Living Life Barefoot

Things They Don't Teach in School

2012-01-10T21:53:00.002-05:00

My grandmother always wore her house dress and cooking apron when she took me blackberry picking. We would burst through the porch door and head toward the heavily wooded forest behind her cottage, at the edge of which stood thickly tangled wild blackberry bushes. My grandmother would watch me pick one berry at a time and place it in my small container. When she wasn't looking, I would toss a blackberry into my mouth instead of in the Tupperware, melting it's juicy goodness on my tongue and mashing the bitty seeds between my baby teeth.

One day, I ventured past the blackberry bush and into the wooded forest, just beyond her line of sight. When I came back, I gripped a deer antler with two prongs in my fist. I asked her why it was on the ground instead of on the deer.

"Because the deer have an itchy velvet on their antlers. Sometimes it gets so bad that they rub up against the trees to make it feel better. All the scratching makes the antler fall out." Then she took my hand and showed me a bark-worn spot on a neighboring tree where a deer had come to scratch.

I don't know how she knew that.

Nineteen years later, I found a similar bark-worn spot on a tree while leading a group from Outdoor Bound on a hike through Fahenstock State Park in Upstate New York. To my own surprise, I easily recounted the plight of the deer and their itchy antlers. I was so shocked that I had remembered this tidbit that I went home that night and looked it up on the internet to make sure it was true.

Two days after that, I received an email from a girl that had come on the hike with us. She loved the story of the deer so much and recounted to me how her brother, a geologist, always told her fascinating stories of nature like the one about the deer. He had passed away recently and my story reminded her of his love for the outdoors.

Ryan Gosling and Some INSPIRATION

2012-01-09T21:02:00.003-05:00

I'm a cheapskate. Or at least I've been a cheapskate recently. I'm saving money. So that I can go fly round the world and the like. And wear a heavy backpack. And make out with Ryan Gosling look alikes. Or perhaps just Ryan Gosling.

Thanks, babe. After my run today, I'm going to need them. Wink.

So every time I'd get out to Central Park for a few miles, I always felt like I was running on boards. Like my legs weighed 800 million pounds. I mean, I've got a little junk, but it was depressing how slow I ran and how much I hurt after each run. I sort of just gave it up and started doing a lot more weightlifting.

Until Sunday, when I popped on over to JackRabbit Sports on the Upper West Side and came home with a pair of THESE BAD BOYS:

I couldn't even stop to take a picture of them. I was running too fast. I was actually running like Wile E. Coyote does. Where his feet just spin in circles and his body never moves. So fast. Ryan Gosling agrees.

I know Ryan. Now please stop interrupting me when I'm trying to tell these nice people about my day. I'll get to you later.

Where were we? No, before Ryan Gosling.

But as I was running a nice speedy little five-miler, I started remembering the feeling of why I loved to run in the first place. I've talked about it on here, but suffice it to say, my running doldrums the past few months was quite nicely quashed with a new pair of cushy shoes. The minimalist inside of me felt very repressed when I purchased them, but I made sure that the nice lady at Jack Rabbit took my old shoes and promptly turned them into high-school track material. Immediately. In the back of the store.

My workouts have been feeling better, partly because I'm trying to go a little vegan this week and next week (hopefully a post on that tomorrow) and I'm not upchucking all of the dairy and sugar that I've been ingesting since Thanksgiving. If you don't want to make out with me anymore that's okay. I know someone who still will...

I know, my hair is a little gangy. I need to get it conditioned. Whatever, Ryan doesn't care. Love you too, babe.

The OTHER awesome piece of news is that I've just signed up for the 30 Day Reinvention Project. It's a free series of emails, lectures, journal prompts and the like to get yourself to start thinking about the changes you'd like to make in your life. You can still sign up (until tomorrow morning I think) and work with the awesome Facebook group of people who want to make positive changes in their lives.

Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm getting a little New Age-y on you. And also, part of me is like "Lauren?! What the heck?! You already know that you want to move to India and be a teacher and take petite Lauren's into the backcountry to teach them how to make camps and fires and the like." I know. I said that to myself just today.

But there's a whole lot of other good that can come from working with a big group of people who are on the same page as you. A lot of my friends are super satisfied with their lives at the moment. They have jobs that they like and they have a great core group a friends and nice apartments that no longer contain Ikea furniture. I have some of that, but I also don't feel this giddiness when I wake up in the morning. I don't feel like I am doing what it is that I am fully capable of doing. And so it's always nice to work with someone (or a whole group of people) who are similarly feeling excited about making really big changes. And if you've been reading here for a while, I'm the kind of girl who feels that I am only fulfilled when there is a certain degree of turbulence in my life.

So if there is any part of your life that feels like you could make it better, sign up. It's a few emails a few times a week, so what's the worst that could happen?

Okay, sorry, I really have to go. Ryan is getting cranky, and I need a foot massage. Happy Monday!

What are some changes you're looking to make in your life? I'm trying to eat healthy and whole, go to bed at a reasonable hour, manage my To Do list without freaking out, and work out in the morning instead of at night.

Oh, Finally. Resolutions!

2012-01-05T19:54:00.005-05:00

Ho ho! It's the Thursday after New Year's! And I'm finally getting around to making up resolutions. This is because I am Type A-Minus. And I am only anal about socially conforming WHEN I AM READY.

Making resolutions is difficult for me, particularly this year, because I'm already on the road to a large amount of change in my life, and a whole lot of travel and a lack of routine from week to week. In March, I'll be leaving New York to go travel again, this time for two months in India, and will be spending the summer out west teaching girls how to camp and basically be awesome, confident little ladies. The best part is that I get to teach a two week photojournalism program, make up some awesome journal prompts and writing exercises, and watch my girls grow and learn in the wild.

Man, why didn't become a teacher sooner?

But resolutions are ridiculous to make if we don't follow through on them. I think resolutions are a great intention, but if the barriers to entry are too difficult, then you're setting yourself up to fail.

Goals, resolutions, intentions, whatever you want to call them, have to be all that jazz in the SMART acronym (Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, Time-Sensitive). But they also actually have to be something you want to do. I wanted to resolve to meditate 5 minutes a day. But then I realized that I don't want to meditate for 5 minutes a day because I've tried it before and by the time I'm done I don't feel like I've done anything. Meditation works for some people. It doesn't work for me, possibly because my mind right now isn't busy enough to warrant it. It'd be a waste of time to try to force myself to make time for it.

So, last year I made some lofty goals, this year I'm gunna relax a bit. Cuz I'm already giving up all my fancy corporate benefits, a nice apartment, and two perfectly amazing roommates to live in a tent for the better part of the year. I gotta go easy on myself.

Fitness

1. Sweat once a day. Thanks, Lululemon! You guys are so smart! I can't really say "go to the gym" once a day, because there are no gyms in the backcountry of Montana. Unless you count JUMPING OVER LOGS TO RUN FROM BEARS. But I can sweat no matter where I am, whether it's yoga, or running, or shoving an ice axe into a glacier over and over again. No, sweating from unbearable heat in Delhi doesn't count (though I may have to revisit this, come May).

2. Hold my handstand. UGH! Lauren! This was on the list LAST year! I blame it on the fact that my gym stopped offering my favorite Ashtanga yoga and now I am a yoga FAIL for all time. Literally, I used to be in such good yoga shape that I would run six miles and then go to 90 minutes of Ashtanga and feel like I had no sweat left in my body at the end of it all. But seriously, my handstand is deep inside me somewhere.

3. Break 1:50 in the half-marathon. Dear marathoning, you are hard. Also, you take a lot of time in one place to train for you. I am looking forward to training for a slightly shorter distance, and trying to get really, really fast for it. My boss thinks I'm a wimp and that I will crap out because it's cold. I'll show him.

4. Repeat after me: Dessert once a day. Kryptonite. I'm powerless in the face of sugar.

5. Do a plank a day. Excuse me while I go do my plank right now.

Personal

1. Be in weekly contact with my immediate family. Monthly contact with my extended family. Relationships are going to be huge this year. Everyone will always take their family for granted. I probably still will but hopefully not as much.

2. Get serious in the friend KEEPING department. I'm REALLY good at making friends. Like, real good. Traveling for 3 months alone abroad will be the fastest education in cross-cultural socialization that you could ever have. But I'm bad at keeping them. One thing I am always feeling a little lost about is why I don't have many close friends in New York. I'm nice, I go out of my comfort zone, but I'm never like "OHMIGOD I NEED TO CALL XYZ TO VENT ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW." I have some amazing roommates and a few buds here and there, but I always feel like my M.O. is more individual. Which some may seem to want to say "Oh, you're just independent" but I really think it's more like "You don't want people seeing all the bad things about you so you never let anyone in."

3. Write weekly on this blog. I love to blog, but I haven't been great at creating a community. I know that I'm a good writer, but I'd suspect my inconsistency and lack of pictures has something to do with it maintaining the level that it currently maintains. What I want it to turn into is not really anything huge, but what I can do is at least have some regular comments on here. That would be lovely. I mean, look at Miss Minimalist. She writes once a week AND is taking a two month sabbatical. Girl knows how to run a website, even if she only has her laptop and four other things to her name.

4. Learn Hindi. If I do get called in for an oral interview with the Foreign Service, I'm going to need some assistance from those extra critical language points.

Professional

1. Get accepted at The Island School. I submitted my application for a teaching fellow position yesterday, and I don't think I've wanted something so badly since I applied for the U.S. Foreign Service. Except this time, I actually have a shot. I am so excited about this school's curriculum that I actually have read every single word on their website. It's slightly embarrassing.

2. Write for a website on a weekly basis. I don't really even care if I get paid. Hey, reader, can I write on your website?

3. Have enough teaching experience by the end of the year to be accepted to teach at a private school during 2013-2014. Wow, that was long.

4. Become a NOLS instructor. Okay, that one is a stretch. But how effing cool would it be?!

Alright, YOUR TURN. What are your resolutions? Or how about just one?

Type A-Minus

2012-01-03T23:23:00.004-05:00

Nope, still haven't written my resolutions. BUT I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THEM. That counts.

I was thinking today (I've been doing a lot of that it seems), as I trundled home from the gym, burrowed under multiple articles of wicking fabrics and synthetic top layers (a bit of premature prep for India, compliments of Mother Nature), I realized that I'm the kind of person that I'd like to call Type A-Minus.

What is Type A-Minus?

I'm, like, almost Type A. But with a bigger interest in Netflix and a rather large disinterest in properly learning how to use Excel on my Mac. Command functions on a Mac require pressing like 17 different keys and I don't have that many fingers. Also, I'm the girl that goes without a gym locker because I frequently forget the combination and have to have the lock cut (This is an example of "Type A-minus"). So TWO sets of Excel key commands is just beyond my grasp, and besides I NEED that extra brain space dedicated to retaining information about the Housewives of New Jersey.

Sorry, what am I talking about?

Right.

Type A-minus is the kind of person who is anal-ish and overachieving-ish, but can't be bothered to created detailed spreadsheets of my monthly expenses or very organized To Do lists. It's partly because I don't particularly care to be that organized because I'm organized enough such that I can keep it together and even remember to get my teeth cleaned every six...uh...nine months. Here's how I (sorta) do it:

Expenses

Okay, let's take expenses. There was a time (when I had just moved to Manhattan and I ate Ramen raw for breakfast because I did not have a microwave and my stove had mice living in it. Don't ask.) when I created a very fancy spreadsheet template to track literally every damn thing I spent money on. It was good for a while, but then I started doing things like having a social life, and running, and living in an apartment that had rodent-free appliances. So my free time went down as did the amount I cared about tracking my finances. However, I remained conscious of my spending because I still wasn't raking it in. Instead, I taught myself to play this mental game where I counted how many times I've pulled out the credit card that month, then subtract how much was in my paycheck. Totally unscientific and practically immeasurable. But then it just worked and I'm not in debt and I saved a crapload of money to go trek around in India on crampons. So take that, Excel.

Every now and then, I go on a big spending splurge and travel a ton or take a ton of classes and then I go back to EXTREME TYPE A and track my spending again. But then I get a handle on it and go back to Mental Accounting. And thus is the Type A-Minus' guide to financial responsibility.

Food and Fitness

Same story. Once, last year, I gave up everything except kale and its closely related friends and frenemies. And I was working out everyday and being SO TYPE A and WINNING THE WAR AGAINST CELLULITE. I tracked calories (which was brutal and so damn annoying). But then I realized I liked chocolate and also, my mom sent me brownies for Valentine's day. So I kinda relaxed a bit until I found noticeable jiggle in the thigh area (more likely the jiggle was always there, but I only noticed it because it was June and I started wearing shorts again). Thankfully, I've switched out of food and beverage and into something that takes too many words to explain (think planning and crisis and other corporate-y things) and now I just do some mental math based on breakfast calories plus lunch calories plus chocolates nibbled from the guy down the hall's desk and adjust my workout accordingly.

So, Type A-Minus fitness is a series of peaks and valleys where some days I eat egg whites for breakfast and some day I eat brownies. But I still weigh the same so until the metabolism wears off for good, I'll stick to the A-Minus Fitness Plan (aaaaand we have a title for my first book. Insert copyright sign RIGHT NOW.)

**(Also, I have as of late been microwaving egg whites in a mug for breakfast. So now, I KNOW that people who tell me they have no time to make breakfast are PHONIES. IT ONLY TAKES TWO MINUTES TO KICK OFF YOUR DAY RIGHT, PEOPLE!!)**

To Do List

This is one that I'm a little embarrassed about because I do really feel much better when I have a very organized To Do list planned out in my fancy Moleskine notebook. It stands to re-whelm me when I am in fact very, very overwhelmed. There was one time when I quit my job, moved out of my apartment of 3 years, traveled through SE Asia for three months, and decided to do all of this within a four week time span. So at that time? A To Do list was a good idea. But sometimes, when I have a running To Do list, I always feel that I should be, well, DOing something. It's satisfying, striking a neat pen line through a task. But I don't ever write "Finish reading 'An Object of Beauty'" or "Try new recipe out of Giada cookbook". Because that is ridiculous and will make my To Do list long and overwhelming. Which is the opposite of what it is intended to do.

So sometimes, when I feel like the actual living of my life is getting bulldozed by my Moleskine notebook, I forgo a To Do list the cycle repeats itself and I feel like quitting my job to go travel in India or something (oh, wait...).

What kind of personality type are you? Also, if you're not Type-A, what are you? I've never heard of "Type-B" although I imagine it exists.

What I've Learned This Year

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, staying in one damn place isn't being stuck but letting all the chips settle before the next adventure.

Everyone should really have a mentor. Or five.

Spending a few minutes (hours?) in your boss' office talking about your day, his thoughts on the election, and the Reconstruction Period of American history can be more productive and important than working through your lunch on a report about Japanese technology bylaws. That's called "camaraderie."

I can eat lettuce or licorice and I will always be the same weight.

My family is more important to me than I like to admit sometimes.

Reading is a perfectly acceptable activity. And documentary watching definitely counts as being productive.

I like to run. Hard. And fast. But marathons are a real commitment. And my legs hurt after.

Even though I get boyfriend-lust, flying across the world to spend forty days without access to phone or internet (or showers) would probably put a damper on a relationship.

I don't have to make all of the changes in my life at the same time. Small changes over a long period of time work just as well, and I get to keep my sanity.

Just because someone is older than you, doesn't mean they have it all figured out. Sometimes 35 year olds need 26 year old wisdom, too.

It is possible to find the best roommates ever from Craigslist.

The internet makes the world a very, very small place.

Changing careers can be frightening and soul crushing and worrisome, but that the alternative is NOT making that change. And I think that's worse.

Maybe living in Manhattan isn't all that bad.

What have you learned this year?

Getting My Ass In Shape to Climb A Mountain

2011-12-21T22:51:00.004-05:00

HIMALAYAN MOUNTAINS, WHY ARE YOU SO HIGH?!

So there was this one time that I stopped working out basically altogether and instead ate brownies for three meals a day. That time in my life was called job-switching and pre-Thanksgiving and I'd like to announce you all that it is over. Except I still might eat brownies for breakfast.

HOWEVER. I have been a rockstar at the gym. I think something about knowing that my little gym membership is up in less than a month is getting my ass there more and more. Oh, also the fact that I have to hike like 7 million miles in the Himalayas in April. At 18,000 feet. If that doesn't scare you into six-pack abs...

I will look way more badass than this. Yea, I didn't think it was possible either.

So I've made a short-term goal to break 1:50 in a half-marathon. It's not an enormous goal, but it's one that will take some effort and concentration. Truth? I've never actually trained to race a half-marathon. I don't think I've ever trained to RACE a race except when I was trying to get under 4 hours in 2009 (I did and then I promised myself that was my last marathon ever...and then I did 3 more).

In the effort to not only attempt to stay alive while hauling 50 pounds on my back in the Himalayas, but also get RILLL FAST (not to be confused with "RILLL SWOLE") in a half-marathon, this is what my week last in workouts looked like (starting last Wednesday):

WEDNESDAY: 5 miles at tempo just over 40 minutes (fail, I didn't really do a great job tracking that one)

THURSDAY: Ate many, many Christmas cookies at holiday Christmas party (aka GYM FAIL)

FRIDAY: 5 miles at 9:00 min/mile pace, 1 hour of power yoga

SATURDAY: home yoga (basically lots of crow pose. GAH! CROW POSE! YOU RUIN ME!), 3 miles easy pants in the park

SUNDAY: Do not leave house, instead stay warm and drink lots of tea and bake Christmas cookies. Also known as "Rest".

MONDAY: Body sculpt with Constance, 5 miles at 9:00 min/miles

TUESDAY: 3 miles easy, tons of squats, crunches, booty lifts

WEDNESDAY: 30 minute temp run (8:00 min/mile pace, 3.75 miles), 45 minutes of the Titan Method (similar to a ballet or Physique 57 class)

So all in all, not too shabby. This weekend I'm going to try to get a long trail run in on Christmas Eve at Fleet Feet in Rochester (and maybe I can connive my brother into doing 3 or 4 with me) and then probably hit up some power yoga at Breathe.

Then I will dissolve into a pile of pillows with some good books and Christmas cookies.

How have your workouts been this week? Holiday time is tough, so does anyone have some awesome quick workouts that they love to do?

On Being in the Arena

2011-12-19T12:02:00.003-05:00

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

--from Teddy Roosevelt's "Citizenship in the Republic" speech at the Sorbonne in France, April 23, 1910

***

Sometimes it's easy for us to get bogged down by the negativity in our lives. We always want to do more, to do better, to be the best of ourself that we can be. We want to schedule our lives to be of the utmost productivity. Or at least more productive than the girl in the next cubicle.

Don't listen to the critics. Don't get jealous of the girl down the hall who has it waaay more together than you do (disclosure: she's doesn't). Do it your way. Because you're the one in the arena. You're the one that is making the mistakes, learning, growing, failing, overcoming. It's easy to point fingers when looking in from the outside. But really, it's your arena, not theirs.

I have a lot of visions. For myself, my career, my personal life. For this blog and my writing. And I get frustrated a lot. I get frustrated with how slowly it all seems to take. How I never seem to get there when I want to be there. Hell, after I quit my job and took off to Asia for three months, I thought I would never, ever, ever again be tethered to a desk. And 18 months after I got back, I'm working a corporate lifestyle to finance my next adventure.

But you know what? It's okay. I'll get there. And sometimes, getting there doesn't mean making a string of rash decisions to get my ass out the door. For me, who has no problem making rash decisions, sometimes it means pulling hard on the reins and staying put for a while. To find out what it really feels like to be in the arena. To know what mistakes look and feel like.

What does your arena look like? Mine currently looks like a stack of unwrapped Christmas presents and unbaked cookies.

Back in the Training Game

2011-12-17T14:43:00.004-05:00

As I get ready for my forty days in the Himalayan backcountry, I've been trying to get back into a more normal training routine. While it is not going to be an all out physical assault like, say, an attempt at Denali, undertaking any sort of expedition will be rigorous. I'm really trying to build my leg strength, particularly because, as a woman (and likely, one of the few women on this program), I will still be expected to carry a serious amount of weight (50-60 pounds). That's almost 50% of my body weight.

So I'm slowly getting back into running, slowly increasing my mileage, and slowly upping my speed. I'm training for a half-marathon and my goal is to be below 1:50 (I think my fastest half marathon to date was around 1:55). This means not only upping the mileage, but increasing my leg strength to increase my turnover speed.

But no dieting, I learned sort of serendipitously. A few weeks ago, when I was on the train home for Thanksgiving, I was sitting next to a woman whose nephew had completed the exact same program that I was setting out to do.

"Make sure you add a few pounds before you take off for India," she warned. "After forty days in the backcountry, shoveling snow, hauling packs, and eating granola my nephew lost almost 10 pounds."

And with that, I'm off to mow down cookies, and add sugar to everything that touches my lips.

What was the last adventure you were excited about? Have you ever had to get in shape to travel? Or traveled to get in shape (for a marathon or something)?

From Corporate Ace to...Teacher?

2011-12-13T21:40:00.003-05:00

This post is going to sound a little whiny and self-serving. Only a little, toward the beginning really, but I'm warning you in advance so you can back out now and not make any rolling-your-eyes comments about my #firstworldproblems.

I've been sort of looking at making a big career shift, which Penelope Trunk says is fine, because most of Generation Y only stays in a job for 18 months. That is a comforting fact in relation to my recent career shifting, but not such a comforting when I realize that I spent almost four years in the same job doing the same damn thing everyday without a promotion. Why did no one tell me that I needed to GET UP TO SPEED WITH GEN Y?! #firstworldproblems

There was a time in my life when I thought that I would be a corporate rockstar. I guess technically, I still could be, but I'm certainly not headed on that path. I like to work hard, and have goals and a direction, but it's really hard to see the value in something that neither I nor anyone else I care about is directly benefitting from (for example, analyzing financial projections for a tech startup, or refilling a damn coffee urn because a client is going to be working late on a filing). I'm big picture, and I'm a people person. Someone forgot to tell me that entry level corporate jobs in New York City require absolute obedience and the desire to be really, really small picture, which I am most definitely not (An example of this is that I write blog posts riddled with grammatical errors not because I'm illiterate but because I simply don't care enough to read my blog posts through after I've written them). I have enormous ideas and the initiative to start them, but what I really need is someone to follow through on my awesome ideas for me while I go start other awesome ideas (#firstworldproblems).

So anyway, I graduated from college and had wild dreams about being a rock star event planner and being flown miles around the world to plan events for dream clients and then yada yada heading up some HUGE corporate event planning division and living in a bombass apartment in midtown and owning furniture not from IKEA.

But I slowly realized that 1) Events is not the industry for that to be your life ever, ever, ever and 2) traveling on someone else's dime means you're not actually doing the traveling piece but instead just doing your job in a different city with a different commute in the morning and a different pizza joint to try out for dinners.

So teaching? Well, teaching is sort of one of those careers that I never thought I'd want to have, partially because (don't hate me) it's not all that hard to get a teaching job. I always just thought that I was better than teaching and that I deserved to play on an adult level.

But I feel like that's stupid. No, that's definitely stupid. 1) Anyone can teach, but teaching and MAKING AN IMPACT is incredibly, incredibly difficult. 2) It's also stupid to live your life for anyone else. It sounds ridiculous and cliche, but I swear, I'd be good if I never had to wear ill-performing, non-sweat absorbing cotton dress shirts ever, ever again 3) Everyone in the corporate world wants to be a teacher, they just don't call it teaching. They call it mentoring, or coaching, or public-speaking-on-my-area-of-expertise. But it's really, really just teaching. It's not teaching kids, which is somehow supposed to make it one of those three previous words that I listed above.

So, bottom line is that I love to travel. I love to change my surroundings and am feeling so goddang antsy in New York. I love blogging when I get comments like "yep, girl, you inspired me today" and I love guiding when I feel like someone totally has an AHA moment after I describe the flight patterns of a turkey vulture.

And I secretly want to spend a month or so at a time learning to SCUBA dive, or surf like a champ, or ski my face off. And when you're a teacher (especially a teacher at THIS badass school or THIS sick place for kiddos) it's not only part of your work environment, it's LITERALLY PART OF YOUR JOB to be proficient at awesome action sports.

So, I'm moving to India for a bit, gunna get my ass kicked by mountains, carry my entire life on my back, learn how to mountaineer, travel around the rest of India for a while and then get on with the living, traveling and educating. Sure, it makes me feel a little guilty that the return on my fancy schmancy college investment is going toward a lifestyle like this, but I can't live my life for anyone else, can I?

Have you ever completely shifted gears? In life or school or elsewhere?

26 New Things: Go to a drive in movie

2011-12-12T22:55:00.002-05:00

It was August. I was dating a very lovely boy that lived so far upstate in New York that they had drive-in movies within a reasonable driving distance.

And so, after gushing about how one of my goals in life is to go see the wonders of the silver screen from behind the romantic glass of a Ford Envoy, off we went with snacks and blankets and rose-colored glasses.

Until we both realized that, nowadays, Ford Envoys don't have bench seating, making snuggling impossible unless you want to get very friendly with a gear shifter.

And also, this picture? Totally false. Technology has RUINED the drive-in movie by allowing you to tune in from the radio in your car. WHICHMEANS! That you can't get all frisky and hop on the hood of your car and neck like a coupla' teenagers. You have to sit in your car, separated by the gear shifter and trying to pretend that it's comfortable sitting in your car to watch a movie.

In fact, I'd say that all parents SHOULD let their daughters go on dates at drive-in movies. Let me tell you, there is NO funny business going on inside of a car that can't be done in a movie theater. For reals.

Wanderlust: India

2011-12-11T21:26:00.004-05:00

I'm going to India.

I haven't told anyone yet (well except everyone on the internet and my family) but, after 13 months of staying relatively immobile in New York, I've decided that I want to travel again.

In my decision to travel, however, I knew I could travel pretty much anywhere since I have been saving money like a crazy lady. Yes, even in New York City it's possible to save money. What's that phrase about if something is important enough to you, you will make it happen?

With my savings I could:

-go to France and live in a tiny villa in the countryside for a few months.

-travel for a year to every developing country in Asia (sorry, Japan, maybe next time).

-road trip up, down, and across the United States

However, what I've decided to do is spend forty days in India getting my ass kicked by mountains. With 60 pounds on my back. And no showers.

I've always loved the outdoors but have never actually considered myself very proficient in the outdoors. However, as I've started to guide part-time in Manhattan, I've realized that I love interacting with people. But as a guide, your goal isn't to educate as much as it is to simply lead. And I feel that I have so much more to give as an educator, teacher, coach, supporter, or mentor.

So I'm going to spend forty days in India learning how to mountaineer, getting jiggy with some crampons, not losing my ice axe, shoveling a shit ton of snow outside my tent, and hopefully developing the skills that I need to be a more effective educator.

What are you excited for in the New Year?

To Have Compassion

2011-10-19T10:17:00.002-04:00

Last night, I did something very painful. So painful because I knew it was the right decision, but I also knew that it would crush the feelings of someone I very much cared about.

I broke up with a guy that I have been dating. Not for very long, but for very deep. And I like to think that's the kind of thing that matters; counting the time you talked about your values and fears and emotions, not counting how many Saturdays you spent having brunch and talking about Lost reruns.

I have another story about a breakup and it was much, much worse. I think everyone does, but mine seems particularly painful because it involves an international surfer and me also feeling a little like I had signed up to give all of my money away to an African nation whose funds have been frozen. Or something.

There was this guy. He lived in Aruba and he taught me how to surf. I knew he wasn't theeee guuuyyy, but it involved me flying to Aruba every few months and it's hard to remember the downsides of not being in a fulfilling relationship when 90% of the relationship is spent on private beaches.

After bi-secting the country via airplane every few months for a year, we had talked about me moving down there to try things out full time. I had just finished reading all of these very idealistic blog posts about how people were quitting their jobs to pursue ant-farming and the like so I figured that I could quit my job and pursue surfing and yoga and beach lounging without too much consequence (also, I was 24).

And after all of this discussion, I stopped hearing from him like two weeks later. Nevermind that we had talked nearly every day (via phone, email or Skype) for over a year. Nevermind that I had thoroughly endeared myself to his friends. Nevermind that I had eaten chicken for him (I was a vegetarian). Nevermind that I was the smart girl with the schmancy degree from a top tier university that watched Ricki Lake and made fun of people who moved halfway across the world and did things like I was doing (I know. I know, I know. I know.). He just stopped calling. And so I started snooping.

I'm not great at dragging out stories like this when it's not actually the point so...the point is that I found out he had met another girl, from Sweden, who was this sort of a vagabond/traveler/yoga-instructor and pretty much everything I was trying to convince myself that I was, but really I was only a very small portion of all of those things. Mostly because I'm neurotic and have fears of failure and sometimes can't own my crazy decisions as much as I would like.

In the span of two weeks, she had moved in with him and I'm pretty sure they adopted a mistfit dog together. All without me "knowing". I found all of this out from Facebook and GoogleTranslate: English to Swedish (I'm really, really good. Please contact me if you would like me to internet-snoop for you.)

And so he honored the year that we had spent together by ignoring me and all of my phone calls and then after I went off on a hysterical crying rampage the one time I DID get him on the phone, he mumbled some blather about deserving someone better than him and hung up very abruptly.

I am telling you this not to garner sympathy or comments like "He didn't deserve you anyway." (In fact, I'm probably more scared of the comments like "Really? He was a surfer from Aruba and you DIDN'T see this coming? Seriously?" The only response I have to that is: I know. I know, I know. I know.) I'm telling you this because I promised I would never, ever, ever be that person.

I was chatting with a very wise friend of mine last night after I broke up with my current guy and, through my tears, I managed to hear her say, "The best thing that we can feel in difficult situations is compassion. Love and compassion for another human being is the foundation of all religions, and it is when we are feeling this compassion for another is when we are closest to our true selves."

So while the easy choice for my current relationship would have been to never call him again or to let him move out to Colorado for the winter ski season and then mumble some bull about it being too hard to do distance, I chose the compassionate route. I chose to tell him that I felt for him and that I did care about him, but not in the way that he needed to be cared about. And then I hung up the phone and fell asleep because I wasn't sure how else to make sense of all of the emotions that were welling up in my chest.

It required me to be bold. And it required me to feel the weight of his heart being broken. And I cried for him because I know how terrible it feels for a heart to break. I've felt it many times and while there's always a feeling of growth and strength afterwards, there's still the initial feeling of "Fuck. This hurts like hell."

I hope to never, ever be the person that just stops calling. I have done it before and yes, it's easy. But the same wise friend as above once told me that there are always two choices to make: an easy choice and a hard choice. The difference is that what comes after the easy choice is always harder, whereas what comes after the hard choice is always easier.

My Thoughts on Trail Mix (and also a Guest Post)

2011-10-17T15:48:00.004-04:00

Today I bought trail mix and ate only the M&Ms. It's that kind of day.

So instead of a long blog post about why M&Ms are the most valuable part of my day, I will be directing you instead to this guest post over at When I Grow Up. It has to do with running and potentially also my oft-mentioned quarterlife crisis.

But not trail mix. Sadly.

The Coldest Winter

2011-10-14T06:00:00.000-04:00

We've all heard about how much I love to read. Yesterday, I posted about how I miss college even a little because the only job that I had in college was to read to learn and then to talk to other intelligent people about what we read. It was like a big giant book club all the time.

I'm reading a book right now called The Coldest Winter. My (new) boss (who was already a running buddy) recommended it to me. It's about the Korean War and while I imagine most of you don't get terribly excited when it comes to war novels, this one actually has me as much on the edge of my seat as possible (for being 670 pages). It discusses in depth not only the actual events that took place during the Korean War (which admittedly I know nothing about and can guarantee most people don't. One of the statistics in the book is that there were under 10 books about the Korean War in the author's local library, compared to over 100 about Vietnam!) but also the political landscape in the late 40s and early 50s. So often, we Americans think about the 1950s and imagine post-WWII economic boom, the changing role of women, and everything espoused by Mad Men. This book discusses how the American foreign policy changed after World War II and even how unbelievably unprepared we were as a Developed Nation to go into war with the North Korean army.

What are you reading right now? I need something a little lighter for my next book. Literally. The Coldest Winter weighs like 6 pounds!

The Flywheel

2011-10-13T12:04:00.003-04:00

I went to a lecture last night. It was at NYU's Vanderbilt Auditorium and was all college-y feeling. Big red velvet curtains with fraying fold down auditorium seats. Clicking laptops, skinny jeans, hipster glasses, overloaded messenger bags.

I sort of had this ache for college as I was sitting there. The auditorium was largely filled with students and they were all scribbling notes, writing down questions, quoting catchphrases that they could take home with them or expand into an article to the campus paper. It made me feel all nostalgic and a little sad that I was no longer surrounded by people whose only job was to learn. To be curious. To be interested about something other than bottom lines and bottom outs and target numbers and client expectations. When I was in college, I couldn't wait to get out so that I could have a full time job. So that I wouldn't constantly be doing homework all the time. So that I could read books that I actually wanted to read instead of fucking Pride and Prejudice. Again.

(Okay, I'm still psyched that I get to choose what books to read. Jane Austen, pffft.)

But now that I've been out for a while, I miss all the learning. I miss having a free evening or afternoon to go to a lecture. I miss discussing education reform at lunch or constantly being abreast of everything that's going on in the world.

But that's not what this post is about. It's about the Flywheel.

One of the things that the speaker, John Wood, mentioned was this concept of a Flywheel. A flywheel is essentially an enormous mechanical wheel that is hard to move initially but, once a lot of energy is put into it, over time it will continue spinning much more easily than that initial push. Yea, you get the analogy.

But he said that there are three components to what it takes to keep the Flywheel going: something that you are good at, something that the world values, and something for which you have passion.

Because, Wood said, if you are good at something and you have passion for it, but the world doesn't value it, then that's called a hobby.

Likewise, if you are good at something and the world values it but you don't have passion for it, that's called a j-o-b.

There was a lot more to the lecture ("bold goals attract bold people"), but this idea of a Flywheel for your life really stuck out to me. I know that I have a job, and I definitely have many, many hobbies, but I'm not sure I have my thing. My trifecta of a flywheel. I can't quite put together the pieces to figure out what that third piece of the puzzle is. What do I love to do, for which I have passion and am good at, but that the world also values?

What is your flywheel made up of?

The Thing About It Is That It's Not The Same for Everyone

2011-09-29T00:17:00.002-04:00

I had a very long argument/conversation with a friend tonight about all of the things that you should look for in a potential partner. I say argument/conversation because we were both sort of doing that thing that you do when you clearly disagree with someone but you don't want to get all "Dude, you're so effing wrong and one day you will wake up 57 and divorced and will WISH you listened to me on Gchat that one time in September" and so instead you make all these sort of jokey passive aggressive statements about how you really feel.

His thing was the resume. And I'm sure a lot of other things, but what I got in the end was the resume. Cuz it was catchy and catch-phrase-y. He seemed to want someone with a resume; someone that is good on paper. It goes deeper than that.

It's someone who is ambitious which can be shown by all of the accolades she's received, the university that she attended, the score on her GMATs. Someone who has climbed mountains, and dove oceans, and run marathons, and started charities, and volunteers regularly. Someone who can be described with lots of positive adjectives and the conjunction "and". Someone that shows they are excited about all of the things that their resume lists. I think he called it passion.

I want that too. It sounds wonderful. I want that, too.

But then, there's other stuff that sometimes we forget about. Because we watch lots of romantic comedies and we only really see the 90 minutes where he/she tries to get the girl/boy, the 5 minutes where there is a horrible misunderstanding and everything goes to shit, the 2 minutes where he/she is running/driving to catch the train/plane on which their lover is about to leave forever, and then the 36 seconds where they joyfully makeout (roll credits!). We don't see then at 38, running on 4 hours of sleep with two kids in diapers.

So then, there's part of me that's like "huh. Can you ever know how someone is going to be 10 years down the line?" Nah, probably not. But there are things that I think we overlook (partly due to Ryan Gosling's prominent and frequent display of abs in the Notebook).

We overlook the nice. The day-to-day things that make someone wonderful to be around. How he says thank you for doing silly things like going for a run or explaining the rules of baseball. How she gets so excited for your victories and makes them into really Big Fuckin' Deals even if it isn't all that big of a deal. How he doesn't get mad at, well, anything, or she nods enthusiastically when you suggest eating cereal for dinner instead of filet at Morton's.

I'm not sure which I prefer. The passion and the resume and the excitement. Or the appreciation and the comfort of being able to say exactly what you feel without judgement or scrutiny. A combination of both would be ideal, but it seems that one always outweighs the other to the point where it's an overwhelming disparity. I like to think I have both, but I didn't always. Yoga helped me with the patience, but sometimes I still get impatient and rude at the line at Starbucks or the pace of speech maintained by our secretarial staff.

I realize I sound jaded, but at least it's not in that man-hating-my-dating-life-is-terrible way. More of a "I've-had-a-taste-of-both-and-I'm-going-with-the-guy-who-genuinely-cares-about-me-rather-than-the-guy-that-thought-seeing-each-other-more-than-once-a-week-was-overkill."

Right, so, jaded.

What do you guys think? Passionate and fiery and good on paper (also, potentially batshit crazy and a narcissist)? Or gentle, good-natured, only-got-a-1260-on-the-SATs-but-bought-me-flowers-just-because?

My Room to Read

2011-09-08T14:31:00.005-04:00

You can read all of my posts about my marathon training, my fundraising efforts, and my work with Room to Read by clicking here. To donate to Room to Read, click here.

I've had many rooms to read: the sunny front room at my childhood home, where I sprawled out on an old lumpy couch half draped in my grandma's afghan. The children's section at the local library where my mom would take us after school, spending hours legs folded in the middle of the Young Adult's aisle and refusing to move as middle-aged soccer moms huffily picked their way around me. The giant overstuffed easy chair at my Grandma's house that smelled vaguely of musty support socks.

But it was that sunny front room, the one that used to be my bedroom until my oldest brother moved all of his belongings to a cramped box of a dorm room and I was granted the priviledge of the illustrious "side room", where my love affair with books began. I remember trying to dive into the CS Lewis series at age eight, only to be so spellbound by The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe that I read it six times in succession. While reading "the Giver" and contemplating how boring life would be if we were all the same, I'd read hanging upside down on the couch in that room, delighted in my mother's chagrin that all of the blood would rush to my head and then it would explode. (As hard as I tried, it never happened). And in the final pages of "The BFG", I remember lying on its floor with tears dripping down my cheeks, forming puddles into our opaque late '80s semi-shag carpet.

I grew up in Upstate New York, close to Lake Ontario, where winter's were unforgiving, and power outages were frequent. In March of 1991, there was a storm so terrible, that we were without power for an entire week. The house was so cold that I remember my mom sleeping in bed with me to keep me warm, and that I could only fall asleep knowing that there was a flashlight on my night stand.

But what I most remember about the ice storm is that there was nothing else to do aside from eating boxed cereal and reading. We never left the house because nothing was open. No television. No telephone service. Literally, it was card games and "Where the Wild Things Are." But I never minded. We would spend all day in the reading room, my dad leafing through a the Just So Stories, recounting to us just exactly what the crocodile ate for dinner and how the elephant made it to the banks of the greasy Limpopo River. As I grew older and my life changed, my brothers moved out, my family separated, I still spent my days leafing through books in that sunny front room, afghan draped over my knees, tossing popcorn kernals absent-mindedly into my mouth. Like a rooted island in the stormy sea, this room for me was the place I went to escape all the harshness of reality.

Nowadays I don't really have a set room where I read. My New York apartment is composed of one moderately sized "everything room", a bathroom, and bedrooms. Sometimes I lounge on the couch listening to the rain and flipping pages. Or I'll head to the park across the street. Or on those really, really long subway rides to Brooklyn. And every now and then, if it's a really good book, I fake a stomachache and sit, feet up on the toilet seat at work while I devour Tina Fey's "Bossypants." Ya know. Like ya do when the written word of a very funny lady is making you giggle into the back of your hand. But regardless of the time or space, whenever I crack a book and start leafing through it's pages, I imagine still being in the sunny front room on the coldest days of winter, curled up against someone and with something I love.

What does your favorite Room to Read look like? I'd love to hear some of your stories in the comments!

If you liked this story, head over to my fundraising page to donate to my favorite non-profit, Room to Read. In honor of my 26th year and running 26 (.2!) miles at the NYC Marathon on November 6, 2011, I'm trying to raise twenty-six $250 scholarships that will allow 26 girls to begin or continue their relationship with reading. Help girls around the world write stories of their own "Room to Read."

Because Illiteracy is Soooo 2010

2011-09-07T11:16:00.006-04:00

You can read all of my posts about my marathon training, my fundraising efforts, and my work with Room to Read by clicking here.

You guys?

I love to read.

Like, badly. There are times where I'll take a "bathroom break" at work only to go hide in the ladies room and read the next chapter of Tina Fey's "Bossypants". With my feet on the toilet bowl because no-I-don't-actually-have-to-use-the-bathroom.

Yep. I just admitted that on the internet.

One time, I got in trouble because I was reading James and the Giant Peach under my desk in Ms. Wright's class. It was like the second-grade version of BBM-ing your friends under the table at your two-hour weekly Strategic Marketing meeting. Only eighty times more embarrassing because you're 8-years-old and self-conscious about, oh, everything.

So yea, I love to read and I bet a bunch of you out there who are reading this also love to read. Because you're bloggers and writers and readers and you spend all of your idle time sneakily checking your RSS feeds and reading articles in the Washington Post when you should be formatting spreadsheets (maybe that's just me).

And guess what else? There are thousands and thousands of girls all over the world that don't share this love with me. Because they simply don't know how. They don't know how to read and are therefore can't curl up with their favorite novel on a rainy Sunday afternoon or fall asleep with visions of James and the Giant Peach floating through their brains.

When I was in Southeast Asia last year, I couldn't help but fall in love with each place I went to. Even though I was tired, hungry, sick, lost, angry, each city I went to offered another person who took me in, made me a steaming bowl of pho or nasi goreng or pad thai, shared with me their stories, and cracked my through my travel weariness a little bit. I arrived back in the United States and realized that if there were people out there that could be so generous to me while having so little of their own, then I would do what I could to be generous back. That's when I found Room to Read.

Room to Read is an unbelievable non-profit founded by John Wood, a former marketing exec for Microsoft. You can pick up his memoir, Leaving Microsoft to Change the World, at the library, on your e-reader, or local bookstore, and hear how he founded Room to Read 10 years ago, and has turned it into one of the fastest growing non-profts ever.

So this year, in honor of turning 26 and running 26 (.2!) miles in the New York City Marathon on November 6, 2011, I want to sponsor twenty-six $250 scholarships for 26 girls to learn or continue their literacy education through a non-profit that is near and dear to my heart. For the people who took care of me made me smile when all I wanted was a hot shower and a decent night's sleep. For their little girls, so that they can grow up and see the world like I did, even if it is only through the lens of a really, really good book.

So, all of that said, please head on over to my fundraising page and help me reach my goal to get 26 scholarships for girls' education. My goal is to raise all 26 scholarships by the time the marathon rolls around (literally two months! That's one scholarship needed every two days!).

And if you can't donate an entire scholarship, $10 is perfect. $20 is amazing. Or even just reposting on your blog, retweeting on Twitter, or forwarding this post to your friends and family.

What do you love about reading? Have you ever fundraised for a cause that you love so much? If so, leave your tips in the comments!

A Developing Problem. Everywhere.

2011-09-03T18:21:00.003-04:00

When I was in Cambodia, I went on an overnight diving trip. On the itinerary was a full two days of diving, guaranteed turtle sightings, with nudibranches, barricudas, and even the possibility of seeing a shark or two. I love sharks.

What I wasn't ready for was the absolutely horrible state of the Cambodian boat launch. There were these houses rigged up on stilts out in the water. And below these houses (shacks? lean-tos?) were layers and layers of garbage on the top of the water. The garbage was so thick that dogs could walk on it and pick out any remaining food scraps. And people were living less than a few feet above this garbage layer.

I was sad at first, then angry, then I wanted to try to help but the clean up effort seemed so insurmountable, not to mention the education effort it would take to get the Cambodian people and their recently recovered-for-the-first-time-since-the-1970s tourist industry to pay attention to this awful problem. So I sort of gave up on trying to formulate a plan of attack to clean up the Cambodian waterways. I have good ideas, and a lot, but I get overwhelmed by the enormity of some of them. (That's when I turn on Real Housewives of New Jersey and call it a day.)

I sort of forgot about pollution until this past week when I was taking a sailing lesson in the New York Harbor off of the Hudson River. Hurricane Irene had just gone through and so the harbor was all churned up with all sorts of things. Mostly trash. I was horrified and the instructor noticed my disgust when I asked when the cleanup crew was going to remove all the debris from the water.

"Oh, there's no clean up crew. It will eventually just filter itself back out into the ocean and will probably join that trash island out in the Pacific. It's like the size of Texas."

After hearing that, I gagged a bit, and tried hard not to gape my mouth open too wide.

Pollution is everywhere. All the time. I remember when I was young, there were all these commercials about pollution. But with the invention of the "Green Movement" and "Bamboo clothing" and "organic cardboard clamshell boxes" and "less water bottle waste", someone in marketing decided we were all over with pollution.

But it's not true. There is fucking pollution everywhere. Go to Starbucks? Pollution in the form of throw away coffee cups. Eat anything ever from a takeout place? Pollution. Water bottle. POLLUTION. GAH! It drives me banana sandwich. I feel like we've just gotten better at hiding the fact that we are all still polluting our earth a little more one day at a time. We hide behind the "ECO-FRIENDLY" labels of our paper cups and feel a little bit better that we aren't participating in the enormous waste of resources that is going on in the world.

We in America are facing a very devastating problem that is almost impossible to counterattack without one skill: consciousness. I am not claiming to be perfect in my reduction of throwaway goods all the time, but I do think about it every time I throw something in the trash can. And that's the first step. Thinking about it.

So I propose this: just one day, count the number of things you throw away. Because of convenience or annoyance or because it is actual trash. A lot of time, I make waste out of sheer laziness; I get a coffee to go because I feel that I need one and I didn't have time to make one in my mug at home. I buy lunch to go and eat at my desk, throwing away the container because I forgot to bring lunch in a reusable container that morning.

Pollution is still an enormous problem in this country and, while we are all a little bit more aware, I would really love it if we all started actually coming up with strategies to make our world a little cleaner. Mine is coffee. I'm going to stop buying coffee in reusable containers. Period. End of story. If I buy a coffee, I'd better have my own mug, or just keep on walking.

What about you? What are some strategies that you employ/would like to start employing to make a little less waste?

IF

2011-08-24T09:13:00.003-04:00

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

'Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

Picking the Perfect Female Pack

2011-08-22T22:03:00.004-04:00

I got an email today from a girl that I went to high school with telling me that she stumbled across my blog and was wondering if I had any recommendations for a day pack for hiking.

I nearly melted with glee thinking that someone else asked my advice about gear.

Not to mention that, yes I DO in fact have a recommendation for the perfect female day pack. It's this one:

It's a Gregory from the Jade series. This one above is a 60 liter, but for day hiking you can likely get away with a 28 or a 38 liter. Bigger is better in my opinion, if only it means you can take it on longer trips if you choose.

So, since you're wondering:

1. No, Gregory did not sponsor me to write this post. I wish they did as I am so in love with all of their packs. I have a natural anterior pelvic tilt (or sway back, or I look like I'm sticking my butt out all the time. 87% of the time is unintentional) and Gregory's Jade series has a nice mound of cushioning for my little lower back pocket. The hip belts on the Jade series are also nice and thickly padded, making it a cinch to wear it around all day with 30 pounds worth of hiking boots and bathing suits while I was trekking around Southeast Asia.

2. No, I did not go to great research lengths to find this pack. I literally ordered it from Sierra Trading Post, got it in the mail, tried it on, shrugged and said "feels fine" and then proceeded to fall in love with it during the three months that I strapped it to my back every day. We had our moments, but bottom line is that this pack and I are meant for each other.

This is not to say that this is how you should go about pack shopping. I highly, highly recommend you go into the store and try on a few packs. Make sure the sales associate stuffs them with some weight so you know how they'll carry when you're hiking.

3. Am I this nerdy in real life? Yes. I hang all of my gear on my wall. My freakin' bedroom looks like EMS. It gets sort of embarrassing when boys have come into my room. I may have scared a few of them with my knowledge of MSR snowshoes and my incredible collection of packing cubes.

Yep. Definitely going to be single forever.

What is your favorite piece of gear?

How to Unsuccessfully Quit Your Job to Travel

2011-08-19T06:00:00.003-04:00

Have I ever told you about the time that my boss wouldn't let me quit my job?

Last spring, I was in a serious funk. I was feeling that my current job situation was hopeless. I had been with the company for which I still work for almost 3 years at that point and I hadn't done anything of note. My friends had assistants, or were managing entire teams, and I still was getting the coffee. I was miserable. I remember waking up for work and feeling so utterly helpless because I felt it was a dead end for me. I could barely get an interview and I was nervous that if I made a lateral move, I'd be stuck in another unchallenging, entry-level job.

So, I started to read. I checked books out of the library about career change and working for yourself. I Google searched "long-term travel" and came up with a bounty of blogs to help me out. I started getting ideas in my head. I counted my pennies. I could quit, move out of my apartment and travel, if I was willing to live on street food and cheap hostels. I was and I did.

At that point, anything was better than ordering one more pot of coffee.

This isn't the story about how I decided to travel. It's about how I went about walking into my boss' office, a boss that, despite how I felt about not necessarily being challenged at all, I loved deeply and considered a close friend and amazing mentor, and told her that I was quitting.

It was harder than I thought it was going to be. And I wasn't exactly 100% successful.

After I did my research on Asia and booked my ticket, I knew that I at least had to give two weeks. While the nature of my job doesn't require me to give any more than two weeks, I was too scared to tell anyone prior to the actual two week departure date.

So, on a Monday, after I had come back from the July 4th holiday weekend and everyone was still a little bit giddy from copious barbeque consumption, I walked into my boss' office and shut the door.

"Uh oh." She eyed me. "Are you quitting?"

She knew. Closing the door to my boss' office is the international sign of "I'm quitting."

"I'm quitting. But it's not bad!" I hurried to justify it. As if quitting to travel was less embarrassing for her than quitting to work in a job that was actually challenging would be.

"I'm traveling. To Asia! And I want to do it slowly and I want to do it right. And so, um, that means I have to quit."

I held my breath and waited for her to pull out a little pink slip which meant I was terminated.

But she didn't. The corners of her mouth turned up and she congratulated me for figuring it out much earlier than she did. Because by the time she had decided to quit her job and mountain bike around Wyoming, Colorado, and California, she was staring down the barrel at thirty. She reconvinced me that this was the right decision to make.

"And I would never want to work for someone myself who didn't understand the inherent value in long-term, exotic travel."

After which I began to breathe again, and the color likely drained back into my face.

And after I hugged her and thanked her for being a terrific mentor and turning around to leave, she stopped me and asked how long I was planning on being gone.

"Well, I didn't really do a whole lot of preemptive saving so I think I have about enough to travel for three months or so."

To which she said, "Well, I think you'd be able to come back when you're done since that's just the start of busy season. It'd take me that long anyway to hire and train someone."

At that moment I wasn't sure. I was nervous for a lot of reasons: I thought that if I came back, I would never leave. I was afraid it wouldn't be any different than it is now. I was afraid that it would just be back to the same old grind, and like my travel hiatus abroad never happened.

But it was also a blessing because I knew I had a cushion. I knew I could go into debt learning how to ride a motorbike and climbing the red rock canyons of Pai, and take twelve-hour trains to Northern Thailand because I would have a comfy paycheck to come back to in the end. No more fretting about seemingly insurmountable debt.

So I said yes, that I would come back. And I was right. It was the same. I am still sort of bored and not terribly engaged. I get coffee. I feel emotionally detached from my job. It's everything I was afraid of.

But you know what? It comes with a paycheck. A rather large, confusing one, based on the amount of real work that I actually do, but a paycheck that allows me to live in my beautiful, tiny box of an apartment with some truly wonderful roommates. And shop at Trader Joe's. And then tuck the rest of it into my trusty, .3% return savings account.

Because I know that I can always get this job. Well, maybe not this exact job, but I can always get a job answering phones and solving mini-crises and planning the shit out of events and smiling pretty at busy clients. But I can't always lug a 30 lb. backpack full of bathing suits and hiking boots around on my back and dive with sharks in Honduras or learn to sail in Grenada.

And that's really what long-term travel has taught me:

There are so many more options out there than what we can even imagine by sitting at our desks and staring out the window. The best thing to do to figure them out is to go out into the world and see for yourself. If worse comes to worse, you can always, always come back.

Have you ever quit a job for something else that you love doing?

Weekly Link Love

2011-08-18T06:00:00.009-04:00

I read an embarrassing amount of online content (never at work though...nope...never...).

It's actually almost to the point that my view is so skewed on what an actual-8-hour-workday looks like if it doesn't have 15-minute blog/CNN news/NYTimes breaks. I would like to do a time spent doing actual work vs. time spent reading non work material analysis but I know that if I do that, I will be horrified at my daily productivity. Let's sum it up to say that:

TSDAW < TSRNWM

(And hereafter ends everything that I have retained from 9th grade algebra.)

But why keep all of my blog reading to myself? Below are some of the best of the best that I've been reading this week:

I need a lot of help with life. Good thing Rachel Wilkerson dishes it out on the daily. Her life lessons include how much you actually like that guy you're dating, tricks for keeping organized and streamlined, and being really, really, really good at life.

Kate talks about how, though she's a feminist and super proud of being a woman, she doesn't really need to dress up in costume and parade through the streets shouting it out loud. I'm inclined to agree (mostly because I'm sort of shy and have a meek voice).

Not a blog, but, well, JULIE ANDREWS. This makes me want to get out a hoop skirt and parade around the copy room.

Kris Carr talks about how to live with cancer and still do it in a beautiful way.

I would be lying if I said that I haven't been asked a few of these questions myself.

All of this talk about career changes, I found this "Resume of Life" super-inspiring. What would go on your life resume?

Potential dream job?

Oh! Free Yoga? Don't mind if I do!

What links have you guys been loving this week? Share them with me below!

The Ballet of Love

2011-08-17T06:00:00.002-04:00

I was a dancer my entire life, so when I saw this video with two ballet dancers translating their relationship into movement, I nearly cried/then got really excited/then did a pirouette in my teeny, tiny excuse for a bedroom. There are so many times in my life where I wish I could just explain something in movement because my words are just simply not enough.

I do find it odd that this is a commercial for a phone company though.

Do you ever feel like your life is one, giant dance?

How to Tour NYC (But Not Like a Tourist)

2011-08-16T06:00:00.007-04:00

I talk a big game about New York. It's a really awesome place to live, and despite the fact that public transportation sometimes makes me 20 minutes late to work and it's impossible to have a good hair day when it's 90 degrees and stifling hot when blocked by all those 60 story buildings, but it really is an awesome place to live, visit, and dream about (like I did for, oh, 22 years of my life).

Eating

Talk to four different people and you'll get 20 different restaurants that they loooove. It's hard in a city where there are more restaurants than rats to have anyone agree on, well, anything related to food. So I'm not going to recommend the ones that Time Out New York or the New York Times recommends, because you could likely just look at their website. And also, there are a lot of "atmosphere-y" places that everyone likes to SAY they ate at (because they are super trendy and yada yada), but I really like to eat (a lot) and not have to pay a WHOLE lot for it. So I'm not going to recommend Per Se or DB Bistro (with a $50 truffle burger. WTF?!), but here are a couple places that I am happy to spend a little money on some good food, good wine, and good atmosphere.

Italian

Otto: This is Mario Batali's pizza place and has so many different pizza combinations, you'll want every single one! One bonus is that it's not terribly expensive AND if you want to go out, you're pretty close to the East Village divey pubs. I love the communal atmosphere (like you're in your long lost Italian nona's kitchen). Basically, you can order a couple (unbelivable) pizzas and they bring them out and place them on these stackable tray things . It's thin crust so you never feel annoyingly full (even after appetizers - I love the Fig Agrodolce!) And then you drink copious amounts of wine and laugh with your girlfriend and make eyes at your very cute Italian waiter.

'intoteca: More traditional Italian food, with a few different locations and incarnations. I've been to Corsina and inoteca liquori and they are both very, very good, with good service. These are a little bit more of the fancy Italian wine bar (more like Sex and the City vibe), but they can own it cuz their food is so good.

Indian

Brick Lane Curry: Brick Lane was on one of those Food Network shows (like spiciest curry or something) but if you at all like Indian Food, this place is fantastic. The bonus is that, if the line is huge, you're on a little street called "Curry Hill" which basically has 85 other Indian restaurants on the same street. But Brick Lane is the best, hands down.

Peruvian

Pio Pio: Another family style meal. This one is a bit messy because everything is a la carte (the pollo a la brasa is what they are famous for...basically a roast chicken with tons of things to dip it into), but this is one of those places where you want to cross your hands over your stomach at the end of the meal and take a little nap.

Calle Ocho: This technically isn't Peruvian, I guess more...Latin? But it's a super fun atmosphere and you can either do tapas and share, or you can get your own dishes (and still share!). I just love it because it's fun, but it is a tad loud and if it's a weekend night, I think they sometimes have live music (which is awesome, but also, makes it hard to talk). This is my brother's go-to first-date place (not only because he likes the food, but because it's sort of a unique place).

Down Home American

Back Forty: Oh yum. Burgers. Mac and cheese. BBQ Chicken. Thousands of menu options that I shouldn't be eating if I want to maintain my current weight. Also, we're not going to talk about their desserts or else I would probably leave work to go get one right now. This is a local spot, too, which makes it less of a tourist trap.

5 Napkin Burger: I don't love recommending burger places, but 5 Napkin is, like, sinful. I was a vegetarian for 2 years, and then went more carnivorous and the first burger I had back on the wagon was from this place. Also, they have kind of a mish mosh of sushi and other stuff, which I've never had, but if it's as good as their burgers, I'd say it's a WIN!

Rooms with a View

Sometimes, it's not always about the food, but the vibe and the atmosphere.

The Frying Pan: This is like a dive bar but better. The Frying Pan is an old tugboat that the owner's docked and repurposed into a bar, replete with ping pong tables, plastic furniture, cheap beer and onion rings that I could likely eat by the deep fryer basket. It's sort of a trek to get to (since it's all the way on the Hudson River), but if you go for pre-dinner drinks (at like 4 or 5) then watch the sunset, you can always grab a cab on the West Side Highway and take it to your dinner spot. The one drawback is that good weather is a MUST, as it's uncovered and on the water, so AWESOME if it's a sunny, warmish day but NOT AWESOME if it's anything but.

The Boat Basin: Also, if your looking for a view AND good food, head here, like, yesterday. The best thing other than the unbelievable harbor view and the laid back atmosphere is the cocktails that pretty much force you to flirt with the cute business-types that are always hanging around there.

Things to Do

These are actually all ways that I have spent afternoons in New York City. Empire State Building? Meh. Afternoon walking around some of New York's best local markets and craft stalls? Sign. Me. Up.

1. The Highline: I can walk around here for ages. It's like an urban park, and when you're done strolling about and taking in the awesome views, you can stop by Chelsea Market to get the best brownies in the whole, wide, world. And I don't make that claim lightly.

2. Picnic in Central Park: Stop by the Whole Foods (aka the best grocery store on the planet. It's more than a grocery store...it's like grocery store meets fine dining meets organic farm meets crack) in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle (59th street and Broadway), then carry out your goodies across the street to Central Park. Pick a big flat rock or a shady spot of lawn and watch the runners, bikers, dog walkers, and celeb wannabes trot around in this urban oasis.

3. Get a non-touristy view of Lower Manhattan: Take the subway down to Battery Park and get on the Staten Island Ferry. If you stand above on the deck, you get the same amazing view as all of those "NYC Harbor Tours" that cost $35, but this is FREE! This is where you should take lots of pictures, feel the breeze in your hair, and snicker at all of those other suckers in the NYC Harbor Tours boats who paid entirely too much to do the same thing as you did for free. When you're done here, you can get off and start walking up the West Side Highway, take in the view of New Jersey, then stop at the World Financial Center for lunch. There's TONS of options down here, and you can likely eat outdoors while drinking mimosas and looking out over the water. And if you haven't seen the site of where the World Trade Center Towers were, you would be very close. The view isn't all that great anymore since new construction began, but there is definitely still a massive hole in the ground, even after 10 years.

4. Go to Greenmarket: Ugh, I love this. It's like one of those outdoor markets that has specialty jellies and homemade breads and freshly baked pastries and all-natural juices and organic cheeses and beautiful flowers and artwork that street artists ACTUALLY make (as opposed to places where they just sell prints of crap and then you don't find out until you walk past ANOTHER artist on a different street that has the same thing). Plus, if you go during the week, it's just as awesome, and way less crowded. I love this place. Did I mention that yet?

5. Lower East Side Tenement Museum: If you want to know about the cultural fabric of NYC, this is the place to go and is hands down my favorite museum in New York City (I'm a history nerd). You'll get a history guide and they will take you on a little walking tour of a tenement (basically an old school apartment building that they restored to look like what NYC apartments were like in the 1850s, 1920s and 1950s) and show you how NYC got to be as culturally diverse at it is. And then, since you'll be in the infamous Lower East Side (the LES), you can go to Katz's Delicatessen (get the pastrami sandwich and prepare to die of happiness) where Sally showed Harry just exactly what faking an orgasm sounds like. And then, you must promise, to go to Sugar's and have one of their desserts. And then you will die again (although in addition to happiness, you'll likely also die of calorie overload and clogged arteries. But well worth it, in my opinion.) Or, if you're feeling extra sugary sweet, head to Doughnut Plant. This may also cause imminent death by calories. Again. Worth it.

Okay, now book your flights and get yourself here, immediately!

What are your favorite things about New York City? What sort of unique things does your hometown have?

My First Job (And Why I REALLY Needed It)

2011-08-15T06:00:00.002-04:00

There was a time, not too terribly long ago, when I was a lonely girl living in New York City.

I had moved all of my worldly belongings straight from college in Washington, DC, back to my parents house, taken a few weeks to have a meltdown/eat tubs of cheese while watching Oprah/buy way too many unnecessary organizational materials from BBAB/cry knowing that it was the last time I could do my laundry for free, re-packed up and started a new job in New York City. All in about 21 days after I had thrown my graduation cap in the air and gotten characteristically drunk at Senior Ball.

When I started my first job, I was hopelessly lost. I was a wedding planner (and, looking back on it now, I frequently think to myself "what kind of person would want a 22 year old planning their $500,000 wedding?"), but mostly I spent my days chasing around Marc Jacobs' rehearsal dinner dresses, explaining the difference between canapes and crostini to clueless grooms, and reworking the wedding budget to include "Jimmy Choo ballet flats" under "Wedding Favors".

Which, all in, consumed about 97 hours of my week. My salary, predictably, was somewhere in the "might be able to have more than Ramen for dinner this week, but not if you plan on having any money to do anything else" range.

I was working incessantly at a job that was so administrative that my head hurt, constantly being yelled at for stamps not being straight on envelopes (which apparently warrants said stamped enveloped to be hurled at you from across the room while said yeller is performing said oral beration), and breaking down almost nightly in fear that I hadn't completed everything for the next day. My dreams were always about work. (Literally. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night scared that you forgot to book a caterer the night before a wedding. Heart-attack-inducing, to say the least.)

Flash forward 9 months, when I quit my first job to start working in corporate events, then two years, when I took a three-month sabbatical from that job and traveled to Asia, then one more year, to now. I'm back at the same job that I started after I took my sabbatical, saving up for some more long-term travel, and am slowly coming to terms with how desperately important it was for me to have that first soul-crushing, energy-sucking job.

Wait, what?

Sometimes, it's that first job that really sets the tone for the rest of your working career. I remember when I was job searching and deciding that I wanted to go into events. I always assumed that I'd get stuck doing some sort of non-profit admin work, or maybe get hired by a university to do fundraising. When I got an email back from this "boutique wedding and special event planning firm in New York City" I remember shrieking with delight when I found out that they were ACTUALLY PAYING for me to come up to interview. When I got an acceptance email with my contract (despite the shockingly low salary), I have emails that I saved to my brother (working in finance at the time, and who actually called me up just to audibly laugh in my ear at said shockingly low salary) asking WHEN I could accept said job.

Flash forward 6 months to my brother meeting me in the airport terminal after a particularly nightmarish wedding in South Carolina. The minute I saw him, I broke down into tears and didn't stop until we were back at his apartment, eating Chunky Monkey and watching Law and Order on his couch.

And the one thing that I know now? Even though my current job is sort of boring, and I'm not feeling as challenged as I think I can be, I know that it can always, always, always be way worse. I know that I won't have to live in fear of losing my job every day because I placed a stamp crookedly on an envelope, and I know that my boss will actually smile at me and ask questions about my commute when I walk past her office in the morning.

What I didn't know then at 22 that I know now is that I need to set boundaries, ask tough questions and really make a decision based on the perks and pitfalls. Do I have to work weekends? How many? What's the review process like? Why did the girl/boy/monkey before me leave this job? What are the rules on throwing envelopes with crooked stamps?

I can actually look back and appreciate what I've learned. Yes, it was emotionally soul-crushing, but I now understand how difficult it is to run a small business. I am more aware of how I treat people that I work with. I can really, really dig the meaning of "workplace camaraderie". Unless you're treated like shit for a little bit, you can't really appreciate what it means to not be treated like shit. And so, I've started treating others like gold. Because no one wants to be told that they are replaceable.

I'm not afraid to ask. For a raise. For more flexible hours. For vacation. For a little extra time at lunch so that I can go process my visa. One of the toughest things about being scared at your job is not knowing what the boundaries are. When I was interviewing for my current job, I made it extremely clear of my expectations. My boss told me that they really wanted me to work there and they would do whatever they had to in order to get me to sign on. So I asked for a bunch of stuff (raise after a certain amount of time, more vacation, promotion after a year), knowing how terrible it felt to be taken advantage of as an employee. I will always, always ask for concessions now, and will never be in a job again where I feel scared to make my intentions and expectations known.

To touch on this point, I know that as women, sometimes we feel that we are "asking for too much" or that we "don't want to make waves". I say MAKE WAVES! Most employers understand that the employer-employee relationship is about striking a work-life balance, and no one is going to get mad if you simply ask for what you want and think you deserve (within reason. Salary, promotion, bonus, vacation -- all fine. Personal ice-cream maker in your office? A bit much. Let's be realistic, here.)

I can take me some shit. I had an envelope thrown at my head. Seriously?

What was good (or bad?) about your first job? What did you learn? Any horror stories (or have you ever had a wedding invitation thrown at you?)

Have a Lovely Day

2011-08-14T11:58:00.000-04:00

Happy Sunday!

10 Money - Free Saturday Ideas

2011-08-13T15:17:00.002-04:00

I recently made the decision to travel again next fall, hopefully for an entire year. And while 85% of my time is taken up by imagining myself engaged raptly in cappuccino and conversation with a dark-haired Italian man, the other 15% requires me to sort of plan for a year-long jaunt abroad.

And by "plan" I really mean save a lot of money.

One of the things I've been experimenting with is Money-Free Weekends. Basically, I am not allowed to spend anything on Saturday or Sunday. No refreshing Starbucks iced lattes, no soft pretzels from the street cart man, no brunch. No Saturday morning-after-Friday-night-party-time-bagels. (I miss those)

So what have I been doing? I've actually been a lot more creative with my time, and while it's a little bit harder for me to be money free in the summer (I want to have lunch on the pier overlooking the Hudson! I want to buy cute new sandals and wear them to the bar on Saturday night!), I've actually been having a ton of fun.

1. Work on your tan. There's some study about vitamin D that we've all ready like 900 times, but the bottom line is that I just look way cuter with a tan. And since I live a stone's throw from one of the best parks in the world and a short-ish subway ride to the beach (since I have a monthly pass, this doesn't count as spending money), I've been spending my free time belly up with a good book.

2. Get familiar with Dewey. No, not those annoying ducks from Ducktales. I mean the Dewey decimal system. Summer has always implied reading lists for me and this summer, instead of spending all my hard earned cash on books that gather dust on my nightstand, I've been taking full advantage of one of our country's most valuable municipal services. So far, I've made it through three career change books, a book about writing, one about marriage, and am in the middle of one about big wave surfers. Never has my imagination been so full.

3. Explore a farmer's market. This is really just an excuse for me to eat. The farmer's markets in this area have lots of free samples, which I am happy to partake in. And, the best part? I get a little snack, walk around and smell fresh produce and flowers and get to spend a few hours in the sun. Sometimes, when I'm feeling a little rowdy, I'll ask the farmers their theories on sustainable agriculture.

4. Iced coffee on the stoop. Step 1: Make coffee Friday night. Step 2: chill in fridge overnight. Step 3: drink copious amounts of coffee with ice and some cinnamon on my stoop while reading to my heart's content.

5. Listen to some wisdom. TED talks are lovely. I can spend an entire Saturday listening to all the free advice on it. It's endless. Sometimes, I'll bring my computer to a coffee shop and take advantage of the air-conditioning. It's like my own mini movie theater.

6. Go for a run. Somehow, I could do absolutely nothing for the entire day, but if I get out for a 45 minute run? It's like I've conquered the world.

7. Have a potluck. This is my favorite, since it includes friends, food, and generally copious amounts of wine and laughter. I'll bring the homemade tomato-basil pizza if you provide the Merlot!

8. Bake. The best thing about cookies? It takes like 4 ingredients to make. Sugar, flour, water, butter, eggs? Combine, bake, cookies! Awesome.

9. Learn to change your oil. I don't have a car, but one of the skills that I have decided I need to have is changing the oil of a car. I just envision myself one day being able to tell my significant other to let me go ahead and change the oil.

10. Take a nap. Because sometimes, the best thing after a long, languishing day in the sun is a cat nap, curled up on your comforter as the afternoon sun streams in through the window.

What do you guys do to live cheaply on the weekends? Right now, I'm sitting in the park across from my house watching little kids jump off the swings.

A Story About Love (but Mostly Surfing)

2011-08-12T09:23:00.002-04:00

It started with a boy.

I had met him while I was on vacation with my family in his country. We bonded over a love of all things athletic and too many tiny bottles of Amstel Brights. He was tall (three quarters Dutch) and made me giggle until my cheeks hurt (one quarter Aruban). And the best part? He was a surfer. Call my mom, tell her I'm not coming back. Her baby has fallen in love with a surfer.

He took me to his favorite surf spots and I sat on the beach watching him catch wave after wave. I cheered when he rode one in; gasped when he got pummeled by one that crashed over his head. And finally, he took me in the water with him. There I sat, on a 9 foot fiberglass longboard, out on the middle of the ocean. Literally. Because we were surfing a reef break it was almost a ten minute paddle out. Nice long rides if you were lucky to grab a wave, but no where to wash up on if you missed it, except some menacing coral underneath your fins.

I was scared. We had popped up over and over, practiced in the white water, paddled out, and got in the line. But here I was, staring at wave after wave pounding over the reef behind us.
"You'll be fine. Just paddle hard. And try to enjoy it when you're up there."

Straddling my board, I remember looking at him staring out at the rolling waves. He was so focused on....nothing. To me it didn't seem like there was anything out there except the water. I remember scratching my head and wondering how he could be so silent for such a long time.
There was a time when I was afraid of the water. I used to be scared that fish would nibble at my toes and that they would cut my ankles with their scales. I spent plenty a day at summer camp with my hands on my hips, belly sticking out, only daring to dip in up to my ankles.
And here I was, double overhead waves crashing mere feet behind me and a statue of a surf instructor, unresponsive to my whimpers, staring out at the ocean in front of him. I wiped the water out of my eyes. Drummed the pads of my fingers on my surfboard. Sighed audibly through my nose.

Just as I had decided to give up and haul my board in, I felt him push on my leg.
"Okay, here we go. You have to paddle until you can't paddle any more. And Lauren? Try not to look so concerned."

I paddled, and he pushed, and in one way or another I felt myself slowly feeling the waxy resin of the board beneath my bare feet. I sank into my knees, fingertips lightly brushing the rails, stayed low as I mentally willed myself toward the shore. My mind was blank and I vaguely remembered a salty ocean breeze whipping my hair like canvas sails behind my head. But mostly? I remembered nothing. No thoughts, no ideas, no lingering feelings of control. Just riding on top of the water for six luxurious seconds.

You know how the story ends. We didn't last, we fell out of love, he lived in a different country. But he did give me the sort of love you never imagine that you can feel for something else. He taught me to love the ocean, to love everything associated with the ocean, to feel absolutely and blissfully at home with sand in between my toes, a board under my arm, and my chin tilted toward the sun.

Sunday Self Love

2011-07-31T22:47:00.004-04:00

I'm going to get my self-love on. Because this week was a particularly difficult one, and we could all use a little more self-love, amiright?

I love that I'm usually the "funny" girl.

I love that I have one work dress that, no matter how many times I wear it, someone always says "Oh wow, you look awesome in that dress."

I love that I a little sway back, and that I constantly look like I'm sorta turned out all the time.

I love that I can talk about ballet and beer in the same breath.

I love using big words. And that I have an arsenal of them.

I love the feeling of eating big, healthy meals all day long. And going to bed full but without an upset stomach.

I love the way my skin feels after a lukewarm shower. All cool and moist and soft.

I love my eyes. They're inquisitive and big and brown.

I love my support network, virtual and in person. It's like a security blanket, and I have no idea what I'd do without it.

I love my body. Because I don't say it often enough. And I really, really, really do today.

What are you loving about yourself today?

When Mice Attack

2011-07-27T20:16:00.002-04:00

It's been pretty humid and gross in New York the past few weeks. I've lost like 10 pounds of water weight, which I am happily regulating that with copious amounts of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I am single-handedly keeping the Baskin Robbins on 66th Street and 1st Avenue in business.

But when all this hotness happens? Construction happens. And when construction happens, particularly in the building right next to ours? Well, then this happens:

Except way less cute looking. More beady eyed and frightening.

I've dealt with mice before. One time, I had a roommate from Virginia who was so in tune with the mice in our Brooklyn apartment's rhythm that she caught it by throwing a shoe at it. That's a skill they don't teach you up north, let me tell you.

But this time, I was home on a Saturday night, getting ready to go out on a date with a guy I felt lukewarm at best about. I was dallying, shooting the shit with my roommate's boyfriend before they left for a movie, eating a very adult dinner that consisted largely of popcorn with some carrots on the side. You know, things that people do on Saturday nights in New York City.

After the roomie and the BF left, I headed toward the bathroom and heard a squeaky sound behind the trashcan. And what did I do? What any normal, well-adjusted, kickass, New York City-ified female would do.

Screamed and locked myself in the bathroom.

After rocking back and forth in the fetal position on the toilet seat, I decided to take action. I sllll-000000-wwwwww-lllll-yyyy (like special ops style. I'm talking slow, here.) opened the bathroom door and peeped one eye into the living room. And there was a mouse. Stuck on a glue trap. Fighting for it's little mouse-y life.

(Sidenote: I know. The glue traps are inhumane and awful. I feel pretty miserably about them as well, but since I didn't even know that my third roommate had bought them and placed them in the apartment just two hours before this incident, I really didn't have much of an opportunity to protest. Please keep the judging to a minimum.)

After which I screamed and sprinted into my room and launched myself onto the bed. I had visions of this mouse dragging itself into my room, gluetrap still attached and chewing off my big toe. I mean, I need my big toe. It's an essential part of my summer sandal wardrobe.

So what did I do? Did I calm myself down, separate my mind from my body and dispose of the mouse humanely?

Nope. I called my potential date, told him my situation, and indicated rather sweetly that either the date would have to be cancelled or he'd have to do some mouse removal. And in true gentlemanly fashion, he walked ten blocks south from where we were supposed to meet and hit the buzzer to my building.

Which, after hearing, I took a giant breath, opened the door to my room, screamed Braveheart style, hurdled over the area where the mouse trap was, jumped on the couch, karate chopped the buzzer long enough to let him in and let out a bloodcurdling yell as I sprinted down the foyer and out the door to my apartment.

Melodramatic, you say? I'd like to think cautious.

For the entirety of the mouse removal situtation, I hopped from one foot to the other in the hallway in front of my apartment letting out little shrieks everytime my gentleman suitor gave me a play by play of the mouse disposal. (It was that fact alone which did not grant him a second date.)

So the moral of this story? I can travel around Asia by myself for months, run marathons, get my heart broken, and still come out on the other side with my head held high. But deal with a mouse? I lose it like a 12-year-old girl at a Bieber concert.

And with that, I think we've found my Kryptonite.

Alright, your turn. What's your most embarrassing moment? Biggest (dare I say irrational?) fear? If none of those, can we please just bash mice a little bit? Did you know they are CONSTANTLY peeing when they run around your house? Ew! *shudder*

Body Confessions

2011-07-15T17:39:00.003-04:00

I live in an amazing city. Seriously, the culture, the excitement, the weather.

(Okay, maybe not the weather.)

But between all the unbelievable restaurants and beneath the massive weight of the buildings, there are some truly beautiful faces. Women with perfect skin and golden hair and Chiclet gum teeth. Men with button noses and rock climber's shoulders and a sense of style that makes me jealous.

It's a lot for a short, slightly goofy looking Italian girl to handle.

So when I was trolling around the internet the other day, I stumbled upon this website. And what I read there almost made me cry. But some of it also made me nod my head. And click the "Been There" button more often than I'd like to admit.

"I hate my body - desperately and completely. It drives me insane when I realize that I'll never be attractive, beautiful or good-looking. I would give anything to be beautiful."

"I wish I could bake something without the constant fear of binging on it."

"I wish a day of "being good" was just a day of "being normal.""

It is so frustrating to know that women, all of us, feel insecure about our bodies in some way. Even I feel this way sometimes (okay, a lot of the time)! I'm a size 2! Holy cow what am I thinking?!

After I sat at my desk for a little while, I finally made my own body confession. It felt good to write it down, and to get a few people who clicked "Been There" as well, because it's nice to know that I'm not alone in my feelings. But because I didn't really know what the answer to this problem of women feeling so insecure is, I sort of decided to engage it head on. When I left my desk, I ran into a female client on my floor that was passing me. As we smiled at each other I sort of blurted out "I love your suit. It really flatters you." And then I held my breath.

She sort of looked at me kind of shocked and then mumbled a really quick "Thanks." I breathed out and hoped that I had helped to prevent her from thinking negatively about herself, at least for that day.

Later, she stopped by the desk where I sit and said goodbye. And she asked me where I got my earrings.

So maybe that's all it takes. Maybe it just takes someone else to recognize the efforts that we put in. Maybe if we all just try to elevate each other a little bit, every single day, we can get out of this mindset of a collective schadenfreude and instead be kind to each other's fragile body images. Maybe then, we can finally start being kind to our own.

How do you deal with your body insecurity? Mostly, when I stare at my apple shaped tummy while doing my 99th crunch, I remember how many times my mom tells me that I have a great little body. Thanks, Mom!

On Being Awkward

2011-07-13T10:15:00.011-04:00

I might know a little something about creating some pretty awkward scenarios for myself. One time I sat next to a very attractive guy on a plane, chatted the whole way, flirted my face off, and then, instead of giving him my phone number, SPRINTED away from him when it was time to deplane. Then, immediately regretting my inability to face my fear of asking boys out and/or potentially having them ask ME out, I later Google and Facebook stalked him using the only 3 pieces of defining information that he had told me in our 50 minutes of conversation. And none of them were his last name. (I was 22. And possibly drunk.)

So, yea. Awkward. I'm cringing just thinking about it.

(I'm also cringing about all of the men who just x-ed me off of their "Potential Girlfriend List" after reading that.)

We all do it: hide behind our best friend at the bar when you-know-which-ex walks in,
When I first became conscious of just exactly how massive the obsession of our generation with awkwardness as a state of being, I was sitting in a leader orientation session with 2oo other Georgetown college sophomores, juniors and seniors. The catchphrase of that year was whatever you were talking about + the word AWKWARD thrown in as a separate sentence right after.

Some examples:

"Dude, your outfit? So. Awkward."

"Ugh, I ran into him TWICE today. Awkward."

And the personal fave of my college years:

(said loudly and often accompanied with wild facial expressions when anyone does anything that is even mildly out of college social convention)

"Awwwwwkwaaaaaaard."

But as it happened, that day in the freshman orientation session, one of the members of the senior class that was presenting stopped, and as a half-grin slowly spread across his face, pointed out one of the members of the audience, and said,

"Dude. The way you just climbed over that girl next to you was SO AWKWARD."

And amid the peals of laughter and the murmer of side conversation, Dude, with his own self-satisfied grin on his face, came back with this gem:

"Awkward is a choice."

Sometimes, I get all up in my head about the choices that I make and the fluff that comes out of my mouth. I call people by the wrong name. I wear outfits that may or may not always match. I sometimes have spinach in my teeth. I stammer when talking to very important people. And then I get all self-conscious and uncomfortable in my skin.

But somehow, when I think of the amount of times I've thought of OTHER people as being awkward, I realize that is far less than they probably think of themselves as awkward. I always think I'm the most awkward one.

Which leads me to believe that being uncomfortable, self-conscious, and shifting nervously in your chair is really just that. A choice. And when I remember that, I immediately choose not awkward.

Here are some ways to combat awkward encounters (with humor. When all else fails, choose humor. It works for Jerry Seinfeld.)

The time you had spinach in your teeth for 45 minutes? Meh. It happens. It's happened to other people. I personally would hope that someone tells me, after which I can say, "Oh that? I was saving it for later. But if you insist. "

The time you walked around for twenty minutes with my skirt tucked into your tights? Shrug it off. And then exclaim loudly to the bar that they should be PAYING you for the show they just got. Your ass looks GOOD in tights, DAMMIT.

The time you forgot that important CEOs name and called him something else? Laugh and say "Oh, man, let me get you a coffee while I retract my foot from my mouth." And then forget it and choose for it not to be awkward.

And then? After each of these mortifying scenarios?

Forget about it. Continue on with your day/presentation/date as planned. Because if you instead continue the rest of the day all up in your head, with your stomach in knots, hoping and praying that these people around you don't think you're a complete nicompoop? The self-consciousness will eat at your confidence and you'll be way worse off than when you made the gaff in the first place. So chill out, homie. It's not as big of a deal as you think it is. Because that awkward business? It happens to everyone.

How do you guys deal with awkward scenarios? They can be cringeworthy, but also can be teaching moments. We're all awkward and I want to hear some of your stories!

27 Things in My 27th Year!

2011-07-11T09:24:00.000-04:00

Mmmm. Cake. *drool*

Friends! I turned 26 like a month and some change ago. Which means, though I didn't do nearly HALF as much as I thought I would in my 26th year, it's time to press onward and make a new list of the 27 things I really would love to accomplish before I turn 27.

Why? Because I'm nerdy. And I like nerdy personal challenges. And lists off of which I can cross things (that sounds funny. Grammar is weird).

And since I don't have any major travel plans and am sort of hunkering down before the storm of next year, I will have plenty of time to explore Manhattan, my new neighborhood, and all of the fun and challenging things I've always wanted to do here.

1. Go on a road trip

Take immense amounts of pictures. Stop in local diners that serve blueberry pies. Let someone else drive while I dangle my feet out the passenger side window.

2. See a story slam at the Moth

Because nothing gives me more pleasure than listening to hipster boys lyricize about their emotions.

3. Visit Canada

Vancouver? Toronto? Endless Canadian Rockies beautifulness? And also, because I have some beautiful besties that live up there that ignite my soul and make me so incredibly happy. And also, I'd like an excuse to talk about hockey incessently and say "Eh" a lot.

4. Go sledding with my nieces and nephew

I had this goal last year, but they had literally just learned to walk. My siblings weren't too keen about me sending them flying down the hills of Rochester on a waxed up toboggan. But this year? Game on, bitches.

5. Get henna

It could be in India. It could be on India Street in Brooklyn. I don't really care, but I'd like to see the prettiness of semi-permanent ink all over my hands.

6. Skydive

Self-explanatory. *Pees pants*

7. Attend a Jum'ah

I was an international relations major in college and focused on how the cultural view towards women affected policy in the Middle East. And I've never been to an Islamic prayer service. It's time. I'm prepping my headscarf.

8. Learn to sail

I've always had an interest in sailing because I love the water and I love the idea that spending time on a boat is a skill. And, obviously, sailing necessitates owning boat shoes.

9. Read The Jungle Book

It's one of my faves and I haven't read it in its entirety since my parents were the ones doing the reading. Commence image of me clutching a vintage copy to my chest and sighing deeply.

10. Hold my handstand. Without kicking up to the wall

I have T-Rex arms. Supporting my entire body weight while upside down would be akin to Steve Buscemi winning Mr. Universe. I'm not saying it can't happen. I'm saying that I'm dreaming big here.

11. Bake a cake

Not from a box. Not a single layer. Not with frosting that came in a waxed cardboard container. And no eating half of the batter before I bake it (but dips with the spoon are welcome). Singing songs about you-coming and me cake-baking optional. But highly recommended.

12. Get some freelance writing published

Like. In a magazine. Eep.

13. Go to a drive in movie

I love women's rights and modern inventions and not having to wear a girdle. But sometimes I just want to throw a scarf in my hair and sit on the hood of a car watching a black and white film. Sucking on a fountain soda. Holding hands with my 2011 version of James Dean.

14. Audition for a dance company

I dance. Kinda well. And going from dancing 6 days a week my whole life to ZERO in the past 4 years? Shameful. Time to get my audition on again. I can practically smell the Aqua Net whizzing around my head.

15. Have a Pen Pal

I hand write letters more than is normal in our age of extreme digital-mail-ism. When I traveled in Asia, I exclusively wrote letters and sent them via post from Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. Something about writing (and reading!) a penned letter makes me all tingly and excited inside.

16. Spend a day in my pajamas

Watching movies. Eating peanut butter out of a jar. Cuddling up with a book. It's giving me hives just thinking about spending a day "not being productive" but this is all about expanding our comfort zone, right?

17. Do 100 pushups

Again. T-Rex arms. I want guns, I tell you!

18. Dye my hair

I've never, ever colored my hair because, well, I really like the color of it. It changes with the season and I'm afraid of losing its natural brown. But then sometimes I think of quitting my job, going platinum and getting a nose ring. But maybe like auburn would be a good compromise.

19. Become a rescue diver

Really just an excuse to visit friends in Miami and the Caribbean. But I could always use another certification right?

20. Learn Italian

Aside from the swear words. Practice with my Grandma. Eat cannolis while studying.

21. Go vegan for a week

I was a vegetarian for two years and have recently added meat sparingly back into my diet. Veganism is something that my uber-vegan-friends have always touted, but something that I've sort of fallen in and out of. Let the mung bean sprouting commence!

22. Read The Fountainhead

Perhaps after I finish the latest Twilight installment. I like a little variety in my literature.

23. Go to Napa

Two of my best friends from college live in San Francisco and for whatever reason I've never been up to Napa. I'm looking forward to a weekend of wine tasting, hiking, kayaking, and bike riding. But probably mostly wine tasting. Wine gulping. Lots of wine. What was I saying again?

24. Run Bay to Breakers

Heh heh. Naked. Heh.

25. Write a letter to the editor

My gramps used to do this like, daily. Something about debating via snail mail is sort of romantic and exciting, dontchathink?

26. Get my makeup done

I'm embarrassingly low maintenance when it comes to beauty and makeup. My brother has more hair products than I do. But I've always wanted to have a true smoky eye, instead of the one that I haphazardly create at 6:30am before rushing out the door to work.

27. Take a college student/high school student/mentee out for dinner

The most important things I learned about life and career evolution and boys were not from Cosmo (although there certainly were some good supplementary texts in there). It was from the advice of some very unbelivable women -- my mom, my sister, some older friends, my boss. I'd like to give that gift back.

What are you doing this year that you've never done before?

Committing

2011-07-10T20:55:00.002-04:00

After realizing that I had finished every single book on my summer reading list, I schmopped over to the library (yes, schmopped. It means to, like, schlep and bop. It's a very Saturday word.) and checked out what was on the best seller shelf. I picked up a book by John LeCarre to read on my trip to Long Beach Island next week. Spies and murders and plot twists, oh my!

But I also impulsively grabbed the latest book from Elizabeth Gilbert (latest, like, two years ago. Hey, I get books from the library. I'm a little behind.) called "Committed."

(Aaaand collective groan.)

Not my typical read. But I really liked "Eat, Pray, Love." Say what you will about how whiny she sounds in the book, but I vividly remember reading it in a coffee shop in London after a very tough breakup with a very nice and emotionally immature boy, and at that moment deciding that I could take a life with some heartbreak, but I couldn't take a life without adventure and travel and moments in which I want to clutch my hands to my chest and say "THIS! This is what it's all about!" Even if there was/is/will be a little pain mixed in.

Truth be told, "Committed" is a little slow. There's a lot of discussion and reference to the evolution of marriage and its place in society. I'm only halfway through but ten bucks says she winds into some sort of overarching general thesis at the end (hopefully with a little more detail about her hottie to-be-husband's Brazilian bod like in her last novel). I don't know if I'll make it that far.

But the passage I just read forced me to open my computer and blog about it.

"To put it simply, I do not need this man in almost any of the ways that women have needed men over the centuries. I do not need him to protect me physically, because I live in one of the safest societies on earth. I do not need him to provide for me financially, because I have always been the winner of my own bread. I do not need him to extend my circle of kinship, because I have a rich community of friends and neighbors and family all on my own..."

"So where does that leave us? Why do I need this man at all? I need him only because I happen to adore him, because his company brings me gladness and comfort....Seems like a lot, but it isn't much at all; it is only love."

So basically, she's telling us that marriage as an institution brings her nothing really at all (maybe some health insurance since she's an author) that it would normally bring women in more traditional societies.

And (okay, I may lose some serious points here) but I'm kind of inclined to agree. I think marriage is fantastic for people who truly believe in it. But maybe we might be missing the point a little when marriage is THE GOAL. I truly believe two people can have a completely loving and committed and supportive relationship without being married. And, yes, I'm 26 and single and therefore unqualified to have an opinion on this, so forgive me all you out there who have tied the knot, but it just seems wholly unnecessary to get married other than to satisfy an institution.

Treading on thin ice. Trying not to alienate people.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on marriage, divorce, not marriage, long term commitments. I'm sort of going through what my mom used to like to call "A Phase." It's like a "reject all things traditional in favor of the avant-garde" phase. Minus any blue hair or nasal piercings.

Simultaneous Dance Break Lust

2011-07-02T19:02:00.005-04:00

If I had a nickel for every time I find it appropriate for everyone around me to break out into a simultaneous dance sequence, I would have many mason jars of change on my dresser.

My latest video obsession. I want to be the girl with the pink and white leggings. She's bomb:

Oh, and who could forget THIS magic moment from She's All That?

This would also make my life. (I wonder if the guy with the white shirt and tie is single)

Happy long weekend!

Best Compliment Ever

2011-06-28T22:03:00.007-04:00

Imagine me clutching this book to my chest. Romantic, eh? (source)

There is this Anne Lamott book that I just read about writing. It is also about life and how writing relates to life. My sister had sent it to me for my birthday and, I'm ashamed to say, it sat unopened, under my bed for like two weeks.

(In all fairness, I had cleaned my room and forgotten I had stored it there.)

(And by "cleaned my room", I meant shoved everything I own under my bed so that anyone who came to visit thought I had a modicum of tidiness to my nature.)

My sister recommends me a lot of books. She's a therapist, so she's sort of licensed to do that. But she's also my sister, which makes it supremely annoying when she thinks she knows more about my 20-something life than I do. (She does. See? Annoying!)

This is how the exchange goes whenever she finishes telling me about a book that I ABSOLUTELY MUST GET RIGHT THIS MINUTE OR ELSE I WILL SINK DEEPLY INTO A PIT OF MY OWN DEPRESSION AND DESPAIR. Except it sounds much more therapist-y when she says it.

Sister: Oh, really, you should get this book called "If The Buddha Dated/Grace (Eventually)/Bird by Bird/every-other-book-I've-read-in-my-recent-adulthood"

Me: Yea? Okay. Maybe if I'm around the area of the library tonight I'll stop by and grab it...

Sister: Wait...what? The library? Uh, hello? Go to a freaking bookstore and buy it. Like, seriously. You make an NYC salary. LIVE A LITTLE. (no, she is not therapist-y sounding when she's talking to me like my sister. Yes, it's annoying.)

Me: Oh, uh, okay. Maybe. I mean, I don't think it's really for me. Like, really? Buddha? I don't really get down with the east Asian religion thang. Simply not enough guilt built in for my Catholic-harvested brain.

(Two weeks later...)

Sister: Did you get that book that I recommended to you?

Me: No. I read about it. It sounds New Age-y. I'm hip and cool and I AM CERTAINLY NOT NEW AGE-Y. (crosses arms for emphasis. Even though we're talking on the phone.)

Sister: Oh, for the love of Christ, I'm sending it to you. Check your mailbox.

After which I crack it open semi-reluctantly, fall desperately in love with it, stay up until 3am to finish it, and cry my face into the pillow.

There is also a lot of book-to-chest clutching. And sighing. It's all very embarrassing and now I am sort of self-conscious that you're imagining me doing this. In my nightgown.

*dies of shame*

One of my favorite chapters of the book is called "Shitty First Drafts." Mostly because I write a lot of shitty first drafts of blog post. Half of the time I will write a blog post or two a day, and then can't ever imagine anyone wanting to read anything about it, so I save it in my drafts and move on with my day. I don't publish because it's a mix of embarrassment that I thought anyone would even WANT to read about whatever it is that I'm writing about, and the fact that I have some serious issues maintaining a constant tense in one blog post. (I'm working on it.)

But she says so many times throughout the book that, no matter how hard we try, as writers, we will NEVER EVER come up with a new topic to talk about. Seriously. Everything has already been covered. So, she says, (and I'm paraphrasing, but stay with me) just get it out. Whatever you have to say. It might be a shitty first draft. But it will get better with some authenticity and patience. And editing. Mostly editing.

And what hasn't been covered, particularly in fiction or expositional writing, is personal experience. And that got me to thinking (don't. channel. Carrie. Bradshaw.)...

Isn't that why we all blog or write or read in the first place? Not because we want to be famous writers and make gajillions of dollars off of some imaginary characters that fly around on broomsticks as a wizarding school or falling in love with vampires (okay, well not ALL of us). Isn't it because we all really want to share our own account of our human experience?

Sometimes the things I put down on paper are solely because I just don't want to feel alone in my feelings. I get frustrated, and annoyed, and pissed. And hungry. I just want to know that there are others out there who feel the same way. It's part of the reason I do read so many blogs. Because I like the community of it. I like the way that people expose themselves, and can say "Hey, actually? I'm not all that terribly great. And I get down on myself. And sometimes it sucks. So you're not the first to feel that way, but take comfort in the fact that you won't be the last. And also, that you won't always feel that way." It's terribly comforting for me and, I will boldly say, for all of us, to be reassured of this.

I was talking to my wonderful and supportive friend the other day at work. And I shot him the link to the terribly exposing post about my feelings that I wrote the other day. And instead of laughing and calling me a neurotic girl he said, "It's strangely relieving to see people write those thoughts down." Which made the whole expose of my feelings worth it. To know that someone else, even, oddly, someone THAT I KNEW, totally got why I was writing it all down in the first place.

And to know that others identify with my experience and appreciate the things that I get down, no matter how shittily composed it is? That truly is the best compliment ever.

***

I don't have a question today. But I would like to start posting my Workout Wins, which is basically one good thing about my daily workout. So today's Workout Win: I woke up and ran six miles and didn't complain once.

How to Be Open and Honest with Boys

2011-06-28T07:00:00.002-04:00

So remember that post that I wrote about being super rejected by a boy that I like? Well, as a follow up, he ended up texting me a steady stream of messages over the past two weeks, concluding in a slightly weird third-ish date where he invited me to go to karaoke with his friends at a gay bar downtown. Which, as a to-do for a Saturday night, was amazing. But as a date, was not exactly what I had in mind.

And then a lot more text messaging ensued, to no actual fruition. Which was frustrating and I think I broke up with him about four times in an hour. Even though we aren't actually at the stage where I can do that. But since it's my neurotic female brain, I did. And then I read this AMAZING post by Kate over at Eat The Damn Cake about being straightforward and honest and open with the opposite sex. And I stopped grumbling about how I SHOULD BE COURTED GODDAMMIT and wrote this very open and honest (and still hypothetical) email to my potential suitor. Even if I don't send it, it makes me feel better to get it out in the open.

(I'm resisting the urge to start this email with the word "so". But I really want to.)

So, I've been thinking (I'm sure those four words are initiating knot formation in your stomach. Don't worry, it's not one of those emails.).

(Okay, yea it is. Sorry!)

I've been thinking that I genuinely like spending time with you. Or rather I like when I get to laugh at the ridiculous things you say and talk about surfing and car restoration and slightly underground hip-hop music. I like that you use big words that I don't really know the meaning of, though I can usually figure it out from context clues. There's other things I like, but I think that's a good summary for the purposes of this email.

But (Ah! But! Ah!) I'm busy. I have a really awesome and full life, ridiculous friends, hobbies that I love, and plans. To be somebody. And to go somewhere (cue Sister Act theme song). The truth is, I kind of want someone to share all the fullness with, not just someone who I get to sleep with once in a while. I don't really even love sharing my space, though I'm working on being comfortable with that. And while I'm REALLY trying to be open to more modern ideas of dating, I can't stand all of this text-you-when-I-feel-like-it-even-if-I-don't-have-anything-to-say nonsense. I don't really get down with the text message. I truly only stare at my phone when I'm nervous or spacing out and actually thinking about something else. I want to spend actual time with someone and get to know them and decide whether or not I want to continue talking about surfing and slightly underground hip-hop with them. By "them", I mean "you". Phone calls are also acceptable for the purposes of getting to know someone, but I get not wanting to yammer away on the phone all the time. Brain cancer and what not.

If you're busy, that's fine. Really, I get it and I'm not trying to be clingy or needy or impatient (okay, definitely not #1 and #2. #3 is just a consequence of my existence, whether I try to be it or not). But just let me know. "Hey, girl, I'm busy this week so I can't hang, but I'd like to kick it on XX day if you're available." That would make me so excited because then I could schedule it into my calendar and all would be right and organized in the world.

And if you don't like me? That's also totally fine. My mom says for every old sock there's an old shoe. Which I think is actually meant to be negative and about mean people, but I'm going to go with it because I am lacking another metaphor right now. But if you really feel kind of vanilla about me, just tell me. My feelings won't be hurt. Well, maybe a little, but again, I'm impatient and if I have to have hurt feelings, I'd rather have them hurt now and get over it by lunchtime than wait four days for a text message that says nothing and then have to reevaluate whether or not I still actually like you. All that waiting and questioning and indecision...it's a lot for my slightly neurotic female brain to handle.

I wish I was as effusive in real life as I am on paper. I could likely say none of this in person. I would instead probably push my vegetables around on my plate with my fork and shift uncomfortably in my seat, hoping that I could look at you through my bangs and that you would know exactly what I'm thinking. I'm also very self conscious about how I'm going about writing this. This is how I write, and while I'm hoping you're appreciative of my honesty and attempt at being straightforward with my feelings, I feel like you're also silently wishing you could take out a red pen and strikethrough a few of these sentences. Let it be known, I'm resisting the urge to self-edit.

There's a lot of other things I want to say. I want to describe how I'm actually terribly emotional, and it's almost embarassing sometimes. How I frequently use the phrase "my soul is exploding" and don't find it all that weird when someone asks me how my heart feels. There's lots of things I could tell you about myself in a witty and somewhat self-deprecating way, but I'd rather you get to experience it first hand. Or at least want to experience it first hand.

It is at this point that I would like to say that I'm terrible at conclusions. I feel like I should say "In sum," and then whip out a summary. But this is all too stream-of-consciousness to summarize, except to say "I like you. Do you like me? Circle Yes or No."

Lauren

So what do you guys think? Should I send it? And for any of you men out there that read this, what would you think if you got an email like this from a girl?

How to (Gracefully) Deal With Rejection - Part II

2011-06-27T07:00:00.004-04:00

If you read my post last week about dealing with the shitstorm that life can sometimes be, I'd like to kick it up a notch and discuss other types of rejection.

So not only did I have the-most-unimpressive-follow-up-to-the-most-impressive-date-ever on Monday I also got a letter last Monday that I was not offered the bomb job that I'd interviewed for just two weeks prior.

(Also, sidenote, who still sends rejection letters? Are we living in the 80s? These are likely the same people who can't imagine conducting business without a fax machine. Every doctor I've ever had, I'm looking at you!)

So yep, doble-shitstorm (thats Spanish for holy effing crap this day could not get any worse) on the same day. So after I cried a little bit, I put on my big girl pants and promised myself I wouldn't mope. Moping is for losers and I am most certainly a NOT that (likely because I scream out WINNING whenever the mood strikes me.)

This is how I (gracefully) dealt with said professional setback (aside from crying in my coffee on my couch for 20 minutes):

I went into networking overdrive

I literally sent 5 emails on Monday afternoon to contacts that I had made over the last year, asking what they were up to and also, hey, did you have any advice for someone going through the awful process of trying to find a new job. I asked for leads, friends of friends, companies they'd think I'd flourish at professionally. I let it be known that I was looking to GROW, that I was looking to GET OUT THERE, and that I really wanted to leave my current place of employment.

Please note that I did not ask for a job from any of these people. That sounds all desperate-y and like I had gotten rejected from a job and spent all morning on my couch crying in my coffee (or something). I simply made it clear that I was looking to gain a "different experience" and "really expand my skill set." There were lots of other cliche catch phrases, I assure you.

This method is akin to FINALLY letting your friends set you up with whomever it is they think is perfect for you. All you need to do is ask, instead of saying "No. I DO NOT need any help. I can do everything MYSELF." (I've obviously never said that to myself in the mirror over and over again.)

I sent presents

The woman that recommended me for this bomb job interview had followed up with me a few times to ask how it was going. It was an awesome confidence booster, but more importantly, she's pretty big time at her own job. It took some time and effort for her to a) even remember my name and b) take ten minutes out of her day to remember to ask me how it was going. Though I didn't get placed, I sent her a bottle of wine thanking her for her encouragement. Sincerely. Because it really meant a lot to me that she believed in me that highly and really felt strongly that I was a good candidate.

A small gift goes a long way; even if I didn't get this job, you can bet the next time a job opens up in my recommender's professional circle, she'll likely pass the resume of the girl who sent her some Malbec instead of the girl who cried in her coffee and did nothing.

And then, while I was in the present sending game, I sent some wine to my roommate for letting me borrow her tri suit and to my current boss for letting me stay at her house. Because I was down in the dumps and sending presents to people to have them say "OOOH! YOU! You are SO thoughtful and wonderful and, like, THEEE BEST EVERRRR!" That's kinda nice.

I said thank you

I think one of the hardest thing about truly good leadership is making decisions that affect other people negatively. It's immensely difficult to tell someone they didn't get a job or to fire someone or to let them know that the bonuses we were all counting on aren't coming through. That's some hard business, and generally, that's the kind of thing that no one likes to be tasked with. So instead of being all bitter and angry at the hiring manager, I wrote her a very sincere thank you email saying just that. That I knew how difficult the decision must have been and that I hope she keeps me in mind for future positions in her department. Which she did, and emailed me last week with the name and email of the hiring manager for a business development position and for an editorial position. All that from a two-minute email.

I asked for feedback

So after I wrote a very lovely thank you paragraph of an email, I also asked for some feedback that could make me a stronger candidate. I phrased it very cheerfully, not defensively, and made it clear that I really just wanted to become a better interviewer and build my professional skill set. And when the hiring manager offered to chat with me over the phone, I was positive, inquisitive, and appreciative. I'm sure it's frightening to call someone who you've just turned down for a job, so my tone on the phone was very inviting and I was never negative. She ended up giving me some fantastic insight into how I interview, while at the same time praising my skills as a candidate.

So, no, I'm not perfect. And yes, it's been a shitty few weeks. And I was reading a really awesome book by Anne Lamott yesterday on the train called Bird by Bird about becoming a writer humbly and having faith constantly and being spiritual effervescently (and yes, I cried. Stop judging me.) and I nearly slammed it shut, quit my job and went to live in the woods and write anecdotes about how terrible and beautiful my life is.

(But then I decided I like indoor plumbing too much. And also, it would cut into the amount of time I dance around my room in my underwear. I can't see Pandora working too well in the backcountry.)

So instead, I just want to let the three of you out there who read this know that maybe no one told you that life was so overwhelming and complicated and will make you cry a lot into your coffee. Actually, no one told me this and I'm finding it out pretty much every day. But I think if you can find the hilarity in the madness that is life, and take breaks from being so concerned that it's not going the way you want it to go, then you'll be fine. Or at least just about as good as anyone else. Certainly better than the girl on the couch with the tear-filled mug.

What do you guy do when faced with serious career-slash-life rejection? Also, anyone want to hire an overwhelmed but positive writer who dances around in her room pantsless?

How To (Gracefully) Deal With Rejection

2011-06-15T21:25:00.004-04:00

Sooo if you've been reading LLB for a while, you know I'm maybe a little good at giving you all pep talks. I like to take the shitstorm that has hit me smack in my left eye and turn it into a learning opportunity, not only for me, but for all of you too. Even if "you" consists of my extended family and some people I pay to scan this site for errors.

This week, I've been dealing with some pretty extreme rejection. Like, shitstorm of rejection. Rejection up the wazoo. I'm not really even sure I spelled "wazoo" right, but that's not the point. The point is that I've been really upset with all of the shit that's been going down. It's like the invisible hand of the universe likes to play with me; I feel like I've figured it out, things are going well, I'm slowly starting to get a handle on things and then

WHA-BAM

Shitstorm. Of Rejection.

And then I turn on some Coldplay and hide under my covers.

(Untrue. I don't really like Coldplay.)

So, here's the situation. And even though I try not to blather on about my personal problems, I'm going to blather. Because it's my blog. So there.

The situation is that I met a boy. On the interwebz. And he was lovely and sweet via the interwebz, which I knew was not pretense that he would also be lovely and sweet via the real world. But then he was. And it was magical and I was totally like "YES! FINALLY!" And I fist pumped a little, like Elliott and Bowie. And I had butterflies, and text messages flew back and forth and a second date was set within 12 hours of the first date concluding.

And I started picking out his and her towels and planning our weekends in the Hamptons.

(I mean, I didn't design the wedding invitations. Who do you think I am?)

And so there I was, going into a weekend away in New England, excited about this first awesome encounter with a decent distraction for the four days in between dates. And then I felt a complete vibe shift. Like, it was so 180 degrees, I thought I had made it up in my head. That I was being paranoid and the fact that I didn't hear from him until like 5 hours before our date meant absolutely nothing. But I went into Date #2 and was totally right. It wasn't as exciting or as hilarious or as UH-MAYZ-ING as Date #1. I still felt the butterflies (still do, although they are admittedly fewer) but it was like he hadn't shown up to play. It was definite date fake-age. I wanted to call a foul on him for false starting and give him a fifteen yard penalty.

And so here's what went on in my head:

"Oh my god. I'm so unattractive. If my nose was smaller, he'd totally be so into me. I didn't play hard enough to get. I should have been more open and honest. I shouldn't have drank so much. I should have sent funny, flirty text messages. My outfit was too Williamsburg and not enough West Village. I wasn't funny. I said the wrong thing. Oh God, did I get drunk and talk about things I shouldn't have talked about? My hair IS A MESS. WHO GAVE ME THIS HAIRCUT?! GOD, MY HAIR RUINS EVERYTHING!"

And then I dissolved into tears at my desk. Which is professional, to say the least.

So after you stop shaking your head and telling me "Listen, Lauren, you MIGHT be overreacting a little bit," I'd like to say that I know I'm not the only one who has gone through this nightmare of finally (FINALLY!) meeting someone that you like. No, REALLY like. And having it go so well that you can't believe you could feel as awesome you feel right at that moment. And then feeling ten thousand times more terrible when it doesn't work out. Shitty right? Yep. Definite shitstorm. So here's what I've told myself about dealing with this rejection:

It's not because you didn't sleep with him

(And it is in this moment that I'm glad my dad doesn't know how to use the comments section of Blogger.)

(Diane, don't teach him, either).

It's easy to think that because you said no, or balked at the prospect of sleeping with a guy, that he decided he didn't like you. I will say, as a girl with three brothers and enough guy friends that are total douches, NO MAN IN THE WORLD will STOP liking you because you said "No" to the big sex. Case in point: My brother is a guys guy, who has talked about women as pieces of meat and definitely gone out with girls before just to get laid. But then he met a girl that he really freakin' liked. And she was "waiting until sex for marriage". And you know what? He bit the bullet and dated her for three months because the connection was that strong. And then she broke up with him. Yep, he liked her that much AND she still broke his heart. So if he can do it, every other man in this world can do it. If you aren't comfortable, say no. If he stops calling, you made the right decision. (You can tell this happened to me with the above mentioned gentleman caller).

(Also, sorry for airing all your shit out there, Andy. It's for the greater female good. I'll buy you Twizzlers next time I see you.)

It's not because of your outfit/hair/larger than average Italian nose.

If you made it to Date #2, he knows that you're pretty bomb and pretty fun to talk to and laugh with. And he is also a guy. So if he didn't like what you were wearing/what you looked like/how you smelled on Date #1, he would have cut that shit and not asked you out on a second date. I get all insecure about the way I look all the time because, for the most part, I think I'm normal, funny, interesting, smart, and genuinely nice. And I've been single for ages, and so the only thing I can point to is the larger than average Italian nose and wish that I looked more like the dark, ethnic, Sicilian side of the family. But I know that's not true. And even if there was a guy out there who loved everything about me except for the jeans I wore? I'd have to say he needs to get over himself and stop wishing that Angelina Jolie is going to someday get over Brad Pitt. And point of reference, my butt looked better than hers in those jeans, thankyouverymuch.

It's not because of something you believe in or have hope for

Stop it right this second. Your dreams and your favorite ice cream and everything you love to do is exactly what it should be and if a guy doesn't like it or is intimidated by it, then it's totally his loss. Like, he should probably man up and get some of his own hobbies, or at least respect you for finding things that interest you. You're a lovely chickadee and you shan't need to feel like you need to change all the lovely ideas that are floating around in your brain so that a guy will like you. As the song goes, "Don't go changing, to try to please (a dude)." And if it's in song lyrics written by Billy Joel, then you know that shit is gospel. Preach, Billy.

So if it's not all of those things, then what is it?

Hell if I know. But generally, I know that, no matter how hard I try, there's nothing I can personally do to make someone change their mind about me. All I can be is me. And as cliche and non-tangible and non-concrete as that sounds, that's what I have to put my faith in to not get bogged down by all the terrible and negative shit that happens on the day to day in the world of dating. What I will say, is that I try very hard to be the best version of myself. I try to be open and honest and encouraging. I smile a lot on dates and laugh a lot too, because there's nothing worse than sitting for two hours with someone who looks like they'd rather be anywhere else than with you.

And even though this most recent rejection still hurts, I know that I'll get over it. And hopefully it will be sooner rather than later, because I hate it when I get all teary in the middle of the day because my hair is frizzy. MY FREAKING HAIR RUINS EVERYTHING!!

How do you guys deal with rejection?

How To Be Lovely

2011-06-09T23:53:00.002-04:00

I was trying for ages to come up with ways to be your lovely little selves, but I think my girl Sara Haze sums it up pretty well.

Sidenote: I actually did a pirouette in the middle of Park Avenue when I heard this song. How very New-York-City-fairytale.

I don't wanna be her

I just wanna be little old me

I shouldn't have to think

Who am I supposed to be today?

And what gave you the right

To tell me who I should be?

Who gave you that right?

Cuz I

I feel lovely

Just the way that I am

Yes I

I feel lovely

The way that I am

I know you want the best

Yea, only good things for me

But you have to realize

I can't be all these things

You project on me

Cuz I'm beautiful to me

Doesn't that mean a thing

I feel lovely

Just the way that I am

Yea

Yes I

I feel lovely

The way that I am

I need that to be enough for you

Need that to be enough for you

Cuz it's enough for me

It's enough for me

Am I supposed to give up everything I am

Just to make you happy?

I thought I was the one

You always wanted me to be

It turns out

I'm just little old me

And that's fine by me

What songs make you feel lovely?

Whattup Internet?!

2011-06-07T22:44:00.004-04:00

The internet? Is wide. And vast. And despite all of my attempts to reach the absolute end of it each day at work, there is still so. Much. Out. There.

What's catching my fancy this week?

1. This?! Is hilarious. Like, laugh-out-loud-at-work-and-have-to-muffle-it-with-a-coughing-fit hilarious. I think I've found my Halloween costume.

2. Oh, I KNEW there was a reason I moved the New York City. Grumble all you want about insufferable heat and broken public transportation and everything costing a million-and-one dollars, one look at these breathtaking photos and you'll be on Craigslist with the rest of us trying to find miniscule apartments on the Upper West Side.

3. I work with a life coach. And she is poetic. And writes things like this that make me realize that nobody (nope, nobody) has this all figured out. Makes me even more encouraged!

4. Oh, and while your at it reading funny and charming and inspirational articles, check out how I compare quad muscle pain to heart pain. Like, in the emotional sense. Still doesn't make sense? Head over to YOGANONYMOUS and read it. It will be crystal clear-ish.

5. I could watch this video called "Dark Side of the Lens" 8000 times. 50% is because it's beautifully shot and the surfing images tug at my heartstrings. The other 50% is that this man's Irish accent makes me melt down to a little ball of love. Swoon.

What have you been reading this week? It's only Tuesday and I'm on interwebz burnout already!

Words for Our Generation

2011-06-05T22:12:00.003-04:00

My brother graduated from Vassar the same year that Tom Hanks' daughter graduated. He was their commencement speaker and spoke about our duty to help others. I was just a wee sophomore at Georgetown then, but I remember being mesmerized by his speech and started looking into working for non-profits.

His speech for Yale is equally as captivating, reminding us to be a little more conscious, a little more gentle, a little less "plugged-in-all-the-freakin'-time".

What do you remember from your college graduation? What about your high school graduation?

The Essential Hiking Girl's Gear List

2011-06-04T21:46:00.006-04:00

You know what I love?

Trees. And running up the side of tall mountains. And sunshine. And heat lightening storms.

Summer is my favorite season, not only because it takes me five minutes to get out of the house in the morning (no coats! no boots! no "walking to work shoes" that weigh a million pounds) but also because I get to be outside on the weekend hiking, camping, and generally enjoying our wonderful, beautiful northeastern outdoors.

In honor of National Trail Day today, I thought I'd put together a list of things that you'll need to get yourself out on the trail this season. These are all things I bring with me every hike I go on and, while I don't use all of them every time, I always feel a little better knowing that, in case something goes wrong, I have a few things stashed in my pack that can back me up.

Water

The most important thing in my pack, I usually bring three to four liters of water for a normal day hike. More if it's really hot out. Three liters is generally safe, but I always carry extra because, most of the time, problems on the trail can be solved by resting and hydrating. Though I'm in the process of upgrading to a larger pack, right now I carry this CamelBak Day Pak which is awesome because it has BOTH a bladder AND two water bottle pouches for extra water.

Trail Map

You can get the trail map to any national park from any local outdoor store (in New York City, EMS, Paragon Sports, and Tent and Trails all have trail maps for the local area and beyond) or from US Trail Maps. If you don't know how to read a trail map, check out this video for some basic info on trail map reading. They are super easy to read, and show all of the trail "colors" with the first letter of the name of the trail color (like "R" for a red trail or "Y" for a yellow trail.

Moleskin/BandAids

A full-first aid kit (including sanitary wipes, disinfectant cream, rubber gloves, medical scissors, gauze, and an ace bandage) is good to have, but if you aren't planning on hiking a ton, I'd say the most important are moleskin for any blisters that crop up along the trail.

How do you know if you're getting a blister? You'll feel a little warming sensation (or "hot spot") on the surface of your skin, wherever it's rubbing your boot. The minute you feel that, pull out some moleskin and get it on the forming blister as quickly as possible. A blister-in-training is not so bad when it's closed, but if that bad boy breaks? Water torture would be more pleasant than hiking four miles back to the car.

Toilet Paper/Wet Wipes

I'm not actually a fan of using TP in the woods (use a leaf! or shake dry!) because I'm usually so focused on not falling over and/or peeing on my foot. But TP can have many other uses, such as tissues, a makeshift gauze pad, or to clean something. Wet wipes are also good to have if you just like to feel a bit cleaner when you stop for lunch.

Bug Spray/Bug Coils

You know what's annoying? Gnats flying in your face. I actually don't care too much about mosquitos (I'm that friend that never gets bitten by them) but stopping on the trail and having a fistful of gnats swarm into your mouth is shitty. Stop them by loading up on the bug spray. My fave are Ben's Wipes because it's really easy to apply and it doesn't accidentally get squirted into your mouth like the spray kind does.

Another favorite piece of gear that I like (which is totally not necessary, but good for long rest periods) are these Mosquito Coils. I discovered these in Thailand while rock climbing, and it's awesome when you're hanging out in the woods and not walking a whole lot. You can hang them in trees or off of rocks and they keep the bugs away while you're grabbing a snack, eating lunch, or just lounging on a rock overlook. Plus, they smell a little like incense which always makes me feel a little luxurious.

Sunscreen

This is a total no brainer. See here, here, and here.

Rain Gear

The weather up here in the northeast is fickle. Sometimes, I hit up weather.com and it says clear skies and two hours into the hike, I'm hiding under a mountain laurel bush trying to escape the downpour. And then two minutes later it's sunny again. To avoid hiking in wet clothes, I always bring a rain jacket at least. If you don't want to carry around another layer, bring a plastic garbage bag which can double as a poncho in a pinch.

Extra Layer and Extra Socks

I'm not as diligent about bringing an extra layer in the summer, but sometimes it's nice to have an extra set of base layers in case a) it starts to flash flood and you still have 6 miles to hike in wet clothes, or b) you bound off of a river rock only to find yourself knee deep in stream water (I've seen this happen. The subsequent 4 hours was miserable for everyone). It may weigh a few more pounds, but at least you'll be dry.

Pocketknife/Multitool

I've never actually had to use this yet but there are like 9,000 things that you could use it for. When I figure out what they are, I will post a comprehensive list.

Chapstick

All that water drinking and sun and heavy breathing really does a number on your lips. I keep, like, eight chapsticks in my pockets because my lips always, without fail, get chapped. And it's sucky to have to lick them every five seconds so that there is some level of moisture.

Flashlight/Headlamp

In the winter months, this is somewhat essential, since the sun goes down at, like, five o'clock. In the summer, I still carry it, but hardly use it. However, that's not to say that you won't get lost, lose the trail, misjudge how quickly you hike, which means you may not always have the sunlight to help you see your trail markers. At any rate, a headlamp is a good investment regardless. I take mine on airplanes and when I travel to countries where my accommodations may not include electricity all night long.

Now put down your computer and get out on the trail!

What do you bring with you when you head out on the trail?

My First Kiss

2011-06-03T14:00:00.000-04:00

You guys? My first kiss did NOT go a little like this (below video). It was after my friend Robyn's bat mitzvah in the coat closet of her parents' country club with a nice Jewish boy from a neighboring town. I remember it being sort of uncomfortable and a little grape flavored.

All boys need to watch this video so that they know how they really should celebrate kissing girls. (My personal favorite part is when Elliott delicately moves the hair out of Bowie's face so he has unbridled access to her Lip Smackers' softened kisser. He's sort of the man.)

I vote for more cheering and fist-pumping and less uncomfortable eye contact and awkward silences post first-kiss-on-the-lips.

What was your first kiss like? Was he even close to the kind of gentleman Elliott is?

My 26th Year in Review

2011-06-02T23:26:00.003-04:00

I turned 26 on Monday. I now have one foot in the grave.

If you read my Monday Morning Mantra from this week, you'll know that I get pensive around my birthday every year. I start benchmarking what I was doing last year to what I'm doing this year, and planning long term goals for the coming year.

Really, it's a lot of journal writing, wine drinking, and probably more crying than is necessary. I even listen to some Ani DiFranco.

So what's the consensus on the year of 26? Well, as you can see by my side tab, I did far fewer of the things on my "26 Things in my 26th Year" list. Yep, I came up hopelessly short. I didn't even make half. I blame it on Asia.

But in the interest of being kind to myself, I have to look at the year as a whole. Because, no I didn't check too many things off of my list, but that's because I was busy doing other awesome and amazing things.

I killed my comfort zone: Like, my boundaries of comfort are monumental since I flew back from the opposite side of the world. Yes, I know. I talk about my trip to Asia a lot. But, a year ago, a solo, three month trip wasn't even on my radar. I would sulk if I didn't have Friday night plans. And then I found Sarah and realized that maybe complete solo travel was something I could do. And in all that impromptu trip-planning and apartment-moving and furniture-selling and long-flight-taking and sitting-on-my-backpack-in-Vietnamese-bus-terminals, I realized that I can deal with some shit and then I can figure out how to make the best of it. As a traveling partner (a male) once said to me on the last leg of my trip "I don't know how you did this all by yourself. It's just so damn uncomfortable to be alone all the time." Comfort zone is relative, and I have grown the most by pushing the limit of it.

I stopped doing and started feeling: My 23rd, 24th, and 25th years were a lot about doing. I had found a job that gave me a decent enough salary (basically one in which I could eat more than Raman every night. My parents were totally stoked that my $120,000 Georgetown degree was finally paying some returns.) and it was relatively low stress. When the economy crashed, I had even more free time to...well, just explore. I explored Manhattan, becoming a pseudie-foodie (hah, I just made that up!) and finally figuring out what Milk&Honey actually was. I started to travel, going abroad, learned to scuba dive, started running. I took dance classes and volunteered. I basically started living an adult life.

And while I still do all of that (minus the foodie-ism) I am starting to become more acutely aware of my motivation behind "doing it all". I have put less (although still a little) pressure on myself to "get it all done" and to "try everything once" and focus more on enjoying the things that really make me happy. I'm listening to those tingly feelings I get when I hit a long run, and noticing the flip flops in my stomach that come when I'm in the great outdoors. So maybe I won't ever try sheep riding, but that's okay. It gives me more time to do the stuff I really want to do.

I am more aware: My nieces and nephew are bomb, not only because I can totally get away with buying them $0.99 Disney stickers for every holiday, but because they are totally freakin' amazed. By everything. Like, puddles on the sidewalk? Fascinating. 10 minutes of fascinating. Five senses and ten minutes of amazing. And while they are a little more aware than I actually have time for (because I don't think my boss would appreciate if I stared at my keyboard for 20 minutes talking about how really freakin' cool it was), I'm trying to get out of the "seen that, done that" mentality and really notice what's going on around me. Because have you ever noticed how tall the buildings in Manhattan are?

I let it go a lot more: After rushing around so much the past few years, I've had more than enough personal and professional heartache to realize that really, really big success? Well, that comes with some really big fuck ups (yes, I'm swearing. You know it's true when I swear). And instead of falling to pieces and feeling like I'll never dig myself out of this stupid freakin' hole that I'm in, I remember all of the other times I've been let down, go for a run, and know that, eventually, I'll get to where I want to go.

What have you learned in the last year? I'm still working on tons of stuff too, though. Any words of wisdom for me as I kickoff my 27th (eek!) year?

Monday Morning Mantra: Be Kind to Yourself

2011-06-01T07:36:00.004-04:00

Courtesy of my fam over at Yoganonymous

Despite playing that game with my blog of I'll-ignore-you-and-hope-posts-magically-appear-on-your-homepage (it's kind of like Twister only way less athletic), I've still been posting over at Yoganonymous.

Head on over and listen to me yammer on about why you should be kind to yourself, because, sometimes, you're all you've got!

How are you kind to yourself? What do you do to give yourself a little treat every now and then?

It's All So Damn Difficult

2011-05-31T22:52:00.002-04:00

One of the quotes I've been thinking about lately came from...

Well, I don't actually remember who. Or when. But it was likely in the last year.

Sometimes, I wish I had someone else not because I'm lonely. Or needy. Or dependent. But because sometimes, it's pretty damn difficult to run your life all the time.

Which is true. Sometimes, I want someone else to grab the groceries while I drop the laundry. Or I want someone else to empty the dishwasher. Or someone else to take out my trash (I know what you're thinking, but housecleaners are expensive!)

It's more than that though. It's someone caring about whether you make it home at night, how your day went, what scared you. I used to think these were signs of weakness, needing someone to help me sort this all out, but then I realized, nope, that's just what companionship is.

Case in point: I lived with my brother for the month of April. One day, I came home to see that he had emptied my trash and bought me a new pair of hiking pants. I cried (okay, no fair, I cry a lot. I'm crying now. Someone get a hold of me!). He doesn't know that though. So don't tell him, okay?

It's nice to have someone think about you that doesn't have to. I think that's really all I want; maybe it's really all anyone wants. Not to have to run your own life all the time. Handing over decisions. Saying "Enough!" when you really have had it with the laundry, and letting someone else take over (yes, I know, but sending laundry out is like an extra $10! I've got countries to travel to!)

To be fair, I have always had it with the laundry.

What do you guys get tired of? What decisions do you wish someone else would make for you?

I Haven't Been Blogging

2011-05-27T08:08:00.003-04:00

1. I haven't been blogging

2. I vow to change that

3. I am not terribly "design inclined" so I don't know if a blog with tons of pictures in it is my sort of bag

4. I started this blog about a year ago and, while I haven't been as faithful as I would have liked, there was a period there in the winter where I got some awesome followers (sorry, followers.)

5. My eggs are burning.

6. I have another interview today. Time to go dig up my suit from behind the hiking boots and scuba fins (kidding. My scuba fins are at my mom's house.)

Happy Friday!

One Day At A Time

2011-04-27T22:01:00.002-04:00

I've been neglecting my workouts. I've become that person that complains about how little time they have to exercise. Between moving apartments (twice) in the last month, interviewing, writing for YOGANONYMOUS, and having the busiest work month of our entire year, I've become sort of a zombie, choosing to head home and zone out in front of the TV every night instead of putting my body to work.

And can I tell you something?

I'm miserable.

I'm weepy and frustrated and running on empty. All the time. Despite being insanely hydrated and eating pretty well for the amount I'm working.

So tonight, after I left work, I just put on my running shoes and started to run.

It hurt and it was hard and I almost turned around.

But then it started to feel familiar again. It reminded me of the way I felt last year while I was training for the marathon. It reminded me that I can run, I can run fast, and I can run far. But I don't have to all the time if I don't want to.

So I didn't. Run fast. Or very far.

But I did stop in the middle of my run. Something I don't do very often is stop. Because I want to finish my run as fast as possible.

Today I stopped. And climbed onto a rock in Central Park. And sat there, cross-legged, kind of like the Buddha, though I wouldn't be so bold as to compare my Central Park rock-sitting-and-wind-listening to gaining enlightenment under the bodhi tree.

I just sat there. In my running shoes, with my eyes closed and just listened to the wind. The sounds of leaves rustling. The whirrwhirr of road bikes zooming up the hill beside me. And I repeated a phrase that I like to think about when I'm feeling very caught up in life:

"I am here. I am now. I am this moment."

Because truly, that's all we ever are. Sure, we can plan, and have ideas and work toward goals. But in any given moment, that's really all we are. That given moment. And we are so lucky to be given it, that it should be celebrated by listening to it. Perhaps on a rock. In Central Park. In running clothes.

Inspiration for Your Tuesday

2011-04-12T07:58:00.001-04:00

Maybe you've seen this video, but the lessons from Steve Jobs' words are still true.

How To Stop Being So Damn Impatient (Because I Am, Too)

2011-04-07T19:42:00.007-04:00

I feel like I've been posting a lot about books lately. I guess that's what happens when I try to limit myself to only three Netflix movies a week (the horror!)

I've found myself falling into this little habit of skipping to the end of a book and reading the last page when I'm about halfway through. I never did that as a little girl; I loved the mysteries that books held and would read for hours consecutively, twirling my hair and draped over the arm of our wing-backed chair, JUST to find out if the boy got the girl or the skeleton mummy was finally banished. Really, I never peeked ahead, read out of order, or even quit a book without getting to the end. In fact, it never even occurred to me to do it. Maybe I just liked to follow the rules. That's probably the reason I hated Choose Your Own Adventure.

But the past few weeks, I've been noticing that I'll stick my index finger into the page where I am and flip to the last page and read a few paragraphs. It's terrible. I don't know what's gotten into me. I guess I've just become horribly impatient.

Maybe it's because I've been feeling particularly rushed in life. When you're little, you never really think about growing older except you just can't WAIT to be 14 so your mom will FINALLY let you wear makeup and 16 so that your dad will FINALLY let you go out with a boy (or 18, if you had my dad).

I don't really want to get older, see. I just really want all the hard stuff to be over so that I can get to living all the fun and exciting parts. In this scenario, hard stuff is:

-working my ideal job

-paying less than my left arm and first born child in rent

-finding a mate who I don't have to play that weird "what's he thinking? does he like me? am I acting crazy? I'm probably acting crazy" game with

And the fun and exciting parts are:

-traveling all over the world with above mentioned mate

-crossing things off my bucket list

-generally being giddy at everything in life, even those annoying mariachi bands on the subway

The bummer is that I really do just want a peek; I just want a few paragraphs at the end of this chapter of my life to let me know things turn out reasonably well. Maybe I don't get the boy, but I might be working in Honduras with some very fantastic people. Or I get super involved in a fun side project that evolves into all sorts of wild opportunities. Or I get the boy, and the job, and the bangin' apartment. Or I don't get any of it. I just want a little something so I can prepare for the good, the bad; anything really.

But I know that's not how it works, and quite frankly, it shouldn't be. Life shouldn't give us the opportunity to find out what's at the end, because it's about the process. The story. The letters and words that make up the sentences, not the last few paragraphs of the chapter. It's about HOW he got the girl, not that he actually gets her that is really important.

Okay, try this:

1. Go back to a time that was particularly sucky. Remember how terrible you felt, and how you thought it was never going to get better. It could be yesterday.

2. Now review everything that has happened since. Some have been bad, I'm sure. But think about the good; think about the opportunities you wouldn't have had, the people you wouldn't have met, the doors that wouldn't have opened. Or closed. Even if it was yesterday, it's definitely better - you've talked to someone, or written it down, or run 10 miles, or cried until you have no more tears. It may not seem like it, but it's better than it was when you first were set back.

3. Evaluate where you are right now. Would you have changed anything that happen? Do you regret anything? Maybe, but you adapted, and you handled it and I promise, you are infinitely

And then realize it really is about the process. It's about how, not when. Or where. Or how long it takes to get there.

So stop trying to skip ahead. Stop trying to get reassurance that it'll all turn out the way you're planning it to. I know that feeling; I'm guilty of making plans based around hypothetical scenarios. I never really understood the statement "trust the process" until I truly started trusting the process.

It will all turn out exactly the way it is supposed to, I promise. And it won't be without mistakes and struggles and failures. So just trust in the process and take a deep breath. It's a lot easier than being so damn impatient all the time.

What is your advice for "trusting the process"? I know I need help remembering it.

Sunday Funday

2011-04-03T20:52:00.000-04:00

Just because this is hilarious.

Happy Sunday!

Monday Morning Mantra: Ask for Some Help

2011-03-28T22:14:00.004-04:00

You know what's better than trying to take on too many projects, getting overwhelmed, and then having a nervous breakdown in the bathroom during lunch?

Asking for help.

Pop on over to Yoganonymous and check out what I'm mantra-sizing about this week. Hint: It has to do with not thinking you can do everything alone. Because you can't. Fact.

Is it hard for you guys to ask for help?

You Are More Interesting Than You Think

2011-03-27T01:25:00.004-04:00

Full disclosure? I get really self-conscious when I write a blog post. Ever since I made the decision to start telling people that I put my wildest thoughts and dreams on the Internet, I spend more time actually thinking about what kind of content I'm going to put out there. Probably because I realized that it meant people may actually read what I have to say.

*dies of fright*

What I've realized, however, is blogging is sort of just like a conversation -- only no one interrupts you to talk about their cat or how they TOTALLY loved The Hangover and, oh-emme-gee isn't Bradley Cooper so hot? (actually that's sort of a conversation that I have with myself in my head. I don't think that conversation has actually happened out loud. Anyway.)

And what more is that, since we're all COMPLETELY different, we all have some cool experiences that may seem ho hum to ourselves, but really kickass to someone else out there in the blogosphere.

We all have a story

Yup. It's true. We all have a story. It may involve growing up on a sheep farm, learning to shear wool and recognize the sure signs of a sheep mutiny, but guess what? That is some shit I would like to read about. So get to writin', Old McDonald.

You are authentically you

And also, nobody likes to hear a story about something you're only mildly interested in. Then it comes off like an essay, or every paper I wrote in college (save one about Michael Jackson's influence on modern dance). If you want to write about how you think buttons in the shape of wildlife is the cutest flippin' thing ever? Do it. Someone out there just googled "buttons in the shape of ladybugs." I swear.

You crack yourself up

Have you ever walked down the street/driven in your car/stood in line for takeout and just burst out laughing? Yea, me too. All the time. And at the risk of seeming like one of those crazy people who walk around with loopy smiles on their faces, if you think something is funny, chances are there's someone else that thinks it's funny too. Write about it! I wanna hear about it!

How do you guys come up with interesting blog posts?

The Friday Five

2011-03-25T21:59:00.003-04:00

The Friday Five is a list of five things, every Friday that I'm so thankful that I have in my life. Big, small, it don't matter. As long as it made my week a little bit better than the last one.

Waking Up To The Sun

You guys? I am a cranky person when there is no sunlight gently nudge me awake. Even if it's full force, straight up, no clouds, SUNSHINE all up in my eyelids, I'm genuinely happy to get up and get the day started. Winter/spring (but really winter, because right now it's 30 degrees outside) has a low "days of sunlight" to "days I wake up ratio", but this morning? Me and the sun were SO ON and my morning was rockin' because of it.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

They aren't vegan. They aren't raw. Annnd though I'm still searching for it, I'm pretty sure there is no chocolate chip cookie tree. But the combination of butter, chocolate, flour and some other shiz (but hopefully mostly butter and chocolate) makes me slow the heck down and just appreciate that feeling of total indulgence.

Small, Squeaky Giggles

I can't hide the fact that I love little tiny versions of adults, but really, when I hear that incessant giggle of a child under five, I get all excited and want to pinch their little noses and blow raspberries on their bellies.

(Also, why is it called a raspberry?)

Community

This is something I've been thinking a TON about lately. It used to be that our community was the people that we were directly in contact with. Now, it's people across the street, across the country, or across the world. Last night, I emailed five of my lovely yoginis (incidentally ALL living in different countries; a fact I didn't realize until AFTER I had sent the email) to ask if they would write recommendations for me, and each one of them responded with a resounding "YES" and "YOU GO GIRL" and "FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS". Like, how could I not feel like a total badass with these ladies backing me up, even over the internet?

The Great Big Outdoors

I went hiking last weekend with my brother. There were trees and grass and birds and lots and lots of space. There was an old abandoned house called the Cornish Estate, and we made up stories of why it fell into disrepair and where their bedroom was. And aside from the speculation about the 1920s gossip at the Cornish Estate, we barely talked the whole time. But we were able to enjoy the silence of the outdoors, and the silence that was comfortable between us, so we could reflect on the simplicity of just walking through the woods. And being open to the things that we felt, saw, smelled, and touched.

It was very lovely.

What are you guys thankful for this week?

Thoughts For Thursday

2011-03-24T23:00:00.001-04:00

How Not To Have A Celebrity Sighting

2011-03-22T21:59:00.003-04:00

I have to be honest, I've had some bomb celebrity sightings in New York. One time, while pouting in a frumpy wingbacked chair for a work event, Brad and Angelina strolled around the corridor, pausing long enough for me to ask them if they needed directions.

(Which was right before I passed out. Everyone thinks they'll be so composed and unfazed around uber-famous people. They're wrong. My co-worker relayed after the fact that I turned six different shades of red and sweat through my entire suit in less than 45 seconds.)

One time I nearly backed into Bob Costas at Game 4 of the World Series. And then there was the time that I shared a street corner with Cameron Diaz and twenty million other people pretending not to care they were within inches of Cameron Diaz, all the while tweeting and texting about it to their closest five hundred Facebook friends. New Yorkers are soooooo above celebrity sightings. And who could forget when I had a drink with Penn Badgley from Gossip Girl (I mean we both were having a drink at the same time at the same bar. That's like basically the same thing).

So, I don't really have advice about how to stake out celebrities because I usually just bump into them. But I know how to definitely not see them.

Celebrities do not take the subway. I know, there's that little feature in People magazine that likes to show how down to earth the uber famous are (Look! They shop at Whole Foods! And water their lawns! And carry their own children sometimes!) but apparently that earthiness ends at public transportation. I mean, I have friends that don't even take the subway. Why would Mena Suvari take it (and why did I use Mena Suvari for that example?). Whatever, I still scan the face of everyone that hops a subway car to see if they're famous.

Ditto on the fast food joints. Nope, Madonna isn't kickin' it at McDonalds. Catherine Zeta doesn't get her burritos at Chipotle. Almost positive famous people would rather not commit media suicide by patronizing a fast food restaurant and forever be listed as the unhealthiest celebrity of all time. I'm still on high alert, though, whenever I walk by JUST IN CASE one of them had a craving for a Big Mac.

They aren't on my flight home to Rochester. Okay, except that one time that Rob Schneider sat three rows behind me on my flight for Thanksgiving.

Like I said. No celebrities on my flights home to Rochester.

Note: This post has nothing to do with anything except on the subway home today I swore I was sitting next to Rachel McAdams. And then she stood up and I was cleary very, very mistaken. But it's okay because it's my blog and at least I don't write about cats in vests.

Stop Wishing It Were Different

2011-03-21T23:17:00.003-04:00

Full disclosure? I get frustrated. A lot.

I get angry when people don't move quickly on the subway. Or when I spend fourteen minutes on hold with an airline and then I magically get disconnected. Or when Charlie Sheen makes a comment. About anything. Ever.

But you know what? I need to stop wishing my life were different. Because the greenest grass is really that little plot right in my own yard. Pop on over to Yoganonymous to check out my Monday Morning Mantra about how to stop wishing your life were different and start enjoying it ASAP.

And guess what? The hardest day of the week is already over.

Hiking Breakneck Ridge

2011-03-19T21:33:00.005-04:00

Today I went hiking.

I know. Shocking, since I live in a city in which no one I know has a car and the only trees I see with any frequency occupy a one-block-by-one-block area behind the New York Public Library.

Oh also, there aren't any hiking trails on the island of Manhattan. So, that's sort of a problem.

But every now and then I get a little itchy to get out of the concrete jungle and feel like I've conquered something (other than a plate of cheese fries and wasabi dip from Pommes Frites). This morning, my brother and I set out to hike Breakneck Ridge, one of the more challenging scramble-hikes in the Upstate New York area.

(Also, point of reference, scrambling is where you use your hands and feet to climb over sheer faces and huge protruding boulders and the like. I didn't know that until today. I thought it was just called intense-extreme hiking or something.)

Not gonna lie, I have limited hiking experience. When I was little and my aunt suggested going hiking, I always just thought it was like walking, except in the woods. I guess that's what hiking is, essentially. Maybe having an actual name for it and calling it a sport is how they sell all of that fancy hiking gear. All I know is that my brother is a total sucker for sports with gear, while I prefer just to hike in my running clothes and hand-me-down ESPN branded UnderArmour fleece that I was gifted from a friend who was moving out west (PS best gift ever. I wear that thing nonstop despite that it's like two sizes too large for me). There are a few important things to know, if you're truly a novice hiker.

Get some bomb hiking shoes. No, for reals. Spend the moolah and get yourself a sick pair of boots. I don't care if you go once a season. Wear them to the mall if you feel the need to get some use out of them, but get a pair nonetheless. Because I rolled my ankle like twelve times today as I'm a klutz and if that had happened in running shoes, I probably would have had to be airlifted from Cold Spring back to Manhattan. Which would have been embarassing.

Don't feel the need to get any other significant hiking gear. Again, because hiking is walking in the woods. I will say, it sucks to be wet while hiking, so if you can invest in a light weight rain jacket, that is probably recommended. But really, I hiked in a t-shirt and yoga pants for 5 hours. I'm alive.

For a day hike, the only thing you really need is water. And maybe chapstick and tissues because I get a little windburnt and snotty from traipsing around in the leaves, but really those are optional pieces. I know there are some really prepared hiking gurus out there that will totally disagree with me and will have a whole convenience store of supplies just in case. But really? If you're just starting to get out there in the natural world, I say don't be intimidated by all this extra stuff you think you might need but don't have. Trial and error my friends. That's how I learned about the tissues.

Hiking is walking in the woods. So just get out there, be with nature, don't feel like you have to race up and down like twelve peaks, and just enjoy not being stuck behind your desk wishing that you were somewhere else.

So now that you're a hiking guru, why is hiking out of New York City any different than hiking elsewhere? Well, I will say hiking in New York and hiking pretty much everywhere else in the entire world (overstatement?) is wildly different, but I think I like our New York City version a little better. Why?

Hiking Everywhere Else: Drive a car to the trail head. Unload packs. Debate which items to bring. Take last swig of water. Pee behind tree. Lock car doors.

Hiking from New York City: Wake up staggeringly early to catch one of two trains a day to favored hiking spot. Despite obvious hangover, lay down across three Metro North seats and try not to puke on anyone. Fall asleep open-mouthed on ninety minute train ride. Try not to snore so loud that you wake yourself up.

Hiking Everywhere Else: Hike lasts two or three hours, followed by celebratory brunch and other normal Saturday activities.

Hiking from New York City: With all the effort you've already put in, you better hike fast and far. A three hour round trip means at least a six hour hike if not more. Make sure you pack trail snacks. We're gunna be up here for a while. And then when we're done, we're going to stop in the town of Cold Spring and drink $2 Beck's and eat cheesy chili until our train comes. And maybe get an ice cream cone too because we hiked like nine miles today.

Hiking Everywhere Else (on Monday): "Hey what'd you do this weekend?" "Oh, just went for a bit of a hike." "Nice. Me too/Which peak did you bag?/How was the weather?"

Hiking from New York City (on Monday): "Hey what'd you do this weekend?" "Oh, just went for a bit of a hike." "....a what?" "You know, hiking? Like, walking in the woods?" "Where the eff did you do that? And why? And how long did it take you to get there? And did you at least have boozy brunch beforehand? You know what? Nevermind. Pffft. Hiking. In New York City."

What did you do this weekend?

The Friday Five: Edition #1

2011-03-18T06:00:00.003-04:00

I like series'. (That sounds funny when it's pluralized. Really. It does. Say it out loud.)

I also like gratitude.

Enter the Friday Five, a list of five things, every Friday that I'm so thankful that I have in my life. Big, small, it don't matter. As long as it made my week a little bit better than the last one.

Access to Clean Water

Yup, I'm hittin' heavy straight off the bench. But after this post about how I drink excessive amounts of the liquid stuff, it's hard for me not to recognize that over half of the world's population doesn't have access to clean water. Yea, we hear that statistic, but it never really hits home until your landlord calls and tells you not to turn on the water because the pipes in the house are clogged. Imagine not ever being able to just turn on the water, or run to the supermarket, or buy some Dasani while waiting in line for the movies. Imagine not being able to go to the movies because you spend six hours of every single day gathering sticks to build fires to boil the toxic water from the stream at the bottom of your city or village. Now imagine you also happen to live in a landlocked country. That's 85% desert. See where I'm going with this?

Perspective

I was email chatting with a guy at my job today who just graduated from college eight months ago. He was talking about how he really wanted to be in investment banking to make some more paper, but the economy wasn't in the right stage of recovery for him to get into banking. To which I email-rolled my eyes (looks something like this --> 8-{ ) and fought the urge to give him a written lashing about his inevitable quarterlife crisis and that all that "paper" isn't worth the 90 hour weeks and youth spent in suit pants with a three-day-old five-hour shadow. I haven't learned it all yet, but I've learned that the desk and the health insurance aren't necessarily the end.

The First Outdoor Run of the Season

I talk a big game about my training efforts in the winter, but I am really a wilted flower when it comes to withstanding the cold. So I lift, do yoga, sort of run on the treadmill, and cross my fingers that one day, someday, it will be warm again. Well, that day was yesterday, and to celebrate the 56 degrees, I went for a 7-mile sprint in shorts and a t-shirt, covering a loop of Central Park and then some, all in just about an hour. Which means, despite not training for over six months, my run was faster than just about all of my runs last season. But not only that, I felt fantastic. My legs felt strong and every song that came on was the exact song that I wanted to hear. Not all runs are like this, but I think something about the combination of warm weather, being outside after a few 12-hour days, and the ability to just let it loose made this first run one for the books.

Getting Lost In A Book

I could have said just simply "Books" because I am so thankful for every single one that finds itself sitting on my nightstand, but there's something so magical about almost missing your train stop because you are so bewitched by the plot details of the novel you are holding. Or so moved that the sentence you are reading relates almost exactly to your life that you unashamedly cry in public places. Or that you stay up until three in the morning just to find out what happens at the end of the chapter - only to find yourself at the end of the whole dang thing. That? That is the feeling of disorientation via the written word that I can only hope to experience every time I pick up a book.

Sleeping Alone

Not that I don't love the warmth and intimacy of sleeping with someone else, but sometimes it's nice to just kick off the damn covers, toss and turn and burrow around, and drool on your pillow without worrying about making someone else uncomfortable. I know there are limitless positives to loving and secure relationships, but all you couples out there are secretly wishing for the day that your significant other is out of town on business so that you can jump on your bed and starfish the shit out of your night's sleep.

What are your Friday Five? Or even just one? I'd love to hear what you're grateful for this week!

Thoughts for Thursday

2011-03-17T06:00:00.002-04:00

Don't you love when your favorite song comes on JUST when you're putting the earbuds in your ears? And then it seems every song after that is the one you've been wanting to hear? I love that.

How about when you swipe into the subway JUST as your train is pulling up? Or the light turns green RIGHT when you're pulling up to it? I love that.

Or when you meet someone and you just have SO much in common that you end up talking to them in the hallway for 20 minutes? And you finish each other's sentences? And you walk away so excited that you made a new friend who also loves the same things you love? I love that.

And when you find a link online that makes you giggle so hard and you send it to everyone you know and they all giggle so hard and tell you how you are SO right, that link IS really funny? I love that.

Or how about giggling really hard in general? And for no reason? And not being able to pick up the phone or really do anything at all because you're doing that gaspy-air laughing thing? I love that, too.

And how about when you have so much to do and you are dreading your to-do list and then by the end of the day, you didn't even notice it but you got EVERYTHING on the list done, and it's only 5:30pm and your BFF emails you to ask you to get drinks RIGHT after work and you say fo' sho' because you finished everything you had to do and you feel like a rockstar? Yep. I SO love that.

What are some things that you're loving right now in your life?

Date A Girl Who Reads

2011-03-16T06:00:00.001-04:00

You know how you read something and it makes your heart burst with happiness and smile a dorky smile and nod your head the whole time you're reading it?

At the very least, you desperately wish you had written it.

That's how I feel about the below prose by Rosemary Uriquico.

(My heart is currently bursting.)

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You'll know she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She's the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That's the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She's the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she's kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author's making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do no like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce's Ulysses, she's just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or if she would like to be Alice.

It's easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but, by God, she's going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She'll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she's sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn't burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours, and half-baked proposals, then you're better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

(Thanks to Mary Kate for posting this first)

Book Dedications I'd Like To Write

2011-03-15T06:00:00.002-04:00

When I was growing up, I always used to watch the Oscars and wish that I could be given a little gold statue so that I could get up on stage and make a speech in front of national television.

Mostly, it would revolve around why the guy of the mo' didn't love me back and LOOK WHAT YOU LOST OUT ON, YOU SUCKER. I WON AN ACADEMY AWARD AND ALL YOU HAVE IS STUPID AIMEE FROM MRS. WHITE'S CLASS. HAH.

Seriously. I was a very love-starved eight-year-old.

Today, I have a similar obsession with book dedications. Before I read a book, I always flip to the dedication page. I like to know where my author's get their inspiration, and sometimes, the jokiness of it is like a little window into the personality of the author and not just the character he or she tries to create.

So in my dream life, where I'm a multi-book-deal author, here are the dedications I would write:

For the book I write about food and nutrition:

To my Dad

Who never let me leave the dinner table

Until I finished my vegetables

For the book I write about traveling:

To Andy

Who allowed me to blaze the trail

And paid me the biggest compliment I know by following it

For the book I write about love and broken hearts and other appropriate teenage girl topics:

To all the boyfriends I've ever had

Thanks for providing me the angst to write this

I've changed your names to protect you

For the book I write about family:

To my sisters and brothers

Thanks for never letting me have the last word

And for blaming things on me before I was old enough to talk

For my cookbook:

To Mom

Who stayed on the phone with me when I was in Safeway my first week at college

And patiently explained the difference between baking soda and baking powder

For my book about surfing:

To the Las Olas Crew

For helping me stand up

On the board, in my life, and for what I believe in

For the NY Times Bestseller:

To TK

Who was honest with me

So that I could be honest with myself

What would your book dedication look like?

Monday Morning Mantra: Be Easy,Stay Patient

2011-03-14T18:17:00.004-04:00

My dad reads this blog. I think everday. Maybe twice a day.

And because he can't quite figure out the comments section, he emails me little bits of praise. You know. Like dads do.

He also likes to give me advice about topics to write about. Which I ignore. You know. Like youngest daughters do.

One thing my dad never thought I'd write about?

Patience.

Because I have about 1 ounce of it running through my body. That might be an exaggeration. I want shit done NOW and FAST. The customer service lady at AT&T that I was talking to about getting my phone bill updated knows this very well. So does pretty much everyone at the MTA

So clickity click over to Yoganonymous and read about why patience has taught me how to balance my body weight on my little skinny chicken arms. Betcha didn't see that one coming.

26 Things: Acupuncture, People!

2011-03-13T06:00:00.002-04:00

You know what I'm deathly afraid of?

Needles.

And so, when I was composing my "26 Things" list eight months ago, I promised that I would face the needle-phobia head on by getting ten of them shoved into various points on my body. You know, to relieve stress.

When I was in Bali, I mentioned that I wanted to try acupuncture to a friend of mine that I met whilst traveling. It happened that she was also an ex-New Yorker and a yoga teacher and knew the exact person who would be able to help me with whatever health issues I might have. Turns out, acupuncture isn't just for serious injuries, like I had originally thought. It can help cure a number of ailments, such as stress, digestion issues, even headaches. I have had a lingering problem with acne and I thought that maybe I'd try acupuncture for that, if not because I wanted to see what all the hype was about.

I knew I was going to like Serena when I looked at her website because it said to EMAIL for an appointment. Like, what? Someone in the healthcare field with the internet? I don't believe it. I expected an automatic response directing me to call the office, which I would subsequently do and then get transferred 8 times before I was told to email. But no, it wasn't so, since Serena herself emailed me THE SAME DAY recommending that I come in for an appointment that included talking about my lifestyle as well as an acupuncture session. And she attached a very thorough worksheet about my health history and family's health history for me to complete. Which I loved. Because I love worksheets.

Not only did she look at my worksheet, but we really talked about my health history. For almost an hour. We went really deep into my eating habits, how long I'd been a vegetarian, when I first started noticing my acne, if there was a season it was better or worse in, what my sleep patterns were like, how often I worked out. Stuff that my regular doctor had never even thought about asking me. We talked for over an hour, and she made some really interesting connections for me between my eating habits and my breakouts.

One of the culprits that we discussed was dairy. I had already cut dairy from my diet as an experiment earlier this year and was noticing some improvements in my skin as well as in my sleeping and eating habits. Serena also mentioned that sugar and wheat (gluten) are two things that also traditionally affect skin. So it looks like those two things are coming out as well.

After we chatted (seriously, like an hour!) she had me lay on the examiner's table and inserted a few needles in my feet, shins, stomach, and forehead. It didn't really hurt, but my muscles were SUPER sensitive to it. I kept twitching like a maniac, which prevented me from falling asleep. But I was close. It was all dark and there was chant-y music and I think I had gone out drinking the night before.

The result? When I was really strict on the diet portion, my acne was non-existent. It was unbelievable. Now, I sort of have been less disciplined and it certainly shows in my skin. I'm heading back to my old way of eating and though it's boring, it seems like the only solution until they invent broccoli that tastes like cheesecake.

And if you're in the NYC area and are looking for a natural health practitioner and/or acupuncturist for ANY ailment, I'd definitely recommend checking out Serena on her website at Serenity Natural Health. She's amazing and fun and has a shoe collection I might give my right arm for.

Have you guys ever wanted to try acupuncture?

What Are You Thinking About Today?

2011-03-12T15:02:00.003-05:00

This reminds me of running along the shore of Lake Ontario when I was little. Then, all I thought about was the coldness of the water and whether or not someone would call me away from playing.

What are you thinking about today?

How Do You Deal with the Turbulence?

2011-03-11T21:29:00.004-05:00

If you didn't know already there are a few things that take up a good amount of my free time:

1) dancing around my room to Lady Gaga, sans pants

2) traveling. Mostly by airplane. Mostly by myself.

One of the weirdest things about me (besides loving pickle juice. And that my left ear is bigger than my right ear. And that I swallow vitamins without liquids.) is that I like flying in turbulence. In fact, it makes me feel calmer knowing that there's a little bump and jostle. I like to think that, because the plane is rockin' and rollin', that the pilot is actually paying attention. He's not in the bathroom reading Sports Illustrated or leaning up against the galley wall chatting up the cute flight attendant, Zack Morris style.

You know. Like pilots do.

I like to think that, at the very least, when we've got some turbulence, the pilot is gripping the little plane steering thingy, yelling orders to the co-pilots, flipping switches all hectic-like, and FIGURING THE SHIT OUT. At the very least, he's calmly explaining over the PA system that "yes, there's turbulence and no, we're not going to die." When it's going down, at least The Captain is paying attention. I mean, I've watched thousands of World War II plane movie (okay, so maybe just Pearl Harbor thousands of times. Josh Hartnett. So. Cute. *drool*. Sorry, what?) and if those pilots can land B-52 bombers in like 95 mile an hour winds and rain and heavy artillery fire, I think a commercial pilot can get it done in a little bit of turbulence. So stop gripping the seat, man sitting next to me. That piece of plastic ain't gunna stop this plane from going down. And you're making me nervous with all your whimpering and quiet whispering of the rosary.

Anyway, I was in some such turbulence yesterday coming back from New Orleans and realized that my appreciation for a little discomfort was sort of a metaphor for life. Like, most people like the smooth, predictable ride. That? Petrifies me. I like it when things shake around a little, when it's changing, or maybe flipping everything upside down and then dealing with it. Preferably if it's in another language and I have lost all motor skills. Or something that renders me as equally ill-equipped to deal with the situation. That's when I start getting all adrenaline-filled and hot to trot. More uncertainties, please!

Which is not so practical in the real world. For instance, making a solid business plan for 12 months? I run away screaming. Signing a lease? Uhhh, can I go month to month?

So maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but sometimes, I get these little vampires that growl all vampire-like at me and make me question all the things I thought of as Gospel. Do you really think you can hack it out there freelance? Do you really want to give up health insurance? Does that brown belt really go with those navy pumps?

(Wait, brown and navy match, right?)

I don't know what it is. I think if my life is constantly in motion, I feel that I can never be disappointed, because something new and exciting will always take away the sting of failure of whatever it is that didn't work out. I'm like that crazy mom in the Susan Sarandon/Natalie Portman movie that keeps moving cities everytime she gets broken up with (minus the kids and general lack of boyfriends).

But, regardless of whether or not I'm fulfilled or happy with the flight plan that ground control is sending my way (wow, that was a lot of literary metaphor), I'm always paying attention, like that good old pilot up in the front. I'm never on autopilot. I'm always, 100% paying attention. And maybe it's good to have some turbulence and to grab the steering wheel with both hands. But sometimes, I'd like to be able to guide my little plane of life softly on to the runway and then fist-bump with all my co-pilots about how sweet a ride it was.

So I turn it to you guys. How do you deal with the turbulence (airplane, life, or otherwise)? And what can you recommend to help me work on that whole commitment thing?

And I'm sorry if I laugh at you, dude that's squeezing the airplane armrest, when things go all haywire. It's because haywire is, like, my normal. Don't take it personally.

Places You Wanna Be

2011-03-10T12:14:00.001-05:00

You guys? I love New Orleans. I love that everyone here calls me "Sugah" and asks if I want to go to the thee-ay-tur to watch a movie. And that there are no vegetables in sight so instead I am forced to eat pile upon pile of Beignets.

Regular posting resumes again tomorrow. But in the meantime:

If you're curious, I'm giving up alcohol for Lent. Largely due to the above picture.

Happy Mardi Gras!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Women I Love: Aimee Mullins

2011-03-09T07:00:00.000-05:00

While I'm jaunting around the Southern United States, I thought I'd give you some video watching pleasure.

I was boppin' around on TED last week and found this video with Aimee Mullins. It's enough for me to heart this lady because she is from my alma mater AND had the same major that I had. What's that? And she's a runner? Oh-emm-gee, Aimee Mullins, you've stolen my heart.

But really, Aimee is a double amputee who got into running...in college.

And broke a world record...in her first meet.

And competed in the 1996 Paralympics...as the only woman with a disability below the waist.

So for all those times that I want to take it easy on a run and I don't push myself as hard as I know I can, on and off the track, I'm thinking of Aimee and her drive, sense of humor, oh, and the fact that she makes being a paralympian so friggin' sexy.

Have you bopped around on TED.com before? If so, what are some of your favorite talks?

Living Life Barefoot: Mardi Gras Edition

2011-03-08T07:00:00.001-05:00

I am en route to the airport right now to hopefully get to experience some of this:

Image Credit

Oooooh, and hopefully some of this:

Image Credit

But hopefully none of THIS:

I don't like beads all that much.

It's Fat Tuesday y'all, and I'm heading to the great state o' Louisiana to get my Mardi Gras on, ride bicycles along the Mississippi River, and eat as many po' boys as I can stuff in my face. Tastefully, of course. Can't give us New Yorkers a bad name down there in the South.

I've never been to New Orleans, or Louisiana for that matter and I'm SO excited to check another state off my bucket list of visiting all 50 states. Though I'm only there for a few days, I'd like to

a) dance my pants off behind a float

b) drink some real Lou'siana whiskey

c) eat some seriously southern gumbo

Anyone out there have any fantastic suggestions for what I should do in my quick trip to the Pelican State (seriously. That's what the state's nickname is. I even looked it up on Wikipedia)?

Monday Morning Mantra: Gaga-fied

2011-03-07T23:56:00.005-05:00

Check out her meat...dress. Work it, girls.

(Image Credit)

Fact? I love me some Lady Gaga.

She's just an Italian girl from New York (like me!), she's got a killer sense of humor (like me!) and she wears 12-inch Alexander McQueen platforms to walk around in London (aaaand the similarities end).

But even more than the Gaga lifestyle, I love her new song "Born This Way". It's like my perfect life anthem since it tells me to follow my heart while permitting me to headbang in my room to it. So, basically a win-win.

Head over to Yoganonymous and check out my Monday Morning Mantra this week on how I strive to be me and shake what my mama gave me on the daily. Ya heard?

Women I Love: Madeleine Albright

2011-03-06T09:51:00.002-05:00

Aside from being the first Secretary of State, Madeleine Albright is a pretty rockin' woman. She brought women's issues to the forefront of the United States' foreign policy and humanized, instead of politicized, a lot of world issues that she tackled in her tenure. She's hilarious. She's a lady that I would love to have tea with.

Plus, she has a pin collection that I'd give my left arm for.

While I was an undergraduate at Georgetown, she was a professor-in-residence and taught a class about diplomacy that you had to actually apply to get into (which I didn't, but did manage to squeak my way into a class with Donna Brazil, which was as hilarious and focused on two equally important world issues: the women running for office in the 2006 election and Louisiana gumbo.). I remember seeing Madeleine (if I may be so bold) around campus and the lady just oozed regality. The video below highlights some of her humor, insight, and wit about being the first female SOS and how she has continued her legacy since.

Oh, and the best line that the former of SOS zings out?

"It doesn't mean that the whole world would be a lot better if it were totally run by women. If you think that, you've forgotten high school."

Who are some ladies you'd like to have lunch with?

What's In Your Bag? My Water Bottle

2011-03-05T14:50:00.005-05:00

This is going to be part of a series of posts of things that I carry with me every day that make my life a little bit simpler. Kind of like those Teen Vogue articles that used to take snapshots of the contents of celebrity's purses and it was all this chi chi stuff that I couldn't afford on my room-cleaning weekly allowance of $8. Oh also, I forgot to mention I'm not a celebrity. You should still read these.

Though I don't really consider myself an environmentalist (I get takeout, I'm not too careful when purchasing items to see if they've been tested on animals, I only remember to bring my reusable bags to the grocery store sometimes) there is one thing that I always have with me:

Yep. A water bottle.

I'm not going to pretend that it's metal and made out of recycled shoe soles and BPA free and schmancy (although I think it is BPA free...). I got it almost a year ago when I was surfing at Las Olas. And, as the people at my office know, there are two things I lose on a daily basis: umbrellas and water bottles.

However, this one has stayed with me for almost a year (knock on wood!). I haven't lost it! I haven't left it at some strange person's apartment (yep, that happened once).

I find that, even if it's out, in plain sight, I drink from it. And when I'm hungry, or bored, or wanting to throw the phone across the room (not that THAT'S ever happened), I take a little sip (or camel-esque gulp) from my water bottle. And I refill it about 5 times a day. Which means:

1. I don't drink soda

2. I don't spend money on bottled water

3. I save the environment a little bit (if I drink 4 bottles of water a day, every day, I save 1,460 bottles of water. That's $1,460 of Poland Spring. That's like a whole month and a half of rent. On water!)

4. Because I bring it every day, I actually drink water a lot more.

Water bottles aren't good for the planet. You all know that, and there are far better people to give you statistics about it than me. But if bringing my own water bottle has done me two pieces of goodness?

I've saved money on not buying soda (because invariably, that's what I'd buy if I were to spend money)

and

I drink a shit ton of water every day. Like over 100 ounces.

And when you're drinking that much water, other good stuff happens, too.

I don't snack as often.

I don't feel as hungry.

My workouts are incredible.

I am starting to actually crave water as opposed to being underwhelmed by its taste.

This won't work for everyone and I don't pretend that all of my advice is solid fact. But based on what's outlined above, even if ONE of those things happens, it may be worth the convenience of dragging it around for a month, a week, or even a day, to see if you sip on some agua more often than you would normally.

What's in your bag?

Why I Dig Me Some Minimalism

2011-03-04T07:49:00.005-05:00

The lovely Laura of 50 by 25 wrote this post discussing the ways in which we have been changed by travel. I loved the post, and commented something like "Traveling is so eye-opening. It's the unplanned experiences that make it more worth it than any museum." (or at least that's what I wished I said, because what I actually said had lots of exclamation points and smiley faces) (And I think I used the word awesome somewhere along the line, which totally negates anything I said because if I can't come up with a better adjective than awesome to describe traveling to five Southeast Asian countries, I need to get off this blog and go open up a thesaurus)

And while traveling has changed my perspective on life, taught me to be miles less judgmental, and has turned me into one of the more trusting people that I know, it also opened my eyes to my internal issues, namely, why I have so much damn stuff.

Because at that point in my life, I had begun packing for weekend trips in small carry-on duffle bags. And could getaway to the Caribbean for a week with just a backpack and a bikini. And then I traveled for three months with like four shirts and some underwear.

And I survived. And people still were friends with me. And I even had one pair of ubiquitous hiker pants that I never wore, not once, even when swashbuckling through the vegetation of Vietnam.

Which made me wonder when I got home:

"Why do I have so much damn stuff? And why do I practically cry when shit falls out of my closet and get frustrated when I have to stuff my thirty scarves back into my scarf drawer?" (and now it's embarrassing because you know I have a drawer reserved specifically for scarves)

So I started reading. I read this blog and this post. I Google searched "professional organizer" and clicked my way until I found her. And then I saw this book in the book store and I shook my fist towards the sky in a movie-esque fashion and said "Alright FINE. I will donate all those heavy metal concert t-shirts I have under my bed. STOP TWISTING MY ARM!"

And then everyone in Barnes and Noble stared at me.

So I went home and started just giving stuff away. At first, I was sad. I had barely worn that top! It's so pretty and it's in SUCH good condition! It's like I'm throwing my money away! Like, dollah dollah bills in the garbage, y'all!

But as I dropped it off at the local thrift store, I wasn't sad anymore. I mean, it was really just clothes. And though, at the time, it SEEMED like money wasted, the money was already invested and the only thing I was wasting was the precious time it took me to search through and locate the things in my room that I thought I'd lost because they were buried under other the six black ribbed Calvin Klein tank tops that I owned.

More than donating and giving my stuff away, I've realized that I can live with less. I can live with two dresses and a handful of dress shirts at work. I can live with one winter hat. And my running clothes can double as my skiing and hiking and rock climbing clothes. And though I LOVE my oversized striped blue and white sweater, I don't need two other equally oversized sweaters that I wear every now and again and crowd my blue and white one from being the center of my closet.

So this month, you'll be seeing some more posts from me about living with less, mostly focused on living with less and still working the corporate of corporate America jobs. I'll be cataloguing all the things I own, publishing them here, and then slowly whittling them down to a few hundred.

What can you guys live without? And how do you feel about minimalism?

Shifting Your Priorities or How I Struggle to be Honest With Myself

2011-03-02T23:00:00.002-05:00

Two weeks ago, I was sitting in a tiny cafe in San Francisco with some of my best friends from college talking about all that has changed in our lives since we graduated four (eep!) years ago. We had a lot of similar complaints (not yet married or seriously dating, confusion about our career paths, frustration with living in a city where you pay half your salary for a room the size of a bathroom). And after a weekend of skiing in the perfect powder of Lake Tahoe only to drive three hours to be back in sunny, temperate weather (in February, no less), we were both lusting about the benefits of living on the west coast.

But we OBVIOUSLY couldn't move.

Because OBVIOUSLY we didn't have any job offers out there.

And OBVIOUSLY it would take A LOT of work to FIND a job out there.

I just wish I had a REASON to move out to the west coast.

The truth is, I have THOUSANDS of reasons. Like literally, there is not a whole lot keeping me in New York.

~I have a job/boss/coworkers that I like enough to show up everyday in a decent outfit, but given the opportunity to do pretty much anything else, I'd leave.

~I prefer hiking to fashion week and cooking locally grown veggies to dining at the hippest steakhouse on the block.

~One of my life goals is to be a proficient skiier. Not happening when you have to take the train to the slopes.

~My boyfriend wouldn't mind (kidding. I don't have a boyfriend.)

And then I come back to why it is that I haven't just packed up my pantsuits, hopped on a plane, and made it happen. I mean, come on. I'm the girl that talks about living her dream life and making positive changes and not having any fear. What the hell am I doing? Why can't I just make the leap?!

Well because I'm scared.

I'm scared that it might be the wrong decision.

I'm scared of what my friends will think if I don't have a job that is as competitive as our 4-year undergraduate degree usually produces.

I'm scared that I will go broke/into debt.

I'm scared that I'll live life on the other side, only to realize that I really DO want the corporate, high-powered, chi-chi, fantastic, charmed life.

And while it's okay that I'm scared, it's not okay for me to keep putting off my life so that I can try to figure out what to do. I need to start taking at least a little bit of action, and evaluating what's really important to me, and what I need to STOP thinking is important to me.

My family

I have three nieces and a nephew and while my siblings are much older than me and there has always been this weird parental relationship between us, I actually feel responsible for their little ones. I think about them every day. I wonder if they're walking, talking, falling down, not feeling well. It might be one of those maternal instincts, but there is very little that I wouldn't do for those babies. And I miss them and their baby smell and the way their faces light up when they see me. It's enough for me want to feed them chocolate for dinner and say yes to two hours of television and a 10pm bedtime.

And I miss my parents. I miss my mom making me dinner. I miss playing golf with my Dad and arguing with him about the benefits of Facebook and telling him he's a dinosaur for not getting with it (kidding, Dad. Are you still reading?). I miss having dinner made for me, and my laundry getting done and watching movies all day on Sundays. And though I've lived away from home all 8 years (gah!!) of my post-high-school life, I think I'd be amazingly content having my mom come over to my apartment and sit on my couch and bake cookies with me.

And you know what? It's okay that I want my family around me. That's why they invented families; to support you. It's not weakness if you go back to the hometown you grew up in or prefer hanging with your mom on a Friday than boozing with your friends. If that's what you REALLY want to do, then you should do that and not worry about what it looks like to anyone else. It's a tough paradigm shift, I know, but trust me, once you start getting honest with yourself, you'll start feeling a whole lot better about the life you want to lead.

The outdoors

I didn't exactly grow up on a rustic family. Like, maybe we camped once or twice a year, but it was always in a camper. And it likely had a television. I learned to ski and play nine million sports because, in my overachieving hometown, that's what everyone did. But as I get older, every day I wish I could be outside, walking through Central Park, going for a run, hiking upstate, golfing in Brooklyn. It's almost painful. But knowing that, and knowing that's something that's important to me, it makes New York City seem like a silly place to call home. Not that you CAN'T get to the great outdoors here, but that it usually constitutes a subway ride, to a train, to a bus, to a cab. I'm all about simple living, but when there are 4 transportation barriers to nature? It's hard for my to call that simple.

Being creative

I just sort of realized that I tend towards what people like to call "an artist type" (see? I can barely admit it to myself! Jeez, Louise, I'm an artist, for chrissakes!) Growing up, that wasn't really something that I took seriously, because I didn't really like to paint, and watercolors = artist to me.

But I danced. And I sang. And I performed in musical theater. And I wrote stories about girls who had shitty boyfriends (because I did) and girls who were strong and powerful and knew everything (because I thought I was but definitely didn't. Hah!). And even now, I like to create. And whether or not that makes me an artist, I know that I want to create things in my ideal life and that I want to provide value to the lives of others. I'm not sure yet in what capacity, but I do know that being creative, creating, making things, is an important part of my life-to-be.

So wtf does all this have to do with my priorities and San Francisco?

Well, no where on that list does it say "Make $2 million a year." And it definitely doesn't say "Own vacation home." And pretty sure I didn't mention "Work in corporate position until I'm the boss (probably around 45, but since I'm a woman, more likely around 50). Sure, those things might be nice, and I have visions of myself being a leader someday, managing people and ideas and workflow and all that jazz. But I'm a fan of creating my ideal life RIGHT NOW. And it took me a while to be honest with myself about what that actually meant. And it DEFINITELY doesn't mean sitting in a cube all day, Gchatting and hoping my boss doesn't realize that I'm doing personal stuff on company time (which she definitely does).

I think, as a member this lost 20-something generation that the New York Times likes to talk about, we are all trying to figure out what it means to have our own ideal life. And some of us want to create that within the "system." But I don't think I do, even if it means taking a serious pay cut so that I can take a walk during my lunch break. And while all my friends can create their dream lives and drive the fancy schmancy cars and wear the fancy clothes and I'll love them just the same, I really have to believe that they will still be my friends and they will still love me if I don't do any of that and instead work in a yoga studio, freelance copy edit, and

dance backup on the weekends.

Because I have a lot of goals for my life, and WANTING it to be different isn't one of them. Someday, I want to live on the west coast. I want to move abroad for a year. I want to adopt a child and fall in love and backpack around Europe even though I'm out of college. And yea, I want to move back home to be near my family. Preferably in the near future, but I've got a long life to live and it's not a race.

What are your priorities? Have you struggled with making them really number one in your ideal life?

Why I Stopped Contributing to my 401K

2011-03-01T21:38:00.002-05:00

A few months ago, after returning home from Asia, I reduced my per-paycheck 401k contribution from a generous 15% to a still generous 12%. I had some debt to pay off from my travels, and the extra cash was what I needed then.

Today, still debt free, with even a tiny bit of savings, I reduced my contribution to 0%.

I've been faithfully saving for my retirement since I was the ripe old age of 22. Right out of college, everyone told me that saving for retirement now would be WAY easier than saving for retirement when I had things like a mortgage, college tuitions, and yearly vacations to take with my yet-to-exist family. I'm 25 now, and I've saved a hefty amount of money in 3 years, despite the fact that my first contribution was seven months prior to the financial crash of 2008. And that's all without diversifying my portfolio, managing my options, and rolling the shit over (cuz though I read it on CNNMoney, I don't actually know what any of that means).

I have always been a saver. I'd save money because that's what my grandma told me to do ("Honey, save your pennies. Ice cream is on me today"). My dad praised me when I saved all of my babysitting money instead of spending it on clothes at the mall with my friends. Whenever my mom needed a few dollars in cash to tip the pizza man, I always had some squirreled away to loan out. Last year, I saved a good amount to travel in Asia for three months while attending a yoga teacher training.

So, I understand saving for your goals. I've done it plenty of times.

But I'm at a point in my life that I'm not yet sure I see the full value of saving for my retirement. Yet anyway. Or maybe never. I'm not sure.

This is because retirement, to me, isn't really a way that I want to live my life. Not even when I'm 97 years old. I want to stay busy. I want people to pay me for an amazing service or product I provide.

This is how I view retirement:

1. You don't ever have to work.

2. You can pursue your creative ambitions at no consequence.

3. You can travel as often as you like, whenever you like.

4. You stay at home, read the paper, take a nap, go for walks, babysit your grandkids, and pretty much do whatever the hell you want.

Sounds lovely. But:

1. If I found something that I loved to do, like writing, or designing stationary, or public speaking, I don't think I'd ever want to stop doing it. And conversely, if I had nothing to do all day, I think I'd be bored out of my mind.

2. I already pursue my creative ambitions. I write this dang blog, for chrissakes. I learned how to scuba dive. I hike and camp and run marathons.

3. I already travel as often as I like, pretty much whenever I like.

4. If I could figure out how to do something I loved from home, like writing or editing or dancing around in my underwear to Ke$ha, I could stay at home, in my underpants, go for a walk, take a nap, babysit someone else's grandkids, and still pretty much do whatever the hell I wanted.

So basically, other than the job that I have that takes up 40 hours of my week, I am already retired, right?

Not quite. But I don't think that's the goal.

My goal in life isn't retirement. My goal in life isn't to do all the hard work first to do the fun stuff later.

My goal in life is to do the fun stuff now, tomorrow, next week, all my life. It's also to make sure that whatever it is that is making me money also gives me joy. So that I can continue experiencing that joy, mixed alongside the travel and the creative pursuit, at every stage in my life.

I hope some of you who were bred in similarly risk-averse households aren't recoiling in too much horror right now (can't imagine that you are though; if you were, you would have stopped reading already). But if you really sit down and think about it, it makes sense. How can you know, at the age of TWENTY-FIVE, what is going to be happening in your life at SIXTY-FIVE? A lot people who started saving for retirement forty years ago nearly lost all of their retirement savings in the past two years. We've read about them in the newspaper. They are our bosses, friends, parents. They were, quite literally, my parents. Sickening, to say the least.

I'm not saying we shouldn't be practical. Everyone views money differently, and that's fine. Saving for a goal is important, and if you want to work your ass off for the next ten, twenty, thirty years until you can quit and sit in the La-Z-Boy or make quilts or spend the last of your days on a remote island in Micronesia, I'll be there behind you cheering you on.

What I am saying is that you shouldn't do something just because somebody told you that you ought to. Just like anything else, a retirement fund does not a complete life make if you do not truly believe in its benefit.

The moral of the story is that I don't mind working, creating, and putting my nose to the grindstone. As long as I feel elated with myself when I'm done. And that feeling? Is what I want to feel for the rest of my life. Not just in the 20 years after I retire to when I die. What makes me money doesn't have to make me millions of dollars. I don't need new boots every season or porcelain chatchkis on my nightstand or D&G in my closet.

I need my family. I need my friends. I need love and trust and advice. I need a place to sleep and something to wake up for in the morning and lots and lots of laughter.

I don't need a retirement account as a safety net just in case my life turns out differently than I want it to.

Tomorrow, I want to talk about lifestyle priorities. Much of my disinterest in a retirement account relates to some of the lifestyle choices I've been making (namely, not ever wanting to own a home, a car, or anything that I need more than the back of a Jeep to lug around with me).

Do you have a retirement account? If so, what is your ideal life when you've finally hit the big 6-5? If not, why haven't you started yours yet?

Monday Morning Mantra: I Will Stay Present

2011-02-28T01:04:00.006-05:00

OMG! It's Monday!

Start your week with a little insight in my personal life and how I cope with "holy-shit-this-adult-life-thing-is-really-scary" moments. And by moments, I mean every single waking minute.

Head over to Yoganonymous and check out my guest post about staying present and trying not to let life get the best of you.

PS I have no idea what that picture of Mt. Rinjani in Indonesia has to do with living in the present, but it's pretty sweet right?

In Which I Fall Completely Off the Wagon and Eat Brownies For Breakfast

2011-02-14T08:30:00.003-05:00

Sometimes, despite my intentions of eating well and subsisting on a low-carb, high-protein diet....well, I really just want to eat brownies for breakfast.

And for no other reason than it's Valentine's Day and I had a sick weekend of skiing in Vermont this past weekend, I'm going to.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone (nom nom nom)!

Shit I Think About In Spin Class

2011-02-09T15:37:00.002-05:00

Why is that girl next to me going so friggin' fast? She must not have any weight on her pedals. Amateur.
(stares horrified as girl increases weight by two turns)

I wonder if I could start my own event company. I would have to make it to the end of spin class for that to happen.

Would it be inappropriate to ask the instructor how many days a week she works out? She's got some bitchin' biceps.

Who invented bike shorts? This shit is uncomfortable.

On second thought, my legs look kind of hot. I wish it counterbalanced the enormous wedgie I'm currently experiencing.

Guh!!! Is she serious? Another hill?

Really, though. She must bench press like a hundred pounds.

I wish I had a British accent.

I wish I was dating a boy that had a British accent.

I wish I was dating a boy.

WHAT is that smell? Is that me? Oh, that is gross.

I wonder if I can fake an injury on a spin bike.

Is that guy looking at me? I wonder if I look dewey and energetic.
(glances in mirror)
(stifles gag reflex)

I feel a strong urge to Tweet about this.

GUHHH! Are there SERIOUSLY still 40 minutes left?

Monday Morning Mantra: You? Are a Rockstar

2011-02-07T09:02:00.004-05:00

Photo Credit

No, not that kind of rockstar (although, props if you are).

It's Monday, which means you should PROBABLY hop over to Yoganonymous and check out my post about why each and every one of you are of rockstar capability. Have ever felt so underwhelmed at your job/schoolwork/daily grind that you just feel like you're not the person you wanna be? Well let me tell you, that is false. You, my friend? Are a frickin' rockstar. And not for the reasons that you may think.

Party on, readers. (*headbangs to music*)

If You Were Looking For A Song for Karaoke

2011-02-06T10:54:00.002-05:00

Because I know most of the time, when confronted with the prospect of picking a song to do for karaoke, you are all biting your nails in fear that you may not pick the perfect song.

Well. Here it is:

Other favorites of mine include Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin or Jackson by Johnny Cash and June Carter. Aaaand your welcome.

What are your favorite karaoke songs? Or the ones you rock out to in your car while singing full voice?

Rock an Interview: A Step-By-Step Guide

2011-02-04T20:38:00.004-05:00

There are a few things in life that I think I'm pretty good at:

1. Creating VERY awkward situations, usually around people I have just met

2. Eating twice my body weight in cookies

3. Interviewing

While 1. and 2. are probably only useful if you are not making any attempt to woo prospective dates or win any friends, the third one is a fo' sho' useful life skill that I am proud to possess. But I wasn't always an interview queen. One time I called my interviewer by the wrong name. Another time, I emailed my interviewer to set up an in person meeting and addressed multiple emails to "Mr. Fox" -- only to show up to the interview to find myself confronted with a lady Fox *slaps forehead*. But since I straightened out my erring ways, I've never gotten to an interview and have not had an offer waiting at the end of the process (lots of negatives in there. Read it slowly, it makes sense.)

So because I am hoping to prevent all of you from dive bombing any potential interviews you have coming up, here are a few important tips that I've picked up along the way.

You. Are. Awesome. Now repeat.

The first step to rocking out at an interview is to actually believe in the product that you're selling. Nobody wants you to be modest. In fact, this is one instance in which modesty will get you ABSOLUTELY no where. So pull up the big girl pants and be proud of your accomplishments. You've made a contribution such that your current job hasn't "let you go" or deemed your position useless, so there's something in there that you can pull out. Everyone, in every job, all the time is adding some sort of value. The trick is to figure out and things that you don't think are a big deal are a REALLY big deal. Do you constantly follow up on things, even if they're small? Organizational skills. Have you ever trained an intern? People management. Have you ever had something go wrong and you had to scramble to fix it without bursting into tears in front of your boss? Decision-making AND composure.

Rewording is okay, but in the end make sure it's still you.

I've been told in interviews that my resume is fabulous. And that's DEFINITELY NOT because I've had some glamorous jobs in my day. I'm just very conscious of the things that employers find helpful (mainly, someone who isn't a flake who is comfortable with responsibility, and can communicate really frickin' well). So some of the things that I ACTUALLY did, like "hole punched all the little receipts and entered them into Excel for my bride" were reworked on my resume to say "organized and managed budget for $XX wedding." Which one sounds a whole heck of a lot more sophisticated? I feel totally comfortable defending the second one in an interview and honestly, that's all budgeting is, isn't it?

This also means no gross exaggerations. I didn't say "planned and organized THE WHOLE FREAKIN' WEDDING TO THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE." That would have been a blatant lie and to be honest, I'm not sure I would be comfortable getting a job in which I didn't actually have the skills to perform.

You can bring up stuff you've Googled.

The internet? Is the best thing since Encarta. And the best part is that your 6th grade social studies teacher won't roll her eyes when you say you found that fact on the Internet. Because that's probably where she found it, too. A lot of times, when we're stuck in one job, we feel that our skill set needs expansion, but we can't get it at work.

To that, I say, no excuse. This is what the internet is for. For instance, I wanted to get into a more marketing related role, so I started working on this blog. Yea, it's not terribly pretty, but I learned a shit-load about social media, website building, how to make websites pop up more quickly in Google searches (called SEO optimization), and found a whole new category of work that I'm actually interested in. Now I'm working with a non-profit for whom I do all of that, and have another skill set to throw on my resume. All in four months! So take advantage of your resources and learn something new; it can only help.

Don't make it so...professional.

Okay, so don't tell but those people that are interviewing you? They're someone's mom. Someone's friend. Someone's brother and Grandpa Joe. They aren't corporate machines who have no feelings (okay, well not all of them). But if they're going to be working with you all day every day? They want you to have a personality. They are dying to see that you can laugh at yourself, make a joke or two, and are generally not a jerk to work with. I like to give my interviewers a little compliment when I first meet them, or say something about the weather. Anything to calm my own nerves and to make them more at ease meeting you. Smile when they ask you a question and laugh if they make a joke (even if it's not funny).

Practice interviewing other people.

Part of the reason I'm kind of awesome at interviewing is that I've been in the hiring position before. Not for any professional gig, but for interns, volunteers, and even have sat in on some interviews that my boss has conducted. And I find myself quickly making judgments based on the nature of the conversation. I can identify the kind of person that I want to work with, and even if they don't have a certain skill that I'm looking for, if someone seems confident and pleasant to be around, I wouldn't hesitate to invite them aboard so that they could be taught.

If you don't have any extracurricular activities in which you are a position of leadership either 1) practice interviewing friends for THEIR job interviews or 2) get some hobbies.

Ask a clarifying question.

When I don't have a great answer to a question that an interviewer has asked, I follow it up with a clarifying question to help my brain slow down and even buy me some time to think about the answer to the first question. In my experience, people love to talk and they WANT you to do well. So if you need a little more time or a little nudge to think about your answer, go ahead and ask a question.

Be you. Like 100%. Times a million.

Similar to anything in life, don't try to emulate what you THINK the ideal candidate would be. That's the first step to taking a job you hate. Just like in a relationship, if you have to lie or act like someone else to be offered the position, you probably don't want it. So be yourself. It's a whole lot easier anyway.

Now, ask them some bomb-diggity questions with a decent amount of substance.

My faves?

+What's your favorite thing about this job?

+What is your least favorite thing?

+I'm really looking to develop personally and professionally. What are some of the areas that allow for growth in this position?

+What's your managerial style? Can I have some freedom with my work or do you prefer a more team based approach?

I don't think there are bad questions (unless it's about the company and what they do. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT ask about what a company does. At least do a liiiittttlleee research before you show up in your pencil skirt.) so feel free to make up your own. I also like to throw in at least one question to show I did my homework like:

+I see XX Company was rated Best Small Businesses to Work For 2010. What makes you guys better than all the other XX industry small businesses?

Strong. Handshake. PLEASE!

This is just a pet peeve of mine because I hate weak handshakes. I feel like the person doesn't want to touch me and it's really annoying because I'm not sure if I smell bad or have food on my face or something (usually the latter. I digress.) Don't squeeze the daylights out of your interviewer, but a strong handshake shows confidence. And me personally? I IMMEDIATELY take someone with a strong handshake more seriously than someone with a pansy one. I find this most common in women, but guys, I'm talking to you too.

What are some of your interview tips for me?