So I hit the gym this morning at 6 AM and ran on the treadmill for 40 minutes followed by bi's and tri's and abs. Let me tell you, it looked like I had taken a shower after that workout. One of my benchmarks of a great workout is sweating my ass off. Seriously, if I'm not drenched I feel as though I'm not working hard enough. Call me dirty, but I love it.
This brings me to my next point. I literally do not understand, and hate chicks that workout at the gym with their hair down. Seriously?? What are you going to a fucking beauty pageant after this?? How can you run or lift, or work with your straightened, styled hair? It really grinds my gears. I'm fairly positive that I do not look attractive when I'm at the gym - and I'm not trying to! I'm gasping for air, dripping in sweat, most likely have a pained look on my face. Then the girl next to me, is frolicking on the elliptical, sipping vitamin water and flipping through People magazine. UGH. What are you trying to pick up a dude or something? I would not want a guy that found a chick like that attractive. I'm sure all of my exes can attest to the fact that I need nothing more and am perfectly happy with a cold beer and some snug time. Literally. I don't need you to carry my bag, I don't need you to open the door for me, I don't need you to call me, I don't need to know what you're doing all day. I mean yes, it would be nice, but, just pick up a six pack on the way over and we're good.
Anyways, so I had my early gym sesh and then went to work for ten hours. I've been working on this one position that is an internship. I thought it would be fun to talk to college students. Um, false. College students are literally clueless about the real world! Was I that clueless?? I like to think I wasn't, but they probably don't think they are either. I talked to a junior in college today,
"So, what is your current position?"
"Student."
ok, fair enough I guess
"Um ok. So what was your last job?"
"Oh, I've always been a full time student"
whaaaaaat. How have you NEVER had a job??? I couldn't help but think - I have been working since I was 13 years old. THIRTEEN!! And I have had more job than probably any of my friends besides my friend Alex, who has a different job every day. Check it:
First job: Village Market of Osterville - bagger, I rode my bike!!
2. CVS - cashier (I got fired, whoops)
3. Christmas Tree Shop (YEAH I WORKED THERE)
4. PetSmart - small animal specialist - CERTIFIED
5. HeartBeat Quilts - I cut fabric
6. HyLine Cruises - ok I liked that job, I worked in the ticket office
7. WVPT (Virginia's Public Television) while I was a full-time student
8. Massanutten Public Library - I rewound VHS tapes. VHS TAPES. ugh.
9. March of Dimes - assistant
10. Cape Cod Baseball League - merchandiser
11. Cape Cod Baseball League - GROUNDSKEEPER - I still have paint on my some of my fave tshirts
12. Black Sheep - waitress (please note: past three jobs were held at one time)
13. Hyannis Yacht Club - server (they don't call it waitress at fine dining apparently)
14. Insight Global - recruiter
15. Keurig - marketing assistant
THIS IS MY 16TH JOB HOLY CRAP. What is wrong with me? I guess I'm just a really hard worker?? My point is, I have a lot of experience and I started work when I was 13, and that is actually totally the norm on the Cape.
Moving on.....After my ten hour day of work and a quick nap on the bus. I came home and went on my second run. Yup. That's right, I went running again. Why, you ask? To torture myself? Training? I'm not sure - a combination of both. Let me tell you something I've been running a lot, A LOT a lot and I've come to this conclusion:
Running fucking hurts.
It kills!!! And not the "ooh great workout!" soreness. No, no, no. It's quite literally painful. My shins are sore, my knees, my ankes, my fuckin' limbs feel like they're going to stop working soon. It takes me about the first mile or so to loosen up the point where I'm not on the verge of tears. Long distance running is super high impact. And my HIP FLEXORS - holy crappppp they are so sore!! I can't help but groan really obnoxiously loudly when I'm stretching out, it hurtssss. Does it get better? Does anyone know?? Because it doesn't feel like it's getting better, it just seems that i'm tolerating pain more effectively.
I also learned recently that there are no iPods allowed during the marathon. Are you fucking KIDDING me?? How am I going to do this?? I seriously rely on my ipod to get me through my runs. There is no way in hell I am training withOUT music or else I would truly be torturing myself.
Okay, time to take an obnoxiously hot shower to soothe the muscles and then ice my knees. FUN!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same.
I haven't been home to the Cape since Christmas. One thing I can certainly rely on when traveling home is that I know nothing has changed. Let's be real - it's Cape Cod, maybe one t-shirt shop is a candy store now, but that's about the extent of it. Whether I am returning from Virginia, Belgium or Boston, I know exactly what to expect. I like the comfort of rolling down 28 to see the Cape Cod Mall is still standing, somehow the Pancake Man is still in business, and I'm always curious to see what the old DQ by the Melody Tent will be this season. Remember the random picture of a dog on there? wtf.
Anyways, I really needed a weekend out of the city. I've been really busy, and not just with work. My mind has been all over the place, I've had so many "interviews" recently that I can barely keep track of them, and my apartment can get lonely with my weirdo roommates. I'm training for a marathon, I'm trying to get promoted, I drink too much. ahhhh so many things. Heading back to my roots was the perfect refresher, I feel great.
However, I must add - it's also the perfect reminder of why exactly I moved out in the first place. I know my Mom reads this (hi, Mom I fuckin' love you), and I'm SURE that she agrees. I like having my own space and doing and saying whatever I want, whenever I please.
Let me tell you, It was amazing walking through the door Friday night to a home ass cooked meal and wine and a big ass TV. aaahhh the perks of home are endless. I even started my laundry and magically it was finished with my second load the next day - what whattt!!. I mentioned that I needed to go grocery shopping and my mom HANDS me her credit card. God, I love home. God, I love my mom.
I also discovered Friday afternoon after the office easter egg hunt (nips instead of candy) that I would be running the last leg of the marathon. Yup, no pressure - I just had to cross the finish line before our agency competitors. NO BIGGIE. So, I've been running as much as I can.
I went on my favorite route on the Cape this weekend - five or six miles. There was an obstacle course though. Apparently they are working on the bridge down Keveney Lane. I had to jump over some barbed wire and pass through the "trespassers will be prosecuted" sign. WTF - this is my running route, besides what's the big deal? Oh - the bridge just ends. Like, there was just bridge then the ocean. I somehow jumped over. I figured this was great practice for Warrior Dash.
Today was the first time in four years I was home for Easter and it was fantastic. My first year away at college I spent it in the dorm, my second year I went home with my bestie, my third year I celebrated in Amsterdam and last year my boyfriend of the time visited. I made us an Easter basket filled with Jack Daniels and scratch tickets. This year's was great though I love my family and I love food and I love eating food with family so it was great. Also, I was visited by my favorite two little munchkins - my stepbrother's kids. They're the coolest kids ever, and I despise children. So that's saying a lot.
Back to the grind tomorrow, but guess what? I'm looking forward to it! I feel so refreshed and my head is somewhat on straight. I have a feeling it's going to be a great week. PLUS Stepbrothers is on right now - great start.
Anyways, I really needed a weekend out of the city. I've been really busy, and not just with work. My mind has been all over the place, I've had so many "interviews" recently that I can barely keep track of them, and my apartment can get lonely with my weirdo roommates. I'm training for a marathon, I'm trying to get promoted, I drink too much. ahhhh so many things. Heading back to my roots was the perfect refresher, I feel great.
However, I must add - it's also the perfect reminder of why exactly I moved out in the first place. I know my Mom reads this (hi, Mom I fuckin' love you), and I'm SURE that she agrees. I like having my own space and doing and saying whatever I want, whenever I please.
Let me tell you, It was amazing walking through the door Friday night to a home ass cooked meal and wine and a big ass TV. aaahhh the perks of home are endless. I even started my laundry and magically it was finished with my second load the next day - what whattt!!. I mentioned that I needed to go grocery shopping and my mom HANDS me her credit card. God, I love home. God, I love my mom.
I also discovered Friday afternoon after the office easter egg hunt (nips instead of candy) that I would be running the last leg of the marathon. Yup, no pressure - I just had to cross the finish line before our agency competitors. NO BIGGIE. So, I've been running as much as I can.
I went on my favorite route on the Cape this weekend - five or six miles. There was an obstacle course though. Apparently they are working on the bridge down Keveney Lane. I had to jump over some barbed wire and pass through the "trespassers will be prosecuted" sign. WTF - this is my running route, besides what's the big deal? Oh - the bridge just ends. Like, there was just bridge then the ocean. I somehow jumped over. I figured this was great practice for Warrior Dash.
 |
| My parent's house is right by Gray's Beach now, or as I like to call it bASS HOLE :) - I've had several interesting nights at the end of that boardwalk. Need to get creative when you're at the 'rents house for the sum and bars close at 1 AM.... |
Today was the first time in four years I was home for Easter and it was fantastic. My first year away at college I spent it in the dorm, my second year I went home with my bestie, my third year I celebrated in Amsterdam and last year my boyfriend of the time visited. I made us an Easter basket filled with Jack Daniels and scratch tickets. This year's was great though I love my family and I love food and I love eating food with family so it was great. Also, I was visited by my favorite two little munchkins - my stepbrother's kids. They're the coolest kids ever, and I despise children. So that's saying a lot.
 |
| "being models" - she's adorbs. |
Back to the grind tomorrow, but guess what? I'm looking forward to it! I feel so refreshed and my head is somewhat on straight. I have a feeling it's going to be a great week. PLUS Stepbrothers is on right now - great start.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Marathon Monday
Fun Fact: A street sweeper goes juuuuust about the same pace as a five foot five inch chick hurrying down Comm Ave to work at 8 am. Yup. What a great way to start the day, with the shit of Boston's streets getting swept into your lungs and eyes. Yum.
Just kidding, my day started about three hours before that. Since my Sunday consisted of nothing but sleeping, eating, and being pathetically lazy, I really wanted to hit the gym hard today. I'm not going to lie, it was very difficult rousing at 5 am. I almost always think there is a glitch with my alarm. Seriously, about every morning I think today is the day that the alarm lies. It doesn't. Maybe tomorrow though.
I also feel that every Monday is a marathon for me. I need to break the weekend sleep sched, hit the gym, catch up with voicemails, emails, deal with public trans. The day always starts too early and lasts too long. I also have not filed my taxes yet. whoops. whatever.
Anyways, in the spirit of today's holiday I decided on an intense 90 minute gym sesh. I mean tons of people were running 26 miles so, I could deal with an extra 30 minutes of sweat.
I started with an hour on the treadmill. Yes, one hour. I zoned the f out. I did sprints mixed in with just straight running. It was nice. Then I hit the weights.
I did four supersets. Basically, a superset is designed to work two completely different muscle groups so when you're performing one exercise, you can rest your muscles from the second exercise. I did three sets of the supersets....if that makes sense:
Superset 1:
A) Step-ups (onto a bench) 10 reps/leg 15 lbs each hand
B) Pushups - 10-12
Repeat 3 times without rest. Rest 60 seconds before moving on to the next superset.
Superset 2:
A) Bent over Rows - 8-10 reps/side 30 lbs
B) Leg Curl with the Stability Ball - 12 reps.
Repeat 3 times
Superset 3:
A) Bicep Curls - 10 reps - 20 pounds
B) Cross Mountain Climbers - 30 seconds
Repeat 3 times
Superset 4:
A) Lunges - 12 reps/leg - 20 lbs in each hand
B) Plank on the stability ball - 30 seconds
Repeat 3 times
I know that most recently my blog hasn't been quite about working out, but that doesn't mean I haven't been active. winkkkk.
Kidding...or am I? No but really, I have been doing a lot of running to train for this damn half marathon that I have coming up and writing about running can get a little mundane. I have been getting a lot of feedback about my blog, both from facebook posts and in person. About 99% is positive, but I do have some haters out there! I'm not exactly sure why people read this if they don't particularly enjoy it or like me. I don't really care why some choose to hate on me, but I did feel the slight urge to address it.
This is my blog, and I can write whatever the fuck that I want to. Of course it's going to be about me because it's my "diary". I mean, I can definitely understand that some people's lives are a little boring and this might offset them. My main goal is to get a laugh, or to have someone connect with my thoughts and realize they're not the only ones thinking that. Besides that, I don't really write this for anyone but myself, I find it therapeutic. I don't take life seriously so I sure as shit am not going to take a fucking blog seriously. Come on.
But thanks for thinking about me, haters. I appreciate the time and effort you take to incorporate me into your life, I'm honored to be a part of it.
And to all you lovers - keep on lovin'. Because I'm not altering my content. Ya dig?
Just kidding, my day started about three hours before that. Since my Sunday consisted of nothing but sleeping, eating, and being pathetically lazy, I really wanted to hit the gym hard today. I'm not going to lie, it was very difficult rousing at 5 am. I almost always think there is a glitch with my alarm. Seriously, about every morning I think today is the day that the alarm lies. It doesn't. Maybe tomorrow though.
I also feel that every Monday is a marathon for me. I need to break the weekend sleep sched, hit the gym, catch up with voicemails, emails, deal with public trans. The day always starts too early and lasts too long. I also have not filed my taxes yet. whoops. whatever.
Anyways, in the spirit of today's holiday I decided on an intense 90 minute gym sesh. I mean tons of people were running 26 miles so, I could deal with an extra 30 minutes of sweat.
I started with an hour on the treadmill. Yes, one hour. I zoned the f out. I did sprints mixed in with just straight running. It was nice. Then I hit the weights.
I did four supersets. Basically, a superset is designed to work two completely different muscle groups so when you're performing one exercise, you can rest your muscles from the second exercise. I did three sets of the supersets....if that makes sense:
Superset 1:
A) Step-ups (onto a bench) 10 reps/leg 15 lbs each hand
B) Pushups - 10-12
Repeat 3 times without rest. Rest 60 seconds before moving on to the next superset.
Superset 2:
A) Bent over Rows - 8-10 reps/side 30 lbs
B) Leg Curl with the Stability Ball - 12 reps.
Repeat 3 times
Superset 3:
A) Bicep Curls - 10 reps - 20 pounds
B) Cross Mountain Climbers - 30 seconds
Repeat 3 times
Superset 4:
A) Lunges - 12 reps/leg - 20 lbs in each hand
B) Plank on the stability ball - 30 seconds
Repeat 3 times
I know that most recently my blog hasn't been quite about working out, but that doesn't mean I haven't been active. winkkkk.
Kidding...or am I? No but really, I have been doing a lot of running to train for this damn half marathon that I have coming up and writing about running can get a little mundane. I have been getting a lot of feedback about my blog, both from facebook posts and in person. About 99% is positive, but I do have some haters out there! I'm not exactly sure why people read this if they don't particularly enjoy it or like me. I don't really care why some choose to hate on me, but I did feel the slight urge to address it.
This is my blog, and I can write whatever the fuck that I want to. Of course it's going to be about me because it's my "diary". I mean, I can definitely understand that some people's lives are a little boring and this might offset them. My main goal is to get a laugh, or to have someone connect with my thoughts and realize they're not the only ones thinking that. Besides that, I don't really write this for anyone but myself, I find it therapeutic. I don't take life seriously so I sure as shit am not going to take a fucking blog seriously. Come on.
But thanks for thinking about me, haters. I appreciate the time and effort you take to incorporate me into your life, I'm honored to be a part of it.
And to all you lovers - keep on lovin'. Because I'm not altering my content. Ya dig?
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Dash
I have never been to a funeral before today. I was unsure of what to wear or how to act. I was even more unsure of how I would react.
Since I am the only one of my family to live in Boston, I set out alone this morning in the thunderstorm, clad in all black. I was one of the first to arrive, and for some reason I was nervous. I sat for a few minutes in my car gathering my thoughts and my breath. As I stepped into the rain, I thought, maybe this won't be so bad. Umm false. Funerals are not fun, surprise, surprise.
As I walked into the funeral home, I did not recognize the people there, even though it was my Uncle who had passed, suddenly. What do I do? Talk to the people here? Look at the pictures? Cry or something?? I pretended I knew what I was doing. Story of my life.
I decided to go for a lap. I walked past the picture collages and the video spewing out immortal memories, taking life beyond that of my Uncle's. I stepped into the other room, bad decision. Two words - open casket. I immediately blanched and turned on my heel. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. I thought, and Why am I so fucking awkward?! and Did anyone see me do that?? I decided to sit by the pictures and observe instead.
Eventually some familiar faces started showing up. The first thing my Uncle Tom said was "nice blog". Hi Uncle Tom :) and Patrick. Soon after my Mom, step father and brother arrived. I was glad to see my brother since he too, had never experienced one of these things.
I sat beside my brother and although we were not in a church, a priest spoke. I am not very religious. I suppose I am Roman Catholic, even though I was kicked out of my confirmation classes in high school - whatever. Everyone echoed the priest with prayers and specifically placed amens. I did not know what to do or say, so I just kind of mumbled and looked at my hands. I was secretly glad that my brother sat tight lipped next to me, joining in my confusion. During times like this people need to believe in something powerful, I think it's human nature. I am not necessarily referring to God, I told you I'm not very religious. But we all need something to cling to - whether that is a greater power, nature, science, music, hope.
The ceremony was beautifully spoken. Although I am not overly emotional, I cried a lot. I did not just grieve over my Uncle's loss of life, I cried for many reasons. I cried for my Mom who lost her brother, for my cousins who lost their father, for my grandmother who watched her youngest child buried. I selfishly cried for myself, grateful more than words could express that I have my Mom, my brother and step father, Jim, healthy and living and real and there.
The poem my cousin read was very thought provoking. Read the whole thing, you won't regret it.
There was a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came her date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash stands for all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars the house the cash
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
We'd be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read
With your lifes actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came her date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash stands for all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars the house the cash
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
We'd be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read
With your lifes actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
I couldn't help but reflect on my life so far. Had I accomplished everything I thought I would by this point? Am I a good friend? A good daughter? A good sister? I'm not exactly sure, but I think so. I know I have a dirty mouth, and sometimes make poor decisions and say things I don't really mean, I don't always pay my bills on time, but I have nothing but the best intentions. I wanted to graduate college on time (close call there), I wanted to travel the world, I wanted to live in the city and have a professional job. Check, check, check, and check. I wanted to be happy by this time of my life. Check. More importantly I wanted to make everyone around me happy.
I know I am only 22. Most people scoff at me when I say I feel old, advising that I have the whole rest of my life ahead and the twenties are the prime times. Today reminded me that life is short. Don't dash through the dash; enjoy it, share it, make an impression. I must admit, I feel pretty good about my dash so far. And even if I didn't, that's the best part about life - there is always room for change or improvement. Whether you are 22 or 62, every second is another second chance.
Monday, April 11, 2011
It's Not You, It's Me.
First of all, I would like to dedicate this entry to my best friend. She has and always will be there for me, I know that for sure. We initially met through our sorority, but I believe our best friendship truly blossomed at her Black and White party our sophomore year of college. I arrived newly single in a white dress. I left in a T-shirt, spandex shorts and with a pair of roommates.
She was first there that next morning when I asked how the hell did I end up in this t-shirt, and why is there blood on me? The t-shirt, she explained, was because halfway through the party when the floor started to cave in and we almost busted into the apartment below us, I had decided, nah, I would not like to wear this dress anymore, I would like to wear something more comfortable. For the record, the t-shirt was hers, the blood was from two boys fighting (somehow I started it), and I did not wake up in the roommates' dorm.
She continued to be there for me all through college and beyond. She was there when my boyfriend from high school and I broke up and proceeded to make me an awesome break-up CD. She was there when I got into a fight with my step dad and ran away to a cemetery in the middle of January because, well, there are not too many options on the Cape. She accompanied me on weeknights to parties in the off chance I would "randomly" run into a guy I was sweating. She drove us to Martin's at 3am when we had a hankering for some candy corn. She was there this summer when I called her and she thought I was laughing hysterically, but I was actually crying, because someone decided it's not you, it's me.
This entry is also dedicated to all of you who have received those five annoying, cowardly, selfish, words. The person saying them doesn't want to hurt your feelings with the truth or something, so instead they take this popular cop out. psh. I've gotten them three times, and each time doesn't make it any less confusing or frustrating.
After a late night chat with my bestie, and not too much sleep, I was feeling particularly moody and blah. As I was walking down Boylston, staring frustratingly at my iPod, skipping over the bubbly, happy songs to something that matched my mood more accordingly, someone stepped right into my path. It was the guy that gives out Metros! He scolded me for walking right past him and gave me our daily hug. That was all it took. My furrowed face loosened up into a giant smile and I wondered why the fuck I was being so moody.
Minutes later I arrived at my desk and listened to my voicemails. The first few were your typical, "um, hi you called me? call me back?", but one stuck out and struck a cord with me.
"We need to talk.", from a candidate I certainly remembered well. Aw, shit. I knew what was coming. I immediately called her back to get it over with.
"Hi, so and so, I received your voicemail, I understand you need to talk, what's going on?"
"I received a rejection letter this weekend."
"Right..."
"I went on several interviews for this position."
"Mhm."
"What happened?"
"Well, I apologize it worked out this way, but unfortunately the hiring manager has decided they no longer have the need for this position."
Silence.
"But I am the most qualified candidate."
I agree.
"I went on multiple interviews and they went fantastically - we laughed, we joked around, I fit in well there."
I agree.
"Why!? Why did they have a job posting if there is no position? Why did I take my time and my effort to go on these interviews - I even cancelled other interviews. I felt comfortable there, it was right. It felt right to work there, I am a perfect fit."
I agree.
"What was the point of going through all of that for nothing??"
I. don't. know.
"I was so excited to work there! I mean, I am very happy in my current position, but I was more interested in a change. I think I was more entertained by the idea of it. The location was perfect, the benefits were fantastic, the growth potential was boundless! I know that I was the best person for the job."
Sorry, it's not you...
"I am just so disappointed that I was lead on for the past few weeks. I really thought this could turn into something great, but now it's just done? Over? For no reason?"
Tell me a-fucking-bout it.
I apologized, and let her know that I reached out because she was the most qualified person for the job. I encouraged her to please please check our website for openings in her area. When the right fit comes along, it will work out.
I realized something today.
The people that have said this to me in the past, "It's not you, It's me"; they're right. They are absolutely, one hundred percent right. It's not fuckin' me. It is you. They are the ones that will live a life of regret. Perhaps they are just frightened, afraid of what the future might hold. Maybe they are too interested in themselves to entertain the idea of sharing anything with anyone. I don't really know, but I do know one thing for sure. I live my life with no regrets. I mean what I say and I say what I mean, my actions always speak much louder than my words. I am open, honest, and never afraid to admit that, because I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks, as long as I'm being true to myself.
I'll wrap this up with a few favorite words from my guy John (Mayer)
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good
I know it's good
Life is good. Shit hurts sometimes, and is confusing and frustrating and misunderstood. But don't don't don't forget: Everybody dies, but not everybody lives, and the show goes on motha fuckas.
So you decide - take risks? or fear them?
She was first there that next morning when I asked how the hell did I end up in this t-shirt, and why is there blood on me? The t-shirt, she explained, was because halfway through the party when the floor started to cave in and we almost busted into the apartment below us, I had decided, nah, I would not like to wear this dress anymore, I would like to wear something more comfortable. For the record, the t-shirt was hers, the blood was from two boys fighting (somehow I started it), and I did not wake up in the roommates' dorm.
(This is when we lived together. At 3am we came home, hungry, so decided to "eat" shots)
She continued to be there for me all through college and beyond. She was there when my boyfriend from high school and I broke up and proceeded to make me an awesome break-up CD. She was there when I got into a fight with my step dad and ran away to a cemetery in the middle of January because, well, there are not too many options on the Cape. She accompanied me on weeknights to parties in the off chance I would "randomly" run into a guy I was sweating. She drove us to Martin's at 3am when we had a hankering for some candy corn. She was there this summer when I called her and she thought I was laughing hysterically, but I was actually crying, because someone decided it's not you, it's me.
(We also clean up well)
This entry is also dedicated to all of you who have received those five annoying, cowardly, selfish, words. The person saying them doesn't want to hurt your feelings with the truth or something, so instead they take this popular cop out. psh. I've gotten them three times, and each time doesn't make it any less confusing or frustrating.
After a late night chat with my bestie, and not too much sleep, I was feeling particularly moody and blah. As I was walking down Boylston, staring frustratingly at my iPod, skipping over the bubbly, happy songs to something that matched my mood more accordingly, someone stepped right into my path. It was the guy that gives out Metros! He scolded me for walking right past him and gave me our daily hug. That was all it took. My furrowed face loosened up into a giant smile and I wondered why the fuck I was being so moody.
Minutes later I arrived at my desk and listened to my voicemails. The first few were your typical, "um, hi you called me? call me back?", but one stuck out and struck a cord with me.
"We need to talk.", from a candidate I certainly remembered well. Aw, shit. I knew what was coming. I immediately called her back to get it over with.
"Hi, so and so, I received your voicemail, I understand you need to talk, what's going on?"
"I received a rejection letter this weekend."
"Right..."
"I went on several interviews for this position."
"Mhm."
"What happened?"
"Well, I apologize it worked out this way, but unfortunately the hiring manager has decided they no longer have the need for this position."
Silence.
"But I am the most qualified candidate."
I agree.
"I went on multiple interviews and they went fantastically - we laughed, we joked around, I fit in well there."
I agree.
"Why!? Why did they have a job posting if there is no position? Why did I take my time and my effort to go on these interviews - I even cancelled other interviews. I felt comfortable there, it was right. It felt right to work there, I am a perfect fit."
I agree.
"What was the point of going through all of that for nothing??"
I. don't. know.
"I was so excited to work there! I mean, I am very happy in my current position, but I was more interested in a change. I think I was more entertained by the idea of it. The location was perfect, the benefits were fantastic, the growth potential was boundless! I know that I was the best person for the job."
Sorry, it's not you...
"I am just so disappointed that I was lead on for the past few weeks. I really thought this could turn into something great, but now it's just done? Over? For no reason?"
Tell me a-fucking-bout it.
I apologized, and let her know that I reached out because she was the most qualified person for the job. I encouraged her to please please check our website for openings in her area. When the right fit comes along, it will work out.
I realized something today.
The people that have said this to me in the past, "It's not you, It's me"; they're right. They are absolutely, one hundred percent right. It's not fuckin' me. It is you. They are the ones that will live a life of regret. Perhaps they are just frightened, afraid of what the future might hold. Maybe they are too interested in themselves to entertain the idea of sharing anything with anyone. I don't really know, but I do know one thing for sure. I live my life with no regrets. I mean what I say and I say what I mean, my actions always speak much louder than my words. I am open, honest, and never afraid to admit that, because I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks, as long as I'm being true to myself.
I'll wrap this up with a few favorite words from my guy John (Mayer)
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good
I know it's good
Life is good. Shit hurts sometimes, and is confusing and frustrating and misunderstood. But don't don't don't forget: Everybody dies, but not everybody lives, and the show goes on motha fuckas.
So you decide - take risks? or fear them?
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Spring Has Sprung
When it snowed on the first day of spring (seasons aren't capitalized, did you know that?) this year, I felt the urge to cry and yell and complain and bitch. I did all of these - except cry. This winter has been dreadfully long. I still don't have snow boots so walking to the bus every day, then trudging down Boylston was such a freaking bitch. The only thing that got me through it all was thoughts of sunny, warm weather, day drinking, cute sundresses and sunglasses.
It seems as though my dreams have come true. This weekend was beaaaaautiful. One of my favorite parts about this weather is how many people rouse from their hibernations, spill out of the woodwork and get out and about. This was most noticeable Friday after work.
Me and a few coworkers had some margarita pitchers (I had my own) at the Cactus Club on Boylston. When we first got there, there was an average amount of people to be at a bar around 5pm on a Friday. Then, all of a sudden people started spilling in. And, let me tell you, they weren't your average post work employees looking for a cocktail. Nope, they were already drunk! The Sox game had just ended, so red and navy clad fans with Sox baseball hats and boozed up breath came streaming in to hang after the game. It was hilarious. First of all because Boston sports fans are just crazy in general, but it was our season opener against the Yanks and we had WON (finally)!!!
Anyways, I was with my new roommate for next year. It was just the two of us since our other friends needed to leave. This girl is a great wingwoman. She isn't single, but, like myself, she will talk to anyone - for the comedic value, of course. My favorite that particular night was a fan that was quite literally blacking out before our eyes. As he slammed his beer onto our table the first thing he yelled (he didn't talk, he yelled), was "YOU AH THE HAWTEST GIRLS IN HE-AH".
I looked around to find middle aged women with their husbands, or chicks that looked like they were from Revere with greased up hair and way too much makeup, wearing heels with their Red Sox gear.
"gee, thanks, I'm flattered"
"I WON THE GAME FOR US TONIGHT!!! AYYYYY RAWD AYYYY RAWD" He explained to me how he, personally, had been the reason of the win. Only because he kept screaming A-Rod at, well, A-Rod.
"Oh yeah?" I replied, "So you were mind fucking the Yanks, huh?"
He looked around, seemed a little confused, probably forgot where he was, then turned back to me.
"You are the hawtest girl here"
"Right, you mentioned that..."
"I mind fucked the Yanks tonight - that's why we won."
"Um, no I actually said that"
"I kept yelling at A-Rod at them" He looked around again, "You're the hawtest girl here."
HOLY CRAP. He was seriously forgetting what he had said to me seconds before. It was hil-arious. He told me how he mind fucked the Yankees like five times. Finally his friend took mercy on us and dragged him away. My point is that I love Boston sports fans, and I can't wait to go to games (rooms has season tix), and play Bar Golf and be that drunk dude.
Anyways, moving on, my run today was pretty great. Was it great because it was sunny, warm, and I ran ran 8 miles? Nah, it was mostly great due to my cool down. As soon as I get to my street I start walking. Since the weather was nice there was a whole lot more people than usual outside.
At one house in particular on my street there was a group of guys playing corn hole and polish horseshoes and drinking beers. Wow, all of my favorite things. I still had my headphones in, was sweating and breathing heavily, so I wasn't about to just stop and talk to them (I mean who does that). But then they popped champagne and the cork hit me. It hit me!! A sign? I thought so.
They laughed, apologized, and one mentioned he had hit his mark. I had clearly just gone for a run and told them I was thirsty. One handed me water. I laughed at him and took a beer, then challenged them that I could drink it faster than any of them. I did, and then I left. I think they're still unsure of what really happened there. But I have good news - add group of random guys that lives on my street to the friends list.
I am starting to realize a trend here. This blog is getting a whole lot less about working out and whole lot more about my drinking and social habits. Hmm, if only I cared. I don't think anyone else cares, so whatev.
It seems as though my dreams have come true. This weekend was beaaaaautiful. One of my favorite parts about this weather is how many people rouse from their hibernations, spill out of the woodwork and get out and about. This was most noticeable Friday after work.
(Those are some instances of me hibernating, getting ready for spring)
Me and a few coworkers had some margarita pitchers (I had my own) at the Cactus Club on Boylston. When we first got there, there was an average amount of people to be at a bar around 5pm on a Friday. Then, all of a sudden people started spilling in. And, let me tell you, they weren't your average post work employees looking for a cocktail. Nope, they were already drunk! The Sox game had just ended, so red and navy clad fans with Sox baseball hats and boozed up breath came streaming in to hang after the game. It was hilarious. First of all because Boston sports fans are just crazy in general, but it was our season opener against the Yanks and we had WON (finally)!!!
Anyways, I was with my new roommate for next year. It was just the two of us since our other friends needed to leave. This girl is a great wingwoman. She isn't single, but, like myself, she will talk to anyone - for the comedic value, of course. My favorite that particular night was a fan that was quite literally blacking out before our eyes. As he slammed his beer onto our table the first thing he yelled (he didn't talk, he yelled), was "YOU AH THE HAWTEST GIRLS IN HE-AH".
I looked around to find middle aged women with their husbands, or chicks that looked like they were from Revere with greased up hair and way too much makeup, wearing heels with their Red Sox gear.
"gee, thanks, I'm flattered"
"I WON THE GAME FOR US TONIGHT!!! AYYYYY RAWD AYYYY RAWD" He explained to me how he, personally, had been the reason of the win. Only because he kept screaming A-Rod at, well, A-Rod.
"Oh yeah?" I replied, "So you were mind fucking the Yanks, huh?"
He looked around, seemed a little confused, probably forgot where he was, then turned back to me.
"You are the hawtest girl here"
"Right, you mentioned that..."
"I mind fucked the Yanks tonight - that's why we won."
"Um, no I actually said that"
"I kept yelling at A-Rod at them" He looked around again, "You're the hawtest girl here."
HOLY CRAP. He was seriously forgetting what he had said to me seconds before. It was hil-arious. He told me how he mind fucked the Yankees like five times. Finally his friend took mercy on us and dragged him away. My point is that I love Boston sports fans, and I can't wait to go to games (rooms has season tix), and play Bar Golf and be that drunk dude.
Anyways, moving on, my run today was pretty great. Was it great because it was sunny, warm, and I ran ran 8 miles? Nah, it was mostly great due to my cool down. As soon as I get to my street I start walking. Since the weather was nice there was a whole lot more people than usual outside.
At one house in particular on my street there was a group of guys playing corn hole and polish horseshoes and drinking beers. Wow, all of my favorite things. I still had my headphones in, was sweating and breathing heavily, so I wasn't about to just stop and talk to them (I mean who does that). But then they popped champagne and the cork hit me. It hit me!! A sign? I thought so.
They laughed, apologized, and one mentioned he had hit his mark. I had clearly just gone for a run and told them I was thirsty. One handed me water. I laughed at him and took a beer, then challenged them that I could drink it faster than any of them. I did, and then I left. I think they're still unsure of what really happened there. But I have good news - add group of random guys that lives on my street to the friends list.
I am starting to realize a trend here. This blog is getting a whole lot less about working out and whole lot more about my drinking and social habits. Hmm, if only I cared. I don't think anyone else cares, so whatev.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The Show Goes On
I woke up this morning and went about my day as I normally would. Checked my facebook, watched some TV, listened to music, planned out my run. I always sleep with my phone on silent, I need as much beauty rest as I can get, ya know? I was surprised when at least an hour or so after I had woken up I had a missed call and voicemail - from my Mom.
Shit.
I hate voicemails. They scare me. Some of the crappiest news I have ever received was through voicemail. "It's over", "Your friend killed himself", "Honey, the cops called the house looking for you", "Your mom has stage 4 breast cancer" (ok - that wasn't a voicemail, but it was fucking TERRIBLE), "Dad is in jail again", "Honey, the cops came to the house looking for you and your brother! What did you guys do this time?!"
Okay, so I threw in the parts about the cops calling/looking for me for some comic relief. Don't get me wrong, it's all true. Oh and for the record, I have never been arrested, plead guilty, or plead no contest to a criminal offense either felony or misdemeanor. I have had one speeding ticket. 87 in a 55. Whoops.
So anyways, I have this voicemail from my mom and I'm nervous that it is bad news. Yup. It was. My uncle died this morning - in his bed, suddenly. Ugh, how awful is that.
I got off the phone and sat in my bed thinking for a bit. I didn't cry or get upset, I actually just got really angry. So I threw sneakers on and went off on my run.
I'm not talking about your typical, Saturday, sunny morning jog. I was running, aggressively! I didn't have any direction, I just kept going. I didn't slow down on the hills to keep my pace, I sprinted up them. I didn't wave, smile, or head nod to anyone. I didn't ask people to politely excuse me, I ran right through the dumb chicks taking up the entire sidewalk with their leggings and uggs and longchamp bags. I didn't have a direction, but I sure had a purpose. I kept running until my lungs burned, until my calfs ached, until my knees felt like they were going to give out. And then, about halfway down Brighton Ave, I stopped as abruptly as I had started. Seriously, I just straight up hit the brakes out of nowhere. I bent over, heaving, staring at the ground, hanging onto my knees for support, and I felt okay. I got it all out of my system and I knew everything was going to okay. I walked the rest of the way home.
So that was my morning. However, I would really like to write about a revelation I had yesterday. It was my favorite day of the week of course. Fridays just make everything better! Food tastes better, coffee gives you more energy, candidates seem less annoying - because it's practically the weekend baby! I also like Fridays because we have meetings that are a very nice way to break up the day.
During one meeting, one of our main discussions was to focus on our "ratio" of 8:5:1. I am a recruiter, so basically what this means is that for every 8 candidates that pass my interview, 5 of them will pass the hiring manager's interview, and out of all 8, only one will get hired.
I started thinking about this. They pass my interviews - why don't they pass the hiring manager's? And even when they make it to their second or third interviews, sometimes they still don't get hired. Why is that? I know that I only reach out to the most qualified candidates who look great on paper and are located in the area of the opening. They have the skill set, the experience, they're receptive - but not all of them make it all the way through to the end. As I was pondering this I thought:
Holy effing shit. THIS IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!! This is my dating fucking life as a single girl in Boston. The parallel between my job and my personal life astounded me.
Since I have moved here I have gone out initially with guys that seem great. They're good looking, have some direction in their life, live close by, etc. etc. Then things start popping up on the second or third dates (or the first). Maybe they talk way too much about themselves, or they really don't have a job, or they're still in college. Or they become a stage five clinger, wanting to be facebook official after the first date - HA, I don't think so!! Some have had terrible manners, or make it way too obvious why they are really there and ask if I would like to go now? (no!!!!)
Of the first date "screenings", a few have made it on to second round interviews. A couple made it to third or fourth - but it didn't work out. For one for of these candidates there is a very particular reason, but for his sake (he doesn't read this, but still) I won't disclose, but I will say this - LOL!!!!! One has made it past even third or fourth!
Seriously dating is like interviewing. A person may look spectacular on paper, but there is so much more to it than that. You need to have chemistry, a connection, similar interests, a matching sense of humor. You need to get along with each other's friends, each other's family. It helps if you have the same work schedules, similar goals. There is so much to it. I guess that is what the purpose of dating is. As my best friend Smashley says, you need to kiss all of the frogs to find your prince. I guess you could say I am just conducting interviews until I find the right hire. I'm not in any rush at all, so until then, I'm just having fun and enjoying the ride.
Shit.
I hate voicemails. They scare me. Some of the crappiest news I have ever received was through voicemail. "It's over", "Your friend killed himself", "Honey, the cops called the house looking for you", "Your mom has stage 4 breast cancer" (ok - that wasn't a voicemail, but it was fucking TERRIBLE), "Dad is in jail again", "Honey, the cops came to the house looking for you and your brother! What did you guys do this time?!"
Okay, so I threw in the parts about the cops calling/looking for me for some comic relief. Don't get me wrong, it's all true. Oh and for the record, I have never been arrested, plead guilty, or plead no contest to a criminal offense either felony or misdemeanor. I have had one speeding ticket. 87 in a 55. Whoops.
So anyways, I have this voicemail from my mom and I'm nervous that it is bad news. Yup. It was. My uncle died this morning - in his bed, suddenly. Ugh, how awful is that.
I got off the phone and sat in my bed thinking for a bit. I didn't cry or get upset, I actually just got really angry. So I threw sneakers on and went off on my run.
I'm not talking about your typical, Saturday, sunny morning jog. I was running, aggressively! I didn't have any direction, I just kept going. I didn't slow down on the hills to keep my pace, I sprinted up them. I didn't wave, smile, or head nod to anyone. I didn't ask people to politely excuse me, I ran right through the dumb chicks taking up the entire sidewalk with their leggings and uggs and longchamp bags. I didn't have a direction, but I sure had a purpose. I kept running until my lungs burned, until my calfs ached, until my knees felt like they were going to give out. And then, about halfway down Brighton Ave, I stopped as abruptly as I had started. Seriously, I just straight up hit the brakes out of nowhere. I bent over, heaving, staring at the ground, hanging onto my knees for support, and I felt okay. I got it all out of my system and I knew everything was going to okay. I walked the rest of the way home.
So that was my morning. However, I would really like to write about a revelation I had yesterday. It was my favorite day of the week of course. Fridays just make everything better! Food tastes better, coffee gives you more energy, candidates seem less annoying - because it's practically the weekend baby! I also like Fridays because we have meetings that are a very nice way to break up the day.
During one meeting, one of our main discussions was to focus on our "ratio" of 8:5:1. I am a recruiter, so basically what this means is that for every 8 candidates that pass my interview, 5 of them will pass the hiring manager's interview, and out of all 8, only one will get hired.
I started thinking about this. They pass my interviews - why don't they pass the hiring manager's? And even when they make it to their second or third interviews, sometimes they still don't get hired. Why is that? I know that I only reach out to the most qualified candidates who look great on paper and are located in the area of the opening. They have the skill set, the experience, they're receptive - but not all of them make it all the way through to the end. As I was pondering this I thought:
Holy effing shit. THIS IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!! This is my dating fucking life as a single girl in Boston. The parallel between my job and my personal life astounded me.
Since I have moved here I have gone out initially with guys that seem great. They're good looking, have some direction in their life, live close by, etc. etc. Then things start popping up on the second or third dates (or the first). Maybe they talk way too much about themselves, or they really don't have a job, or they're still in college. Or they become a stage five clinger, wanting to be facebook official after the first date - HA, I don't think so!! Some have had terrible manners, or make it way too obvious why they are really there and ask if I would like to go now? (no!!!!)
Of the first date "screenings", a few have made it on to second round interviews. A couple made it to third or fourth - but it didn't work out. For one for of these candidates there is a very particular reason, but for his sake (he doesn't read this, but still) I won't disclose, but I will say this - LOL!!!!! One has made it past even third or fourth!
Seriously dating is like interviewing. A person may look spectacular on paper, but there is so much more to it than that. You need to have chemistry, a connection, similar interests, a matching sense of humor. You need to get along with each other's friends, each other's family. It helps if you have the same work schedules, similar goals. There is so much to it. I guess that is what the purpose of dating is. As my best friend Smashley says, you need to kiss all of the frogs to find your prince. I guess you could say I am just conducting interviews until I find the right hire. I'm not in any rush at all, so until then, I'm just having fun and enjoying the ride.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Friends 'TIll The End
Wednesdays are my favorite day besides Friday. Not only is it hump day, therefore bringing me closer to my favorite day of the week (cue Rebecca Black), but I have basketball on Wednesday nights. You might think I'm most excited to run around with a bunch of sweaty guys, but that's not my favorite part, surprisingly. It's post game fun that really makes me happy about this day. However, I was very pleased in the middle of the game when someone started yelling my name. What? That can't possibly be someone cheering on *me*. I ignored it, until I realized I was the only chick on the court. Aw crap, who was yelling at me for doing something wrong? I looked into the bleachers and lo and behold it was my bus stop friend! I met my bus stop friend at the bus stop and now we're friends and now my bus stop friend was at my game cheering me on. It was awesome!
Anyways, last night as I was pounding beer with my team, celebrating our win, I mentioned that I had signed up for summer softball. One of my teammates started teasingly giving me shit. "I thought we were best friends!" he said, "How could you sign up without us?!". "No, no, no" I responded, "I don't have friends, I'm sorry!" Everyone started laughing. "You have friends!!" they said, "You had friends at the damn game cheering for you!". I thought about that for a second, and realized they were right. I was so used to assuming I didn't have friends since I didn't know anyone when I moved here. But that had changed. I do have friends! I have basketball friends, I have drinking friends, I have work friends, I have IGI friends, I have gym friends, I have lunch friends, I have dinner friends, I have bus stop friends, I have Boylston street homeless friends. Dude, wow, so much has changed in a few months.
You see, when I first moved to Boston it wasn't quite the ideal situation. The morning I moved into my apartment my boyfriend of the time decided to dump me (something about him being depressed and me being too happy psh). Let be honest (since this is my honest diary) it SUCKEDDDDD. I was blindsided, I didn't expect it, it was a stupid reason, and it straight up blew. Anyways, I moved my shit into my apartment that day and obviously called all of my closest friends.
One of my best friends that lives on the Jersey Shore (yup) invited me to visit. Nooo, I thought. I can't, I have so much to do, I start my new job on Monday, I still need to get "settled". She mentioned something about margaritas and the beach and I didn't have to think too much harder. Literally the next day I was on a train to Jersey. This was by far one of my most favorable, memorable weeks. I have never ever laughed, cried, beached, drank, ate, or made bad decisions as much as this awesome week. This chick literally nursed me back to myself.
The interesting thing is that it was very fitting. Morgan just happened to be visiting the Cape a few summers previously when I found out that my boyfriend of that time had been banging my "friend" all summer. He was also married, to a stripper, from Guam. It's cute if you think I'm kidding, because I'm not at all; not even exaggerating. And you think you have bad ex stories - HA!! Anyways, what did we do that night? Chugged vodka and hit up a random Cape house party. Perfection.
I felt refreshed when I returned to Boston and was ready to start my new "career". Ha, what a joke that was. I was a recruiter at an agency and it was literally terrible. Soon after, life started sucking again since I dreaded waking up and going to that awful job where I worked 12 hour days and hated my life. I became so caught up in this job, I didn't even go out much (gasp) and certainly never had the opportunity to meet anyone. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. Even more shocking than not going out is that I didn't even have the time to work out. This couldn't possibly last.
I remember one night in particular that my boss took me out. Side note - my boss from that job is seriously the most amazing, inspiring, funniest, greatest chick ever. I wish she still lived in Boston, but she's back in CHI. Anyways, she could tell something was up. After a few drinks, I tearfully explained how unhappy I was. How I came here to start a career, to have the best days of my life, to make all of these great awesome friends and have all of these great awesome times. But none of it was happening! Why?? Why!!
"Honey" she said, "This is the real world now. Nothing is going to just happen. You can't expect things to just happen. You have to make moves, you have to make things happen for yourself. You have to put yourself out there and not care."
On my way home that night, after a few drinks, I hit a car on 93. Yup. I fucking hit a car. With MY car. I figured my life was over and I was going to be arrested for a DUI. Luckily, the cops that showed up were young. I shoved about three pieces of gum into my mouth, put on my biggest smile and somehow, someway, I got myself out of it. I fucking drove home and my insurance never even called me. Seriously, nothing happened.
Soon after, I quit that job.
It was AWESOME - for about a week. And then I was lonely and depressed and felt as though my life had no direction. What was I doing in this city? How did this happen? Why was I not in Virginia with my best friends? How am I going to pay rent? I don't have insurance anymore?! ahhhhhhhh. There were several times that I wanted to throw my hands up, retreat to the Cape, crawl under my covers and just give up.
I didn't.
I applied to job after job after job. I got rejection after rejection after rejection.
One time, I literally had dialed my landlord in order to break my lease. I hung up after one ring. She called me back to see if everything was okay. I DON'T FUCKING KNOWWWWW I thought. I'm not one to give in, or give up, so I thought about the advice my boss had given me. It was time to start making moves.
I got a job offer that week. Thank. fucking. god. I accepted with open arms. After I had regained a little bit of my lost confidence, it became easier to really put myself out there. I was fucking friendly to everyone. People probably thought there was something wrong with me (there is). And as soon as I stopped just wishing and hoping for things to get better, and started accepting my situation, everything fell into place. Everything!...let me repeat - everything!!!
I am so happy now. I love Boston. I love the friends I have made. I love everything that brought me here, because without all the shit, I wouldn't really realize how lucky I am. I wouldn't appreciate my life as much as I do currently. I am sitting on my couch right now, sipping my wine, and smiling.
Moral of the story? You need to make your own moves. Everything happens for a reason, even the shitty stuff. If you don't like it, then fucking change it. Sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith and if it works out - great, if it doesn't - sucks, if you don't try - stupid.
Anyways, last night as I was pounding beer with my team, celebrating our win, I mentioned that I had signed up for summer softball. One of my teammates started teasingly giving me shit. "I thought we were best friends!" he said, "How could you sign up without us?!". "No, no, no" I responded, "I don't have friends, I'm sorry!" Everyone started laughing. "You have friends!!" they said, "You had friends at the damn game cheering for you!". I thought about that for a second, and realized they were right. I was so used to assuming I didn't have friends since I didn't know anyone when I moved here. But that had changed. I do have friends! I have basketball friends, I have drinking friends, I have work friends, I have IGI friends, I have gym friends, I have lunch friends, I have dinner friends, I have bus stop friends, I have Boylston street homeless friends. Dude, wow, so much has changed in a few months.
You see, when I first moved to Boston it wasn't quite the ideal situation. The morning I moved into my apartment my boyfriend of the time decided to dump me (something about him being depressed and me being too happy psh). Let be honest (since this is my honest diary) it SUCKEDDDDD. I was blindsided, I didn't expect it, it was a stupid reason, and it straight up blew. Anyways, I moved my shit into my apartment that day and obviously called all of my closest friends.
One of my best friends that lives on the Jersey Shore (yup) invited me to visit. Nooo, I thought. I can't, I have so much to do, I start my new job on Monday, I still need to get "settled". She mentioned something about margaritas and the beach and I didn't have to think too much harder. Literally the next day I was on a train to Jersey. This was by far one of my most favorable, memorable weeks. I have never ever laughed, cried, beached, drank, ate, or made bad decisions as much as this awesome week. This chick literally nursed me back to myself.
(In college)
(On the shore)
The interesting thing is that it was very fitting. Morgan just happened to be visiting the Cape a few summers previously when I found out that my boyfriend of that time had been banging my "friend" all summer. He was also married, to a stripper, from Guam. It's cute if you think I'm kidding, because I'm not at all; not even exaggerating. And you think you have bad ex stories - HA!! Anyways, what did we do that night? Chugged vodka and hit up a random Cape house party. Perfection.
I felt refreshed when I returned to Boston and was ready to start my new "career". Ha, what a joke that was. I was a recruiter at an agency and it was literally terrible. Soon after, life started sucking again since I dreaded waking up and going to that awful job where I worked 12 hour days and hated my life. I became so caught up in this job, I didn't even go out much (gasp) and certainly never had the opportunity to meet anyone. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. Even more shocking than not going out is that I didn't even have the time to work out. This couldn't possibly last.
I remember one night in particular that my boss took me out. Side note - my boss from that job is seriously the most amazing, inspiring, funniest, greatest chick ever. I wish she still lived in Boston, but she's back in CHI. Anyways, she could tell something was up. After a few drinks, I tearfully explained how unhappy I was. How I came here to start a career, to have the best days of my life, to make all of these great awesome friends and have all of these great awesome times. But none of it was happening! Why?? Why!!
"Honey" she said, "This is the real world now. Nothing is going to just happen. You can't expect things to just happen. You have to make moves, you have to make things happen for yourself. You have to put yourself out there and not care."
On my way home that night, after a few drinks, I hit a car on 93. Yup. I fucking hit a car. With MY car. I figured my life was over and I was going to be arrested for a DUI. Luckily, the cops that showed up were young. I shoved about three pieces of gum into my mouth, put on my biggest smile and somehow, someway, I got myself out of it. I fucking drove home and my insurance never even called me. Seriously, nothing happened.
Soon after, I quit that job.
It was AWESOME - for about a week. And then I was lonely and depressed and felt as though my life had no direction. What was I doing in this city? How did this happen? Why was I not in Virginia with my best friends? How am I going to pay rent? I don't have insurance anymore?! ahhhhhhhh. There were several times that I wanted to throw my hands up, retreat to the Cape, crawl under my covers and just give up.
I didn't.
I applied to job after job after job. I got rejection after rejection after rejection.
One time, I literally had dialed my landlord in order to break my lease. I hung up after one ring. She called me back to see if everything was okay. I DON'T FUCKING KNOWWWWW I thought. I'm not one to give in, or give up, so I thought about the advice my boss had given me. It was time to start making moves.
I got a job offer that week. Thank. fucking. god. I accepted with open arms. After I had regained a little bit of my lost confidence, it became easier to really put myself out there. I was fucking friendly to everyone. People probably thought there was something wrong with me (there is). And as soon as I stopped just wishing and hoping for things to get better, and started accepting my situation, everything fell into place. Everything!...let me repeat - everything!!!
I am so happy now. I love Boston. I love the friends I have made. I love everything that brought me here, because without all the shit, I wouldn't really realize how lucky I am. I wouldn't appreciate my life as much as I do currently. I am sitting on my couch right now, sipping my wine, and smiling.
Moral of the story? You need to make your own moves. Everything happens for a reason, even the shitty stuff. If you don't like it, then fucking change it. Sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith and if it works out - great, if it doesn't - sucks, if you don't try - stupid.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Buh-Bye Brighton
I want to start this entry off discussing how much I despise Brighton. More specifically, Oak Square in Brighton. There is literally nothing important here, there is no T (subway for you non-bostonians), I am petrified of running into my neighbor that I had a brief thing with when the weather was warm and sunny and it seemed like a great idea, and the closest bus stop is still a fifteen minute walk. I would have to say literally the only thing I enjoy about this place is the Oak Square YMCA. And that is exactly where I was at 6am this morning.
As previously mentioned I usually like to start my week off strong with some serious cardio. I did a variation on my normal sprint action on the treadmill. I did more of an endurance sprint sesh.
Minutes 1-5: warm up @ 6mph
Minutes 5-9: run @ 7mph
Minutes 10-13: rest @ 4mph
Minutes 13-16: run @ 7.5mph
Minutes 16-18 rest @ 4mph
Minutes 18-20 run @ 8.5mph
Minutes 20-21 rest @ 4mph
Minutes 22-23 run @ 9mph
Then I finished up with a few 30 second sprints @ 10mph.
Next, I hit up the erg (rowing machine). The erg is my bud. It brings me back to the days of the Wequaquet Lake parking lot where we sprinted so hard on them we either passed out or threw up. Or the BHS training room where I watched my coaches race on them, while we all complained about how sore we were from Spring Training. Ohhhhh the erg, you devil you.
Anyways, one of my worst pet peeves ever ever EVER at the gym (worse than skinny chicks swinging 5lb dumbbell curls) is people's form on the erg. It is a full body exercise, not just an upper body machine. In fact, you should probably be getting most of the power from your lower body when you're using this machine.
Well, I inserted a video from youtube above, but I'm not sure why it's so small. Give me a break, I'm new to this whole blogging thing. Anyways, main points are to keep your back straight, lean far forward when you're moving back up the machine - my butt literally comes off of the seat - and then explode up with your legs. Good stuff!!!!! I did it for 25 minutes, and boy, let me tell you I have the blisters to prove it.
One thing I do notice about the early gym sessions at the Y is the clientele. They are about quadruple my age. Oh, and you think I'm kidding? I'm not kidding. I am pretty sure there is a bus that picks them up from the dying home and carts them to the pool to let them experience most likely their last swim on earth. I don't really mind, the smell is bearable I suppose, but the locker room is another story. First of all, I don't know what it was like in 1920, but apparently, surprisingly, nudity was not an issue. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm totally comfortable with my body, but there are things I see in that locker room that burn the inside of my eyelids. It creates a paranoia in me about growing old or ever - ever - having children.
I'm always in a rush because I need to get ready for work. This morning I was in the corner facing the wall stripping down and getting dressed - don't want to make anyone jealous, ya know? I don't even have my pants all of the way on when someone croaks, "Is that one of those, ya know, thingy magigs, an....an..ipod?" I look over at this wrinkly, still wet from the pool, leaning on the locker to stand, indistinguishable creature to verify that she was indeed speaking to me. She was. ugh.
"Yes" I reply, "that's an ipod".
"Oh, so you make phone calls on that too, huh?"
"No....no...that's an iphone"
"A what?"
"An....it's an iphone"
"That's an iphone?"
"No, ma'am, this is an ipod. You make phone calls on an iphone"
"I see people reading on the bus with those iphones"
"Well....no...no...that's probably an ipad"
She stares at me blankly. "You look just like my granddaughter". Jesus Christ, I need to get to work. Of course I look like your granddaughter lady, I'm the only person here born in this century and I'm sure you don't even remember what your granddaughter looks like. I politely smile and slowly walk backwards.
This is why I need to get out of Brighton. Let me rephrase, this is why I am leaving Brighton. I found my apartment tonight. It's in the North End, you can throw a rock to Government Center, and yes, it is about double my current rent, but I'm prepared to make some sacrifices. I will eat peanut butter sandwiches, wear the same clothes on a rotational basis for a year, cancel my gym membership to work out on the ROOFTOP DECK, and sell my soul to live there. I will do it and I am doing it. Goodbye soul, hello world.
As previously mentioned I usually like to start my week off strong with some serious cardio. I did a variation on my normal sprint action on the treadmill. I did more of an endurance sprint sesh.
Minutes 1-5: warm up @ 6mph
Minutes 5-9: run @ 7mph
Minutes 10-13: rest @ 4mph
Minutes 13-16: run @ 7.5mph
Minutes 16-18 rest @ 4mph
Minutes 18-20 run @ 8.5mph
Minutes 20-21 rest @ 4mph
Minutes 22-23 run @ 9mph
Then I finished up with a few 30 second sprints @ 10mph.
Next, I hit up the erg (rowing machine). The erg is my bud. It brings me back to the days of the Wequaquet Lake parking lot where we sprinted so hard on them we either passed out or threw up. Or the BHS training room where I watched my coaches race on them, while we all complained about how sore we were from Spring Training. Ohhhhh the erg, you devil you.
Anyways, one of my worst pet peeves ever ever EVER at the gym (worse than skinny chicks swinging 5lb dumbbell curls) is people's form on the erg. It is a full body exercise, not just an upper body machine. In fact, you should probably be getting most of the power from your lower body when you're using this machine.
Well, I inserted a video from youtube above, but I'm not sure why it's so small. Give me a break, I'm new to this whole blogging thing. Anyways, main points are to keep your back straight, lean far forward when you're moving back up the machine - my butt literally comes off of the seat - and then explode up with your legs. Good stuff!!!!! I did it for 25 minutes, and boy, let me tell you I have the blisters to prove it.
One thing I do notice about the early gym sessions at the Y is the clientele. They are about quadruple my age. Oh, and you think I'm kidding? I'm not kidding. I am pretty sure there is a bus that picks them up from the dying home and carts them to the pool to let them experience most likely their last swim on earth. I don't really mind, the smell is bearable I suppose, but the locker room is another story. First of all, I don't know what it was like in 1920, but apparently, surprisingly, nudity was not an issue. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm totally comfortable with my body, but there are things I see in that locker room that burn the inside of my eyelids. It creates a paranoia in me about growing old or ever - ever - having children.
I'm always in a rush because I need to get ready for work. This morning I was in the corner facing the wall stripping down and getting dressed - don't want to make anyone jealous, ya know? I don't even have my pants all of the way on when someone croaks, "Is that one of those, ya know, thingy magigs, an....an..ipod?" I look over at this wrinkly, still wet from the pool, leaning on the locker to stand, indistinguishable creature to verify that she was indeed speaking to me. She was. ugh.
"Yes" I reply, "that's an ipod".
"Oh, so you make phone calls on that too, huh?"
"No....no...that's an iphone"
"A what?"
"An....it's an iphone"
"That's an iphone?"
"No, ma'am, this is an ipod. You make phone calls on an iphone"
"I see people reading on the bus with those iphones"
"Well....no...no...that's probably an ipad"
She stares at me blankly. "You look just like my granddaughter". Jesus Christ, I need to get to work. Of course I look like your granddaughter lady, I'm the only person here born in this century and I'm sure you don't even remember what your granddaughter looks like. I politely smile and slowly walk backwards.
This is why I need to get out of Brighton. Let me rephrase, this is why I am leaving Brighton. I found my apartment tonight. It's in the North End, you can throw a rock to Government Center, and yes, it is about double my current rent, but I'm prepared to make some sacrifices. I will eat peanut butter sandwiches, wear the same clothes on a rotational basis for a year, cancel my gym membership to work out on the ROOFTOP DECK, and sell my soul to live there. I will do it and I am doing it. Goodbye soul, hello world.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Runner's High?
Normally I take Sundays off from working out. Today, however, my mind was feeling particularly cluttered so I decided to go for a run to clear my head. Let me repeat, I ran to clear my head, not to burn calories or build stamina. I think it's important to remember other reasons to workout rather than to stay physically fit. Today, my run was for me, and me only. That being said, it was shorter and faster - about four and a half miles.
I have a really weird way of dealing with things. I still deal with things differently. I usually just stuff feelings wayyy down in there and don't deal with them, and then they randomly just pop up! For instance, a friend of mine passed away last week and I didn't shed a tear - I did however, go to the gym twice a day after working overtime. Then again, I'll cry a river at the scene in Homeward Bound when Shadow (the golden retriever) gets stuck in a ditch. My point is, I had several things on my mind today so I went for a run to sort them out and run until I didn't feel feelings anymore (healthy, right?).
I threw on my favorite workout t-shirt (JMU Softball) and hit the road. OK SIDE NOTE - I am so super pumped for the Boston softball league I signed up for to start this summer. It is my favorite sport.
I have a really weird way of dealing with things. I still deal with things differently. I usually just stuff feelings wayyy down in there and don't deal with them, and then they randomly just pop up! For instance, a friend of mine passed away last week and I didn't shed a tear - I did however, go to the gym twice a day after working overtime. Then again, I'll cry a river at the scene in Homeward Bound when Shadow (the golden retriever) gets stuck in a ditch. My point is, I had several things on my mind today so I went for a run to sort them out and run until I didn't feel feelings anymore (healthy, right?).
I threw on my favorite workout t-shirt (JMU Softball) and hit the road. OK SIDE NOTE - I am so super pumped for the Boston softball league I signed up for to start this summer. It is my favorite sport.
I literally remember that first picture being taken when I was in elementary school. The photographer told me I needed to wear my hat forwards. I refused, stating that I always wore it like that in games so why should my picture be any different? He got pissed off, confirmed it with my coach, and took the pic. The second is from my freshman year in college.
Right, so I took off for my run. Aw, man it felt so good. It was warm, sunny, and for whatever reasons, my most favorite songs kept playing on my ipod touch, even though it was on shuffle. It's like it knew I needed some good jams. When I returned to my apartment, I got on the ground and pumped out some pushups - forty to be exact (4 sets of 10). I love pushups. I bet you don't. I bet you don't because they're hard - but that's exactly why I like them! It gets easier once you start doing them, and here's a tip, tighten up your lower body - legs, glutes - and it makes it easier. In fact, I like pushups so much that they were my "talent" in a pageant I was in on my 21st birthday. By the way, this pageant was a joke - to me, at least. Most of the other chicks' talents were booty dancing, singing, cartwheels and that kind of shit. I did pushups and told a really really dirty joke. I'm going to disclose the first part of the joke, and leave the rest at the end of the entry. *Disclaimer* if you're easily offended or religious DO NOT view the end of my entry. I had to earmuffs the crowd during the pageant.
What's the difference between acne and a priest?
Look at that pledge! What terrible form!
Note: necessary accessory in left hand
So after my quick, heated, run I actually felt much better. However, I am less than pleased that today is Sunday and it's back to the grind tomorrow. I had a really good weekend. I tried sushi for the first time last night (and a lot of sake) and god dammit, I really liked it! I feel like I've been missing out - I like the spicy ones the best. Then I met up with one of my oldest, bestest friends at Jillian's, the night ended with some MSA.
Acne comes on a boy's face after he turns 12.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
The Hangover
I woke up this morning around 7am in a haze. Okay, let me rephrase. I wouldn't really call it waking it up. It was more like trying to open my eyes and figure out my surroundings. Squinting, I realize I am in my apartment, in my bed (alone), phew. Wait, why are all of the lights on? Is that music playing? I roll over and discover the pizza box on my floor. Wtf? I ordered pizza? Damn you Foodler and your 3am accessibility. I open it and there is has only been one bite taken. Sweet, breakfast.
I soon realize I had passed out with half of the clothes I wore out on, and half pajamas; looks like I gave up half way through. My computer is still playing music from when I was probably waiting for the pizza to come? My room is a complete mess. Clothes, shoes, food, and various unrecognizable shit litters my floor. I also find a post-it from my drunk alter ego. You see, sometimes "Drunk Katy" tries to help out "Sober Katy" by leaving messages or signs to help me remember the previous night. This one has been left unfinished and only says "you need". I need what?? Dignity? Morals? Water? hmmm. I head to the bathroom and I am pleasantly surprised to find that I had taken my contacts out AND taken my makeup off! Winning!!
It's still too early to be alive, and I was still kind of drunk so I finished putting sweats on and headed back to my bed, intent on getting some rest so I could go for a run later. A few hours later, I wake up for the second time. My head is pounding and the sun is a little too bright for my liking. Surprisingly enough, running is one of my go-to cures for a hangover. The hardest part is getting up and doing it, once I'm out there I'm usually good to go. However, let's be realistic, there have definitely been a few times I thought I was good to go only to find myself dry heaving on the side of the road, in the middle of campus, during a campus tour. Fortunately, today was not one of those days. Before I could think about how much I did not want to get up to run, I just did it without thinking. I am definitely a morning work outer. I need to get up and do it right away or I won't at all. Although, don't get me wrong you definitely could find me at our 24 hr gym in college at 3am after studying all night. Gotta love adderall.
Speaking of adderall, I really miss my narcoleptic best friend. She would give that shit out like candy and we would spend nights together in the library studying and fucking around. The last time I saw her we were in the middle of Chicago dancing with a homeless dude. I was supposed to visit her there in February since we're both single and definitely wouldn't have a Valentine's date. Hopefully, we can get together soon. She is one of my most favorite people and I'm still sure that one day soon we will just quit our jobs and move to California together.
This is us in Barcelona. Typical.
That particular night we stayed at the club until our 730am flight.
This was in our Antwerp, Belgium home. We were psyched to go out because we had found an iron in our apartment to straighten our hair.
Ok. So back to the whole running thing. I drank a lot last night. Not just in volume, but in variety. First I was bored in my apartment waiting for the cab, so decided to take three shots of vodka - alone. When I arrived at my friend Julia's we finished a bottle of wine and took a few good luck shots. At Clery's I started with beer (bev of choice). My friend Julia and I very quickly proceeded to order tequila shots. I had more shots later, and a lot of beers. Best part? I checked my bank account this morning and I only spent money on the cab to Julia's. Word.
I got sidetracked by alcohol and forgot to talk about my run. It was seven miles and I felt much better afterwards. :)
I soon realize I had passed out with half of the clothes I wore out on, and half pajamas; looks like I gave up half way through. My computer is still playing music from when I was probably waiting for the pizza to come? My room is a complete mess. Clothes, shoes, food, and various unrecognizable shit litters my floor. I also find a post-it from my drunk alter ego. You see, sometimes "Drunk Katy" tries to help out "Sober Katy" by leaving messages or signs to help me remember the previous night. This one has been left unfinished and only says "you need". I need what?? Dignity? Morals? Water? hmmm. I head to the bathroom and I am pleasantly surprised to find that I had taken my contacts out AND taken my makeup off! Winning!!
It's still too early to be alive, and I was still kind of drunk so I finished putting sweats on and headed back to my bed, intent on getting some rest so I could go for a run later. A few hours later, I wake up for the second time. My head is pounding and the sun is a little too bright for my liking. Surprisingly enough, running is one of my go-to cures for a hangover. The hardest part is getting up and doing it, once I'm out there I'm usually good to go. However, let's be realistic, there have definitely been a few times I thought I was good to go only to find myself dry heaving on the side of the road, in the middle of campus, during a campus tour. Fortunately, today was not one of those days. Before I could think about how much I did not want to get up to run, I just did it without thinking. I am definitely a morning work outer. I need to get up and do it right away or I won't at all. Although, don't get me wrong you definitely could find me at our 24 hr gym in college at 3am after studying all night. Gotta love adderall.
Speaking of adderall, I really miss my narcoleptic best friend. She would give that shit out like candy and we would spend nights together in the library studying and fucking around. The last time I saw her we were in the middle of Chicago dancing with a homeless dude. I was supposed to visit her there in February since we're both single and definitely wouldn't have a Valentine's date. Hopefully, we can get together soon. She is one of my most favorite people and I'm still sure that one day soon we will just quit our jobs and move to California together.
This is us in Barcelona. Typical.
That particular night we stayed at the club until our 730am flight.
This was in our Antwerp, Belgium home. We were psyched to go out because we had found an iron in our apartment to straighten our hair.
Ok. So back to the whole running thing. I drank a lot last night. Not just in volume, but in variety. First I was bored in my apartment waiting for the cab, so decided to take three shots of vodka - alone. When I arrived at my friend Julia's we finished a bottle of wine and took a few good luck shots. At Clery's I started with beer (bev of choice). My friend Julia and I very quickly proceeded to order tequila shots. I had more shots later, and a lot of beers. Best part? I checked my bank account this morning and I only spent money on the cab to Julia's. Word.
I got sidetracked by alcohol and forgot to talk about my run. It was seven miles and I felt much better afterwards. :)
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