Oh, Brother

My brother recently tweeted that he is going to donate plasma because, "[its] The only way [he] can think to make money."

Apparently the plasma industry is a booming one. You can make $25 a donation, and you can donate twice a week. That's fifty bucks...which is, good? I guess for bodily fluids.

This is the difference between my brother and I, while we share the same sense of humor and nose and you know, genetic make-up, if I was in a position where I needed to make money (which is what some people would call, "getting a Job.") one of the last things I would probably come up with is, take fluids out of my body for cash. It seems impractical for one (I don't really do needles)...and kind of like a not answer...

I mean, I guess if you only need to be making fifty dollars a week (and, not to belittle the point but, he owes me $75, which means I can either get cash or plasma donations apparently. I'm taking the green backs because everytime I hear the word "plasma" I think "placenta" and am immediatly grossed out beyond belief) than plasma donation is better than, uh, working at McDonalds for 10 hours, or working behind a desk for 5 hours or mowing 3 lawns...

except its not, because its not a job, and eventually, Baby Brother, you're going to need to get an actual one of those. You know, you fill out an application and make a resume and take a shower and shake some hands, lie a little about your qualifications and then show up, consistently at the same scheduled time on the same scheduled days...

Now, don't think this has to be boring - you can do ALL kinds of dumb shit and people will pay you for it.

Example - you can tutor kids. You might think you would actually need to know how to count and read - but no, if you do it through a tutoring place they give you all that crap...you just read out of the book and change a life. BAM!

There are a vast array of retail options where you can spend most of your day trying to look busy so your boss won't give you stuff to do, and the rest of the day playing with money. Sometimes you can eat stuff for free.

And then really, let me tell you, in my experience, sitting at a desk with varied amounts of responsibilities does have its benefits. You get to interact with people, sometimes, and do "fun projects" sometimes, but also, you get to write blogs and ponder the great mysteries of the world, like really, why anyone thought Snow Dogs was a good idea.

Naturally - this is a little bit more mentally challenging than donating parts of you body, but I think you will find it equally as rewarding.

And if not, you should look into what else you can donate, as I have heard kidneys go for a few dollars AND you already have two of them. Bonus.

The very first principle

While I am a great many things - I would never call myself principled. I have morals (no cheating, no killing, no white after labor day) but I don't really have principles. If that makes sense?! I figure there is a time and a place for everything, so I try not to limit myself...while I do love me some hyperbole I feel that saying that I am "never" going to do something is really just impractical, because with a drink or two and a "you won't" I can be game for pretty much anything.

Until today. I have found my one principle.

I refuse to buy tickets on Ticketmaster unless I absolutely have to. I understand that there are some festivals and what not that don't let you buy tickets at the door (or are so likely to sell out that trying to get them day of would be fool-hardy). But really, these exceptions are rare and for the most part I am now totally embargo-ing ticketmaster.

I am going to see the Joffrey's Cinderella in February with the lovely and talented Cindy Loo-hoo. This was my idea so it was my job to buy the tickets. No biggie - they're not that expensive for dress circle seats (although I did have a moment where I had to decide between dress circle - good view of everything, or far right balcony - amazing view of feet. I am such a ballet nerd). I even found a code online for 10% off the ticket price. Yippie! Hooray!

On Monday, while avoiding work, I logged in to ticketmaster and went about looking for tickets and after I did everything I noticed that there was a $4.50 convenience fee per ticket. Now, the tickets themselves were $37. And then 10% off, which means that the discount basically paid for (some of) the convenience fee. Well, that's kind of ridiculous when you get right down to it. And that doesn't include the tax that they added on for shits and giggles.

I decided to wait, thinking that I would just go buy them on my way to/from Hyde Park on Wednesday or Thursday, since I am going/coming from that direction anyway.

The rest of Monday happens and then some of Tuesday and then I am feeling stressed out and grouchy and lazy. Then I check the times for the Box Office and realize that they're only open until 6 PM. Which is fairly useless for me since I don't normally hit that neighborhood until about 6:15, unless I rush (which, in my lazy haze I decided I never do). So I decided I would suck it up and drop the extra money.

I decided that I would have the tickets mailed to me, because for some reason putting a 44 cent stamp on an envelope costs $2.50 LESS than me printing them out at home (really? really ticketmaster?) and that I would forgo any sort of insurance figuring that if the City of Chicago loses my tickets then I should probably take it as a sign and stop living here - because seriously, how do you live in a city that can't even deliver mail correctly).

Then when I'm all done and getting ready to give them my credit card I realize that there is another $3.30 fee that's tacked on at the very end. A 'handling' charge or something - I don't know what they're handling, but they need to knock it off.

At this point, my $66 worth of tickets has sky rocketed $79. Now I get that to all you rich white folks out there, $13 is not that much, but you have to understand that it is the PRINCIPLE of the thing (also, I am dirt poor).

How can they go about charging $13 of convenience fees??! And if I wanted the convenience of printing the tickets out on my own printer with my own ink and my own paper it would cost me an addition $2.50 (I don't know if that's per ticket...and really at this point it doesn't matter)...

Anyway - so this got me so enraged that I left work (this is all because my boss still isn't back from winter vay-cay and when you're your own boss...you get to do whatever you want including be an asshole on principle) took the train down to the theatre, had a conversation with an actual human being, picked out my tickets, handed them my credit card, and then was given a set of real tickets in a real envelope handed to me with a smile and a "Have a nice day."

You cannot BUY that people. And so now, I will continue doing stupid stuff because I live a mostly unprincipled life, except I will buy all my tickets in person...because that is what is really important.

If I were this, I would be that.

If I were a month, I’d be May.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Thursday
If I were a time of day, I’d be 10 PM.
If I were a planet, I’d be Pluto.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a starfish.
If I were a direction, I’d be east.
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a big comfy chair.
If I were a liquid, I’d be champagne.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be an opal.
If I were a tree, I’d be a dogwood.
If I were a tool, I’d be a phillips head screwdriver.
If I were a flower, I’d be a hydranga.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be a blizzard.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a recorder.
If I were a color, I’d be sparkly pink.
If I were an emotion, I’d be gleeful.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a raspberry.
If I were a sound, I’d be waves crashing.
If I were an element, I’d be copper.

If I were a car, I’d be automatic.
If I were a food, I’d be an avocado.
If I were a place, I’d be a volcano.
If I were a material, I’d be paper.
If I were a taste, I’d be sweet and spicy.
If I were a scent, I’d be lavender.
If I were an object, I’d be a key.
If I were a body part, I’d be an foot.
If I were a facial expression, I’d be grouchy.
If I were a song, I’d be in a minor key.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d keep your feet warm.

Fiiiiiive golden rings

Sha-ZAM.


People, I have written this blog One Two Four and now FIVE times.

I have very little to be personally proud of in my life, everything I accomplish seems end up being a group effort with other people, but once a year I have the opportunity to tell myself, "Look, look what you can do! Its kind of useless, but you do it! Some people write dissertations or movie scripts, but you! you write unreadable novels. Wa-hoo! You go girl" And that is kind of awesome.

I say this every year and every year I totally mean it, this is getting harder and harder. I do not know quite what that says about my life but it is still totally true. If you look at this bar graph you will see how this almost did not happen.



So you can see that seriously it was not until today that I was anywhere near my goal. Mostly because this year I (finally?!) have a job where I have to do work the WHOLE time I am working. At none of the jobs I have had in the past five years have I been required to actually give my 110%, this is kind of sad but also kind of awesome, until this month when I had to spend five days a week writing for a job and then had to go home and find the inspiration to write. It was a challenge (as you can see...).

This is why I will never haterate on any of my friends who have real jobs and try to do this. It is hard as shit and I'm only doing it because I am super, super stubborn.

I also realize that these become less like novels and more me just getting my writing demons out as much as I can in 30 days. This year's novel took place in about 24 hours. Less even. It takes place from 7:15 AM to 1 AM. I'm like friggin Jack Bauer over here. And really nothing happens? Well, okay the protagonist gets to Vermont, and goes to a Friendly's. She also goes to a bar and hollers at a governor, but really there is just a lot of sitting around and talking and introspection. A whole lotta introspection. Turns out a good mental diversion can eat up 2,000 or 3,000 words.

Even though over all the writing is fairly terrible there are some sentences that have a glimmer of potential and for a month of work, that's enough for me.

And of COURSE - my thanks go out to:

The boyfriend (and his family) for letting me spend most of the Thanksgiving weekend writing instead of being social and/or putting up Christmas lights. Also for the food. And I got wine AND a cookie tonight for celebration!

MB - for letting me bail on so much stuff these past few weeks and being perfectly cheerful when I tell her that I am not coming into work so I can write my novel, or I'm going to leave at noon so I can write my novel and for also for trying to win me street cred with the kids by telling them that I was writing the novel.

Pandora - Oh man, can I tell you, I have the girlest, most embarrassing personal Pandora station. It is all Glee, broadway musicals, Adele and Taylor Swift. No joke. So humiliating and yet apparently good for writing.

Dollop - I only went there once, but it is an awesome, and funky and inspiring and I can't wait to go there for real work.

Hazel - There is not a better writing kitten in the whole world, for reals people. She is so snuggly and warm and just wants you to succeed. Also she fights with tinsel and it is hilarious.

Courtney - for being there, forever and always. See you in a few weeks, C-bomb. I'll be the one with the Bears Santa hat on holding a sign saying "SOLID GOULD."

My goal is to actually post a real blog between now and next November. Also, to finish writing all the things that were due before November.

NaNo-lazy

So, once again I am writing a novel this month, BAM! And once again I am procrastinating like whoa. I am incredibly over confident in my capacity to churn out 30,000 words in 4 or 5 days.

Its very strange to talk about this with new people, because inevitably the first question is, "Well, what is it about?" And when I pause for like 10 seconds before answering, they start to think I'm full of shit.

"I...don't...know?"

Then they know I'm full of shit.

Here's the thing, I have an idea for a plot and so far, the narrative is kind of going in that direction that I wanted it to, but the plot is kind of weird (because it was the first thing I came up with) and anytime I try to explain it to someone they give me a look of, "uh...listen Novel-girl..."

And the thing is, its not really about that - what this "novel" about is writing. I've spent pages discussing things like, Friendly's, being in a cab, and the waiting room of a hospital.

I am comforted by the fact that this piece of work will never see the light of day (or anyone else's eyes for that matter). Its a way for me to sculpt sentences, to play with metaphors and just explore thoughts.

I used to make my novels run a close parallel to my life as a way of trying to figure out what I should be doing, but now its fun to explore the paths I didn't take - the things that might have been and the things that would have never been but are fun to write about.

So I just write and write and occasionally think about how this is going to align itself with the plot I figured out. Its similar to improv in this way except longer lasting.

See you guys at the end of the tunnel.

Stranger Danger

So, quite suddenly and with very little warning, I find myself playing host to an 18 year old girl from Argentina for the rest of the week.

This girl worked with the Artistic Director of my company a while back and he suggested that she come work here- apparently she's got some mad skills and the boss man thought we could use a little Latin Flavor (its true- for such a diverse group of kids we work with, no one can actually speak legit Spanish on the entire staff).

So like three months ago I started working on this girl's visa application (after getting one in a mere 24 hours, the powers that be could tell I had a serious skill when it comes to visas) she was just this hard-to-remember-how-to-pronounce name, an e-mail address, and a little bit of job security.

Now, after a surprising amount of work and a gajillion e-mails, she is finally here. In America. For the very first time. Currently the number of people she knows in this country can be counted on one hand. And I'm the one who has known her the longest. I picked her up from the airport, took her to the grocery store, the bank, gave her a map, packed her a lunch, started explaining essential things like public transit, the bike path on Lake Shore, what a Jewel Osco Preferred Card is and how she has to keep the door to her room a little bit open so the cat doesn't pee everywhere.

She seems to understand what I'm saying for the most part which I find surprising, only because I know how fast I talk and while I have been making a concerted effort to slow it down, when I get going, I see a very glazed look come over her face.

I have started to think back to when I was 18, while I was a very mature 18, if I had gone to a new country where I knew no one, had a very tenuous grasp on the language and was relying on the kindness of people I had never even spoken on the phone with, I would have been terrified. Which she must be, and she's doing a really good job of rolling with the punches.

I feel kind of like I have an unannounced foreign exchange student and no one really told me what to do with her...Its only for a few days, but they're pretty critical first days...I keep worrying that I'm going to mess up some how, that I'm not going to give her some piece of very critical information and she's like, going to get lost, or stranded or mugged...

Luckily its only for a few days.

Great Urban Race - Chi town

Okay - so, its a week late, but here's the lowdown on our very first Great Urban Race.

Boyfriend and I were there on time - early even, but didn't really want to drink a beer at the meet-up bar because the worst possible thing was to have to make a bathroom pit stop in the middle of the race.

One of the main flaws of GUR is the lack of chip timing. Because what it meant was that everyone was given an envelope of clues and then there was a mad rush for the door- had there been more people there could have been some serious injuries and we also saw at least one team make it out before the lady in charge said Go. But anyway - we opened the envelope of clues and just started running. We realized that the best bet was to just get on the Red Line and go downtown.

Once we got on the train platform (along with every other team) we waited for about 10 minutes for the train. In that 10 minutes we solved pretty much every clue that needed to be solved. Thanks to both of our internet-phones and our text-a-friend Little Brother. Once we got on the train we mapped out a route. Everything I had read about the race said that the most important part was to figure out which clue to skip to save yourself as much time as possible.

Boyfriend really wanted to skip the clue that told you to find someone in a tie-dyed shirt or Chuck Taylors. I was sure that that was going to be way easier than he thought, and sure enough - once we got off the train we (and a whole bunch of other teams) accosted this perfectly normal guy and asked to take a picture with him and his sneakers. He was very nice about it.



With that taken care of, we decided that if we couldn't find a job application or "Help Wanted" sign (harder than it would seem with this whole internet fad) before we finished all the downtown clues we would skip that and go find the clue that required us to do a relay race. Once we get off the train, we start with the clues that are furthest south.

We had to take a picture in front of Berghoff's restaurant with 8 other people doing the "Superstar" pose (never gets old, right?) I thought this was going to be impossible, as this is a pretty fanciest restaurant and normal people wandering around on a rainy Chicago Saturday aren't going to want to stop and pose like an idiot. Boyfriend realized that obviously there were going to be a lot of other teams down there too - so we should go and just take pictures with them. He was right.



I can't believe they accepted this picture at the finish line because there aren't really 10 people in it. But its fine. Also, thus begins the pattern of looking terrible and out-of-focus in every picture. In our own defenses - it was rainy and humid and we were running everywhere.

After we did that we split up. Boyfriend counted the number of flags on a building and I went to Walgreens to buy a toy for a toy-drive for the charity GUR was partnering with. Right after we split up, I realized that I had no phone and only like $5 cash. If for any reason, we can't meet up, I am totally stranded.

I buy a matchbox car and magically, Boyfriend meets up right with me. We run towards the drop off place for the toys and get our picture taken with the mascot of the charity.



Then as we race towards the Art Institute to take our picture with one of the lions, I stop into the Patty Melt restaurant and lo-and-behold! They still do paper job applications. The guy who gives me the application tries to have a conversation with me about what they're looking for in employees and I'm like, "yeah, great..." and run out.

Then we have this nice girl (who apparently had been asked to do this many times by the time we got there) take our pictures in front of the Lion. We were holding up 7 fingers because that's how many flags there were in the window that Boyfriend had counted.



At this point we were done with downtown, so we went to get on the Brown Line to head back north. At this point we WAIT and WAIT for the train, which became quite the pattern. We end up talking to a few other teams. They all seem really serious about the race, so we think that we're probably doing okay. Finally the train comes and we take it up to Armitage. We get off with everyone else doing the race and head towards the Tin Man statue in Wizard of Oz park.

This also caused a problem, because I am a) disturbingly out of shape, b) not a runner, and c) had jacked up my achillies with my bike pedal the day before and so was having more trouble than normal running. This was the farthest we had to run and I did not do a good job. But eventually we got to the Tin Man and got our picture taken.



Then we got on a Lincoln Bus to make our way to Kingston Mines for a dance lesson. The bus driver was kind of an idiot and lets us off a few stops too early and so we run to Kingston Mines. Then (mine and boyfriend's favorite clue) we had to do a 5 minute salsa lesson. While I was really anxious to get going it was really fun to get to dance in an air-conditioned roon for a few minutes. It gave us a chance to relax and have fun before heading back down to Fullerton and Lincoln to get our picture taken eating a hot dog. This is possibly the creepiest picture ever, btw.



After taking that first bite, I then decide that this is the appropriate time to go ahead and put some mustard and ketsup on the dog and eat THE WHOLE THING. Horrible, horrible idea - because then what do we have to do (wait for it) RUN. While digesting Hot Dog. Gross.

We run to the Fullerton Brown Line and then finally realize what the hold up has been. Apparently in our whole evening of studying the night before, we forget to check to see how the CTA is going to be running the next day. The brown and red lines are running on a single track so we wait and wait and wait for a train. At one point I say that I'm going to stab someone in the heart loud and forcefully enough for a girl to look at me and walk the other direction.

FINALLY the train comes and we think that we're doing pretty well. We only have two clues left and then we have to head back to Cubby Bear. We pass Wellington and the train just.stops. Not at the station (oh, no, that would be WAY too convenient), just past the station so we can't get off of it, we just have to wait and wait and wait and get really really mad at the world, and then take it out on each other. FINALLY the train starts moving again and we get off at Belmont. I still maintain that it was faster to take the train than to try to walk/run 20 blocks in the disgusting humidity. Boyfriend is not sure, but we were waiting long enough that I think it's what knocked us out of finishing in the top 25.

We get off at Belmont and go to Comedy Sportz where we have to play a round of charades. I got the word "soup" and it took Boyfriend approximately 7 seconds to guess it (no joke, the group next to us was there when we got there, and there when we left).

We are happy to be making up time and run to the Tattoo shop on Belmont to put a temporary tattoo on Boyfriend's face. All the time we made up with the charades is lost in our inability to successfully apply the tattoo. Had we been patient enough to wait the 30 seconds the first time we would have been fine, but no dice. After 4 tries we manage to get it to work.



Then we're done except for one last clue. For this I would like to send a shout out to the Penn Laurel Girl Scout Council for teaching me the game Between Green Glass Doors. The one "riddle" question we had gotten, I had figured out in less than 30 seconds. So while we are waiting for the light to change we get a random girl to hang up the phone with her mom and take our picture with the Sheffield street sign in the back.



Then its a straight shot up to the Cubby Bear. By this point my foot is killing me and I am hot and sweaty and we've run about 4 miles. I had not at all prepared myself to run this much and am miserable. Unfortunately both teammates have to cross the finish line at the same time, so Boyfriend, very sweetly walks with me until we get to about Strange Cargo (that made our awesome Baracketship tee-shirts) and then we run. We run until we get across the finish line.

Then I pass out.

Not really, but I do feel like it would be a good choice. At least so I don't have to stand anymore. But we get up to one of the judge's stations and realize there aren't that many people around. One of the judge's checks off all our clues and tells us we're good to go.

At this point its 2:30 and we decide that we're going to sit around and wait for the awards ceremony. We have a plate of loaded tater tots (which were amazing) and a beer and we kind of hang out.

We stay for the awards and realize, sadly, that we hadn't made the top 25. Two days later we get the results and find out that we finished 43rd out of 480 teams (so in the top 50 AND top 10th percentile). We were also only 6 minutes behind the 25th team. We were on the brown line for at least 10 minutes, so we have decided that we can blame it on that.

All in all, it was AWESOME. Next year I am going to a- train. It was a lot more running that I could have ever imagined. And b- check the train schedule. It would have been so much faster to take buses most of the way. Also, had we taken a minute to read the clues before running we would have realized that there were 2 clues close to the bar and that it might have been faster to do those at the beginning instead of the end.

We're coming for you 2010.

www.greaturbanrace.com

Uh-oh

Mother: Lyme Disease.

Father: Jacked up intern.

Brother: Rabies.


---I'm not going outside. EVER.

File this under things I love:

1 - Pointed toes.

2 - Things that make me feel like I'm defying the laws of nature.

3 - Mutual respect and admiration by both children and adults.

For Tierra

My T-bone has had a rough weekend, so this post is dedicated to her. Meet the Chicago Hot Dog:



This picture does not to it justice, but for a really sick, exhausted girl this was the best lunch in the world from the super awesome Hot Dog joint down the street.

A Chicago Style Hot Dog comes with

Beef dog
Poppyseed bun
tons of Mustard
tons of bright green relish (it's alien relish, I've never seen pickles this neon before)
lettuce
chopped raw onions
cucumber
tomato
pickles (yes, Pickles AND Relish)
hot peppers
celery salt

It's so big you cannot get it all into your mouth (...that's what she said) and it is life changing. It's calling to you Tierra...it will never break your soul. Not even a little bit.

wee ones

Is it weird that hanging out with kids makes me want them LESS? I hung out with my two newest cousins, Ethan and Connor and while they are soul-crushingly adorable, they are a TON of work. When I was in middle/high school and I hung out with anyone under the age of 4, my biological clock would speed to a neck-breaking pace. Now, it grinds to a halt.

Don't get me wrong, I still love kids - particularly ones that are related to me, dressed nicely, or British. But seeing the work that goes into it makes me want to take a nap and about 40 birth control pills. They scream for NO reason, they poop ALL the time, you have to feed them special food, and there is no promising that they will sleep when you want them to.

I know this isn't news, by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been thinking about how time is now working against me. Its time to start wanting kids according to all the websites/magazines I pretend to read and yet the idea is terrifying to me.

Where is this going?? No idea, but in 2 days this blog will be accompanied by pictures of said adorableness once I get them on my computer.

As promised.

Chicago Spring

Today when I left my house I was wearing:

Jeans.
Thick Socks.
Converse.
Tank top.
Long sleeved tee.
Tee shirt.
Light cardigan.
Hoodie.
Another hoodie.
North Face.
Pair of gloves.
Another pair of gloves.

And I was comfortable. I walked about ten blocks in this get-up and was perfectly happy.

Then when I walked from job 1 to job 2 (which is conveniently located about ten blocks from job 1 on Tuesdays) at 1 PM, I was slightly warm, but not miserable.

When I left job 1 at 3:30 I was ridiculously overdressed. Like jerk-ily over dressed, like no longer needed anything but a tee-shirt over dressed.

How does that happen??

Chicago is such a twat tease when it comes to the Spring weather. I check it every morning and when it says that the high is only going to be getting up to 46. I take that to mean that the mercury is not going to rise to 60 degrees and yet, no dice.

This morning I should have had a winter coat on. It was 29 degrees. That's coat weather, but I have retired my coat for the winter and refuse to get it back out. So layers are the only option but they aren't working either.

Why can't we just get on with it and have no-coat weather?

I'm sorry I bit you... and pulled your hair... and punched you in the face...

So, today was lame in so many ways which is why Lilo and Stitch, white wine and some sweatpants are quite perfect.

Also, I think I love this movie so much because I feel like Lilo...when I'm not feeling like Stitch.

Because I can't afford the real deal

I will watch Planet Earth in HD and dream about being able to see all these places and animals.

And then I will probably plan a trip to Vegas. Because I'm an idiot.

for the kids

Dear Children of America,

Heyyyy. It's your favorite Aunt Rachel over here. I know I'm super cool because I spent most of my time getting drunk and being the center of attention. Also I wear trendy clothes and I made you feel like less of a whore that one time you went all the way with that kid you met in the bar who smelled like Patchouli and Filet-O-Fish. You know that my advice is sound. So grab a cold beer for your auntie, sit down, and listen up.

Fuck your dreams. Seriously, unless they involve a career with limitless growth and opportunities for pay raises no matter the economic shit hole your country is in, fuck your dreams.

Too harsh? Fine. Reevaluate your dream. Classical Pianist you say? Sure, except instead be a Pharmacist. The next [insert author/photographer/actor of your choosing]? Right, of course, by which you mean Engineer of pretty much any caliber.

I'm not saying you need to give up your dreams. That's mean and I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about this little note.

Focus on what's really important.

Dental Insurance.

You can do pretty much anything once you have a job with insurance. Sure, you'll be doing it on the side and it will mean that overtime you'll get less sleep. But you can sleep after sex, so really just do what I tell you.

I know that there are those sanctimonious douche bags out there who say that if you have a "fall back" plan you will inevitably fall back. And that might be true but its dumb and pricky to say. What these d-waffles should be saying is, "get a degree, get a job, figure out how your dreams work themselves in."

I am not saying I regret the choices I've made in life. Mostly because I don't like the satisfaction that will give various people I don't like and also, I don't. Because I can now be a billboard of what your life can turn into if you're not careful. Also, I'm deliriously happy for about 3 hours a week, and I get to get shithoused on like, Tuesday, with very few consequences - mental or otherwise, and I wear sweatpants probably more than is appropriate for any person over the age of 7.

So, think about it. I've heard that government work will probably turn you into an abusive alcoholic, but it will also give you the opportunity to have someone else pay for your absurdly expensive dental procedures. Two sides to every 3-dimensional object, my friend.

Love and Kisses,
Rachel

Chubs.

It is now 4:38 PM. Here is a completely accurate list of what I've eaten today.

- Half a Chocolate Chip Cookie
- 2 slices of wheat toast. With Nutella.
- A glass of Orange Juice
-The other half of the Chocolate Chip Cookie
-A few tortilla chips with home-made Guac.
-4 handfuls of tiny Necco Conversation Hearts
-2 squares of a Bacon Chocolate Bar
-Another half of a Chocolate Chip Cookie.


Now, in my (weak) defense. I know I'm being taken out to dinner tonight, so I haven't been eating very much as I plan on enjoying my yummy Hopleaf meal. But, I am embarrassed of myself. So I decided to tell the world.

ka.boom

Dear Airplanes,

Please stop falling from the sky.

Love,
Rachel

heckled

On Wednesday I was at Clark and Lake waiting for the Red Line.

I was in a GREAT mood. I had had a great morning of writing, I was wearing new pants and I was about to experience the German/Gym Wheel for the first time.

As I walked down the platform, I noticed a performer with a guitar, a harmonica and a Nantucket Sweatshirt.

Nothing puts a big, dumb smile on my face than a Nantucket sweatshirt. So I decided to get my camera phone out and attempt to subtly take a picture of this guy to add to my gallery of ridiculous camera phone photography.

I put my bookbag down on a bench and open the front pocket to find my phone, while my hand was in the bag I discovered that my ipod headphones cord was all tangled so I pulled it out to untangle the cord before it became a bigger disaster.

"Excuse me Miss. Do you have every song ever made on that CD?"

I hear the voice and make out what its saying but ignore it, because there is no way that that person is talking to me, and if they are, I have no interest in answering (particularly these days, because now that I'm not man hunting 24/7 I'm not even checking to see if random-talking-stranger is cute).

"Excuse me. Miss. Excuse me. Miss. Miss."

When the repetition starts everyone knows its time to answer, because otherwise there is a very good chance you might end up on the business end of the C-word and/or a punch to the face.

I look up and the street performer guy makes direct eye contact with me.

"Hey. You have every song ever written on that CD player?"

I am not quite sure what he's talking about as the only CD player I currently own is attached to the computer hidden in my backpack and if he has x-ray vision and that's what he's asking then the world is probably minutes from ending anyway, so no reason to lie.

"Um no?"

"How do you know you don't like my music if you've never heard it. Unless you're listening to every song ever made."

And now I get it.

He is insinuating that I was getting my ipod out so I could listen to my music instead of what he was going to play. And that that was incredibly rude and presumptuous of me to assume that my music was better unless I was listening to ever song ever written/played/made. Also, that I was carrying a CD player because it is obviously 1998.

At this point people have noticed. It was noon, but I was downtown, so there were enough people on the platform and we were standing far enough apart that people could hear him and realize that he was talking to me.

And so now I am embarrassed because at the beginning of this wait-for-the-train I totally liked this guy and how we shared a penchant for souvenir sweatshirts from WASP-y resort-esque islands and now I'm being lectured like a five year old who won't stop touching his junk.

At this point I zip up my bag and go back to ignoring the guy as he continues to mumble. My face is flaming red. I have untangled my ipod headphones cord at this point and put the buds in my ear listening to whatever song comes on first.


The rest of the day continues in the same ilk, with a rip in the new pants, forgetting my leftovers dinner at home and dealing with more idiots...

I'm sorry, what sort of street performer has the balls/insecurity to yell at people for not listening to him even BEFORE they have their headphones actually in?

dumb love

I still hate Valentine's Day.

Apparently, this is causing a little stir. People don't quite understand why I'm not giddy with the anticipation of flowers and calories and awkward dinner dates where I have to wear a dress.

Well. I hate flowers (why would you give some one a present that is literally DAYS from dying/is technically already dead? Would you give someone a 17 year-old cat with Feline Leukemia? Sit down. Think about it. That is dumb. A plant? In soil? Is different, but I'm still not interested). I really don't need any more calories in my life, and if I want candy- I want it the day AFTER Valentine's Day for 50% off, because I'm a girl who likes saving for a down payment. And Awkward Dinner? No thanks. I mean, I love a good meal out as much as the next girl, but I would spend the entire night staring at everyone else wondering they were going to break up/have sex/get engaged. And if someone got engaged in the restaurant I was eating in, I would probably throw food in their lap. Gross (they don't wash that floor very often, get off your knee) and Cliche. And honestly, I can't really decide what's worse between the two.

Here's the thing. YES. I have a boyfriend that I love. But so?

I cannot think of anything more hypocritical than spending the first 22 years of your life (okay, I probably didn't care the first 15 or so, but whatever) feeling inadequate for being "incomplete" this one day a year and then finally getting to a point (23) where you're perfectly happy to make out with strangers but not have someone to buy you a stuffed animal and candy and dinner (ps - receiving that as a gift that makes you sound like a 12 year-old. Gross. Again.) and THEN all of a sudden when something alters slightly (ie- a boy won't stop bothering you and tricks you into taking him home for Christmas), you're singing the praises of St. Cupid for giving you this opportunity to declare your love for this person who just showed up.

Dumb.

I mean, I am under the assumption that if my boyfriend would like to purchase a present or food for me, he is at his leisure to do so whenever the spirit moves him. It would be weird and awkward, but he can do whatever he wants. I may wear the pants, but I don't control him (okay, I do kind of, but I think he understands that he can buy me food and things and if he doesn't understand he will comment on this blog, I'm sure).

And that road runs both ways...

So, on Saturday, I will wake up hungover from a birthday party Friday night, do a kid's show, go to Circus class (maybe - see hangover), and then spend the rest of the day enjoying having more than 6 hours of daylight without obligations. Will my boyfriend be around? Probably. I can't seem to shake him.

old/new thing

"I saw my first dead body." I announced to my Mother as the train pulled out of the station, making its way back to Chicago.

"No, you didn't. And what?"

I explained about the day. The day that felt so long because of the standing and the sadness. Sadness made the second hand on his watch stop.

And if the sadness wasn't enough to fill the room, she took up the rest of it. This complete stranger who dominated the space, and made me more nervous than any of the other strangers, even though she never asked me an awkward question or looked at me as though she had maybe met me before (No, that was someone else).

"Grandma Payton was your first dead body," Mom explained.

Grandma Payton who lives on in over-told stories of swivel stools and potty training.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you were three and you rushed right up to the casket and stared down at her. You thought it was the coolest thing."

"Mom, what kind of sick fuck kid did you raise?"

talk about your gas giants...

Apparently, Mars farts.

This makes my day better.

Quack Quack

So, I've been in quite the rut thus far in 2009. A whole bunch of things have gone not-right and I've spent more of this year crying than probably the past three years combined (so Lame.) I was told today how disappointed the public is that I haven't updated my blog in forever. And for that I am sorry. But the thing I hate the most is the emo-kid blog of sadness and complaining about upper-middle-class life, so I haven't done it in awhile.

It feels like I have this hole inside of me, it hurts pretty much all day. Sometimes I forget about it, but most of the time its there, hurting.

I was thinking about that when I finally got out of my pj's and showered today (the ripe hour of 2 PM) and I realized that I'm pretty self absorbed and that most people in the world have it way way worse than I do.

So here it is. The things that I am so very very lucky to have. I hope that once I write this list I'll remember to look at it every day and that it will help fill the hole.

My Lucky List.

My immediate family. I know beyond all shadows of doubt that these people will go to the mat, to the death, cage match style for me with out even being asked. I have never doubted any of their love for me and as we all grow up I am so lucky to have two siblings that I love hanging out with, and two parents who love me and no matter what I do will always be there to help in anyway they can.

My extended family. While sometimes they get real drunk and loud, and doubt my decisions (particularly where college and professional sports are concerned), they have always and will always provide a place to sleep and a meal to eat. They're a pile of crazy but they seem to appreciate the decisions I make and look at awe upon the life I've built for myself.

My boyfriend. Who is so excited about the future that it makes me want to throw up. Who believes that the glass will always be half full. Who doesn't mind that I never ever shave my legs and always take the biggest half of the cookie.

My friends. I have a full NFL team roster of people who like to hang out with me. Who know my flaws and still are willing to be seen in public with me. And some of them are down the block and some of them are hours and hours away but they're all a phone call, or an IM or a facebook message away. And they want to talk, and they're happy to listen. And they've got my back in a bar fight. There is something to be said for the fact that when I plan to go out, the list of people I call takes up both hands and when I go home I never get to see all the people I want to see because there isn't enough time. And I could go to Seattle, or New Orleans, or New York City and have a place to sleep and people who would love to see me.


My health. With the exception of my penchant for enormous December bruises on my legs and my tendency to stub my toe and run into walls. My health bills are minimal. I don't get really sick hardly ever. And I sometimes get free birth control from my doctor's office.


My roommates. Sure, they're messy and sometimes loud but they pay bills on time, they don't bring complete strangers into the apartment. They aren't blowing coke off the sink. They let me drink their milk and they only complain about my cat sometimes and they feed her just as often. They listen to my problems. They help my boyfriend find an apartment. They unplug my straightener when I leave it on.

My cat. She's really cute and snuggly and she let me cut her nails last night with minimal complaining.


My job. Sure, it sucks right now. But I nap all the time and its enough money to pay my bills and now I even get to use some of the skills I went to college for. Also, the naps. And the fact that I don't hate the people I work with. That's always nice.


My computer, ipod, jeans, winter coat, couch, bed, and other stuff I need new winter boots and shin guards but beyond that I have a lot of really nice things. Including a Jesus Doll. And new Slippers. And a nice laundry basket. And maybe its time to buy new boots and shin guards and then stop buying things. A lot of my friends have a ton of things, which makes me jealous but I have some things that they don't. Like a talking Jesus Doll.

The hole feels better now. Its not gone, but it'll be okay.

Ding!

And once again...its over and done. My fourth novel is now a word document that will probably only ever be opened when I run out of internet, just like the other three. Everyone keeps asking when they're going to get to read these, and I don't know if just a question you ask to be nice, when someone says they're writing a novel or you legitimately want to read this 50,000 word tome. But whatever the case, the answer will always be no.

In this format, in this space, these words will never be read. Sure, some got lucky enough to read excerpts from time to time, but those were the ones who took the journey with me. And some may get to read these words when they're twisted in a different way, and they're printed on real paper with real ink. A thought so scary and wonderful, I try not to wish or think too hard about it.

So stop asking.

These are my words. I wrote them for me. This is my challenge. It wasn't about coming in first, or having the most, or doing it the best. These are my words. I do this every year to prove to myself that it can be done. To prove to myself that somewhere under all the self loathing and deprecation and procrastination there are words out there that want to get out, even if they (and I) don't know it yet.

Sometimes I wonder, normally around day 23 if this is worth it. If taking all of this time out of the month of November means anything, but by the time I'm done I'm always glad I've taken the time to do it. And its done. On to December.

The annual list of thanks:

To my museum compatriots who inspired me at some times, and left me the fuck alone at others, and for always knowing which time was which. Also for not ratting me out to the higher ups when I would stop doing work and sneak away to write.

Thursdays. Who know having a day off in the middle of the week would be so flippin' useful. On each Thursday (excluding thanksgiving) I wrote at least 4000 words. Awesome.

For all those who asked me to do things in the past thirty days and haven't gotten really, really mad when I've flat out ignored them, or promised to do them and then totally forgotten.

Boy. Who provided food, drink, snuggling, discipline and distraction all when necessary. And who is probably the only person in the world who is more happy I'm done with this than I am.

Cindy Loo-Who!! My wee writing protege. Who took up the reigns herself and on the 21st, when I was ready to quit, threw her arms around me and yelled that I couldn't quit because she would have nothing left to live for (in her defense, she was pretty drunk when she said all that), and who was holding my hand as we crossed the finish line together in that super ridiculous way that we have of doing most things. And who gave me food, drink and football on a big, sexy, man TV tonight to inspire me to finish in time.

My Mom who (unknowingly) provided me with about 99% of the sustenance I consumed while writing at home. My favorites this year included Easy Mac, Mini Nantucket cookies, and the little boxes of Yogurt covered Raisins (don't worry Cougar, I'm saving the mini pickles for a celebration)

And of course, C. who made the journey with me this year, and looked like she was going to quit when times got hard, but stuck it out and got to celebrate with me this year. And will always be there for conversations like this:

Rachel- Have forgone writing for some semblance of a social life. This is probably a mistake.

C.- Ditto.

Rachel- We're lushes. Procrastinating lushes.



Here's to '09.

copycat

I just found this as a comment on Tierra's blog. Not all of it refers directly to me. But it makes a lot of sense. And just reading it over a few times made me feel a little more okay about Everything. So Maurice, if I ever meet you on the non-internets. I owe you a frosty/warm beverage of your choosing.

His Reply to Tierra (originals to be found here)

Now, I know I don't have to tell you this, but.....


You are not broken.


You hate your job. You're also in your mid 20s. If you loved your job, and it paid the bills, I would say you need to do whatever it is until you die, or retire. As it stands now, you still have plenty of time to find that type of job.


You hate the city you live in. As do I. I am moving in a week. You will probably be gone (or have to option to be gone) in about 6 months. It could be worse. At least you have a city elsewhere to call home, that you actually like. What if you were actually FROM New Orleans, and hated it? You'd probably be lost.

I ran as far from Philly and the DC area as I could most of this year, and most of the past 8 years, until finally realizing going home was inevitable, and I should try to make the best of it, and maybe even embrace it. Not saying you should have to like New Orleans, or embrace it, but, you should try to make the best of it.


You are childless. I'm guessing you prefer it that way, for now at least. You are probably fretting more that you will never find anyone who wants to raise kids with you. That's a better problem to have than actually having unplanned kids with someone who doesn't want to raise them with you, or who is terrible at it.


You're single. There could be a million reasons as to why this is. Unless they are changeable or alterable things, I wouldn't worry about them. I'm single. There are changeable reasons for this I am or planning on working on. There are reasons beyond my control, that I have long since stopped giving much thought to. And I'm a worrying-type, by nature (one of those things I'm working on). Forcing change is not a good idea either. Forced change is unhappy change, and unhappy change leads to unhappy relationships.


Basically, we are at an age where we can afford to work these problems out, and where half of us are still doing just that. (I know for some it seems like everyone you know is married and successful. Not really, it's just that those that aren't tend not to be on our envy radar, because that's not where we want to be.)


It's ok. This is the internet, you're supposed to vent here. :)



---

I like it when people tell me its Going To Be Okay. And I can almost believe them.

barackward

I have lost all faith in myself recently.

Sometimes I wish my parents didn't read this blog.

Change smells like cinnamon

You might not like Barack Obama.

You might snub America's two party system.

You might think this is just the first sign of the Apocalypse.

But here's the deal. Its history and its real. Say what you will about Barack Obama, but he is a different candidate. He wasn't handed everything on a silver platter. He was involved in the community and half of his ancestory would/was kept as slaves in this country. And now he is president. And I know that you can't vote for the lesser of two evils and we have no idea how he is going to do as president - which some would say is a curse not a gift.

There are a lot of things I can say about my life, but few things that I would probably ever want to share with my children. And I finally have something. I knew exactly where I was when the election was called. Standing on the corner of Jackson and Congress in Grant Park with a random pile of people. Some of whom I had never met and some of whom I love very much. I know what I was wearing (black north face, jeans, grey tee shirt, navy tank and a "hot women vote Obama" button).

I remember the people standing on top of the portapotties and the giant Obama poster being carried around and looking into the faces of all these excited people who really hope that a change is on the way.

And you might not care, or you might hate him but you have to appreciate the fact that people cared. People were there. And that. Is powerful.

NaNoWri-pfffffft

So, its my yearly finger marathon. I'm less excited this year than I've ever been. Probably because of my knowledge of my totally insane schedule. I don't really have time for grocery shopping or laundry so I'm not quite sure where I'm going to find time to write 50,000 words that I don't know yet.

I need to find a job. Desperately. Finding a job in the best of circumstances sucks, but at this moment in this economy it sucks even more. But the fact remains that I need one. And at this moment, I'm not willing to settle for something I don't really, really like. We'll see how long it takes for that to change (probably about two weeks...or until I have to pay rent while unemployed).

I'm not good with fear. Right now I'm totally scared of what's about to happen, and the one person who is here to listen, I don't really want to collapse in front of. The collapse is eminent. I just so want it to be when I'm alone, not trying to be adorable and fun.

So I started my NaNo, four days late, today. This is my fourth year, so this feels like Senioritis. I know it'll get done eventually (except, that I totally don't). The nicest part about starting was that out of nowhere my normally mean, distant, antisocial cat decided that she was here for moral support and put her head on my laptop to give me the strength the start (That's her picture with my photobooth, it didn't really work but she is super gorgeous).

Anyway, expect more updates to the blog, now that I have procrastinating to do. Also, the secret that I've been keeping for the past few months is now kind of out in the open. So I can talk about it. Sort of. Vaguely. Using pronouns and metaphors.

Watch this space. Its about to get wordy.

Also, its 5:30 on the East Coast, if you haven't voted yet you are done complaining for the next 4 years.

my bad

So, it has come to my attention that people might be checking this space more frequently than I imagined. To those people, who every day come to my little square foot on the internet and are disappointed time and time again, I just want to say I'm sorry... My bad.

Here's the problem with me and blogging. I only do it when I have free time (which is not very often) and when I think I have something funny to say. And by something funny I mean, a story that I have yet to tell at least 8 people...once I have a good story/idea I normally don't get to a computer fast enough to put it out on the interweb before I've told various people.

I did get hit with a soccer ball on wednesday, which isn't terribly tragic most of the time, except that this was a corner kick (so it was kicked from a stationary position with as much force as the kicker could put behind it) and I was only about a first down away from the guy (I have a problem with calculating distances accuratly, I've been told that it might be helpful if I think about it in football terms. Crazily enough, it totally works).

My leg felt numb which was horrifying. Trying to run on a numb leg is, I imagine, akin to trying to run on a pegleg for the first time. You have no idea how much weight it can hold and what was super weird was that where I got hit had goosebumps, but none of the rest of my leg did. And the goosebumps were huge (for goosebumps). I've now used the word goosebumps so many times its seased to have meaning.

Anyway, when I got up the next morning there were still red lines on my leg indicating the seam of the ball where it hit me. That was gross, grosser still when I started showing it to people (almost 24 hours after I got hit). Even all the guys who were giving me shit about complaining were like, "yeah, that's pretty nasty."

Now its Friday so its been about 36 hours and the bruising that has formed is pretty horrifying. You can also still faintly see the line from where the ball is stitched together. I'm really starting to resent that ball, and whoever happens to own it. The person who owns the ball owes me dinner, and probably a leg massage and maybe they should run this 5K for me next weekend.

In other news: uuuuuh, never mind-- I got nothing.

Pants on Fires...

So, I've only seen about 10 minutes total of the RNC because that is about as much as Granny and I can collectively stomach. Its so strange being at the DNC and watching the RNC and trying to compare the two. Is it just me, or are the speakers at the RNC fuckin' mean? (Sarah Palin, I am looking directly at your stripper-Librarian face right now) And beyond that - they're liars. I guess, I'm liberal so I agree with the liberal views that I heard last week, but I mean - everything I heard seemed to be true. It seemed like the crap spewing from the mouths of the RNC puppets was just untrue.

Not being very political I kept my mouth shut until I came upon this in a blog I stalk.

I'm glad to know its not just me. And, I was out not watching McCain tonight, so I'll youtube it tomorrow and I'll absolutely dissolve into tears because there are people out in this world who actually think he would make this country a better place...and there are people out there who think that when McCain kicks the bucket, Palin is going to get to be her sassy mini-van driving VP self, that she won't essentially become the puppet of the powers that be in the republican party.

Gross.

Nantucket is nice though.

Three dots in the sky

I find that my homesickness manifests itself in very strange ways.

I almost never get homesick until right before I'm about to go home, but I think that has as much to do with going home as it does with just wanting a break from real life (and some Chick-fil-A).

I started going to sleep-away camp when I was in 6th grade and I would watch these girls cry and cry when their parents left them and then cry and cry every night and then cry and cry when their parents came to pick them up. Whereas I would wave goodbye at my Mom without so much as a second glance and then kind of forget about my family until Friday when they came to pick me up and I would beg to stay longer.

Sleepovers? No problem? Weeks with other peoples' families at the beach? Cake. My younger self had no problem with separation issues (which is apparently hilarious because my very younger three year old self apparently couldn't handle being separated from my mom for more than like 47 seconds without flipping out).

When I went off to college, my Mom dropped me at my New York City apartment and she was about to leave when I (shrilly) exclaimed, "but I don't have any food!" So she took me grocery shopping and that was enough. After the groceries, we hugged and kissed goodbye and things were fine. I think the only time I remember getting really emotional about being homesick was right after my Mom and Caroline and Belinda left after being in NYC for my 18th birthday, but again - life is more fun with my family around so it might have just been that.

I keep moving further and further away and while I feel the tug of the East Coast its nothing like some of my friends experience.

When I went to South Africa, I went the longest I've ever gone without actually vocally speaking to either of my parents (almost three weeks) and I knew I was upset, but I was also having so much fun that I couldn't decide which emotion (sadness or excitement) had the most power (I ended up drinking a whole lot, obvi, because I didn't want to make the choice).

I found that when I was feeling upset, the thing that calmed me down was finding the constellation Orion's Belt in the sky. I'm not a huge stars person, but its one of the easiest to pick out and one of the only ones you can see both in North America and South Africa.

Every night after drinking as we stumbled back to the dorms I would look up in the sky and announce that I had found Orion's Belt, as if it hadn't been discovered several thousand years ago. Then I would fall asleep, wake up and everything would be just fine.

Since I've gotten back from South Africa (about 3 and a half years ago), Orion's Belt has been one of those things that has remained a touchstone. Let's be f'real. You can see it pretty much from anywhere in the world and so I've found it in England, in New York City, on Nantucket, in Chicago...

Everywhere I go, when I'm feeling kind of lost and alone (which tends to happen most at night) I look up and find it and am okay again...and by okay I mean, I might end up crying or screaming at some point but when I wake up in the morning, everything will be just gravy.

So that's why, if you're ever standing next to me, and I exclaim that I've found Orion's Belt with an absurd amount of happiness-- don't roll your eyes. Just give me a hug because its probably what I want.

D. N. Flippin' C.

Its over. Its all over. I've sent my last blog (which might not even get posted), I've put up the rest of my pictures

I have all the buttons I'll buy here. Which isn't very many because I didn't get as much shopping time as I wanted. But I have plenty of schwag and 1300 pictures and this story to tell my grandkids.

It was really, really, reaaaaally overwhelming. By the end of yesterday I pretty much lost it and had a freak out for a solid 30 minutes before I managed to get myself back together. And I almost got hit in the face by a cop (you're going to have to ask me for that story). I loved getting to take pictures, but the life of a photographer is nuts and I wasn't even a real photographer so I can only imagine the added pressure when you're trying to get paid for your work. Also, your camera is probably pretty heavy when it is as big as most of theirs.

But I have to say, the once in a lifetime-ness of it all made it so worth it. I mean, I was there!! I saw Barack speak. I was 5 yards from him when he surprised everyone on Wednesday. I listened to Michelle and Bill and Hillary. I watching Hillary letting her delegates go, which was one of the most heartbreaking things ever (being a loser sucks and losing on this level probably sucks even harder and yet you have to keep smiling all the time). I saw Dennis Kucinich rev up a crowd more than I've ever seen (for the number of people in the audience, which wasn't many, making the amount of noise they made, which was a lot - I think it was one of the most well received speeches of all 4 days).

I don't think of myself as really political, just opinionated and I went into this thing not getting the big whoop about Barack. I know people who love him, and I respected their love but there was always this voice whispering in my ear, "he's just a presidential candidate" but I guess its because we haven't had a candidate like this in so long. I mean, I didn't see Kennedy run and I didn't see Clinton run (well, I don't really remember it) so maybe its because these past 8 years have just given us lame candidates. But when I got up there and listened to him speak and watched the people react to him, it made so much sense.

He's a rockstar. Liberals love rockstars. And I know there's some seamy underbelly to his story, but that's politics. People want to believe in him because they're running out of things to believe in. And while I don't totally feel that way, I respect it and am very interested to see how he does for the rest of this election.

Also, I touched a Kennedy. Which, if you aren't a democrat before, you sure are after. Bobby Kennedy Jr gave a 15 minute speech standing on a chair in the middle of a Gumbo restaurant in downtown Denver at 10 PM on Tuesday and it was amazing. It was stump-y of course, but it didn't matter. He's got the genes for it.

So here's the blog - which hasn't been updated all day, which sucks, but might be updated tomorrow. And pictures.

I'm ready to go home though. A whole three days of work, class, packing, unpacking and then off to Nantucket.

Michelle Obama has an amazing backside

My first day at the convention was one of the most overwhelming of my entire life. I am feeling really guilty right now because everyone is getting ready for the day (my Aunt and Uncle who have so graciously allowed me to stay on their couch are now cooking me bacon) and I am sitting here blogging and posting pictures to Picassa. I'm going to put up a few more pictures before I get ready for day 2 (Barbara Mikulski! Mark Warner! HRC!). My blogs can be found here

And my pictures can be found here


So check those all week!! And check here, if I get a chance I'll post here, but probably not because the FNP actually hooked me up with the press passes so I have to keep them happy before anyone else.

I will say though that listening to Michelle Obama speak and listening to Ted Kennedy speak and being right there with them for all of it was one of the most surreal experiences of my whole life. I've never been all about the politics, more all about the Hollywood, and so never thought of these as real people. But they are real and they're spectacular.

More soon.

Its almost over/its just beginning

So, life is kind of crazy right now, for a bajillion reasons. Most of them being that at some point in life I was taught to save all the best parts of summer for the end of it. I don't know why- but it makes a whole bunch of sense and it makes the transition into fall that much easier. Although, now that I'm no longer in school there shouldn't really be a transition, and yet for some reason there always is.

The rest of this week promises a Cubs game, a job interview, my first time hosting a Chicago party, new improv classes, and my first Nats game (which will also be my third cubs game).

Then next week I fly to Denver to take part in one of the craziest things I've ever talked my way into. The Democratic National Convention. I can't really believe that we're actually flying all the way there - and we're going to have press passes and I'm going to be in Colorado! For the first time!! Ever! I keep going West!

Then I come home with just enough time to unpack and then repack before heading to Nantucket. By myself!! I've never gone on a solo vacation. If it isn't completely sad its going to be totally wonderful. I don't think I spend enough time just by myself not talking. I have a lot of writing I want to get done and there will be nothing better for the muses then sitting on the porch eating portugese bread and drinking Granny's bad coffee.

After that...its the middle of September. I might have managed to talk my way into a new job. And I'll be taking two new classes, interning, doing shows and keeping myself more busy than most people actually believe possible. And its football season! And the world series! And I'll be turning 24. And I get to go to Chincoteague!! And my baby sister is turning 16 (more on that later).

I've been getting less sleep lately, for a whole bunch of reasons all good except for the fact that, you know - I miss sleep.

I know this sounds crazy, mostly because I am always crabby and I complain a lot and I seriously have no money, but I'm pretty absurdly happy right now. I know that once winter starts things are going to get pretty depressing, but I'm trying to save up happiness, like a squirrel, and I'll have it to get me through January and February.

Hey!

I don't like getting tricked.
I don't like being two steps behind.
I don't like knowing things last.

I don't like trusting people I don't know.
I don't like having to rely on my own judgment.
I don't like leaving things up to chance.

And yet -

Here I am letting all that happen because I'm trying to not be me for awhile.

It's hard.
And it sucks.

But it makes me kind of happy.

pondering.

"Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves."

With nothing good on TV right now, I'm going through and watching old Grey's Anatomy episodes. That was part of Meridith's voice over in one season 2 episode. I spent most of the time when I was watching this in real time ignoring the voice overs because Ellen Pompeo's voice gives me a headache. But I heard that today, and it made things a little bit clearer.

I look at the quote and I have to kind of shrug. Because its true, and I can't figure out how to stop it.

I *heart* Wisconsin

Things I experienced this weekend for the first time.

-Mar's Cheese Castle (unfortunately not a castle made of cheese).

-Cheese curds, regular (disgusting).

-Wisconsin Cheddar Grilled Cheese in Wisconsin, where the cheese is so gooey you get a cheese puddle.

-Donkey Balls.

-A Brat.

-A Pontoon Boat.

-Sturgeon Bay.

-A Fish Boil.

-$1 Beers (what? I didn't go to real college).

-The game of shoulders.

-Leinenkugel Summer Shandy (tastes like lemonade!)

-Door County Cherries (in ice cream, pie and cookies)

-Berry Wines (not a fan)

-Cheese curds, fried (amazing).

-A Tom Collins (although apparently when made with grenadine its fake)

-McDonald's Country Chicken Biscuit (embarrassingly delicious).

Summertime Chi (now throw your hands up in the sky)

So Tierra came and visited for five glorious days last week as part of her massive road trip and while my liver, checkbook, and BMI are probably secretly glad that she's gone, the rest of me absolutely loved having her here and wishes she would stay forever. I sometimes forget how amazing Chicago is in the summer. I'm so busy working and performing and running around that I never stop to be like, "damn, B. This is kind of the life."

While Tierra was here we went to my very first Wrigley field baseball game (which may also be my very first MLB stadium game - except of course for the one when I got kidnapped, but that was just batting practice so it doesn't count). I've decided that game and the Chicago Fire game this weekend, that I love live sports. The whole sports thing is still kind of new and bizarre (1 year of caring v. 22 years of not caring = big difference).

Also - I would like to point out that I'm fairly sure this was my first live men's professional game and it SUCKED where as ALL of the US women's games I've been to (both World Cup and otherwise in DC) have been amazing.

I also hung out with some random people while Tierra was here, because we pretty much hung out with whomever was around and all of them were so warm and welcoming which made me so happy - I've managed to make friends with some grade A midwesterners.

Tierra also got to see me perform both long and short form improv and got to see some great sketch comedy (as well as a decent harold). This is such a huge part of my life now. And she's the first one who's come out and actually seen it all go down. She seemed to love it.

I noticed while she was here that boys LOVED her. There were no nights that went by without some guy walking up to us and telling her that she is gorgeous. While, everyone loves a self esteem boost for themselves - I think I almost loved it more for her (I have plenty of problems with boys without complete strangers walking up to me-- also she's got that exotic halfrican thing going on).

So - the moral? Come to Chicago. While its gorgeous and summer-y. Not when its sucky and grey. Meet my amazing friends. See me be funny/an asshole on stage. Experience why I think that this city might be for keeps (at least for a few more years).

Makes Sense.

"The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What's that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first; get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating

...and you finish off as an orgasm."

-George Carlin.

drugs. the no-baby-making-kind.

So I switched birth control pills recently (yeah, that's right - we're gonna get real personal right about now). My old one was playing a huge part in the disaster that was my face and at the age of 23 I think I'm old enough to make medical choices based on vanity.

So I decided to switch. My NP is nervous because this new one has diuretic qualities as does another medication I'm on. And the two diuretics combined apparently will give me a potassium deficiency. I don't really understand the mechanics of it. But these people went to school for about 80 years, so I'll trust them.

For the first month, the pill seemed to be working great. There were no babies (which, um, let's leave that part of the equation alone for now). I switched right around the time I started my new job and was told by my mother that I might have an insulin deficiency of some sort (my mother did NOT go to school for 80 years, but she did go for eight, so I trust her medical opinion). This maybe the cause of my recent weight gain and so I've decided to go really healthy (fresh fruits and veggies! vegetarian! (except for pork and Nonna's meat sauce) 100 Calorie Snack Packs!)

I also now have week days off with the new job and instead of lounging around and watching West Wing DVD's I've been working hard at keeping my days off busy. Writing, going to the gym, productive shopping, rearranging furniture etc.

So here is this me that is kind of different from the me of about 3 months ago. I am not really thinking about it until I talk to a friend of mine last night about birth control (this conversation was naturally brought on by the news/gossip that yet another girl from our High School class is up the spout). I mentioned my new pill and she said that it had made her slightly loopy. Then I thought about it for a minute and realized...

I'm pretty sure there are uppers in my birth control.

First of all, I'm hungry. All the time. I equated this with suddenly being on my feet for 8 hours a day but seriously, I find myself constantly eating. While normally uppers don't give you this (hence why they are diet pills) I think its the combination of the estro-whatever and the crack that literally mean I eat for eight straight hours if I let myself. I'm being good about eating grapes and whole wheat sandwichs and trying to keep my caloric intake around 1000 calories a day, but still - your body cannot digest food if you don't stop chewing.

Second- This productive behavior is not like me at all. I mean sure, I get stuff done, but I get it done at the last second, if there isn't anything good on TV. Recently I've taken to cleaning the bathroom without being asked and without there being actual organisms growing in it, I've started going to the gym for 90 minutes to two hours if given the opportunity and actually spending that time working out instead of just sitting around on a yoga mat listening to my ipod. I do laundry before I run out of underwear. I'm redecorating my apartment and making grown up purchases like couches and bowls (although, in my old-self's defense, the bowls are too small to be practical and polka dotted). My room is organized. I'm cooking for myself instead of eating things out of a black plastic dish. Also, the fact that I am even CONSIDERING giving up chicken nuggets, is - to me, kind of crazy. I mean, I laugh at vegatarians, and people who run on tredmills, and own plates. Since when have I become one of those people?

Obviously, it is because my birth control pill is full of crack.

A Story in Pictures

Once Upon a Time a Girl in a Scarf and her sister went to a museum.


They explored the exhibits and found that most of them were pretty lame (in the Museum's defense, they didn't look very hard). And then they found the baby chick exhibit!! Their Mom thought it was hilarious that they wanted to spend all day watching baby chicks hatch because they grew up in a place that looks like this:



But they were in it to win it. And they noticed one egg that looked like it was getting ready to hatch!


So they waited patiently as pieces of the shell began to chip away. Minutes passed and they couldn't believe how long it was taking. Their Mom voiced her annoyance that this is how they were spending their day but the Girl in the Scarf was not going anywhere. As the chick chipped away at the egg, the Girl in the Scarf looked at all of the information about the chick and learned that chicks have a special tooth that they use to get out of the egg and then it falls out after they're in the world.

Then the girl got philosophical, as she tends to do when she's waiting around for things to happen. Can you imagine having to work this hard to get out into the world? When humans are born its the mother that does all the work, but the chick is all alone and there is nothing to stop it from just giving up, from waiting until its so big that the egg just breaks around it. Of course, by that point the chick will probably have died from starvation but still... how hard it must be to not even know the world you're trying so desperately to become a part of. And then finally! The chick hatched!!!



It was really, really ugly and scary looking, which, to be fair, we all kind of are when we come out of such a cramped place. The chick just lay there for awhile learning how to breath all this new oxygen it had suddenly come in contact with. The chick was so very tired, it had just cracked its own egg, it knew it had to, it knew that even though it didn't know our world that it wanted to be a part of it. The Girl in the Scarf pitied the little chick. It had worked so hard and now it had its whole life ahead of it, to keep working hard and surviving. The Girl in the Scarf watched it for awhile, as all of the other museum patrons jostled around her. The Girl in the Scarf was wondering if maybe now, she was just being born. She was ugly and unfortunate, but she had spent so long working so hard and was finally just beginning her life.

Shmupdate

So I have a new job. My new job is very awesome except it hurts my brain with all the learning and its kind of a low-rung on the food chain job. It feels a little like back pedaling. But there are huge benefits to it, one being days off during the week. I had acclimated to having Saturdays and Sundays off, which I will have occasionally but mostly I'll have things like Thursdays off. Which means I'll get real work done. Like writing and laundry and hanging out at the beach when there aren't people there.

I get to go to the East Coast next week! I'm so excited! I'll hit MD, NYC, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Philly?! Who knows...It'll be so nice to be home.

I have a theory...Its a boys and girls and relationship theory. I have to work through it a little bit more before posting it on the internet.

Don't read this Tierra.

So apparently,

We're all gonna die.

So much about this freaks me out.

Number 1 - 13 year old Germans do better math than NASA. That's just embarrassing.

Number 2 - I have MAYBE 27 years left. I'm just glad I'm not waiting to quit my job...

Number 3 - I'm really glad I watched Deep Impact 4,000 times because I am now prepared to deal with this kind of disaster.

101 in 1001 update.

So, if any of you have been paying attention at. all. you would know that my 1001 days were up on March 18. I was super unsure with what do about this, considering I had barely finished half of it, but C decided that since right in the middle of the 1001 days I had picked up my entire life and moved it to a new time zone I deserved a 6-month extension. Mostly because during those 6 months I wasn't so much worried about the list as I was surviving in a brand new place where I knew no one. So now my expiration date is September 18, 2008. Which seems far off, but isn't really. I have 48 things left on the list. Here's what I've accomplished since LAST March (yeah, I've been bad w. the updating):

12. Go to at least three concerts - I go to concerts all the time. I do heart Live Music.

22. Stand up to a guy and tell him how it is (I did this once, but I think I need practice) - When I put this on the list I should have specified that it be a sober confrontation, but lets be real - that will never happen. It has happened drunk a few times. I'm getting pretty good at it.

53. Get an internship at a theatre company - The iO Chicago kind of owns my soul. In a good way.

Wow. 3. Okay, that's kind of pathetic. Here are some highlights of what I have left:

3. Have a healthy romantic relationship that lasts a substantial amount of time (at least a month) - This is kind of hilarious for many reasons. Mostly because defining "healthy" is a tricky, tricky little game. I think that I could probably cross this one off the list... but we'll wait and see if I end up with anything a little more "healthy" by the end of the summer.

51. Go to South Africa again - Okay. Kind of a pipe dream. But I like where my head was at when I did this.

56. Use that gift certificate for free dinner for 4 for that Italian restaurant in Bethesda - The fact that I haven't done this yet is BONKERS. I've had that thing for over 5 years. The restaurant is going to close before I use it. Next time I'm home for a few days (so...Christmas?)

84. Go to Gillette Castle, we went when I was little but I don’t have a visual memory of it. - This is soooo happening this summer. It should be happening in like a month, but the place doesn't open until Memorial Day. WEAK. So somehow- around the time we're going to Nantucket...this is getting done.

93. See every Oscar Best Movie nominee in a year (before the awards show) - Sadly, this won't happen...ever. I am not nearly as into movies as I like to pretend I am. Also, I'm poor.

only in my dreams

So, its gorgeous outside. I've been inside all day doing the work that will, with any and all luck will put me on the cover of "In Style" someday. All I want to do is go out and play, but nope. Its work time.

Anyway, my phone rings. Its a Maryland number that I don't recognize but I answer it anyway because I don't learn from my mistakes. Here is the conversation.

RACHEL: Hello?
VOICE: I just wanted to let you know, the chocolate covered strawberries are in the fridge.

RACHEL'S INNER MONOLOGUE: I don't know who this is or where they are, but they have chocolate covered strawberries so they are automatically my best friend.

RACHEL: (pause) Who is this?
VOICE: Is this Pattie?

RACHEL'S INNER MONOLOGUE: Say yes! Say yes! Obviously this Pattie person has the hook up with the chocolate and the strawberries and all you have is a half written - unfunny sketch.

RACHEL: (pause) No...
VOICE: Oh, I'm sorry.
click
RACHEL: But I'll still take the strawberries? Hello?

Once again, I make terrible life choices that deny me fruit and chocolate.