10 years ago

There is a meme on twitter right now, #10yearsago.




This, well, it gave me pause, an epiphany-type moment. What I didn’t realize on December 31, 1999, was how much my life was about to change. I was aware in some obvious ways. I had just quit my job in Advertising and, in the New Year, was starting a new job and a new career in recruiting. I was in the midst of a messy, complicated break up. And I was contemplating a move out of the house I was currently living in.

What I didn’t know, what I couldn’t know, was that that was only the beginning. I had no concept of how different my life would be in only a few short months, and certainly within a year. Because 2000 was not only the year I started a new career. It was also the year I moved to New York. A move I wasn’t planning on and wasn’t expecting. It was a move that shaped my life in ways I couldn’t expect. A move that affected me, not only in terms of my day to day to life, but also shaped who I’ve become.

At the end of the 90’s I was looking back on a decade in which I graduated from High School, went away to college, graduated from college, fell in love for the first time, fell in love the second time, fell in love for the third time, lived on my own, started a career, made my first “adult-life-after-school” friends, become an adult (even if whether or not I’m effective at it is still debatable).

My memory of the end of the century was all the Y2K mania (seems so naïve now doesn’t it?) and forging into a new century, that I didn’t truly contemplate all the transitions and transformations that I (and my life) had been through in that decade.

I knew and expected that there would be changes to come. But I did not see or expect that changes that did.

It’s been quite a decade. There has been a lot of loss in my life, a lot of sadness, especially in the last half of the decade. But I’m remembering now that there was a lot of joy.

Lately I’ve been very sad, very frustrated with my life. I’ve been treading water in a mild depression. Frustrated with so many things. But for the first time, looking back at what I had no idea was in store for me ten years ago, gives me hope, optimism and even enthusiasm. I’m excited to see what the next decade has in store for me. All the things that I can’t even imagine, couldn’t even predict, have no idea that are about to happen to my life.

Goodbye to the Aughts

Before Christmas I started to draft a decade retrospective blog entry. A listing of the things I said goodbye to in the last decade. Things like an answering machine, a landline, DC, New York, and people lost. I had envisioned it being part nostalgic, part sentimental, part, sad, part funny.



But seriously, just the number of funerals that I went to in the past decade, was depressing. (btw, that number is 7). I just couldn't lighten it up enough.

Rather than a quippy retrospective, this is what I have:

In sum, the past decade, I switched careers, moved to NYC, entered my thirties, switched careers again, moved to Chicago, did some traveling (Spain, Morocco, Italy, London, Dublin), had some boyfriends, made some friends, lost some people, had some stories published, grew to appreciate my family (and the few really amazing friends that I have known for decades) and their love.

It is time to say GoodBye to this decade.

I'm ready for the tweens.

update: I forgot to add, started a blog.

You say it's your Birthday...

My birthday is this coming Wednesday. Birthdays, for me, are a touchstone. They are a time to reflect on where I am in my life. I both love and hate birthdays. I mean, who doesn’t love cake? And gifts? And people celebrating YOU? I’ve been known to wear a tiara on my birthday. (The rest of the year I am not a Tiara kind of girl) And drink very large, very alcoholic drinks. Over the years photographic evidence is abundant of me holding a drink, smiling, wearing either the aforementioned tiara or a birthday hat.

My favorite birthday celebrations vary from my first slumber party when I was a kid to a surprise keg at my neighbors in college to my birthday two years ago when I threw myself a bowling party. I bowled in a short dress and tiara (and a vodka tonic in hand). And have a picture of the men in my family wearing hello kitty party hats. Now that’s a good time.

The thing that I hate about birthdays is the whole reflection on where I am in my life. Some years it’s been all happy with my job, happy with my friends, happy with my life. Other years it’s been what-the-hell-am-I-doing freaking out? (That was most memorably 29 and 30 and 31).

This year, well this year I don’t love my job, in terms of responsibility, challenges and salary, it’s where I was ten years ago. And on top of that, they cut me back to part time. And, well, that’s all weighing on me.

Looking over the past year, since my last birthday:

I failed as a waitress. I mean, I’m REALLY bad. I should never wait on tables.
Got deeper in debt.
Wrote less than I have in years.
Not kept in touch with people as much as I should, would like, need to.
Went on one, and only one date.
Gained fifteen pounds.

But,

I made some great, amazing, extraordinary new friends.
Solidified newish and old friendships.
Was weightless. Total, no gravity, floating in the air, weightless.
Flew a plane. (as in, I flew the plane.)
Had my second story published.

So, I guess, maybe, this past year was, like most years, good and bad. The lows this year were not as bad, at all, as past years. But also, the highs could have been higher. So, as this next birthday approaches, I guess, bring it on. I’m ready for the next year. Ready to challenge myself, ready to succeed and fail, and all that messy crap of life. And in the meantime, as always, I’m amazed at the people in my life who love me and support me and make it all worthwhile.

What kind of puff piece does GoogleNews think I am?

I don't know who GoogleNews thinks I am. But I don't like it.

Lately, all my recommended news articles are all fluffy entertainment gossip. So, all week I've been clicking on hard news articles about Iran, Health Care, Afghanistan, Wall Street. Ok and maybe a review of Glee. And Gossip Girl. But also G20, the Olympic bid. Oh, and Kanye.

Hmm, maybe GoogleNews does know me. Still, I don't like it.

Transference

Most mornings, when I’m too lazy to brew it myself, I stop at Starbucks. It’s not that I’m a fan of Starbucks (I think ya’ll know my favorite latte, where the foam is sublime), it’s really about proximity and convenience. It’s on my walk to the el.

Everyone at that particular Starbucks is great. They are friendly and cheerful (not too cheerful), they remember me and my order. They are efficient. They get the job done. And manage to not annoy me before I’ve ingested caffeine.

Except one barista. Who is nice. Who seems a bit timid. Who smiles. Who speaks in a soft voice. Who irritates me. Inexplicably, grates on my nerves. I feel impatience rising in me when I realize he’s the one at the counter.

This barista has never done anything wrong. Never messed up an order, never taken too long. He’s perfectly fine. I just, chemically, have a reaction to him that fills me with annoyance.

Then one morning I realized what it was. He reminds me of someone I once dated. Someone who, initially I thought was as a nice guy, and this was my attraction to him. I then started to realize, it wasn’t so much that he was nice, it was that he was passive. And nice, well, it is the path of least resistance. It is the easier, lazier, safer choice. His passivity quickly became repulsive to me. Which in term made me a bit nasty to him. Which made him a bit whiny towards me. Which repulsed me more. Do you see the horrible cycle?

He wasn’t a bad guy. But with him, I was a bitch. And generally I’m often too nice for my own good.

So this poor barista, with the soft voice and the doughy face, well, I’m trying to not be unreasonably annoyed with him. I mean, he’s not to blame for my dating past. But really, it’s too much to process before I’ve had my coffee.

Riding the EL, Friday Fun, and my failed attempt at Missed Connections and proof that, Yes, I am a loser

This morning, on the el, there was a man who I thought was, well, a hottie. But, for me, the el is about commuting, not being hit on. That, and I am a big old shy loser, out in the world, when I don’t have a drink in my hand and I’m not standing in a bar.

It isn’t that often that I see someone on the street that I find attractive. Actually, it’s rare anywhere, not just on the street. So, this morning, I’m on the brown line, I see a cute guy. I am plugged into my iPod, I’m stealing some commute time to do a little work on a story I’m writing, so although I do notice him, I don’t make eyes at him or anything. I’m all plugged into my private world. But, again, I did think he was cute.

When the train stopped, I stood up and my iPod fell from my lap onto the ground in front of him. He picked it up and handed it me. I smiled at him and said, “Thank you,” and then rushed off the train before the doors closed.

Walking into the office I thought about posting a missed connection. I’d never done it. I’d never felt inclined to even attempt it. I used to read them occasionally, but actually hadn’t looked in awhile. It’s Friday, I’m bored. Why not?

So I posted this:

Title: I dropped my iPod (Brown line - Quincy stop)

browline...quincy stop around 10:30am...I stood up to exit the train and you picked it up and handed it me...I just wanted to say ...THANK YOU

And so far this afternoon I received two emails. This first one said:

Don't people communicate face-2-face anymore. Damn!

The second said:

oh god, PLEASE tell me that you at least said thank you when it happened and didn't wait to later post it online. that's really pathetic, if it's true. but if you did say thanks to begin with then that's cool... ignore me.

I’m not sure what I should have said, “I’d like to buy you a drink? I’d like to talk to you? I think you’re cute?" That wasn't my intention. I just wanted to reach out to a cutie on the train and say thanks. Or maybe it was and I’m just too wimpy, even anonymously online, to say things like that (when I am sober).

Anyway, this was my unsuccessful attempt at dipping my toe into Missed Connections.
So, I’m headed to Happy Hour where, with vodka in hand, I feel freer to flirt with abandon.

Happy Friday All!

25 Random things about me

It was brought to my attention by a step-3rd-cousin (I have a complex family) that I have been neglecting my blog. (His exacts words were "Ho, get off the street and back in the library")

So to kick start things I am sharing with you something I posted on Facebook. I was "tagged" in a Notes game of tag. You have to write 25 things about yourself and then tag 25 people and they then do the same. and So on. So here are 25 random things about me:

1. Lately, I've really been missing New York, A LOT but I'm not sure if I miss the city or if I miss that time of my life.

2. I hate carrots, bacon and asparagus.

3. Like Lorraine, I go through food phases. One three week period, I ate creamed spinach every day for lunch. Currently I'm going through a brownie phase. I'm hoping it will be replaced by something healthier.

4. I love coffee. I have a Pavlovian response when I even just catch a glimpse of a coffee cup. I love coffee.

5. Two summers (one in high school and one in college) I interned for Congressman Charlie Wilson (as in Charlie Wilson's War). There were three Amy's in the office so his nickname for me was Junior.

6. I have a cat. I love her but she is my secret shame. I don't want to be the cliche, but alas I am. But what can I say? She's a sweetie and greets me at the door.

7. I have never been married, but I have lived through three marriages. My mom and my dad's, My mom and my ex-step dad, My Dad and my step mom. And my mother asked me why I have commitment issues. I will say this, my dad and my step mom have THE marriage. If I get married I hope to be lucky enough to have the kind of marriage that they have.

8. When I was in high school, I hated my step mom. Now however she's one of the most important people in my life. She's the first person I turn to when I need something. I can't imagine who I would be and how I would survive if she wasn't in my life.

9. Like many people I too had a crappy childhood.

10. I'm angry at my sister for dying.

11. I love my family and get cranky if I go too long without seeing them. Although, I get cranky when I'm with them too long. I can spend three days with mom before I start whining like a 12 yr old. I can spend 7 days with my dad, step mom and brothers before we turn like dairy products. Once it sours, it sours fast. Still, I love them and love spending time with them.

12. I have at various times in my life had fake nails, dyed hair and a perm (not all at the same time, but some overlapping) At the moment my nails and my hair are all natural.

13. I have a book problem. I'm always buying them. I like to own them. To keep them. Its hard for me to go into a bookstore without spending 60 bucks. I loan books to friends but ask for them back. I'm a weirdo about books. I rarely re-read them but I still like to see them in my bookcase and remember them.

14. I used to have a shoe and a purse problem. Grad school poverty helped dim it a bit. Although I still own a lot of shoes, especially ones I never wear.

15. I really want to have a family some day. I always wanted to be my next door neighbors the Hamiltons (four kids - two boys and two girls). But I know that I am not ready to not only marry anyone but especially to parent anyone. And I'm ok if I never do. I've yet to meet anyone that I've seriously thought "This is the guy." And I'm not settling for good enough.

16. I watch a lot TV. I love cheesy shows (Gossip Girl, The Hills)

17. I am not licensed to drive. When I was living in New York my drivers license expired and I never got around to getting a new one. And now I have to take both the written and the behind wheel test again. For now, I'm all about the CTA.

18. The most consistent thing in life is my cell phone. I've had it since April 2000. It's the longest in my life that I've had the same phone number. It hasn't escaped me that the most consistent thing in my life is mobile.

19. I didn't eat red meat for ten years. When I was nineteen I stopped eating red meat in an attempt to be healthy, then on my 29th birthday I ordered a steak. I don't know why. But it just sounded good. Now I'm an omnivore.

20. Once in college, while I was bartending, I tripped and knocked over the cash register. It was a mess.

21. I get claustrophobic. It's not debilitating, but it's pretty bad.

22. I'm a night owl. When I was in grad school I did most of my writing late at night lying in bed. Sometimes I'd be up until 5am.

23. I'm an extrovert. I'd rather be out around people. I like crowded restaurants, standing at bars, walking through cities. I get energy from other people. But I go through antisocial moments. I hibernate in my apartment, turn off my phone, and don't leave my apartment for at least a day. I just want/need to spend time by myself reading, writing or watching bad tv about super rich high school kids.

24. I have the greatest Dad. He's "Adorkable." My biggest fear in life is disappointing him. Although, if you hear us talking to each other, I'm mostly teasing him about being nerdy. Underneath the teasing, I respect him the most of anyone I've ever met. He's a pretty extraordinary guy.

25. When I was in kindergarten I got in trouble for telling a boy to pull down his pants on the playground.

What is hidden in my closet?

I am not an organized person. And I'm a shopper (at least when I am employed and have a paycheck) On top of that, I am a pack rat. I'm borderline a hoarder. Alright, maybe I'm not that bad. But, it's not good.

I have clothes in my closet that I haven't worn in over four years. I also took more than eight trash bags of stuff to salvation army when I moved out of New York over three years ago. And cleared out another three bags worth when I moved into my current apartment a year and half ago. And yet, I still have crap in the back of my closet that serves no purpose, except to hang on a hanger.

Once, in NYC, I took a little trip through my closet and pulled out a dress that I forgot I owned. My roommate at the time commented that maybe I should shop in my closet. She had a point.

When I pulled out my sweaters this fall I realized that I owned two cashmere, sleeveless, cowl neck brown sweaters. What? really? I meant it's not like a white button down or a black turtle neck. One of them was a Banana Republic purchase, the other a Marshalls shopportunity. I'm sure I bought them months apart. But still, wouldn't you think I would realize what I was doing? Shouldn't I know what sweaters I already own?

I changed my blogger profile pic. It's one I took last year when I cut off ten inches of my hair. I tried taking a photo of it to email it to a friend. Anyway, I noticed the sweater that I'm wearing in the pictures and I wondered, where the hell is that sweater now? Seriously. I have no idea where it is.

My roommate was right. I need to do some shopping in my own closet.

Projecting My Ridiculous Insecurities

I returned home last night after almost two weeks on the East Coast at my parents house. It was a week of drinking wine, napping, making fun of each other and board games. All around a good holiday and great family time.

When I got home I came home to a pissed off cat (she does not like it when I leave) and an empty fridge. To be honest, it wasn't empty. What it did contain was rotting left overs and sour milk. So I ventured out to a Deli around the corner from me to get some take out. Whenever I order take out or delivery I usually order enough for two meals. It's my own warped form of multi-tasking. I reason with myself that if it's delivery and I'm paying for the delivery I'm actually saving money. I'm not sure how I'm justifying it when it's take out. Anyway, I order a bit of food. The last time I was there when I told the guy that it was To Go, his comment was "I assumed you weren't eating it all yourself." Except that I was.

Tonight when he handed me my order he said something about getting a workout on my way home. I assumed he was referring to the size (and the content) of my order. I'm pretty sure I blushed and was about to make some reference to "we" (we being my imaginary dinner partner so he wouldn't think I was eating all that food by myself). Then I realized he was actually referring the weight of my order, as in, the bag was heavy. (Not me)

I need to relax.

And enjoy my mozzarella sticks, my brownie, my chili mac. yum.

Rerun

I think it warrants a repeat...this was almost two years ago.  I was telling my family this story and it stills cracks me up.  I was, of course, kidding when I made the comment.  It was something I said frequently.  In addition, I would affect a vally girl accent while saying, but still someone quoted me.

You Get Me...You Really Really Get Me.

Maybe you are comfortable with who you are, secure in your “You-ness” and confident in how you are perceived by others. Me. Well, I am and I’m not. I am a complex mess of insecure and overconfident, but that’s more than a blog post, that’s a whole book of exploring essays and possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars in therapy. But this weekend two things happened that made me realize that sometimes people get me. Really get me.

One was a conversation I had on Friday night. It was a brief, in passing conversation. With someone who, when I met him this summer, nicknamed me Legally Brunette. I am ditzy. This I know. I have never pretended to be anything else. But I am also smart. And sometimes I don’t know which side of me people see. I assumed calling me Legally Brunette was a nod to my ditziness. Which didn’t bother me. I myself like to mock my ditziness. But on Friday night (actually it was probably more like Saturday morning because I’m guessing it was close to 1AM) the aforementioned friend said something to the effect of “Sometimes I feel like I need to be prepared to have a conversation with you.”

I asked, all insecure and freaked out, “What the hell does that mean?”

And he responded, “Why do you think you are Legally Brunette?”

I assumed it was my ditziness. He then explained (and I am paraphrasing because this was late into Friday early into Saturday after many a vodka) that like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde people probably underestimate me not realizing that I am actually surprisingly smart.

It took awhile for my late night pickled brain to process words and thoughts and I wasn’t feeling so smart swimming through my inebriation but I took away a whole new appreciation for being called Legally Brunette.

The other surprising moment came in the form of a gift. It started on Tuesday when I was out in the netherworld known as The Suburbs. A friend and I were weaving our way up and down the aisles of a Home Goods when we across a wooden box that was a replica of a typewriter.

I said “When I get a job, (I start many sentences with this. I have already alloted my first several paychecks to shopping sprees at Zara, a dresser, plane tickets- both domestic and international, shoes, a decorator, various outings around Chicago, dubious investments in jewelry. All and all anything from the practical to the ridiculous. It’s not quite as insane as my If-I-won-the-lottery list, but the When-I-get-a-paycheck list is growing) I want to find an antique typewriter.”

Many of my fellow SAIC writing program friends had one, my parents have one. I want one. Not to use. To look at and imagine what if I was Hemingway or Capote clacking away brilliant things on a typewriter. My friend made a face and I assumed it was a there she goes again that weird writer girl look.

Then Saturday afternoon she showed up at my door with a typewriter. An antique typewriter. It had belonged to her neighbor's grandfather. The neighbor used in it college to type all her papers. Apparently my friend had already been planning on giving it to me as a belated birthday gift.

She gets me. Really gets me.

A bizarre and disturbing reflection of me. (and my internet habits)

The google news recommended column cracks me up. There have been days when it was all Obama all the time with the occasional Hilary popping up for variety sake. Other times it has been all fluff and gossip with a random local Chicago story. I'd like to fancy myself intelligent and urbane. Someone who reads smart things and doesn't have time for foolishness. But really, I mean honestly, I love The Hills, Gossip Girl, Facebook, fashion magazines and even my news served with a touch of sugar and frivolilty. (considering my biggest source for news is Daily Intel) I read about foreign affairs, local politics and People's sexiest Man Alive. Witty, urbane, intelligent and frivilous. That's my Googlenews recommended section.

Gleeful disdain for perspective
There are those girls that whine "I'm so fat" just so that you will say, "No you're not." Or the friend that always complains about how much their life sucks when they are flush with money, have a great job, enviable partner and an apartment that makes you drool, while you are jobless, loveless, and stressed about real things. That's what how I felt about the Big Three autmomakers and their private jets. To be fair, the bailout would be for the guy on the factory floor, but it's hard to take them seriously when they are tooling around in $36 million private jets. Even Goldman Sachs is making sacrifices (although it strikes me as, well, not so much a sacrifice and more a DUH, of course your should give up your bonus. It is after all a BONUS and, in theory, a reward for a job well done not an entitlement. )

This weeks sweetness (with an overload of bittersweet)
Emily Bear, a seven year old piano prodigy wrote and performed a song as a wedding gift for Ellen. The song is titled "Once Upon A Wish" because Ellen's wish came true. Well, I cried through out the whole song watching Ellen try not to cry. It was so sweet and so sad.

The Happiest Depressed Person You Know

That was a how a friend described me when I told I told her I was going to start therapy. But as my Happy Doctor put it, I've had a complicated life and there's a lot going on. Apparently I'm so crazy, I need to meet with him twice a week.

It's a strange experience talking about yourself for an hour and not have the other person reciprocate, well not really reciprocate so much as just ask you more questions about yourself. And I wonder, on the bus on the way to my appointment, what could I possibly talk about for fifty minutes? But then I'm sitting on his couch and he sits across from me looking at me, not saying anything and then the words come.

I joked with another friend that of course he wants to see me twice a week because I've got juicy soap opera stuff to tell, what with multiple divorces in my family, a former spy father (I'd like to add here, that I was referred to this doctor by a family member who is also seeing him, which I think helps in my credibility as actually having a father who is retired from the CIA, not just another delusional crazy person), an alcoholic sister and a recently widowed best friend. It feels like the Days-of-Our-One-Life-to-Live instead of therapy as he tries to keep track of which sibling of mine is from which of my parent's marriages. And even when I say, "I don't know how to handle..." whatever this or that, he never answers my questions, just agrees with my confusion. It's a bit frustrating that he never tells me what to do ... but, this is what I've learned so far from our sessions...

at a young (according to my happy doctor at a way too young) age I took on feelings of responsibility for the happiness of people in my life and felt torn by divided loyalties. I try to take care of everyone around me before I take care of myself because one, I feel responsible for everyone else's happiness and two then I don't have to or can avoid taking care of myself.

And what I realized today, in talking both about my sister ... and relaying a conversation I had with my best friend's brother, that we can't make them happy (my sister or my best friend) that only they can make themselves happy and that the only that I can do, the only thing that is my responsibility and within my power is to let her( my sister and my best friend) know that I'm there for her. It was a bit of a freeing moment when I realized that.

That was this weeks revelation.

So, on that note, I'm the happiest depressed person you know...

Me Overheard in Chicago

I'm a bit sarcastic at times. And self deprecating. and often times I talk in a fake valley girl voice whilst mocking myself. But I always assume my friends know when I'm kidding... I never think about what other people on the el might be thinking...

Good Bye to 2006 ~ onward for a new year

2006 ~ it was the best of times it was a the worst of times.

a friend recently, when talking about a year he spent abroad during undergrad, commented that it was a great year and he could live it over and over again ~ groundhog day style. Which gave me pause, because, a whole year? I thought back over my life ... my, well, a few decades on this earth. And I can think of days, weeks, even months that I would love to go back to hang out and re-experience. But a whole year? Only if I could cut out certain months, weeks, days even moments.

This was a year that had some beautiful, blissful days ...and exceptionally crappy ones. I made a list of the great things and the bad things of 2006. It was, for every good thing there was a bad thing. It seems to me that my whole life is a balance of good and bad. The good things are always paid for by some pretty crappy things.

A friend in college, when going through a bad time would always say to herself, "Equal pleasure, equal pain" as a comforting mantra to get herself through it. I'm not sure that's so comforting. But, in looking back over the past year ...I would say there was some real crap.

But, some good...and some really great stuff too.

and so ... on to a new year.

2007, bring it on..

where'd he go? where'd who go?

not sure why i haven't been blogging ... still dealing with 'block'age. but i have great advisors who encourage me and give me assignment (reading and writing) to try and make writing fun for me again.


.. in the past month ... i had a birthday ... threw myself a party...had a friend visit... adopted a cat (pictured left) ...said cat then went into heat (which is really quite a sight to see)... and am now attempting to blog again ...

where's she been?

and here: in Ballyvaughan

What she be saying?

Where have I been?

the burren college of art ....

(not my pics btw ...)




















i am having issues with the internet connection in county clare ...and with blogger ...so bare with me... will post more later