t w e n t y e v e r y t h i n g

An unintentional diary

(I started this post back on September 18th. I've had a bad habit lately of starting posts and not going back to finish them. Thus, I am finishing the post. The current part picks up mid-way through).

Today has been an odd day. It has been rife with retrospection, a bit nostalgic and for the first time in weeks, the first day that I have not been willing to give up my first born child in exchange for never having to come back to the WhizBang. (note, this is no longer the case).

This morning I had a conversation with a long lost friend, who I'm happy to say doesn't seem as lost as he once was, and who, despite everything, I still consider a friend. It was really great to catch up.

This afternoon I found myself in my sent items folder in my email. As I was searching for a long lost email address, I found a lot of things. Some that I found hysterically funny, some that made me a bit sad and other thats I had totally forgotten about.

I find these little jaunts down memory lane fun. On Friday, Alpert (who reads this, hi!) came over and joined Sarah and I in some wine consumption. Later on, we ventured off to College Park to rescue Nicole from her boyfriend's frat party. Clad in the standard issue Assumption College sweatshirt and sweatpants, I was very tempted to walk into the frat house and retrieve Nicole myself. However, I decided not to embarass her and waited in the car. So imagine my surprise when she walked out wearing a matching ensemble. The drive back to RockCity was supreme fun - complete with much reminiscing about the good old days. It reminded me of the random times we spent together at DG.

For instance, there was the time that Deanna, Nicole, Sara Kidd and I skipped Monday meeting so that they could "bring me to the hospital because there was something wrong with my cast." You may ask yourself why it took three people to bring me to this hospital. In reality, by hospital I meant Olive Garden, and we spent a lovely evening partaking in limitless salad and breadsticks. Shh, don't tell anyone, we were never busted.

Or the time when we were paired with Theta Chi during Greek Week in 2002. A fall 2001 initiate, I had moved into the house at the beginning of spring semester. At the same time, I became president of Habitat for Humanity. For anyone not in the Greek system, matchups for Greek Week and Homecoming typically pray pranks on one another. I woke up on that Saturday morning at 6:30 to lead one of my first Habitat building trips to Baltimore as president. Imagine my surprise when I try to open my door but it wouldn't turn. I pull, I push and I don't get anywhere. I'm stuck in my room. I manage to pry the door open just a smidge and see a rope tied around my door knob and looped around all of the others down the hallway. Seems that Theta Chi thought it would be funny to trap us in our rooms. Well, I couldn't break free and had to call someone to tell them that I wouldn't be able to make it to Habitat because, well, I was stuck in my room.

Or, one of the most memorable times came on one of my last nights staying in DG. It was the night before the last day of finals. Tons of us were hanging out downstairs in the dining and living rooms studying. It was about 1 a.m., perhaps later. All of a sudden, we smell something horrible. Horrible in the there-must-be-sewage-in-our-house-because-omg-you-cannot-breathe sort of way. We wake up our poor house mom Heather to tell her that there must be a problem with the septic system. She promises to come out in a minute to help. And then someone opens the front door for some reason and the smell becomes about a million times worst. There, on our doorstep are dozens of rotting goldfish strewn about, spreading their pungent odor into our house. It's so gross that we don't even know what to do. Is there someone you can call to clean up this sort of thing? At 2 in the morning? Not really. Out of sheer desperation and the knowledge that if I don't do it, no one will. I put on my flip flops, send a girl down to the supply closet to get bleach and head outside to hook up the hose. And for the next hour or so, I spray the rotting fish down into the sewers with the ciccadas. What should I have been doing? Studying? Well yes, this leads me to my next story...

The first and only pass/fail class I took at Maryland was during my last semester. And, ironically, it was the only class at Maryland that I ever thought I might not pass. See, as my luck would have it, there was about a three week period during that final semester of college that I was led to believe that I had a brain tumor. Yes, a brain tumor and no, I really didn't have one. However, that news came weeks later and about a month out from graduation. And as I tried to manage "commuting" between Maryland and Connecticut for a few weeks, things got a bit crazy. Of course I was over-committed and I had four very important classes I needed for graduation. And that pesky pass/fail class that was only taken to allow me to graduate with two degrees as opposed to majors. Well, needless to say, I didn't waste my time on the p/f class knowing that I only needed a D to pass it. I went into the final rocking a solid 75 average and figured I was good as gold. This is why I thought it a good idea to convince some of my fellow sisters to finish our last few hours of studying the day of the exams at the bar. We sat outside, drank some margaritas, perused our notes. All in all, it was lovely. Oh, except for the fact that I was DRUNK as I walked to my exam. I get to the classroom, sit down, open the exam booklet and realize that, while I did study, I clearly didn't study the correct things. I knew the answers to about four questions on the page. So, after answering those lone questions, I proceeded to do the math to figure out how badly I could do on the test and still pass the class. Needless to say, no matter how I worked the numbers, four correct answers was not going to be sufficient to pass the test. Thankfully, my inebriated state made the situation a lot better. If it were not for the liquor coursing through my body, I probably would have had an out and out panic attack. Instead, I waiting for a respectable amount of time to pass and then I walked directly back to the bar from which I came. And I drank some more and passed out by 8 p.m. This story has a happy ending - apparently this teacher took pity on me and my potential brain tumorness and passed me. And my two pieces of paper arrived in the mail a few months later.

The end.

A picture is worth 1000 words

Here are some pictures of the new dog Roman.

That is pretty much how you will find him, oh about 23 hours a day.

The other one hour he's spent doing this:

He's fascinated with looking out our door. Unfortunately for him, it's the decorative form of glass and everything is distorted.

Thought bubble: "God, these damn girls. They pick me up like a baby, they sing songs about me. They mess with my ears, shove cameras in my face. They constantly poke and prod me, transferring their own hypochondria to me. I'm fine, ok?! I just smell. That's it. I think I will go back to sleep."

Last night we did an impromptu power quarter hour. Mainly because our attention spans sucked and we kept getting distracted and if we tried to do an hour, it would have taken at least an hour and a half.

Here's Tara with her beer shot.

I'm off to CT tonight to go see Jimmy Buffett again tomorrow with Lissa and the crew from last year at Great Woods in Mansfield, MA. I'm sure pictures and a full recount of the craziness will be coming on Monday.

I'm going to prom tonight. No, not in that scary Mary Kay Letourneau way. In the - I'm helping out a friend who is a class adviser in charge of prom and in need of help - sort of way. It means I get to wear a dress, pack a few mini bottles of booze in my purse and transport myself back in time to the days of my own youthful indiscretions. All-in-all, it should be fun.

This weekend marks the beginning of pool season. While I am not exactly in peak physical shape for the occasion, I am telling myself I don't care and hitting the deck chairs anyways. There is nothing (ok, one thing) that I enjoy more than sitting in a lounge chair, in the sun, with a good book, my Ipod and perhaps a beverage for hours on end. It's the closet thing to heaven that I can seem to find in the ghetto that I call home. This means that I will also begin my ethnic transformation from pale Northern European heritage to bronzed goddess. However, I have taken a rather responsible step and purchased SPF 30 sunscreen! My own mother expressed a great deal of wonderment at this earlier today. I kinda failed to mention that the reason I bought 30 was so that I could send all 21 hours that my pool is open this weekend baking myself in the sun without getting burned. Eh, it's a mere technicality. Really.

I feel rather fake having tried to make some funnies in the above paragraphs. I don't really feel happy or cheery or as if I am heading into a three day weekend.  I received a phone call from my sister-"out-of-law" last night. It has thrown me for a bit of a loop - it has caused a veritable circus of activity in my brain. I'm not sure what to do - what or who to believe and what's real and what's not. I would share more, but I just can't seem to wrap my brain around this or articulate what's going on. Let's just say that it all has the potential to throw me in a place that I was so happy to have escaped from years ago. I just don't know what to do. And in the tradition of everything in my life, I have been brought into the midst of this even though I have no place in it. God, don't I love being in the middle. And thinking about this long enough to write this is causing tears in my eyes so I am just going to end this now.

Yay for Coach Outlet tomorrow. Perhaps I will find happiness in the soft pebbled leather or at least a moment of contentment.

Quite a mood

I will start this by saying that I am in quite the mood this morning. There, you've been warned.

What would you suggest one doing if/when your gay ex-boyfriend decided to sleep with your co-worker of the same name? How does one typically handle that? I'm just curious. Add in the fact that this gay ex-boyfriend turned best-friend of yours managed to cheat on someone in the process and then called you while leaving said co-worker's place to see if you wanted to meet for coffee. I mean really, what the fuck. And then, he tells you not to freak out when you let out a disgusted sort of squeal thing because really, why shouldn't I freak out? Here I was innocently driving down Connecticut Avenue listening to Ben and Brian and enjoying a morning cigarette when boom, I get blindsided with that. After I asked him not to do anything with Michael because of the awkwardness in the office potential. And for once, I would like my life NOT to read like a freaking soap opera.

Really, I'm not making this stuff up. Could I catch a god damn break?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In other news: Could Fox have been any more predictable by killing off Marissa? I mean really. There were all of these rumors circulating that she was going to leave the show in order to pursue a movie career. Well, that's a whole other tangent that you probably don't want to get me started on. But anyways, I was really hoping that they would throw us a curve ball and kill Ryan. I know, I know. Some of you may find this rather inflammatory because, "Oh my god, I love Ryan," and "He's so great - they can't kill him." The boy, while well-intentioned, just brings drama, crime and heartache wherever he goes. And yes, I am missing the obvious point here - the show thrives on being dramatic. I know. I know. But you know what, I think I really would enjoy an episode that didn't involve stolen cars, burning buildings, people dying or the police. Apparently The OC will be pitted head-to-head with Grey's Anatomy in the fall during the 9 p.m. Thursday time slot. Well, there's no doubt in my mind that I will be devoting my time Grey's. Honestly, it just can't get any better. Oh, and if you somehow have managed to miss this, it's always the perfect follow-up to the weekly hour of amazingness that is the show.

I forgot to tell you all that during event three of three last week, I totally managed to amuse myself. For this particular awards ceremony, Man Boss reads quotes from each of the companies that we honor as the executive is walking to the stage to receive the award. Since I'm the lucky person who gets to sort through the quotes and select meaningful and heartfelt choices, let's just say that I had some fun with it. I included quotes such as "I am a woman..." and "My company paid for my breast pump..." just so that I would have the chance to giggle while hearing Man Boss read them aloud to the crowd of 600 people. And giggle I did.

In other news, tomorrow it will be two years since I graduated. Two. Years. That's half of the time that I spent at Maryland. I can't believe it. In some ways, it was like yesterday and in others, an eternity has passed. We'll see what it's like when I sit in Comcast on Sunday to watch all of my little DG girls graduate.

Oh, I'm off to Silver Diner now for a "staff meeting." Let me just say that our business manager is a brilliant lady. Pancakes for me!

Old. Young. Somewhere in between.

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. --Anais Nin--

I spend most of my days wavering between feeling old and young. At work, I am the young one. People remark about it - the fact that I'm occasionally carded when we go out, or god forbid at a black-tie event. Even the person that they are likely going to hire to replace me is older than I. However, when I think about the fact that I was 22 when I started there - that I have been there for almost two years - half of the time I spent in college - I feel old.

My friends are getting married, buying houses, starting IRAs, worrying about the future. Two years ago I was getting drunk at College Park bars and worrying about final exams - it just blows my mind. In some ways, that was yesterday. Other times, it feels like an eternity has passed.

Nearly two years ago I walked down that aisle, across the stage and entered "adulthood." I got a job, an apartment, a car payment, student loans to repay. My sadness about graduating and leaving college life behind was countered by the excitement of what lay ahead of me. I was creating my life - making a new identity for myself - forging my way. I was ready to move on to the next step.

Right now the girls who were always the "babies" to me are getting ready to graduate. In a week, they will put on their gowns and tassles and start their own journey into the adult world. They are sad, depressed, unsure that they are ready to leave. In a way, I want to reassure them. Tell them that post-college life isn't all that bad. That the best years are ahead of them. Not to look back.

At the same time,I think they should treasure their last few days. Tell them to take it slow - make the transition gradual. There's no need to jump right in. I took a whopping four days off between college and working. I still want to kick myself when I think about it. I was so rushed to start work - so worried about a paycheck. If I could go and do it all over again, I would spend the summer traveling or at home in CT with my family.

Of course, I can't go back and change things. I'm not sure I would because my work that summer led to my current job. But it's at the forefront of my mind now that I am trying to figure out my next steps in life.

Today I ran errands - did laundry - cleaned. Watched movies that I would much rather have seen in the company of a bunch of my girlfriends while laying around in our pajamas in the sorority house.
Instead, I was sitting in my apartment on the couch by myself. I've learned that friendships change as you get older. The informal pajama gatherings are replaced by dinners out. Instead of living your life in the constant company of these people - you see them socially - after work, on weekends, etc. Somehow it's just not the same.

I guess I'm just looking for someone to live my life with. Someone to be there as I fold laundry - or stuff namebadges in a hotel.

Hard out there for a Linc...

Like seriously? Cutest child alive.

He was pretty much the focal point of my weekend - I oohed and aahed at his adorableness, fed his fetching little self, all the while making an idiot out of myself trying to entertain him. I came to the realization that it's going suck in a few years when he learns that me merely shaking my head from side to side is lame and not the most-hysterial-thing-he-has-ever-witnessed as it was this past weekend.

His auntie is charming, as is his ability to suck on his own toes.

Throw in some good ol' fashioned Jumperoo time, and life just can't get any better.

Just try to ignore his drool-soaked bib, the kid is teething alright?

And the finale of the weekend... preppy little blue argyle sweater!

So it was an incredible weekend. Really. The man boss let me loose three hours early on Friday so I could hit the road and make it to Ohio at a reasonable time. Oh yeah, that was after he told me that they were going to move ahead and hire someone to take my current job! I am one step closer to freeing myself from the hell that is event planning! That, alone (even without the ooey gooey baby goodness) made my weekend. On the way to OH, I stopped at the Hagerstown outlets (because I am physically incapable of driving by them). I managed to exert an ounce of self control and walked out of the Coach outlet without a new purse (but not necessarily empty handed). I had to restrain myself from calling everyone I know to brag about the fact that for once, I was able to resist the sweet-talking of the fine leather goods. Honestly, it really is that big of a milestone (for proof, read this).

I skipped the formal dinner in favor of making it back in time for prime time TV. Much to my chagrin, Grey's Anatomy wasn't on, but I was still thankful that I didn't have to make the six hour drive with a stomach full of ham and all the fixings. If I had attempted it, I predict that they would still be looking for my car somewhere in the mountains of Pennsylvania as I would have fallen into blissful comfort food slumber and veered down an embankment.

Anyways, my event next week has SOLD-OUT which is just a bit more than incredible. Seems like I am going to leave this job on a very good note...

A wonderful weekend...

Most of my tire treads are back at exit 152 on the Garden State Parkway. Let's just say that I had a near death experience involving a white utility van that caused me to fishtail across a few lanes of traffic at about 80 miles per hour. Thankfully, it was only 5 a.m. and the road was deserted ('cept for the aforementioned van) and so I was not reduced to an unfortunate pile of slush on the pavement.

And so began the end of my lovely weekend at home - the dreaded six hour, 385 mile drive back to the clusterfuck of a place that I call home: Greater Washington. This was the second time that I attempted the Monday morning marathon drive instead of the late Sunday night option. The first time it was so successful that I made it to work by 8:15 a.m. and was able to pick up Starbucks on the way! After five years of making this trek, I have finally unlocked the door, broken the code, deciphered the clue to true vehicular efficiency! Wake up at the ass crack of dawn and leave before most people hit REM.

And this I did. My alarm was set to go off at 2:45 a.m. I jumped in the shower and quickly out, threw clothing on, my hair up, bags in the car and off I went. I was on the open road (aka 95 south) by 3 a.m., in New York by shortly after 4 and midway through Jersey by 5.

Genius. Pure, unadulturated genius. And it only took me about 30 drives home - a mere 21K miles sitting in gridlocked traffic - to get it right. If a semi hadn't dumped a load of gravel on 295 just north of Delaware, I would have been to work by 8:45 a.m., my normal arrival time when my commute is only 18 miles. Alas, I was here by 9:45 and considered that a coup seeing that I drove through three major metroplitan areas and the only delay I experienced was the hour spent sitting waiting for the gravel to be cleared.

While my mental capacity is a bit dimished at best, I generally feel fine - not too tired and rather alert considering the 1.5 hours worth of sleep I got last night. Just don't ask me to formulate a coherent sentence or spell a big word (though I did just use both formulate and coherent appropriately in this context, so maybe I am doing better than I thought).

This was an amazing weekend - the best one that I have had at home in a long time. I spent most of Saturday lounging at home, helping my mom bake for my grandmother's birthday party and making a quick trip to Target. Then it was off to the birthday party where we somehow managed to surprise my grandmother. If you've ever met my family or are a not-so proud member of it, you realize what a monumental thing this is. No one in my enormous big-mouthed family ruined the surprise. None of the 85 people who came to the party slipped up. It's truly a miracle.

My grandmother is officially the cutest 80 year old lady alive. When you walk down the street with her or take her to doctor's offices or hair dressers, it's very similar to having a baby with you. People openly comment on how cute she is. I know, it's odd. But so true. The Mem is adorable. She even wears bootcut jeans and looks good in them (although I did discover yesterday that she was wearing pantyhose (god I hate that word) under them). She is truly unlike any other granny out there.

So the Mem's bash was a huge success and loads of fun. Thanks to the beer cooler and my cousin-in-law's uncanny ability to place a fresh brew in everyone's hand the second it became empty, we all had a lot of fun. I had so much fun that I was there until 1 a.m. And the party started at 5. 

Yesterday was so much fun (of the non-alcoholic variety). My mom

Daisy (note magenta Coach collar and matching pink gingham harness and leash)

and I went down to the beach and McCook's for a nice long walk. It was a gorgeous day and it felt soooo good to be outside and by the water. And there wasn't a damn tourist in sight. Ahhhh.

Pretty isn't it? Natural sand art. Also pretty:

and

After our walk, we treated Lis and her mom for birthday lunches and then went over to hang out with the Mem for awhile. Then it was on to a quick trip to Petco, the mall and then we met my dad at Outback. It was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of everything that is going on currently. It was so effective in clearing my head that I considered just saying "screw it" and staying up there. Of course, I didn't and made the drive down this morning but now I am sorta considering moving back up north again. I. am. all. over. the. place. Tell me what to do. Please.

Boozercise

I will spare you the details of the wine-induced exercise video routine performed at 11:30 p.m. last evening, because, jeez, I am sounding more and more like a wino. However, the good news is that I managed not to fall off the exercise ball or otherwise injure myself with the weights (though the movement of the crunches was giving me the spins).

So during my two hour commute this morning (that's right, TWO hours), I couldn't stop listening to Bad Day by Daniel Powter. For those of you who are unfamiliar, it's the song that they play each week on American Idol when someone is voted off. And while I am not ashamed to watch the show (since there are tens of millions of other losers around the country tuning in), I am a bit ashamed to admit that I may have tried to vote in the past. Hey, give me a break, it was last season and I really wanted Bo or Carrie to win. I never actually got through.

Anyways, back to this song. It's catchy and I find it to be a bit relevant to my life. As the song says, I am in desperate need of a blue sky holiday. And where is the passion when I need it the most? I think that's what the main problem with my life is at the moment. It's without passion. An old friend called me out of the blue this morning to grab coffee because she was in the area. While I was sitting there and talking to her about past memories, our current situations and where we hope to go in the future, I realized that seeing her was just what I needed. She is one of the reasons why I was so involved at Maryland - she's always been one of my biggest champions and an incredible person to use as a sounding board. Just seeing her brought me back to that time when everything was going right and it seemed like the world was mine for the taking.

After our conversation - I'm going to really try to figure out what will make me happiest and find a way to make it happen. And, most importantly, I am going to view the unknowns as opportunities and not as liabilities. I have the opportunity to completely change my life if I choose. I can make it into whatever I want. So, with that, I am imposing an injunction on any bitching, moaning or whining about my job in my blog. No more. Here's to a new outlook.

The games we play...

Seeing that Grey's Anatomy is officially my all-time favorite television show ever, I would be rather remiss if I did not discuss last night's show. So with that, OH MY GOD.

Seriously, each week I think that there is no way that this show could get any better and somehow, magically, it does. I literally sobbed last night. Full out, body shaking, snot flowing, strange gasping noises sobbing. The theme of the show was the games we play. And seriously? It was so damn poignant. The amazing thing about the show is that it's always poignant, somehow relatable to something in our lives. Even with the SuperBowl episode, I think most of us found something that hit close to home. While most people have never had their hands inside of a body alongside a bomb, we all have been scared, petrified, unable to move or make decisions and completely not in control of our own lives. Just like the EMT and later, Meredith.

And games? They are a daily part of our lives. Whether it's when I refuse to let a car get in front of me during rush hour because they are trying to weave in and out of traffic  or when I find myself competing against the people around me for success. And then, of course, there are the games we play in love. These are the games that I truly hate.

Do I really like you? Do you like me? Do you think that I like you? I can't call you because then you will think that I like you and it doesn't matter that I do like you and want to date you, I just can't have you knowing that. I mean, let's be honest. it sucks. Sometimes I really do wish life was as simple as the notes we used to send in grade school: "Do you like me? Check yes or no." And back to Grey's, I totally respect Callie because she put her cards on the table. And she was blatantly honest with George. She didn't make excuses for him and she didn't agonize over whether he'd call. In the end he did, but she came off as a strong confident woman of substance with tons of inner poise (Bridget Jones' mantra).

Right now I am in the midst of a big game professionally. And you know what, it sucks. I've been promised something for awhile, and it still hasn't come through, and they are telling me what they know I want to hear, and I have no idea of whether they are actually doing anything about it. How's that for one hell of a run-on sentence, or rather, four sentences in one! The sad thing is that I have absolutely no idea what to do. I'm stuck and I'm not the one in control anymore. Sigh.

So with that, I'm off for wine and 24 night with Mike.

 

The shit is bananas

I'm with Gwen on this one - the shit is bananas. In my case, the shit is my life, and well, it is just that. Shit. Or is it bananas. Now I'm all confused.

Anyways, so I began my day this morning with a ridiculously contemplative drive to work. The kind where I thought about the person that I have become in the past two years - how my life is vastly different than it was when I graduated college - whether I like this person I am now - how did I lose myself along the way - and worst of all - WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO NEXT?

To say I am at a crossroads is probably the understatement of the century. In addition to my employment situation being up in the air, there's also the question of grad school - not only where, but what and who's paying and what test do I need to take to get in?

Apparently today was meant to be a day of careful consideration of the future. I got called into man boss' office with woman boss and then was asked how close I am to quitting. Well, that's rather direct isn't it? Thankfully, man boss continued to blabber on so I was never given the opportunity to directly answer the question. I did, however, manage to get all teary-eyed and emotional (god damnit) and eek out that I am just really done with all of the stress. In turn, man boss got all teary-eyed himself. Yes, man boss apparently does cry. He's gay so that may explain that.

They are still working to create that new position for me but it's just not realistic that it will happen in time for the event hell. So basically, I am supposed to spend the weekend brainstorming ways that they can make my job tolerable and take away some of the work during the next six weeks. If you have any ideas, feel free to share them. The only suggestion that I have come up with thus far: hire someone else.

For someone who has always known exactly where they were going and had a detailed map of how to get there, how the hell did I get so lost?