From then on, the moments begin to pile up- once, twice a day sometimes, until you wonder, "How has this never occurred to me before?" Well, it's time to discuss this one.
The topic: "My problems" people.
The issue: Everyone knows those few people whose problems are the most important issues on the planet, no matter what, at all times. You may call them with a question, a problem of your own, or even just to pass the time while you're driving, but in a matter of a few minutes you will be silenced by the emotionally distressed grump on the other end of the line. You may not realize this, but you have become the eternal ear of sympathy, perpetually expected to listen patiently and assure your friend that "everything will work out." Bottom line: they will ALWAYS have a problem, and it will ALWAYS take precedence.
There are some fairly serious criteria involved in being dubbed a "My Problems" Person, (and yes, I am taking suggestions for a catchier moniker). I feel that I have to begin by designating what is acceptable in a normal, venting situation. You are merely venting to a friend if:
1. You precede your conversation by asking if they would mind providing a kind ear of sympathy, including an assurance that you will try to keep your complaints brief. (aka. Ask them if you can bitch for a few minutes, but tell them you'll shut up after you get it out of your system).
2. You allot an appropriate amount of venting time based on the severity of the problem. (aka. You are sunburnt from falling asleep in the tanning bed, 30 seconds. Your roommate has disappeared and in the process stolen your laptop, iPod, favorite pair of Lacoste sunglasses, oh, and your boyfriend- I'll give you 20 mins.)
3. You are perceptive of when someone else may be tired, stressed, or in the midst of their own issues, and can consciously abstain from shifting their attention onto your problems. (aka. If your friend is having a bad day, don't make it worse by trying to "out-do" them. True, distracting people from their worries can be helpful, but do it with a joke, not by one-upping them.)
If you feel that you adhere, for the most part, to those three standards- you are not a "My Problems" person. However, if your reaction to disappointments, mistakes, cruelty or catastrophes is to develop a dramatic version of the story to deliver to every friend, family member, or hairdresser that crosses your path for a week, you may be a "My Problems" person. If you find that you are being cut off mid-sentence by a friend who has to get off the phone, and the call-timer is over 30 minutes, and your mouth is dry from talking non-stop about a trivial problem, you may be a "My Problems" person. I think you get the point.
Conversations with these people are exhausting, because it seems that not only do they cling on to every one of life's little hiccups, but they seek them out. If nothing particularly bad or dramatic has happened to them recently, they will rack their brains for any small episode that they can turn into a catastrophic event. Well, I think I've come to a conclusion as to why they do this, and it's much more than just petty attention. It's a fact of human nature that everyone enjoys being nurtured and taken care of. It makes us feel good to think that someone actually gives a damn if we are happy. I think that these people just crave sympathy more than most because they associate it with genuine friendship. They feel cared about. There is a sense of intimacy and importance when they hear reassurance in a friend's voice. But there is a silent line that is crossed by the friends of "My Problems" people when those reassurances become merely habit.
The hard part about this whole thing is, no one ever realizes that they are this person. If they understood the fatigue felt by their friends after an everyday conversation, they would learn to press their own censor buttons. Everyone has their problems, small or life-altering, and a good friend will always be happy to listen to a little venting. It's give-and-take. But the unfortunate fact of the matter is, at some point, a person can only take so much.
The topic: "My problems" people.
The issue: Everyone knows those few people whose problems are the most important issues on the planet, no matter what, at all times. You may call them with a question, a problem of your own, or even just to pass the time while you're driving, but in a matter of a few minutes you will be silenced by the emotionally distressed grump on the other end of the line. You may not realize this, but you have become the eternal ear of sympathy, perpetually expected to listen patiently and assure your friend that "everything will work out." Bottom line: they will ALWAYS have a problem, and it will ALWAYS take precedence.
There are some fairly serious criteria involved in being dubbed a "My Problems" Person, (and yes, I am taking suggestions for a catchier moniker). I feel that I have to begin by designating what is acceptable in a normal, venting situation. You are merely venting to a friend if:
1. You precede your conversation by asking if they would mind providing a kind ear of sympathy, including an assurance that you will try to keep your complaints brief. (aka. Ask them if you can bitch for a few minutes, but tell them you'll shut up after you get it out of your system).
2. You allot an appropriate amount of venting time based on the severity of the problem. (aka. You are sunburnt from falling asleep in the tanning bed, 30 seconds. Your roommate has disappeared and in the process stolen your laptop, iPod, favorite pair of Lacoste sunglasses, oh, and your boyfriend- I'll give you 20 mins.)
3. You are perceptive of when someone else may be tired, stressed, or in the midst of their own issues, and can consciously abstain from shifting their attention onto your problems. (aka. If your friend is having a bad day, don't make it worse by trying to "out-do" them. True, distracting people from their worries can be helpful, but do it with a joke, not by one-upping them.)
If you feel that you adhere, for the most part, to those three standards- you are not a "My Problems" person. However, if your reaction to disappointments, mistakes, cruelty or catastrophes is to develop a dramatic version of the story to deliver to every friend, family member, or hairdresser that crosses your path for a week, you may be a "My Problems" person. If you find that you are being cut off mid-sentence by a friend who has to get off the phone, and the call-timer is over 30 minutes, and your mouth is dry from talking non-stop about a trivial problem, you may be a "My Problems" person. I think you get the point.
Conversations with these people are exhausting, because it seems that not only do they cling on to every one of life's little hiccups, but they seek them out. If nothing particularly bad or dramatic has happened to them recently, they will rack their brains for any small episode that they can turn into a catastrophic event. Well, I think I've come to a conclusion as to why they do this, and it's much more than just petty attention. It's a fact of human nature that everyone enjoys being nurtured and taken care of. It makes us feel good to think that someone actually gives a damn if we are happy. I think that these people just crave sympathy more than most because they associate it with genuine friendship. They feel cared about. There is a sense of intimacy and importance when they hear reassurance in a friend's voice. But there is a silent line that is crossed by the friends of "My Problems" people when those reassurances become merely habit.
The hard part about this whole thing is, no one ever realizes that they are this person. If they understood the fatigue felt by their friends after an everyday conversation, they would learn to press their own censor buttons. Everyone has their problems, small or life-altering, and a good friend will always be happy to listen to a little venting. It's give-and-take. But the unfortunate fact of the matter is, at some point, a person can only take so much.
Monday, March 8, 2010
A Moment in the Rain
Tonight is the first spring rainstorm. As I sit next to my open bedroom window, anticipating the first rumble of thunder, I can't help but be content. What is it about thunderstorms that makes everything seem so mellow? Cool gusts of air carry the scent of fresh rain into my bedroom and everything else seems just a little bit quieter. I can hear the light tinkle of the wind-chime on our patio, and the sounds of television and laughter downstairs is the only interruption to this sweet moment of meditation.
I love to be outside during a rainstorm. I've always found ways to sit and enjoy the soft, soothing sounds of drops hitting the trees and ground. One year it was my apartment balcony, alone with a glass of wine, sunk into a canvas chair, wrapped tightly in a blanket to shield me from the cold breezes. Last year it was the patio overhang outside of my window, guarded from the shower by a few feet of roof up above. I used to see people as they left the nearby bars, and they had no idea I was watching from above as they scurried down the sidewalk and into their warm cars and houses.
There are two very different kinds of rainstorms. The cold storms, that cover your body in goosebumps and make you crave the warmth of your own bed. And then there are the warm storms that, if you're like me, make you want to stand with your face to the sky and let the water soak through your hair and clothes. I can't say which of these I like better, I suppose it depends on the experience. A warm day of puddle jumping with a friend in a watery parking lot is difficult to compare to a cool night of solitary contemplation on the balcony.
I don't know exactly what it is- the smell, the sound, or the feeling of it, but I do know that I'm always a little bit happier during a rainstorm.
The shower outside has slowed, for now. But I look forward to these unexpected moments of felicity in the next few months. It's going to be a wonderful spring.
Monday, March 1, 2010
I Blame the Economy
As promised, here is the sequel to my previous post.
I'm not sure how many of you have noticed the alarming new trend of 21 to 25 year old engagements/marriages/pregnancies, but I have been shocked by the numbers in recent months. A trend that I'm convinced is new, based on conversations with older friends who have told me that this did not take place in their early 20s. I'm going to preface this entry by saying that the following is purely my opinion. I don't want to be misinterpreted as disapproving of my friends' choices. I absolutely believe that every one of my engaged and married friends are intelligent, passionate people who have been lucky enough to find love early on in their lives. That said, I can't ignore the fact that I have few to no single girl friends at this time- a fact which has disturbed and (sometimes) annoyed me as of late.
So here goes.
It's no secret that economic dips and fluctuations have historically affected national birth rates, exhibit A: the Baby Boomers. During the post WWII era, as the American economy began to rise from the Depression and War decades, there was an enormous leap in the number of little bundles of joy. Why? Because people wanted to be happy. People wanted to forget about the difficult times, and cling to matters of personal importance, like family. So what's to say that a similar trend couldn't be taking place at this very moment in time?
I don't anticipate my generation bringing about a new Baby Boom, considering the vast differences in culture, traditions, and not to mention birth control between the 1950s and 2010. However, I think I've come up with a theory to explain why in the past year I've celebrated the engagements and marriages of fifteen+ 22/23 year olds. And yes, I did just stop typing for a moment to make a list, but decided to stop after fifteen names. I think you get my point.
In an attempt to reserve my strongest personal opinions on this matter, the explanation I am about to offer is the most sensible one I can come up with. This is a generation that has undergone ridiculous politics, a confusing and highly controversial war (or should I say wars?), we've witnessed and remember episodes like Columbine, 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina, and have personally dealt with a transition into financial independence during a time of massive economic instabilities. We all have debt, whether it be from school loans or credit cards, and a startlingly low percentage of us have achieved employment or acceptance into higher education. So what else is there for us to celebrate upon our arrival into the world of post-graduate adulthood? Our personal relationships.
I think that in order to distract ourselves from the big bad scary economy right now, it just feels good to have someone at the end of the day to make us happy. And as much as I'm probably going to offend some people by saying this, I really do think that some of these very young people are jumping into a serious life-altering decision a bit too early. I hope I'm wrong about this, and that there is secretly some other reason for this current trend. A secret that will prove these relationships to be more successful than statistics say they will be...
I decided to publish this post after months of conversations with people, of all ages, who are shocked at the number of my engaged and married friends. This theory began as a sort of joke, but I've had too many people agree with the legitimacy of the argument to keep quiet. But, then again, what do I know?
I'm not sure how many of you have noticed the alarming new trend of 21 to 25 year old engagements/marriages/pregnancies, but I have been shocked by the numbers in recent months. A trend that I'm convinced is new, based on conversations with older friends who have told me that this did not take place in their early 20s. I'm going to preface this entry by saying that the following is purely my opinion. I don't want to be misinterpreted as disapproving of my friends' choices. I absolutely believe that every one of my engaged and married friends are intelligent, passionate people who have been lucky enough to find love early on in their lives. That said, I can't ignore the fact that I have few to no single girl friends at this time- a fact which has disturbed and (sometimes) annoyed me as of late.
So here goes.
It's no secret that economic dips and fluctuations have historically affected national birth rates, exhibit A: the Baby Boomers. During the post WWII era, as the American economy began to rise from the Depression and War decades, there was an enormous leap in the number of little bundles of joy. Why? Because people wanted to be happy. People wanted to forget about the difficult times, and cling to matters of personal importance, like family. So what's to say that a similar trend couldn't be taking place at this very moment in time?
I don't anticipate my generation bringing about a new Baby Boom, considering the vast differences in culture, traditions, and not to mention birth control between the 1950s and 2010. However, I think I've come up with a theory to explain why in the past year I've celebrated the engagements and marriages of fifteen+ 22/23 year olds. And yes, I did just stop typing for a moment to make a list, but decided to stop after fifteen names. I think you get my point.
In an attempt to reserve my strongest personal opinions on this matter, the explanation I am about to offer is the most sensible one I can come up with. This is a generation that has undergone ridiculous politics, a confusing and highly controversial war (or should I say wars?), we've witnessed and remember episodes like Columbine, 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina, and have personally dealt with a transition into financial independence during a time of massive economic instabilities. We all have debt, whether it be from school loans or credit cards, and a startlingly low percentage of us have achieved employment or acceptance into higher education. So what else is there for us to celebrate upon our arrival into the world of post-graduate adulthood? Our personal relationships.
I think that in order to distract ourselves from the big bad scary economy right now, it just feels good to have someone at the end of the day to make us happy. And as much as I'm probably going to offend some people by saying this, I really do think that some of these very young people are jumping into a serious life-altering decision a bit too early. I hope I'm wrong about this, and that there is secretly some other reason for this current trend. A secret that will prove these relationships to be more successful than statistics say they will be...
I decided to publish this post after months of conversations with people, of all ages, who are shocked at the number of my engaged and married friends. This theory began as a sort of joke, but I've had too many people agree with the legitimacy of the argument to keep quiet. But, then again, what do I know?
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
22 and Clueless
I had an interesting conversation last week at (where else?) a bar, with a 30 year old man who was not afraid to share with me his thoughts on women in their early twenties. Apparently, we just don't know what we want. And much to his surprise, I was in total agreement.
I think he expected a firm rebuttal in defense of myself and my clueless compatriots, but instead received a smile and an enthusiastic nod. Considering it took me several minutes to decide which micro-brewed beer to order on $1.50 beer night at the Blue Moose, I was in no position to assert myself as a confident and decisive woman. Hell, I change hair color every other month, I could practically be the poster girl for his campaign.
Now, this isn't to say that I'm apathetic. No, there is a fine distinction between being clueless about what you want, and not caring about what you get. When else in your life do you face an infinite number of open doors and possibilities, and still maintain a level of comfort knowing that there is always time to try something else? In accordance with the "Live every day like it's your last" philosophy, I say go with your gut and enjoy every second of it. Even if you make the "wrong" choice, whether it be a job, a relationship, or something trivial like what to put on your Chipotle burrito, at least you chose.
I am 22 and clueless as to what I want in life. One day I might want a career, to be halfway across the country, to be single and unrestrained, and to live for myself. Other days I'm content in my parents' house, and I crave the companionship of Mr. Right, sometimes spending hours daydreaming about that week's flavor. The ping pong game inside my head can be maddening, but it's okay. I don't need to know right now. As long as I go for what makes me happy, (and do my best to avoid choices with potentially devastating consequences), I'll get where I need to be, one day.
A sequel to this post will be added at a later date, concerning the outrageous trend of 22 year old women committing themselves to engagements, marriages, and even children- and my philosophy that the current economy is to blame.
I think he expected a firm rebuttal in defense of myself and my clueless compatriots, but instead received a smile and an enthusiastic nod. Considering it took me several minutes to decide which micro-brewed beer to order on $1.50 beer night at the Blue Moose, I was in no position to assert myself as a confident and decisive woman. Hell, I change hair color every other month, I could practically be the poster girl for his campaign.
Now, this isn't to say that I'm apathetic. No, there is a fine distinction between being clueless about what you want, and not caring about what you get. When else in your life do you face an infinite number of open doors and possibilities, and still maintain a level of comfort knowing that there is always time to try something else? In accordance with the "Live every day like it's your last" philosophy, I say go with your gut and enjoy every second of it. Even if you make the "wrong" choice, whether it be a job, a relationship, or something trivial like what to put on your Chipotle burrito, at least you chose.
I am 22 and clueless as to what I want in life. One day I might want a career, to be halfway across the country, to be single and unrestrained, and to live for myself. Other days I'm content in my parents' house, and I crave the companionship of Mr. Right, sometimes spending hours daydreaming about that week's flavor. The ping pong game inside my head can be maddening, but it's okay. I don't need to know right now. As long as I go for what makes me happy, (and do my best to avoid choices with potentially devastating consequences), I'll get where I need to be, one day.
A sequel to this post will be added at a later date, concerning the outrageous trend of 22 year old women committing themselves to engagements, marriages, and even children- and my philosophy that the current economy is to blame.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Would you buy this book?
Here are a few samples of novel summaries that I've written for works about to be published. Not sure yet if these will appear on the books themselves, but they will be used on sites like Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com as the product descriptions for these works. Would you buy any of these?
Selected Poems
By Thomas Hardy
In the sphere of poets like Swift, Meredith and Kipling, Thomas Hardy is today becoming recognized as one of the greatest English poets of the 20th century. As a young man with interests in journalism, art, and architecture, Hardy achieved greatness in the fiction genre early on, writing novels for a living until his mid-fifties. He then abandoned fiction entirely in order to devote himself to his true passion- poetry. This ample selection of poems demonstrates Hardy's experimentation with intricate stanza forms and rhyme schemes, as well as his genius for rhetorical ambiguity. Set in his native, rural Dorset, his Selected Poems include such well-known pieces as "During Wind and Rain," "Afterwards," "The Darkling Thrush," and "The Oxen." Although most of the acclaim for his poetry was received posthumously, Hardy's poetry evokes themes and ideas that transcend time. Readers today still enjoy these poems of love, nature, and life's little ironies.
Chronicles of the Crusades
By Jean de Joinville, Geffroy de Villehardouin
The individual narratives brought together here reveal insight into the two hundred year struggle for possession of Jerusalem, in the words of two soldiers who participated first-hand in the bloody campaigns. Geffroy de Villehardouin (1150-1212?) was an appointed marshal of Champagne, France, whose Conquest of Constantinople recounts the controversial Fourth Crusade of 1204, against Eastern Christians in the Latin empire of Constantinople. Jean de Joinville (1224-1317) inherited the office of seneschal of Champagne at a young age, and wrote Life of Saint Louis after having accompanied King Louis IX on his first crusade and later living as a friend in his court. These accounts, originally composed in Old French, are considered to be some of the most accurate portrayals of the Crusades, and give fascinating insight into the religious and political fervor that sparked centuries of brutal battles and the struggle for holy conquest.
Otto of the Silver Hand
By Howard Pyle
Written in the style of traditional Arthurian legends, Otto of the Silver Hand is a scathing tale of the realities behind the chivalric ideal. During the course of his studies of medieval society, in preparation to write a magnificent series on King Arthur's Court, Howard Pyle shockingly discovered a mentality of cruelty and vengefulness among the legendary knights, which he brings to light in this work. However, these criticisms cannot overshadow the high sense of adventure in the story and illustrations of Otto, the gentle-natured son of a German warlord who, reclaimed from a monastery at age 12, suffers under the hands of a vengeful family rival, Baron Henry. While being held prisoner he falls in love with Baron Henry's daughter, Pauline, until he's rescued by his father and escapes his captor's grasp. The chase ensues in this epic tale of a young man overcoming hatred and strife with goodness and love.
I've written 22 of these summaries, I'll post them periodically among my personal writings!
Selected Poems
By Thomas Hardy
In the sphere of poets like Swift, Meredith and Kipling, Thomas Hardy is today becoming recognized as one of the greatest English poets of the 20th century. As a young man with interests in journalism, art, and architecture, Hardy achieved greatness in the fiction genre early on, writing novels for a living until his mid-fifties. He then abandoned fiction entirely in order to devote himself to his true passion- poetry. This ample selection of poems demonstrates Hardy's experimentation with intricate stanza forms and rhyme schemes, as well as his genius for rhetorical ambiguity. Set in his native, rural Dorset, his Selected Poems include such well-known pieces as "During Wind and Rain," "Afterwards," "The Darkling Thrush," and "The Oxen." Although most of the acclaim for his poetry was received posthumously, Hardy's poetry evokes themes and ideas that transcend time. Readers today still enjoy these poems of love, nature, and life's little ironies.
Chronicles of the Crusades
By Jean de Joinville, Geffroy de Villehardouin
The individual narratives brought together here reveal insight into the two hundred year struggle for possession of Jerusalem, in the words of two soldiers who participated first-hand in the bloody campaigns. Geffroy de Villehardouin (1150-1212?) was an appointed marshal of Champagne, France, whose Conquest of Constantinople recounts the controversial Fourth Crusade of 1204, against Eastern Christians in the Latin empire of Constantinople. Jean de Joinville (1224-1317) inherited the office of seneschal of Champagne at a young age, and wrote Life of Saint Louis after having accompanied King Louis IX on his first crusade and later living as a friend in his court. These accounts, originally composed in Old French, are considered to be some of the most accurate portrayals of the Crusades, and give fascinating insight into the religious and political fervor that sparked centuries of brutal battles and the struggle for holy conquest.
Otto of the Silver Hand
By Howard Pyle
Written in the style of traditional Arthurian legends, Otto of the Silver Hand is a scathing tale of the realities behind the chivalric ideal. During the course of his studies of medieval society, in preparation to write a magnificent series on King Arthur's Court, Howard Pyle shockingly discovered a mentality of cruelty and vengefulness among the legendary knights, which he brings to light in this work. However, these criticisms cannot overshadow the high sense of adventure in the story and illustrations of Otto, the gentle-natured son of a German warlord who, reclaimed from a monastery at age 12, suffers under the hands of a vengeful family rival, Baron Henry. While being held prisoner he falls in love with Baron Henry's daughter, Pauline, until he's rescued by his father and escapes his captor's grasp. The chase ensues in this epic tale of a young man overcoming hatred and strife with goodness and love.
I've written 22 of these summaries, I'll post them periodically among my personal writings!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Epic Fail
For some reason I've come to believe that I was born the quintessential Susie-Homemaker, who can cook everything from scrambled eggs to filet mignon to creme brulee, fix almost anything in the house, and sew as well as a professional seamstress. As it turns out, I was sadly mistaken. Well, on one out of three counts...
I can't sew. I mean, I can sew, I have made a few pretty baller aprons, and hemmed countless pairs of pants, but that's about the extent of it. A few minutes ago I dumped a pile of red cotton, jersey-knit fabric into the trash because I failed at turning it into a simple dress. As it turns out, there is actually a kind of geometry and logic that goes into pattern-making that I just don't have. I spent well over 10 hours on this project- sewing, ripping, re-sewing, measuring once, cutting twice, and poking myself in the fingers with pins I don't know how many times, and ultimately failed.
In the hopes that I just chose a ridiculous fabric to attempt my first pattern with, I purchased some $10/yard blue and green floral silk for my next project: a top and skirt. As if silk is the obvious next choice for an easy fabric to work with... Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Stay tuned for further updates on the Susie-Homemaker home front.
On an entirely separate note, I'm returning to the job hunt in hopes that I can find 40 hr/week employment at a company that doesn't make me want to stab pencils in my ears. (That is about my only criterion as of now). As much as I enjoy sitting at a computer listening to Pandora 25 hours a week, reading and formatting incredibly interesting literature, I am nearing the end of my threshold for living with the 'rents. I'm ready to leave the nest, yes, and hopefully not fall tragically to the cold, snowy ground. Unfortunately, my $9 an hour job won't permit me to do that just yet, and a second job isn't in the cards with my 12-5, Mon-Fri schedule. It really is the most inconvenient work schedule you could ask for, albeit I don't mind sleeping in every day...
So, in addition to the aforementioned updates, stay tuned for news on the job hunt front as well!
I can't sew. I mean, I can sew, I have made a few pretty baller aprons, and hemmed countless pairs of pants, but that's about the extent of it. A few minutes ago I dumped a pile of red cotton, jersey-knit fabric into the trash because I failed at turning it into a simple dress. As it turns out, there is actually a kind of geometry and logic that goes into pattern-making that I just don't have. I spent well over 10 hours on this project- sewing, ripping, re-sewing, measuring once, cutting twice, and poking myself in the fingers with pins I don't know how many times, and ultimately failed.
In the hopes that I just chose a ridiculous fabric to attempt my first pattern with, I purchased some $10/yard blue and green floral silk for my next project: a top and skirt. As if silk is the obvious next choice for an easy fabric to work with... Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Stay tuned for further updates on the Susie-Homemaker home front.
On an entirely separate note, I'm returning to the job hunt in hopes that I can find 40 hr/week employment at a company that doesn't make me want to stab pencils in my ears. (That is about my only criterion as of now). As much as I enjoy sitting at a computer listening to Pandora 25 hours a week, reading and formatting incredibly interesting literature, I am nearing the end of my threshold for living with the 'rents. I'm ready to leave the nest, yes, and hopefully not fall tragically to the cold, snowy ground. Unfortunately, my $9 an hour job won't permit me to do that just yet, and a second job isn't in the cards with my 12-5, Mon-Fri schedule. It really is the most inconvenient work schedule you could ask for, albeit I don't mind sleeping in every day...
So, in addition to the aforementioned updates, stay tuned for news on the job hunt front as well!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Who are the hunters?
I think I've been boy-crazy my entire life. And by think, I mean know, and have been told on more than one occasion. And as I've delved deeper into the world of adult dating, I've realized that this is a pretty dangerous trait to possess. The days of playing "hard-to-get" by leaving notes in each other's lockers are long past, and there are suddenly new, very serious, rules to follow in order to enter into a real relationship in your 20s. And on that subject I only have one thing to say-
F&#% that.
The anxiety that takes over a person within the first few weeks of dating is unnecessary, ridiculous, stressful and... completely exhilarating. I write this in hopes that I'm not alone, and that there are plenty of people out there who share this love/hate relationship with relationships. And for those of us brave enough to jump headfirst into what I still affectionately call a 'crush,' I'd like to address a few things. For centuries it was the man's job to make the first move, court the girl, and initiate the direction of the initial attraction. Then, I think sometime in the past few decades that rule became obsolete, and men were ostracized for these kinds of ideas. Hell, we're living in a generation where 40 and 50 something women are pursuing men, particularly the young, verile ones, in a manner that has earned them the name "cougars." But the trend is now taking a 180 back to the days of chivalry and tradition, and I find myself caught in the transition. So my first question is, who are the hunters?
Having asked many friends over the years for advice on "making the move," I think I've established that there are two types of men. The Hunters, and the Prey. Many of you are probably thinking that this completely applies to girls too, which it does! But for all intents and purposes right now, I'm going to stick with the guys. Plus, I'd rather not criticize my own sex, someone's got to stick up for us, right? But back to the point- There are Hunters and Prey, and no in-betweens. There are the guys that hunt down their target, stealthily move in, and thrive on the excitement of the chase. These are the expert game-players. The ones with rules about when to call, text, and meet. These are the ones that drive women crazy, know that they're doing it, and usually don't care about the casualties along the way. For them, there's always a new catch on the horizon...
Then there are the Prey, who absolutely love when a pretty, confident girl approaches them. They want the girl to make the moves, show her interest, and take things to the next level. Although I completely understand where they're coming from, these guys are treading dangerous ground if they don't step up and make a few moves themselves. No one should let themselves get completely comfortable with being the Prey, and accepting the fact that they can't face rejection if they don't put themselves out there. And there's just something about a guy that has a pair. The guy that can take his chances, risk rejection, and just go for it. But how do you tell the Hunter from the Prey anymore?
I typically go into each situation assuming the old "He's Just Not That Into You" mentality of: if he wants you, he will call you/see you/make it happen. But that's not always the case! Playing hard to get, which used to be the secret weapon of women in keeping men at the edge of their seats, has now been adopted by the Hunter to draw women out into the open. So when he's not calling you/seeing you/making it happen, he could be putting you right where he wants you. But then again, maybe he's the shy Prey, waiting for you to pounce on him! It's too confusing to try to guess, but I still find myself excited at the game.
So here's my idea: when you like someone, or even just think you might like someone, make it happen. There really isn't much to lose. I know the fear of coming on too strong keeps some people from calling or texting as often as they want to, but really, don't most people nowadays tell you if you're coming on too strong? Wouldn't you be able to tell if you're irritating someone that isn't actually interested back in you? So just go for it. And although I hate the "rules" and games and identity crises involved in dating, since everyone participates in them anyway, I hope some people still get as strangely excited about it as I do.
F&#% that.
The anxiety that takes over a person within the first few weeks of dating is unnecessary, ridiculous, stressful and... completely exhilarating. I write this in hopes that I'm not alone, and that there are plenty of people out there who share this love/hate relationship with relationships. And for those of us brave enough to jump headfirst into what I still affectionately call a 'crush,' I'd like to address a few things. For centuries it was the man's job to make the first move, court the girl, and initiate the direction of the initial attraction. Then, I think sometime in the past few decades that rule became obsolete, and men were ostracized for these kinds of ideas. Hell, we're living in a generation where 40 and 50 something women are pursuing men, particularly the young, verile ones, in a manner that has earned them the name "cougars." But the trend is now taking a 180 back to the days of chivalry and tradition, and I find myself caught in the transition. So my first question is, who are the hunters?
Having asked many friends over the years for advice on "making the move," I think I've established that there are two types of men. The Hunters, and the Prey. Many of you are probably thinking that this completely applies to girls too, which it does! But for all intents and purposes right now, I'm going to stick with the guys. Plus, I'd rather not criticize my own sex, someone's got to stick up for us, right? But back to the point- There are Hunters and Prey, and no in-betweens. There are the guys that hunt down their target, stealthily move in, and thrive on the excitement of the chase. These are the expert game-players. The ones with rules about when to call, text, and meet. These are the ones that drive women crazy, know that they're doing it, and usually don't care about the casualties along the way. For them, there's always a new catch on the horizon...
Then there are the Prey, who absolutely love when a pretty, confident girl approaches them. They want the girl to make the moves, show her interest, and take things to the next level. Although I completely understand where they're coming from, these guys are treading dangerous ground if they don't step up and make a few moves themselves. No one should let themselves get completely comfortable with being the Prey, and accepting the fact that they can't face rejection if they don't put themselves out there. And there's just something about a guy that has a pair. The guy that can take his chances, risk rejection, and just go for it. But how do you tell the Hunter from the Prey anymore?
I typically go into each situation assuming the old "He's Just Not That Into You" mentality of: if he wants you, he will call you/see you/make it happen. But that's not always the case! Playing hard to get, which used to be the secret weapon of women in keeping men at the edge of their seats, has now been adopted by the Hunter to draw women out into the open. So when he's not calling you/seeing you/making it happen, he could be putting you right where he wants you. But then again, maybe he's the shy Prey, waiting for you to pounce on him! It's too confusing to try to guess, but I still find myself excited at the game.
So here's my idea: when you like someone, or even just think you might like someone, make it happen. There really isn't much to lose. I know the fear of coming on too strong keeps some people from calling or texting as often as they want to, but really, don't most people nowadays tell you if you're coming on too strong? Wouldn't you be able to tell if you're irritating someone that isn't actually interested back in you? So just go for it. And although I hate the "rules" and games and identity crises involved in dating, since everyone participates in them anyway, I hope some people still get as strangely excited about it as I do.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
bloggers block
So, much to my chagrin, my excitement to contribute more in the world of blogging has been foiled by my lack of topic ideas. Although the suggestion of dogs in tuxedos vs chimps in tuxedos was tempting, I feel that either one is borderline animal cruelty, and would therefore probably be taboo. Although, I do secretly think dogs in costumes are pretty damn cute. Oh, and hats. Dogs in hats are straight adorable. But back to my point- I don't know what to write about. It would be fairly easy to turn this into a page of rants and criticisms of anything under the sun, but I'd prefer to keep this lighthearted. So until my muse blesses me with a new and interesting idea, I am open to suggestion. Just don't ask me what I think of health care, Barack Obama, anything sports related, the Jonas Brothers, or... anything else I don't really know about!
P.S. hated that Ke$ha song, "Tik Tok," when I first heard it, now I can't get enough. I am now thoroughly convinced that the music industry is inserting subliminal messaging into songs by her, Miley Cyrus, and Lady Gaga to make me want to bust a move every time I listen to the radio. I wonder how many dance related car accidents could be blamed on their auditory addictive stimulants... Kids, just listen to NPR.
P.S. hated that Ke$ha song, "Tik Tok," when I first heard it, now I can't get enough. I am now thoroughly convinced that the music industry is inserting subliminal messaging into songs by her, Miley Cyrus, and Lady Gaga to make me want to bust a move every time I listen to the radio. I wonder how many dance related car accidents could be blamed on their auditory addictive stimulants... Kids, just listen to NPR.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Treadmill is My Enemy.
So tonight, newly invigorated with energy from God knows where, I worked out. Not at the gym, no, my part-time job and seemingly endless gas costs prevent me from joining a 24-hour facility with shiny machines, weights, and buff bods. I actually trekked down to the arctic cold basement to use the family treadmill. Set in Cardio mode, incline at 8%, I spent 45 long minutes watching The Office on TBS and jogging, in place.
There's just something about a treadmill that makes me dizzy. First of all, there's no wind resistance. It's just running, but without the benefit of a self-made breeze to cool you down. Not that I needed cooling down in the sixty degree basement, but the air does seem less fresh when you're breathing in the same cubic foot of oxygen. And then there's the monotony of the run itself. At least outside you can turn down random streets, swing by a park, avoid a heinous hill or even pull a Rocky up a lengthy flight of stairs. Unless the treadmill comes equipped with fancy gears to swing into alternating inclines and a screen to make me "believe" I'm running on a sunny beach, I'm really just sweating in my parents crap-filled basement.
Now the elliptical is a machine I can respect. At least on that one I actually feel the muscles that are lit up on that little body diagram on the screen- calves, hamstrings, quads, butt. It's like the manufacturers knew that by providing that diagram, whoever was on the machine would be relieved by the reassurance that- Yes! you really are getting what the machine promised! Look! Those little lights were right! I can really feel it! Not to mention that on the elliptical you can go backwards. Have you ever tried to go backwards on the treadmill? I haven't dared to myself, but I'm sure myriad viral video posters can amuse you with their attempts.
And to end with a question for any exercise-minded readers out there, why is it that I rarely get a stitch in my side on the elliptical, but on the treadmill I feel like my ribcage is giving me the finger, big time? Maybe I'm just an awkward runner. And what do you do for those little buggers? Breathe? Drink water? Stretch? I really would like to know, especially since mom's treadmill will be my sole form of cardio exercise in the immediate future. Meanwhile, let's hope this new burst of exercise enthusiasm stays with me. Miley and I are back on our way to being in shape! (as long as we can stay away from my parents' kitchen...)
There's just something about a treadmill that makes me dizzy. First of all, there's no wind resistance. It's just running, but without the benefit of a self-made breeze to cool you down. Not that I needed cooling down in the sixty degree basement, but the air does seem less fresh when you're breathing in the same cubic foot of oxygen. And then there's the monotony of the run itself. At least outside you can turn down random streets, swing by a park, avoid a heinous hill or even pull a Rocky up a lengthy flight of stairs. Unless the treadmill comes equipped with fancy gears to swing into alternating inclines and a screen to make me "believe" I'm running on a sunny beach, I'm really just sweating in my parents crap-filled basement.
Now the elliptical is a machine I can respect. At least on that one I actually feel the muscles that are lit up on that little body diagram on the screen- calves, hamstrings, quads, butt. It's like the manufacturers knew that by providing that diagram, whoever was on the machine would be relieved by the reassurance that- Yes! you really are getting what the machine promised! Look! Those little lights were right! I can really feel it! Not to mention that on the elliptical you can go backwards. Have you ever tried to go backwards on the treadmill? I haven't dared to myself, but I'm sure myriad viral video posters can amuse you with their attempts.
And to end with a question for any exercise-minded readers out there, why is it that I rarely get a stitch in my side on the elliptical, but on the treadmill I feel like my ribcage is giving me the finger, big time? Maybe I'm just an awkward runner. And what do you do for those little buggers? Breathe? Drink water? Stretch? I really would like to know, especially since mom's treadmill will be my sole form of cardio exercise in the immediate future. Meanwhile, let's hope this new burst of exercise enthusiasm stays with me. Miley and I are back on our way to being in shape! (as long as we can stay away from my parents' kitchen...)
Monday, January 11, 2010
Starting the New Year Off Happy
Having taken an hiatus from writing the past few weeks, I felt the urge to get back on the blogging bandwagon after lunch with my friend Anna today. We were enjoying a steaming hot plate of our favorite pad thai when, out of the blue, Anna told me that I seemed really happy. Not cheery, per say, or chipper like I'd gotten a good night's sleep, but simply - happy. She told me that I seemed to be in a really good place, with a positive outlook on life and the world around me. The words bright and aura may have even entered the conversation. So I got to thinking, I really am happy right now.
It comes as a surprise to me that I've resurfaced from a long dive into what seemed like the most depressed two months of my life, and am now genuinely optimistic. Starting in November with my unfortunate auto accident (my fault), to not getting my dream internship, to all my Christmas money going to the car insurance deductible, and finally wrapping it up with a nice new years bow of borrowing my mother's new Nissan and returning it sans one window thanks to a break-in, I can't deny that I've spent many days recently in the comfort of my dark bedroom. Watching the Office on Netflix. Refusing to set foot in the world lest I get struck by lightening. Oh did I mention- still single amongst a throng of happily coupled friends, with no prospects. All right Universe, I know Karma is a bitch, but lately she's been a bit of a heinous douchebag.
My question now is, what am I unconsciously doing right that my friend has noticed such a positive glow emanating from me?Could be the booze, I do enjoy a strong Irish Coffee in the mornings since the weather turned so bitterly cold. Just kidding! But really, I haven't been exercising, so it can't be endorphines... Maybe it's the joy of living with my increasingly senile parents and not having any money? No, pretty sure that's not it. Frankly, I'm stumped. But I'm kind of okay with that.
What I've come to realize is, maybe it's just part of my DNA to not sweat the small stuff. Maybe I really am an eternal optimist, as much as I'd like to deny it and embrace the witty, cynical person I'd kind of hoped I was. I just don't think I'm cut out for dark and depressing. Two days ago I bought Patti Stanger's book, Become Your Own Matchmaker, and what the Millionaire Matchmaker has taught me in only 4 short chapters is: You'll never be happy with someone until you're happy with yourself first. So that's what I'm going to do! No one is going to get me where I want to be in life, except me. Everyone has the power to control how their life will turn out, you just need the goals and determination to get there.
So here it is, my New Year's Resolution: STOP WASTING TIME. It does absolutely no good to wallow in self-pity about a job, a boy, living arrangements, or money. The harsh reality of being 22 is that no one is going to give you anything anymore. So I'm going to use this blog as a kind of self-checker, making myself accountable for where my life goes in the next year. If no one reads it, at least I'll feel responsible to the universe to make happen what I've set out for myself. So Universe, or Karma, or God or whoever, bring it on. Go ahead and push my buttons, it'll just make me want to kick ass that much harder.
As an afterthought, I realize this may come off as narcissistic/feminist/clichéd new years declarations, but it's what I need right now. And if it gets me to check off one more thing on my "to-do" list today, then so be it.
It comes as a surprise to me that I've resurfaced from a long dive into what seemed like the most depressed two months of my life, and am now genuinely optimistic. Starting in November with my unfortunate auto accident (my fault), to not getting my dream internship, to all my Christmas money going to the car insurance deductible, and finally wrapping it up with a nice new years bow of borrowing my mother's new Nissan and returning it sans one window thanks to a break-in, I can't deny that I've spent many days recently in the comfort of my dark bedroom. Watching the Office on Netflix. Refusing to set foot in the world lest I get struck by lightening. Oh did I mention- still single amongst a throng of happily coupled friends, with no prospects. All right Universe, I know Karma is a bitch, but lately she's been a bit of a heinous douchebag.
My question now is, what am I unconsciously doing right that my friend has noticed such a positive glow emanating from me?Could be the booze, I do enjoy a strong Irish Coffee in the mornings since the weather turned so bitterly cold. Just kidding! But really, I haven't been exercising, so it can't be endorphines... Maybe it's the joy of living with my increasingly senile parents and not having any money? No, pretty sure that's not it. Frankly, I'm stumped. But I'm kind of okay with that.
What I've come to realize is, maybe it's just part of my DNA to not sweat the small stuff. Maybe I really am an eternal optimist, as much as I'd like to deny it and embrace the witty, cynical person I'd kind of hoped I was. I just don't think I'm cut out for dark and depressing. Two days ago I bought Patti Stanger's book, Become Your Own Matchmaker, and what the Millionaire Matchmaker has taught me in only 4 short chapters is: You'll never be happy with someone until you're happy with yourself first. So that's what I'm going to do! No one is going to get me where I want to be in life, except me. Everyone has the power to control how their life will turn out, you just need the goals and determination to get there.
So here it is, my New Year's Resolution: STOP WASTING TIME. It does absolutely no good to wallow in self-pity about a job, a boy, living arrangements, or money. The harsh reality of being 22 is that no one is going to give you anything anymore. So I'm going to use this blog as a kind of self-checker, making myself accountable for where my life goes in the next year. If no one reads it, at least I'll feel responsible to the universe to make happen what I've set out for myself. So Universe, or Karma, or God or whoever, bring it on. Go ahead and push my buttons, it'll just make me want to kick ass that much harder.
As an afterthought, I realize this may come off as narcissistic/feminist/clichéd new years declarations, but it's what I need right now. And if it gets me to check off one more thing on my "to-do" list today, then so be it.
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