Wow! I have been on hiatus recently. So much is changing right now for my girlfriends and I here in Omaha. Both of my roommates are moving. One to a job in Kansas City and the other for grad school to Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I'm just staying here.
I'm kind of panicking about what life will be like without them. They are my two best friends in Omaha, and I feel like I'll be a total recluse when they leave! We had our last Third Thursday Potluck dinner last night and Saturday is to be our last house party for Laura's going away party.
I've been thinking a lot about myself and change in life. Now that college is over my friends and I are in a big transition period. Do we get real jobs or go on to grad school? Where do we want to live? Should I find new roommates or try living alone?
I'm going to grad school, but I only have to be in Los Angeles for 10 days in June and 10 days in December so I don't really have that force to make me move. I'd love to move. I just need a reason. I've always thought that committing myself to one place to live would be awful. I would love to marry someone whose job required us to move around often so that I could explore new places and change my job as well. I figure I can pretty much find a job anywhere I go between writing and teaching fitness classes.
However, I have this huge commitment to people. Where I loathe commitment to one place or occupation, I quickly and easily commit to and love people. I've had jobs that I hated, but had such a hard time quitting because of the relationships I had with the people who attended my classes. Sometimes I fear I'll never leave Omaha because I love my job at Pinnacle and the relationships with the people I have met there are the reason I love what I do so much. However, I also am practically refusing to find an apartment by myself because I don't want to commit myself to signing a year lease and thus promising to be in Omaha another full year.
I had a conversation about baggage the other day and I kind of feel like I am an oddity as I have no problem committing whole heartedly to one person, but the idea of committing myself to one city or one career makes me want to vomit. Don't get me wrong, I hate packing and moving all of my crap, but holy cow, the thought of spending my entire life in the same city seems so claustrophobic. I like the idea to try something new and if it's not the place you want to be, then move on, no hard feelings. Maybe I just haven't found the right city yet. Or maybe once I find the right person and people to commit to, staying in one place won't be so hard.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
I just read this article from MSN.com. It's awesome.
30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30
This 1997 Glamour article has become a popular web chain letter, usually titled “Maya Angelou’s Best Poem Ever.” Glamour contributor Pamela Redmond Satran is flattered, but she wrote the list, updating it in 2005.
February 1, 2007
In May of 1997, I wrote this list. I had passed my thirtieth birthday and wanted to tell younger women about the things I really wished I’d had and known by that important milestone. I guess people agreed with what I had to say, because a few years later the list showed up in my e-mail inbox; a friend had forwarded it to me for my reading pleasure, completely unaware that I was the author. After that, every month or two someone would send it to me and I’d immediately hit “reply all” and type, “Hey, that was me! I wrote that for Glamour.” (After a while, I don’t think anyone believed me.) The list became a phenomenon; posted on hundreds of websites, it was attributed to everyone from Jesse Jackson to Maya Angelou to Hillary Clinton. Someone even published it as an anonymously written book. As I read over these lines now, so many of them still seem worth having and knowing—whether you’re 30 or 22 or 75. Being a little older and a little wiser, I’ve plugged in a few new “shoulds.” By all means, add some of your own.
By 30, you should have:
- One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
- A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
- Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
- A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
- A youth you’re content to move beyond.
- A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
- The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.
- An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.
- A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
- One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
- A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.
- Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
- The belief that you deserve it.
- A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
- A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.
By 30, you should know:
- How to fall in love without losing yourself.
- How you feel about having kids.
- How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
- When to try harder and when to walk away.
- How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
- The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.
- How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
- How to take control of your own birthday.
- That you can’t change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.
- That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
- What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
- That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.
- Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
- Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
- Why they say life begins at 30.
Read More http://www.glamour.com/magazine/2007/02/things-women-should-have-and-know-by-30#ixzz1uKBRX5iI
This is a little diddy I wrote for an in-class writing prompt when I was a Junior in college. We were given 10 minutes or so to write a short piece incorporating as many senses as possible. It's kind of cheesy. Ok, really cheesy, but I only had 10 minutes!
She loved him. She had always loved him. She loved him the first time he walked into their kitchen with her father when she was 17. She had imagined this moment since the first time she heard his voice, smooth as cream, speak her name, "Hi, Darcy. I'm Cameron."
Six years later, it was finally happening. His dark chocolate eyes met hers, softly. It was as if the world stopped moving just for her. The cars in the streets rolled lazily past, but made no sound. All Darcy heard was the pounding of her heart. Her chest swelling with too much exicitment and what felt like no breath. Her skirt tickled her tan legs as the summer breeze tempted her closer to Cameron.
The hot dog smell vanished. His breath, cool peppermint surrounded her, whispering across her cheek, cooling her, and he placed hand behind her neck, catching the frizzy hairs that had untangled themselves from her braid in the humidity. His other arm slipped around her waist, hand firmly planted on her left hip. Her silk blouse clung to her skin, almost sticky in the heat. Their lips touched.
Love Me Next to a Hot Dog Cart, Love Me Anywhere
She loved him. She had always loved him. She loved him the first time he walked into their kitchen with her father when she was 17. She had imagined this moment since the first time she heard his voice, smooth as cream, speak her name, "Hi, Darcy. I'm Cameron."
Six years later, it was finally happening. His dark chocolate eyes met hers, softly. It was as if the world stopped moving just for her. The cars in the streets rolled lazily past, but made no sound. All Darcy heard was the pounding of her heart. Her chest swelling with too much exicitment and what felt like no breath. Her skirt tickled her tan legs as the summer breeze tempted her closer to Cameron.
The hot dog smell vanished. His breath, cool peppermint surrounded her, whispering across her cheek, cooling her, and he placed hand behind her neck, catching the frizzy hairs that had untangled themselves from her braid in the humidity. His other arm slipped around her waist, hand firmly planted on her left hip. Her silk blouse clung to her skin, almost sticky in the heat. Their lips touched.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Best quotation of my weekend (by my roommate Laura): "I will NOT become the catalyst to her becoming a cat lady."
Let me give a disclaimer to this. There is nothing wrong with loving cats. Our cat is a real gem. However, friends don't let friends become animal hoarders. Really, the person in reference here is more of an acquaintance than a friend of ours so let me rephrase that. Decent people do not let others live their lives vicariously through dozens of animals running amuck in their homes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWhAeI7sGzI
Let me give a disclaimer to this. There is nothing wrong with loving cats. Our cat is a real gem. However, friends don't let friends become animal hoarders. Really, the person in reference here is more of an acquaintance than a friend of ours so let me rephrase that. Decent people do not let others live their lives vicariously through dozens of animals running amuck in their homes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWhAeI7sGzI
Thursday, May 3, 2012
I wrote this my sophomore year of college in Fall 2009. I love swimming and have been a lifeguard for 8 years. This summer I get to guard for the Olympic swim trials here in Omaha. Needless to say, I can't wait to hang out on deck with the chiseled pool gods.
Burnt Cheeks
Dominic plunged into the cool, clear water. His body broke the surface in a swift, graceful dive—unexpected, as his body, chiseled as a Roman statue (though much tanner), possessed the look of a belly flop, tidal wave splash, and a sinking rock. He swam along the bottom of the pool, chest grazing the rough tile, until his lungs burn pleasurably from the lack of fresh oxygen. There was something therapeutic and cleansing in this ritual that he enjoyed before his swimming routine each day.
His head broke the surface and his hair clung to his scalp like matted moss on a rock in a riverbed, and the droplets of chlorine treated water sputtered out of his nose as he breathed in and out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lifeguards staring at him. Smiling to himself, he shook out his shaggy, chestnut hair, licked the salty chlorine from his lips and, pretending not to notice his admirers, dived into a rigorous breaststroke. The water rolled along his body as he powered his way through it. Dominic loved the way it fluttered away from his authoritative kicks and pulls almost as much as he loved the way the eyes of the long-legged blonde lifeguard roamed up and down his body each day he walked past her.
He had been entertaining the idea of asking her out for the last few weeks, but Dominic was not one to look needy or rash (as if he needed to pick girls up at the pool!). Though he liked the looks of this life-sized Barbie, he wondered if she might be beneath him. After all, she was only a lifeguard. Even so she carried herself with an icy air, poised like a queen, scanning the pool over which she reigned with a prowess that he found simply enticing. Not even the overbearing heat could penetrate her supreme aloofness, as her brown skin never glittered with a sheen of sweat like the others baking in the harsh summer sun. Dominic wondered what it would be like to touch her honeyed legs, or to kiss her freckled shoulders. He could almost smell the coconut aroma of her sunscreen, taste her caramel skin, as a sudden splash he knew not to be his own thundered across his back, snapping him out of his fantasy.
Dominic stood abruptly and found his face to be met with the blast of stale hose water. Coughing and quite perplexed he flung his arms up to protect his face until the attack ceased.
“Sir, would you please cover yourself?” a voice demanded from above.
“What the Hell?” Dominic sprayed as he yanked his goggles off of his face. He flung his arm up to shield his eyes from the angry sun to see his assailant.
Barbie stood above him, hands on her hips framed in the blazing sun as if she herself were on fire. “There are children here, sir. Would you please put your swimming suit back on?”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” Dominic heaved, his breathing still labored from the swim.
“Your shorts,” the ice queen spat at him. “You lost them when you dived in.”
Dominic’s eyes slowly drifted down to settle at his area which was, indeed, missing its covering. His eyes widened in horror and his stomach felt as if it sank to the bottom of the pool with his swimming trunks. He slunk over to his trunks waving to him from the pool floor him as if to mock his shameful vanity. While he wrenched his shorts on, Barbie smiled and several people around the pool gawked and pointed at his embarrassment. He rose out of the pool, cheeks smoldering with the indignation of it all, gathered what lingered of his pride and strode past them all with his head held high. Right before he stomped out of sight, however, Barbie called to him, “Hey! You may want to start wearing sunscreen on your bum if you are gonna swim like that again, hun!” Dominic turned the corner and fled.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Fact: give a decent-looking dark-haired guy a voice or instrument and he instantly becomes Super Hunk Sexy.
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