Hindsight Is: 2016 edition

I'll be the first to say it: I'm on the 2016 hatin' train lately. With the passing of my beloved Carrie Fisher, I basically became the conductor of said hate train. BUT while there has been so much loss this year (from fabulous celebrities who I basically considered family to, well, you know... the election), there has also been a lot of good.

So, since I didn't want to close out 2016 sounding like a total scrooge, here's some wonderful highlights to shine a positive light on what was overall a scoundrel of a year:

• Resolutions: Had quite a few of them, and after re-reading my list, I did a pretty swell job of accomplishing a lot of the things I wanted to! Minus the knitting. The damn knitting still eludes me...
• Career Girl: I finally left a job that had made me miserable for years and started up a new job. It's been almost a full year now, and I'm glad to say that I still enjoy my "new job", see opportunity for advancement, work with good people, and am very content overall. Time to start creepin' my way back up that ladder!
• Positive: A big factor in switching to a new job was a fresh start. A chance to molt the thick, bitter skin I had built up and return to being a happy and optimistic person. So far, so good! 
• Movin' Out: HELLO, adult points! It's been almost eight months now that the beau and I have cohabitated. 2013 Gina would be having a shit fit hearing that stat. So far we've managed to not kill one another, and, you know, be happy as clams sharing a space. It's nuts to think that this time last year, we were just starting to think about looking for a place, and here we are. A year ago, I was probably pants-less on my couch, eating an entire pot of mac-and-cheese by myself. Today, I'm clothed, and I have to share the mac, but it's mac made by my man, and I'm happy to share (mostly - don't worry, I have an extra box, just in case). 
• Social Butterfly: Holy cow was this a busy year. Literally, I kept the bar and restaurant industry in MKE afloat with my constant stream of happy hours, brunches and other food/drank related social gatherings. We also hosted a ton of random gatherings: our first Passover Seder, a crawfish boil, house-coolings and housewarmings, Thanksgivinukkah, etc. Not a week went by in the past 52 where some sort of social engagement didn't occur, and it was wonderful (thanks, friiiiends!). 
• Wanderlust: This year was a good one to get out of dodge! With trips to Key West, Atlanta, Colorado, Iowa, California (HARRY POTTER WORLD - MY HEART!), Chicago, etc. Still didn't finish renewing that damn passport though, gah. 
• The Silver-screen: Lotta good show watching went down this year. Watched the entire series of Lost, finally saw Westworld, wrapped up Downton Abbey (my heart is still recovering), Game of Thrones kept me shrieking on a weekly basis, etc. Plus, we saw SO many movies (at the theater and at home) and had our second year of being MKE Film Club members. A lot of good media was had by all.
• Random Others: Witnessed oh so much love and was so fortunate to attend eight weddings of very dear friends. Ran a 5k. PAID OFF my student loans! Was on-and-off addicted to sushi. Got to host an old friend from France (and skipped my 10 year HS reunion in the process). Got my first real piece of Tiffany's. Celebrated my beau's big 30th birthday. Donated my hair to charity again (third time). Finally had a good excuse to dress like a 1920's flapper. Quit sugar for a bit. Learned how to cross-stitch and do zombie makeup (those two are mostly unrelated). Jet ski-ed for the first (and probably last) time. Managed to avoid getting pregnant, married, or engaged - not many gals pushing 30 can say that! Huzzah! :)

Overall, the political turmoil and global unrest made 2016 a bit of a hot mess. BUT, looking at just my isolated life: the year was pretty on point. Let's hope 2017 comes in and sweeps us off our feet (in a good way, not in like a Mortal Kombat kinda way) and that it doesn't end up being our last (looking at you, nuclear launch code buttons, quit looking so shiny). Cheers, dear friends! 

Feelin' funky about my 2016 reflections...
GET IT?? Because that's a mirror and there are stars??? :)

Thanks for the Wings

Do you hear what I hear?
Those sleigh bells? Just a jing, jing, jing-a-ling? A ring-ting-ting, ting-aling, too?

If you don't hear it, you're a damn scrooge. If you do hear it, then you're already dead... I mean, it's already too late, because I'm about to lose my g'damn mind with holiday cheer. Those jingle bells are my trigger. One second, I'm just a (fairly) normal gal. Then: the transformation. The eyes go wide, the smile high fives both ears as it ricochets about, and a gleeful madness lights up the entire face. Instant jump into excited, Rocky at the top of the stairs - esque pose. Shopping bags appear in hand. Garland strings are suddenly wrapped about her person. Bulbs shoot out of her palms, Spiderman style. And a high pitched squeal lets loose. THIS is Christmas, baby. Get on board or get the hell out of her way!

There are two traditions more than anything that kick off the "holiday" season for me. Both involve my running about like a mad woman, being alarmingly happy, and sweating glitter.

The first is, of course, deckin' out the halls for Christmas (and Hanukkah).

When living in my tiny apartment, my decorations may have "overwhelmed" the space. Now that I have double the square footage to deal with (thanks, beau! #livinginsin2016), this is a whole new game. I've now lived out "on my own" (adult!) for over five years (old!), and every December I've been determined to do something new with my embellishments. BUT, every year it's been a similar process:

1. Attack Plan and Staging. Early November involves me hulking around furniture and determining layouts. For a month, the living room looks lopsided due to the gaping hole where a tree will go, and my OCD quietly freaks out. The apartment gets cleaned / organized in anticipation. Color scheme by room is determined in tandem with Step 2.
2. Hoarding and Taking Inventory. In addition to the stockpile of trimmings I already have (several totes worth), the post-holiday sale period finds me buying up all the 80% off bulbs and tinsel I can get my hands on. That, in combination with an assault on the dollar store as soon as the Christmas aisles appear (now in September), requires some serious need for taking inventory. This step lets me mentally divvy up how much glitz I have available to cram into each room. And, ya know, helps me figure out if I need even more stuff.
3. Bedeckin' the Feckin' Halls!* Surrounded by my festive pile, ready to festoon, a force to be reckoned with. Hot cocoa made (schnapps/Bailey's sloshed in in liberal doses). Elvis Christmas album on the record player (complete with all the scratches 49 cents can buy). It's a Wonderful Life DVD on the tele.** That last bit is utterly essential. With a 2h15m run time, it's just long enough for a top speed decorating dash. Starting with the building/trimming of my two trees, from there I work down by the boxes, Russian nesting dolling them as I go and booting them back to the attic. Once the pile of goods is gone, the process is complete.
4. Aftermath. From that moment until the New Year, every moment I am home, those lights are on and that cocoa is bubbling (electric bill, be damned!). I bask. I'm a basker. I want every ounce of holiday joy that I can squeeze out. I want it oozing outta my pores. When I die, I want to be the Ghost of Christmas Forever. I'm like the little girl who hugs Frosty to death. (Good to the last drop? ...Too soon?) - You get it.

Looks like a cold front is movin' in on my Blue Christmas...

This year, things didn't go quite to schedule though...

1. I didn't have time to plan. We've pretty much been busy since we moved in (six months ago!). I had no strategy or time to formulate a system. I went into this (snow) blind.
2. I didn't have free reign. I had to awkwardly kick the beau out so I could lose my mind without him seeing and deciding to break up with me / getting in my way. No, I couldn't share it with him. I'm not ready for that shit yet. (He was sick anyway, so he complied.)
3. It took longer than normal. That lack of plan really bit me in the ass. I spent a long time sitting, surrounded by tinsel, bulbs and menorahs, panicking and wondering if I was putting everything in the right place or if I was going to end up disappointing everyone (read: myself). Before I knew it, George Bailey was shrieking around Bedford Falls, saying hello to buildings, like a total nutter, and I didn't even have the living room finished! AKA I basically just finished decorating... just now. WAY behind schedule. What a waste of holi-days! (insert old man chuckle here)

The second kick-off to the season is my BEST workout night of the year: the night of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.

Every year, I excitedly await the annual stomping of the runway by my army of angels. These glorious, powerhouse women work so hard to earn those wings, and they use their status to do beautiful work all over the world (fun fact: this year's VS fashion show raised over $3 million for charity). Anyone who wants to hop up on my feminist soap box and argue this one with me, have at it. To all those who call this event "smutty" - it's time we change the conversation from one that openly objectifies women, to one that focuses on elaborate costume design, stunning stage choreography and the collaborative efforts of so many talented people to bring together one magical night. Let's focus on the diverse group of vibrant women who radiate confidence and are having fun at a job that encourages both physical and mental strength. Some are mothers, some are fresh faces, all are warriors. It's g'damn inspiring. Like, I wanna grow up to be a VS Angel. 

The one hour a year in which the show is broadcasted, it's no-holds-barred. They spend all year working their booties off in order to shine as they don their angelic wings. Me? I spend that hour paying homage to their hard work. While they catwalk as a show of force for all their efforts, I exercise my face off. Non-stop push-ups, sit-ups, kick boxing, jumping jacking, planking, dancing, weight lifting, whatevering - all that matters is an hour straight of 119% effort in whatever form of exercise goes best with the jams being played on the runway. If it's a meh T-Swift performance, I ninja around all the "push her off the stage" moves that I wish the models would use on her in real life. If it's a stellar classic rock montage (which they've been wise to open with the past few years), I bust out all the Sweatin' to the Oldies moves I practiced in my youth.

Thanks for the wings, darlings!

No matter what: I keep moving. I break a sweat, without letting them see me sweat, just like the badass celestial beings acting as my fitspo. By the time the fantasy bra struts out, I have burned off enough calories to make up for the boat load of cookies I'll be consuming on Christmas eve. By the time the class photo happens and the credits roll, I'm half in tears from excitement and half in tears because I forgot to stretch (EVERY year! Gah!). It's a divine feeling all around.

SO, have yourselves a holly jolly holiday, friends. It really is the best time of the year.
(And if holiday cheer isn't a big enough selling point for you: December also means that 2016 will finally end and can quit torturing us - and that is really something to celebrate!)





* Note: this step occurs after Thanksgiving. This is one rule I refuse to budge on - the second I give in, there will be no stopping me from putting my tree up in August.
** Is that what you want (Mary)? You want (the moon)... a blog post about It's a Wonderful Life?  Well, by Zuzu's petals, I think I shall need to do an entirely separate post about this movie! There are not enough words in this world to describe my obsession over it, but I'll sure as hell try to summarize. This post is already far too long to discuss here.

Time to Get Some Work Done

As an "adult," one is expected to have a certain level of responsibility when it comes to health, appointment making, etc. Somehow, instead of accepting this duty to myself, I have avidly dodged and made a game of avoiding. (Shame. Start shaming here.) Despite being properly insured and able to pay for said appointments, I've failed to adult in this regard.

The eye doctor? How long can a one-year supply of contacts last? Welp, over five years, if you play your cards right. How long can a pair of glasses hang in there? Um, if you buy your own little glasses repair kit and have some tape, at least ten years.

The regular doctor? No. That one I don't avoid. Yearly checkups for my lady bits and overall health, those are important. Though blood draws I've shied away from at times.

Then there's the dentist. The damn dentist. Bane of my existence. After some awful experiences in my youth, I have avoided dental work like the plague. My teeth are 50% robot as is, with all the ancient fillings lurking about, so handing over more cha-ching to get more metal and torture wasn't a high priority on my list.

But then last week happened. I know I already recapped some of the emotions I went through on election day itself, but those were nothing compared to the vast swings of my mental state in the past seven days. As I laid awake, alone on the couch, staring into the early hours of Wednesday, November 9th, I was deep in the first stage of grief: denial. When they announced that the call had been made, and that the woman who should have been our first female president had conceded to the system, I morphed straight into the stage I shall reside in for the next four years: anger.

That little spark that said: don't grow complacent. This is not acceptable and you now have to take fate into your own hands. You need to work harder to improve yourself, to enhance your community, and to help others. Because things could get very scary in the years to come; but they don't have to, if we all do our part to shine a light on dark spaces, to build each other up, and do right by the planet. As youths, we were starry-eyed dreamers who wanted to save the world, but some of us got distracted along the way. Time to get back at it (even a little at a time).

So. Every day/week I'm making a list (don't worry, I won't share it all the time!) to make sure I've accomplished at least one thing in the following areas:

1. Something to improve myself (me)
2. Something to bring joy or show support to another (you)
3. Something to better my community or our union (we)

Here's some of the "you, me, we" items from week one:

• (we) Donated to Planned Parenthood
• (we) Researched and paired down the short list for charities in my community that I can volunteer for (based on timing and requirements for volunteers) - apps and phone calls to start up following my return to town after Thanksgiving
• (we) Started a positive-post-it girl-power mirror wall in the ladies room at the office

A positive spin, when real life gets shitty.

• (you) Discussed the election and positive ways to move forward with concerned friends and family
• (we) Yes, I wore my safety pin 
• (me) Saw a documentary on Maya Angelou - trying to watch more documentaries and read more works outside of my usual scope to get a broader look at the human experience - and OH this one was so fascinating
• (you) Went out to support a family member going through a rough time
• (you) Wrote a few letters / sent out care packages to a few friends - just because
• (me) Fell back into the movie watching and reading wormhole - taking time for the things I love (like seeing Fantastic Beasts and reading the next Outlander book)
• (we) Started following a organizations that post action items for citizens to influence government policies / help defend groups who could be at risk come January
• (we) Picked a child's name for our office holiday giving program
• (me) Re-listened to the speech Gwen Ifill gave at my commencement - which helped put some perspective on how much and how little has changed in the years since
• (we) Picked through my clothes to find some work outfits to donate to a local charity

You might be asking yourself: at what point did a post about dentistry morph into a little soap box speech about changing the world? The answer: It always was. Because, like taking care of one's teeth, taking care of yourself and your community is essential. Else, years later, you'll regret having not worked harder to keep things good in the first place, and will realize things have gotten rotten due to your neglect. And if you think a regular root canal is bad, imagine needing one on a much larger scale. That out-of-pocket expense is way too high to pay...

List writing to make a difference.

Soldiers in Petticoats

It's voting day, America. And I feel like I've taken a giant patriotism adrenaline needle straight to the chest, Pulp Fiction style.

This election has been so ridiculous, in so many ways. Whatever side of the aisle you live your life on, there's no denying that. It feels like we've been watching this unfold for years and years, all of it culminating tonight, when (hopefully) we'll know our nation's fate: one way or another. ((If you're going to pray for anything: let it be that there's a landslide, so we don't have a nation divided for the next four years, and let it be that we know the results tonight, so we don't have another "hanging chad" situation to drag this out further.))

No matter where you stand, the one thing you need to do: cast your vote. If you have an excuse as to why you won't be voting, please let me know and I'll happily take that excuse out back and let you return to performing your civic duty. Too many people over the centuries fought to keep this basic right, so don't waste it. And, if the presidential race is the one that has you in a tizzy - there are other important items up for vote. No. Excuses. Let your voice be heard through your ballot; without it, your post-election complaining will fall on deaf ears, because your voice will literally not have counted in the process.

Four years ago: My polling place at the time was an elementary school. After voting, upon leaving the building I saw two young girls, one holding up a music book and the other holding a violin and playing a very broken version of "America the Beautiful." It didn't matter how happy or angry the election was making people, it was clear: we're all Americans, we're all just folks. THAT is how election day makes me feel: proud and patriotic.

The past year: The media has swung in every direction, showing messages of hate (from both sides). The truth has been stretched, broken and jabbed. Awful things have been underplayed, as jokes and mere entertainment. Small things have been overplayed, as awful and unforgivable. Messages have been muddied. The world has been watching as a great nation has pandered to the jeering masses and let loose the circus. (A circus whose finale determines the fate of the world economies.) Sure, some of it's been entertaining, but mostly it's just been horrifying. THAT is how election day makes me feel: anxious.

Give peace a chance, friends.
The election charade is almost over, time to get
back to working together and getting things done.

This morning: I woke up in a fervor of excitement. Unable to vote before work due to an early meeting, there were others up at dawn in my apartment building. I smiled to one, saying, "Happy Election Day!" to which she responded, "Heading to get in line at the polls now to beat the rush!" We high-fived. Yes. Two strangers, at 6:15 am on a Tuesday randomly high-fived. Because this country is a beautiful place. I have no clue what political affiliation that woman is, all that mattered was a shared appreciation for the opportunity to be heard. THAT is how election day makes me feel: excited.

This afternoon: I'll be in line (I hope) to vote. The weightiness of the decision not lost on me, I cannot wait to say that in this unforgettable election, I picked which side of history I wanted to be on. No matter how it turns out, my ballot represented my voice. And the voices of all those before me who didn't live to see this day (who I think would be pretty damn proud to have a woman finally have a real chance at representing our nation on the world stage). You can bet there will be tears tonight. I hope they're tears of joy.

THAT is how election day makes me feel: like we're at a turning point.
This is it. Don't get scared now.

Yeah, I'll say it... I'm with Her.

Takin' a Chill Pill

Winter is coming. And my shivery soul is dreading the hell out of it.

Wisconsin winters create a sort of inescapable cold. The kind that chills you to the bone and settles in for five to nine months. A cold that makes the first 40 degree day of spring seem like shorts weather. Yeah, I've grown up with it. Yeah, I can deal with it. But no, that doesn't mean I'm on board with it.

Living all these years in the frozen tundra, I have a lot of memories about the cold. After a particularly chilly happy hour the other night (I still can't feel my feet and my bum knee is basically resigned to never bend again) and much discussion about how this winter may be the worst one in awhile (if the Farmer's Almanac says it's so, it is the frickin' law of the land), many of those have bubbled up to the surface...

• When I was in pre-K, there was a blizzard. I don't remember if I was only enrolled in half-days or if it was cancelled due to bad weather, I just remember being bundled up in my snowpants, boots, puffy coat, hat and mittens - a mini, mobile marshmallow. My grandma came to pick me up and half dragged me through the parking lot because of the drifting snow and wind. People kept getting stuck in the lot, but my grandma had a big old 1980's Bronco, so we were going to be fine. She popped this little puffer into the back and went around to get in herself. The back seat had a faux-fur (green/brown in color) thrown over it and my grandma told me I had to stay on the fur, and wrap myself in it. I'm not sure if this was because the heat in the Bronco wasn't fully working due to the cold, or if it was her attempt to keep me in one spot while she maneuvered the storm. Likely, the latter. She told me to save my stories for later (I was a chatty child) and just listen to the radio. The song was "Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye." My grandma sang every word in her smooth baritone (the result of years of lipstick stained cigarettes, likely), while I sat as a silent Eskimo, wrapped in fur. And that song reminds me of her to this day, the woman who always helped maneuver the storm.
• In college, I was friends with an Australian exchange student. We were sitting in class when the first snow of the year began to fall. She stared out the window, completely distracted for the next hour, waiting. As soon as the period ended, she excitedly ran out and we followed, to watch her experience snow for the very first time. Before we could stop her, she scooped up a big handful of fluffy pure white stuff and held it up to us in amazement, ignoring our protests. After a minute of excitedly talking about it, as I tried to force her to put it down, she suddenly looked at me in horror and said, "I can't feel my hands, what's happening??" At that point she finally dropped what was left of the flakes, appalled that it had betrayed her. We took her off to the bathroom to run her hands under room temperature water (never hot - we've all played that game!) and explain to her how mittens work and how not to get frostbite. She was alarmed, resentful, and yet fascinated. Sure, we could've tried to stop her, but it was a beautiful joy to witness (even with a dramatic bitter shift at the end). And really, some things you just have to experience on your own to fully understand. 
• In early 2014, the polar vortex struck. I was living in the upper of a poorly insulated, old house. Single at the time, I had no alternative place to stay. The cost to heat my one bedroom apartment - keeping it at a brisk 58 degrees - was almost $200 a month, and this poor gal refused to pay beyond that.  When the vortex came, I was basically a sitting duck. The windows were already covered in their seasonal caulking/plastic, but I also took the liberty of barricading furniture against walls to act as insulation. I hung "tapestries" (aka blankets) to block doors. I baked daily. Anything to keep warm. One particular day, with a windchill around -40 degrees, my car wouldn't start. I didn't have internet at the time, so I remember walking down the desolate street (not a soul was out - no one wanted to foolishly "brave" the frigid doom), three blocks down to the local coffee shop. The cold was so harsh, it cut through my layers like a knife. I worked remotely from the coffee shop until early afternoon, when they were literally closing due to the cold. Upon my return home, I gathered up every remaining blanket, pillow and stuffed animal, and created a fortress against the cold, in the middle of my living room (my two couches acting as the main walls). Wearing sweatpants over my tights, and a giant penguin Weasley sweater over my under armor, I popped on two layers of fuzzy socks and a stocking cap and burrowed into my nest. I'd lit every candle I could find, determined to warm myself by the fire. My heat was set to 70, but to little avail. I watched the frost grow and crawl up the windows and kept my electric tea kettle brewing within arms length, to feed my booze-laced cocoa. It was one of the longest nights I remember ever having... And yet, it was probably the closest I'll ever come to actually being a caterpillar in a cocoon - so that made it oddly cool. Though my metamorphosis was far less beautiful/graceful, I'm sure.

Should've gotten a hand blanket...

• A different year during college, there had been a blizzard that had covered the campus in several feet of drifted snow. The email went out: all cars must be moved so lots can be plowed. A deadline was imposed. Panic rippled throughout the townhouse village I lived in: no one had shovels. Not having a car at the time, I went out into the fray, fully bundled up in my winter gear, to help out where I could. The scene was both ridiculous and heartwarming. Hungover young adults, donning stocking caps and boots over their pajamas. Groups fully decked out in winter snowboarding gear, complete with goggles. Students in tennies and hoodies. All using whatever they could find to free the cars. With an assortment of pots, pans, bowls, and sheer willpower, we slowly uncovered and pushed out vehicle after vehicle. Teamwork and frostbite abounded that day. 

The cold is inevitable. Whilst living this far north of the Mason-Dixon, there's really no way to avoid it. All one can do is hope to make some warm memories to heat up the heart during those cold times... 

....Cheesy? Way too cheesy on that one? 

Yeah, most definitely. 

Really, I often get to the point where, despite my wonderful memories from various chilly moments in my life, I get totally fretful about the approach of winter. I figure one may as well pack on a few pounds and just use the walrus weight to ward against the chill. BUT then you have to work twice as hard in the spring to get fit again, so that's no good. Really, it's like...  just suck it up, buttercup, let's all pretend we're tough mid-westerners who relish the ice, grab our liquid blankets, and we'll all hold up together til the thaw comes. Let's hope there are some shenanigans to keep us occupied til then. 

Is this heaven? It's Iowa.

When we'd go visit my dad as kids, we had certain movies we'd watch over and over. Mostly in the vein of Star Wars and Monty Python movies (it sure explains a lot, doesn't it?), but once in a while we'd bust out other classics, like Field of Dreams. Keep in mind, my dad isn't a big sports guy by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe he liked the idea of baseball. Or maybe he just liked Kevin Costner (that would explain the Waterworld years...). Who knows. Whatever it was, that movie ended up in our regular rotation.

((Note: we also went to the field itself. I got a t-shirt there. It's white and shows a cornfield, and when you wear it out in the sun, baseball players appear in the cornfield. And when you love it and wear it and wash it for ten years, eventually the players stay out all the time - there's probably a life lesson there somewhere...))

Genuinely not sure what got me thinking about this particular film today. I was probably still post-funk musing over life. Trying to figure out if I'm "on track" for where I want to be and what I want to be doing, etc. Determining next steps and goals for general life doings.... Okay, really, it was thirty. Thirty is coming. While I still have plenty of months to go, when it hits and someone asks me if I accomplished everything I wanted to and if I'm where I want to be for thirty, well, I want to be able to tell them that I crushed it in the two decades prior, bring on the next. That looming birthday has my brain running in all sorts of directions.

Which brings me back to Field of Dreams. Having not seen it in ten years, l still recall my biggest take-aways from it. Some little life lessons that weren't spoken by a disembodied voice, but that a teenage girl somehow mustered out of what some call a "sports" movie.

• It's not about where you live, it's about what you make of it. Whether it's a corn field in the middle-of-nowhere Iowa or a city in Wisconsin. Wherever you are, the one thing you can control is your own actions and your own happiness. So make the most of where you are and bring your aspirations to life wherever you may be.
• Sometimes you have to take a big risk to get a reward. That reward may not be what you expected, and it may take awhile to get there, but if you're lucky, it'll be worth it. Dream big, take a leap of faith, give it a go. Better than looking back later and regretting that you didn't try. 
• Who cares if people think you're a nutter. There will always be haters, but the ones who love you will support you when you need supporting. And, more importantly, they'll be honest with you when you've gone off the rails, but will figure out a way to help you achieve your goals anyway.
• You can learn a lot about yourself through helping others. Even if they don't want your help.
• It really is the little things. Life has a lot of stressors, but don't be afraid to step back and look at the big picture. Relax, enjoy yourself, and realize how valuable time is. Have the dog and the beer. That little dose of clarity can help realign everything and put it right again.
• It's always better to forgive. Grudges can last a lifetime, and more often than not you'll regret having held onto them.

If you build it...

• Always appreciate family and value your time with them. Someday, they won't be around any longer, and all that will remain of them will be your memories. Make them and cherish them. And yes, go "have a catch" with your damn dad already.
• Nostalgia is king. People just want to be reminded of "all that once was good and could be again." They'll do anything to get a piece of that 'member-berry pie. Sometimes it's wholesome, and sometimes it's not. Indulge occasionally, but don't get so wrapped up in chasing the past that you neglect the present (like your bills). 
• Use your imagination. You're never too old to hope and envision a brighter world. Every so often, the voices in your head aren't totally crazy.
• Read works by passionate people. Don't like, go kidnap them at any point, but taking the time to read and learn about someone who was (or is) very passionate (especially if it was during an era of change/reform) can help give a unique perspective.
• Don't wait for tomorrow. Jump in now and look at each day like a new adventure. After all, to quote the doc, "At the time, you don't think much of it. You know, we just don't recognize the most significant moments of our lives while they're happening. Back then I thought, 'Well, there'll be other days.' I didn't realize that that was the only day." Seize it and treasure it, because you may not get another chance.

As I rush towards the thirty year mark, I reflect more and more on what I learned from my "youth" but somehow forgot along the way. Yeah, I often frame it in the context of some sort of pop culture reference, but as long as it's somehow inspirational in a good way, what's the harm in that? (#amirite) If at some point you see a blog post about how I've kidnapped a famous author and am conversing with ghosts (OR more alarmingly, have moved to Iowa and suddenly like baseball), well... definitely throw an intervention then. But in the meantime, I'll start making up a plan to see if I can't build a place where dreams come true.

Sunday Somethings

Today was a strange Sunday for me. As the day closes, I can clearly see several encapsulated moments - little vials to be dumped into a Pensieve, as it were. So, thought I'd share them, all nice and neat and wrapped in a bow for y'all.

• I woke up tired, at 8:00 am, after around five hours of sleep. Quietly, I began cleaning up the remains of a stellar apartment-warming party the night before. Bidding adieu to a departing houseguest as I emptied the dishwasher. Everything was quiet, and peaceful, and I had the world all to myself. It was very serene after the prior evening of excessive noise. 
• Noon. After cancelled plans, the beau and I went in search of brunch. Or, perhaps more aptly, lunch. In a city known for brunch, I was super disappointed when we sat down at a place that told us they did not have brunch at all, but only breakfast, until 2:00 pm. It was a rare moment where I actually walked out of a restaurant. Brunch means both. You can't have only eggs available at noon, friend. Not in this town. 
• 2:15 pm. The beau headed off for work, and since it was such a rare, beautiful October day, I hit the trail along the lake. For an hour and a half I just listened to music and walked along, admiring the world. Half the leaves are turned and departing from their branches, the other half desperately clinging to the green glow of summer. The travelling Oktoberfest beer garden bumped out polka music which echoed along the shoreline, bouncing off the buildings of the city. (The same music which has played from noon to night every day for the past week, and has graced our home with hourly renditions of "Roll Out the Barrel.") It was perfection. 
• At the empty beach, on my walk, there was a young family. They were introducing their small baby to sand for what seemed to be the first time. The dad, clutching the child by both hands, slowly lowered her down until her bare feet touched down. The kid's face lit up so bright, as if she were the first human setting foot on Mars or something. After seconds of confused joy, she began sprinting forward, longing for more new experiences. She was bliss. Her mother recorded the whole thing. I was in the background of that moment, and will be forevermore because of that recording.
• There is a nearby pier that was strangely unoccupied, so I walked all the way out into the lake, as far as it would take me, marveling back at the skyline. Sitting on the graffitied wall, I watched the waves lap up against the pier and the rocks. I took a million photos of the "artwork" on the pier. Most just silly tagging, but some just there for the beauty. It took me a time to realize why no one else was around, and that it had been growing darker. That the fog had begun to roll in, and that rain was eminent. So I headed home.

"Trying not to look so young and miserable..."

• 5:00 pm. At the mall, meeting with my sister for lunch, realizing how nice it is to live somewhere where friends and family are so easily accessible. Where, when wanting to have a few people over for a housewarming, a troupe of around 30 shows up. Where, when you call up your sister and say you want to go see a movie, she doesn't want to see the same one but meets up with you for a meal beforehand anyways. What a lucky lot in life.
• 6:45 pm. A date with myself to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part 2) in IMAX. Perfect seat, popcorn in hand. Ready for all the feels. That's when it began. The woman right behind me (of course) who would NOT stop her running commentary of the film. Every character who came on screen, she had to announce who it was. Every moment of silence, she interjected some quip. A loud cackle. A misplaced reference. It wouldn't end. This woman was reprimanded by her family with her at the theater, and by several other people in the audience who implored her to just watch the film in silence. (There were even swear words exchanged at one point, and threats of violence.) To no avail. 
• Now, don't get me wrong, I still felt all the feels (and cried like eight different times) and enjoyed the movie immensely. But, I probably enjoyed it at about 80% of what I could have, had this woman not been there. Throughout the film, the brainstorming began, as I plotted out exactly what I was going to say to this woman at the end of the film. (There was nothing to be done during the run-time, clearly, as she had ignored everyone else.) I had several versions ready, as the movie drew to a close. Then it occurred to me: this lonely, odd woman, probably just didn't have anyone else to express her excitement to normally, and maybe genuinely thought this would be a good outlet. Or maybe she just liked HP so much and couldn't help herself. (I mean, I had done a few little fist pumps throughout, but they were a quiet affair.) The real question: What good would it do for me to be mean to this lady? So, I kept my venomous words to myself, and instead, at the end of the movie when I stood up, I turned around and faced her and threw her five full seconds worth of straight on shade, in silence. In that shade, I tried to convey that what she had done was in fact, awful, as she had disrupted a fellow Potterhead from fully immersing back into a world that we can normally now only enjoy at home. I don't hope she feels awful, I just hope she understands.
• 9:00 pm - the drive home. The fog had fully taken over, and the closer I got towards the lake, the denser it got. With Broken Bells pulsing out of my car speakers, it felt like I was literally in a dream state. The world was actually a blur. The drive was movement wrapped in mist. It was soothing and yet perfectly eerie.

"Girl take a seat, rest your weary bones..."

Whether today was a wonderful day, or just a strange one, is probably a moot point. For ups and downs, it just...was. It was a Sunday. Not sure what kind of mood it has put, or kept me in, but I'll take it for what it was: another day gone by.