see as i saw

For every ounce of awesomeness, there is some measure of the not so amazing and things that fell through the cracks.  These are the places with potential to teach lessons and provide enlightenment.  So today is dedicated to a high-level retrospective of the things that could've gone better in the past year.

1. Hand in Too Many Jars - Although trial and error was a theme for 2012, the approach could've been better at times.  There was a tendency to put too many objectives in play at once, which pretty much set me up for immediate follow-through failure.

I wanted to practice my Spanish, learn how to code, and read the Randomhouse 32 "best" novels...all at once.  In addition to crafting, photographing, blogging, working out, cooking, and a multitude of other things that weren't yet regularities of my daily life.  Despite being jobless, thus having a lot of spare time, it was a little excessive.

2. "Best" is Subjective - Short follow-up to a point I made above.  I've always considered it a difficult task to give me a book that I dislike enough to not finish.  It may have taken three attempts, but I finally forced myself through Madame Bovary.  I also posited that I liked classic literature.  My Randomhouse experiment has, in part, disproved both theories.

I did actually complete all of the books that I started, but there was ample skim reading in some of the more obnoxiously long-winded and preachy texts.  And I feel quite assured that there are classic books, considered among the best literature has to offer, that I can't stand.  In the future, I'll take "best" with a grain of salt.

3. Losing Someone - There's nothing I could have done to change this one.  But it was definitely one of 2012's rougher patches.  And one of it's more thought-inducing - a lesson in appreciating the people in your life.  It's easy to get caught up in the immediate activity around you and lose track of the people outside of that radius.  My great aunt's passing helped to remind me that you don't want to wait until you know time is limited or gone.

4. There Is No Perfect Job - I've hoped, prayed, and looked for the perfect job.  Initially, my focus for Costa Rica was figuring out my perfect job.  Frankly, I thought about virtually everything besides employment.  Then I spent seven additional months in Chicago pondering this question, before accepting that perfect is unlikely even if you're unequivocally excited about what you do.

I suppose it's sort of like buying a house or finding a spouse.  They'll pretty much never tick all of the boxes on the dream list.  Once I accepted that, I was able to find a job that I felt proud to accept.  As long as I can find things to appreciate about the situation that I'm in, it's right at that moment.  I'm learning and growing, and there's nothing wrong with that.

--

That's 2012 in a nutshell, which leaves one more day.  One more blog.  And that final day of this year-long commitment will be looking forward.  Trying to sketch out a gameplan for 2013.

I've decided that my final days of this commitment will be a three-part series.  Today's mission, focus on what went right in 2012.

1. Costa Rica - Without a doubt, one of the most 'right' things that I've ever done in my life.  Committing to leaving unhappiness behind and expanding my personal horizons on a solo adventure in an amazing place.  There will be more Costa Rica in my future; it's in my blood.  It would take more entries than you'd be willing to read to expand upon all of the things that this decision taught me.

2. Trial and Error - I have a tendency to only try when I'm predominantly sure of an outcome.  At least that was my standard operating procedure in the past.  In 2012, I made it a point to say "yes" even when it made me nervous and to test drive the unknown.

By no means did I go to extremes, but I explored some of the notions that I've considered in the realm of independent employment.  Despite a lot of learnings and some unique experiences (i.e. Hoarders), the love wasn't there.  And you know what?  I don't regret trying, not a bit.

There were plenty of other trial categories that did stick: eggs, quinoa, yoga.  Sure, they don't seem earth-shattering, but to say that I've been picky most of my life is an understatement.

3. Slowing Down - It's no secret to me or anyone that knows me well, I'm very performance and expectation driven.  Without realizing it, I can work myself to excess.  Unfortunately it's easy for other people to take that as a cue to push you harder.  Then I take it up a notch...vicious cycle.

So even after I returned from my international adventure, I forced myself to wait.  Pressure mounted almost immediately upon my return - "So, are you applying for jobs yet?  What do you want to do?"  I knew I wasn't ready, but it took a lot of effort to wait until I was.  Ultimately I felt a lot better about my decision, having held out until I was bored of relaxing.

4. Investing in Passion - My trip to Costa Rica was technically an investment.  An investment in my happiness and sanity.  I could've just quit my job, stayed in Chicago for that month, and saved a little bit.  But it wouldn't have had nearly the same effect.  My other great investment has been in photography.  Yes, the recent acquisition of my dSLR was a monetary investment.  But I've also invested a lot of time and effort.

As of today, I've spent 364 days finding photo ops to funnel into this digital channel of communication.  Beyond that, I've invested time into researching dSLR cameras and, now that I have one, reading tutorials, tips, and tricks.  Part of it could be that I'm stubborn and refused to not follow through.  But a larger, and more important, part was realizing that even on the days when I drag my feet and have no motivation - I'm ultimately happy with the result.  Even when I know that it's not my best photo, I know that I learned something merely through taking a bad photo.

---

If I wanted to drill down to specifics, I'm sure there are many other things that went right.  But for the sake of some brevity, I'll stick with the major themes that seemed obvious to me.

By the nature of my job duties, I sift through inordinate amounts of internet content.  Even if I don't stop to read full articles, every day is a veritable Cliff's Notes of news, informative articles and pop culture.

This prologue has a point.

Today I learned about the revival of the original Herbal Essences.  The kind with a scent that could somewhat rightfully claim the herbal title.  I was a loyal purchaser, turned detractor when they changed up the whole product line.  Thanks to dying market share, they're looking for people like me and hoping we'll come traipsing back to their shelves for a revival.

Well, they may win, sort of.  At least in the short term.  I will, in fact, purchase their product again - thanks in part to my prior affinity, as well as a marketable decision to make the products sulfate-free.  There will be no total buy-in until a test period has concluded, though.  Plus, they have to overcome the fact that I'm quite happy with my Aussie conditioner.

Word on the street also suggests that you'll see at least one new adaptation of those shower scene commercials around the Grammy awards.  (I may be seriously grasping at straws for blog topics now. Hair products...really? Oh well.)

Clearly most of the world is still on holiday.  I was the sole passenger on my bus for at least a half dozen stops.  The phone didn't ring once.  My inbox rarely required checking.  Half of me wanted to shut down the computer and find my way home, plop mindlessly on the couch.  But there was that list of necessary, yet tediously time-consuming, tasks.  The list that constantly gets de-prioritized.  So I prepped, sorted, organized, and any number of like tasks...accompanied by a box of chocolates, courtesy of the building.

Here's the good news: it's a two-day workweek, followed by a four-day weekend.  Somehow my week off for Christmas hardly registered on my rest and relaxation radar.  Somewhere along the way in life, it became difficult to sleep soundly outside of the comfort of my own abode.  I wonder if that would still be the case if my parents lived in my childhood home?

On an unrelated note, this nightly task is so quickly coming to a close.  As much as I appreciate that people continue to look/read, I'm ready to step back from the daily frequency and revamp my mission for 2013.

This year's Christmas gifts to my parental units were experiential.  At the end of the day, spending time together engaged in a jointly agreeable activity seemed more meaningful than any material item that I could buy them.  And my hypothesis was proven correct; I'm not sure that my parents have ever thanked me so effusively for their gifts.

While mom and I had pre-Christmas day theater date at the Nutcracker, dad and I had a post-Christmas day theater date at Lincoln.  I suppose it was a theater kind of year, although it's safe to say they were vastly different environments.

Despite knowing the plot line and how Lincoln would end, thanks to all of the U.S. history classes of my youth, I found myself quite enmeshed in the story and the details.  Part of my time was spent mulling over whether Abe was an introvert, because that's been a theme piquing my interest during the past few months.  Then, of course, I wondered about the amount of historical accuracy.  Given that it was a Spielberg film, I hoped it was fictionalized only as much as necessary to fill in holes (and obviously there's always a bit of dramatic flair).

After sifting through a few articles where Lincoln/Civil War-era historians weigh in, it seems as though the script stuck pretty close to reality along the way.  And the details that were fabricated or amped up were not of a variety that it made the story misleading.  On top of that, I do believe that Mr. Spielberg made a film that Americans may watch without bemoaning how boring history is.

There are no children in my immediate family anymore - all of my parents' offspring exceed the age of 24.  Yet my presents still inexplicably come from Santa.  Maybe one day I'll be a parent and still have the urge to carry on the tradition past its logical stopping point.  But seeing as I busted the Santa myth around the age of six (mom didn't think I'd make the logical leap when I saw her buy a present for my brother which he later opened from Santa), perhaps ability to play along has been skewed.

Extended family gatherings have morphed in the past year or two, with most of my cousins hitting the college age.  There's not really playing and high-octane activity anymore, but an easygoing circle of conversation and banter.  There are some clear differences as you span our ten-year age gap (I am now familiar with a pointless and apparently popular app called Snap Chat), but there's also a foundation for real conversation.

There is nothing that better describes the rhythm of my day than this plate of cookies. Eat, drink. Eat some more, have another drink. Not hungry, but I think I'll eat.

Admittedly there was a single hour this morning, before the holiday system got a hold on me, where I went to the gym. That effort was likely nullified by a single bite. My willpower remains meaningless for one more day; then I'll consider tending to my body's true nutritional needs again.

Luckily Santa doesn't come to my house anymore.  There wouldn't be any cookies left to feed him.  I think I saw some baby carrots in the fridge though; those are fair game.

The first day of Christmas is (nearly) over.  And it has already been an exhausting festival of family and food.  I have been eyeballing the clock for at least two hours, wondering when it's acceptable to fall asleep without the nasty side effect of being wide awake at 4:00am.

Remember how I said that leaving my routine made blogging a bit of a daily afterthought?  Well, ironically my eagerness and inspiration to photograph increase when environs change.  Even if I go somewhere that I've been plenty of times before, I don't spend every day sitting or walking by it.  So when I stepped into my parents house this afternoon, the plethora of Christmas decorations felt like novel stimuli.

Tonight, as I experienced two very disparate examples of talented and passionate people, I found myself thinking (not for the first time) that I wish I had such an outlet.  One of those performances was the Grand Rapids Ballet Company's Nutcracker.  A group of dancers spanning from children to adults, with an amazing ability to express beauty and strength through their body's movements.  And a passion great enough to make the demanding workload worthwhile.

The second act was my own brother.  A kid who always walked to the beat of his own drum (literally and figuratively, although thankfully he retired from drums and stuck with guitar).  He performs in front of rooms full of people, confident in his craft.  It's not only because he's good, really good, but because he has put himself so wholly into every note that leaves his instrument.  I can see that seven hours hunkered down with a guitar, practicing and writing music, isn't work.  It's a justifiable reason to forgo sleep.

I want to be inspired by something in that way.  To be so firmly grasped by an excitement and a need that even the work feels like part of the joy.  I think that trying to translate life, as filtered from my vantage put and pushed through a lens, is the closest I've come to that spark.  Even if my photos don't end up being meaningful to anyone but me, I'd still consider it a worthwhile venture.

(I suppose that technically I saw three performances tonight.  You're looking at a photo of the lower half of a folk/hipster ensemble worn by one third of a local bluegrass trio.)

My focus on daily blogging is already proving to be a challenge over the holidays, the final stretch of my commitment.  There are too many distractions and no routine.  It turns out that this blog is one of first things to fall off of my radar when routine is broken.

So what have I been doing with myself that's more important than writing about it?  Spending quality time with my best friend, her pups, and exercising our old lady affinity with crafting projects.

Despite the fact that the dogs are bed hogs, there's something comforting about having them want to be right next to you.  Waking up with a warm little dog body curled up in the crook of your legs makes it difficult to actually get out of bed though.  And it makes me want to do what I know I can't and shouldn't do - have a puppy.

If I didn't live in such urban housing, with a job/life that consistently keeps me away from home for twelve hours, and a penchant for long international jaunts...maybe I'd have less resistance.  Until the day comes where there are a few more items in the pro column than reside in the cons, I'll live vicariously through my role as dog 'aunt'.

Sometimes the West Coast and the Windy City intersect in the Great Lakes state.  Not in an actual shifting of tectonic plates kind of way, but in a meeting of old friends.  It's crazy and amazing to think that there are some people who walk into your life and, despite thousands of miles and multiple years of separation, your friendship remains unbreakable.

Those are the people that you want more of in your life.  Or at least I do.  Although I'd love for my amazing long-distance friends to permanently congregate in my city, I know that's not really how it works.  So instead I appreciate that our distance has allowed me to realize the strength of our bonds and how important it is to cherish them.

That's all.  Short and sweet tonight.

After a long, tense week there's one way to lighten the strain.  NSYNC Home for Christmas.  Belting it out as I make my way up three hours worth of highway, ironically, to go home for Christmas.

Did anyone else have a holiday concert when they were in elementary school (or perhaps you called it grade school)?  For some reason I thought of that today.  Perhaps it was the NSYNC tunes, despite the fact that none of those would've been featured in our musical program.

Each grade was assigned the same song year after year, and there was a perceived escalation of the songs' cool factor until you reached the pinnacle in fifth grade.  The only year I'm drawing a blank on is first grade, but something makes me want to say that was Jingle Bells.  Kindergarteners sang All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth, for obvious reasons.  And second graders were unenthusiastically stuck with Deck the Halls.

Things started to get fun in third grade; not only was there singing, but choreography as well.  You'd be amazed at how much fun Up on the Housetop can be when you're eight years old.  You may also be amazed at how long you can retain such choreography (twenty years and counting).  And in fourth grade, we were given permission to sing both version of Rudolph.  After singing it properly, we were allowed to amuse ourselves by throwing in nonsense ad libs - "Like George Washington!"

But the pinnacle, the culmination of an elementary school singing career, was the fifth grade performance of Jingle Bell Rock.  You got to wear sunglasses.  Indoors.  At night.  We prepared for the  moment in December when the classes would unite to rehearse...and then the bomb was dropped.  Fifth graders were being relegated to Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree.  Let the uprising begin.  I don't actual recall how we boycotted or argued or whined about this, but the mandate was reversed and we became the final class to sing Jingle Bell Rock.

Every year ended with the whole school singing Silent Night, with the lights dimmed, while the fifth graders lined the aisles with battery-powered candles.  Now that my life no longer contains an annual holiday concert, I've moved on to an annual trip down NSYNC holiday memory lane.

As a kid, I recall my parents pretty consistently tuning into the evening or prime time local news.  Do I remember the contents of the newscasts?  Not particularly.  What I do know is that, at the age of 28, I often have a difficult time working the local TV news into my agenda, because it tends to feel more depressing than it does informative.

From a psychology standpoint, I suppose I understand that their mission is to focus on the juicier and more sensational bits.  In general, that's what draws people in.  It just causes me to wonder if there happen to be good things occurring in our society.

For example, in the first five minutes of a local newscast tonight, here's what they told me about.

1. Bank robbers escaping from a downtown Chicago prison, with a focus on how the trail has gone cold in the search
2. The death of a NIU freshman at the hands of fraternity hazing
3. A Chicago fire that is now looking suspiciously like a murder

We went on to talk about less sensational topics for a minute, although still in a dramatic tone (CTA fare hikes, blizzard-like conditions), before moving back to Newtown and the NRA's response to all of the talk about gun control.  Revert to sports news: the Bears have another injury, Joaquin Noah is leaving his wild ways behind, so on and so forth.

Finally, thirty minutes in, for the final story of the newscast, we were graced with a blip about how a tweet from Ann Curry is causing random acts of kindness.  I'm not sure if we even glossed over the topic for 30 seconds before the newscast was over.

There's constant debates about how newsworthy, factual or accurate our news actually is - I'm not getting into that argument.  This isn't about agenda-setting and persuasion.  This is about how I'd love to see the lead story on my local news sway a little more positive and a little less homicide and arson.  At least once in a while.

I'm not sure who the target demographic is for Scrabble Cheez-Its, but they got me.  I don't generally buy these addictive crackers anymore, due to that very issue - I can't stop eating them.  Once upon a time though, in high school, it wasn't uncommon for a certain best friend and I to keep boxes of them in our cars.

Besides playing with my food, I managed to fit in beyond a full day of work, finish my handmade Christmas cards, and begin the process of holiday packing.  Since the Midwest is sitting in weather purgatory, and my apparel needs during the week will run the gamut from yoga pants to dresses, it feels like I'll be bringing my entire apartment home.  That's after an effort to pack minimalistically.  I loathe multiple elevator trips to the car; I consider it an indication that I'm bringing too much.

In the midst of all of this, I have still neglected to purchase Christmas gifts for my siblings.  I would be more concerned about this, except I didn't deliver my brother's gift last year until February.  Maybe I could just buy them Scrabble Cheez-Its and challenge them to a word game.  It's competitive and edible.

Betty Crocker, that is.  I'm not a frequent chef.  My toolset is limited, my skills are elementary.  But sometimes I even impress myself.  Please excuse me while I pat myself on the back for a snickerdoodle job well done.

When I was younger and my mom would try to urge me to help her in the kitchen, it just felt like a chore.  She viewed it as a learning experience, I considered it coercion.  Needless to say, I didn't learn much.  When I went to college, I was fully capable of fending for myself, but it took awhile to outgrow meals bought in bags from the freezer section.  Oh, and that strange instant mashed potatoes stage that I went through.

Over time I started to try my hand at cooking and baking.  Cakes, brownies, chili, a lot of Tex-Mex foods.  I realized that in the right mind frame, not only was I capable of kitchen creations, but I could actually enjoy the process.  It's akin to a science experiment, only you can eat it in the end.  Now I've graduated on to playing with various spices and adding my own ingredients on the fly.  Although I won't pretend to be a seasoned or innovative chef, I'm starting to feel a little comfortable in the kitchen.

Starting today, though, I'm working with a bachelor's fridge.  You know, the empty kind.  Besides snickerdoodles, you won't find much else besides eggs, bread and milk.  I'm heading home for a week of holiday time on Wednesday night, so there will be no more culinary adventures in my kitchen for awhile.  Maybe that's something to build into my 2013 life plan, once I free up some hours each week from photos and blogging.

I'm not sure that I'd call my weekend eventful thus far, but I've managed to keep myself occupied despite the cold rain.  I've been having an internal debate as to whether I have to keep resetting my wireless connection because my modem or my router is bugging out.  Power cycling your modem a half dozen times each day tends to take up a good amount of time.

I'd probably rather not admit the number of Lifetime Original holiday movies that I've watched.  Last night was a revival of several actors my age that had their main glory in the early 2000s.  Tonight I was surprised to find my childhood babysitter's little brother in the lead role.  You can't turn off a movie starring someone from your hometown.

Then there's that whole concept of Christmas shopping.  My list isn't extensive, and it's half done, but it seems that I'm stumped by the prospect of buying for my brothers.  Mom and Dad are already well-aware of the experiential gifts that I'll be treating them to.

I think gift buying would be easier if you just did it on any given day that you saw something fitting or inspired.  Forcing it to occur all in one fell swoop, on a particular day, is stressful.  Especially when I'm loathe to actually visit a bricks and mortar store and engage in the insanity.  If I hadn't procrastinated, I suppose online shopping would've been a spectacular alternative.

I'm simultaneously saddened, frightened, and appalled today.  For the life of me, I can't fathom how people's minds bring them so far to the brink that they take the lives of innocent people.  Innocent children.  I feel fortunate that, for me, Sandy Hook Elementary School is a news story and not a personal one.  Despite the fact that I can't imagine their pain, there are so many people that my heart aches for - and I'm sure that I'm not alone.  Both now and across the unforeseeable future.

When you look at the things that people do and how easy it is to get caught in their path, you almost feel as though you should be scared to leave home.  Movie theaters.  Hair salons.  Malls.  Schools.  Everyday places, places you wouldn't necessarily think to leave your guard up.  Train platforms.  Busy city streets.  Highways.  Places you use to get from point A to point B in everyday life.  Innocent people have been shot in all of these places in the past six months alone.

I don't want to go through life thinking that nowhere is safe, but it's difficult to keep suspicion from edging its way in.  There's no way to foretell and avoid senseless violence.  Standard vigilance and common sense will keep you out of harm's way in most cases, but there's truly no way to expect the unexpected.  So I'll keep living my life, perhaps wary but not fearful.  If I fear every decision, I'm not really living anymore.

It's crushing for those who lost family and friends today to be in the midst of the holiday season, a time that's meant to revolve around the people you love.  I'm sure their absence will leave an aching hole.  Ultimately it's a good reminder to the rest of us.  We don't know what next week, tomorrow, or even ten minutes from now will bring.  So appreciate the people in your life while you're here to do it.  Make sure they know you love them.  And stop putting off the enjoyment of life for things less worthwhile.

These thoughts and feelings aren't particularly unique; you've probably seen them pasted far and wide across social media and the internet in general.  But I felt the need to put them out in the universe.

I didn't quite push my way into the throngs of people drinking out of boots and noshing on bratwurst, but I edged along the outskirts of the Christkindlmarket.  It was only an extra block beyond my bus stop and it seemed like a good, albeit short, diversion before finding myself in the usual evening situation.  Couch and pajamas.

Despite the fact that I work with three (occasionally four) men, they are all married men...each with a child under two years old.  Therefore, things flow pretty seamlessly between frat house humor and stroller chat.  I suppose there was only a trace amount of surprise when it was suggested that we have a cookie exchange on Monday.

So I have a weekend mission.  It involves at least a trip to the grocery story and an hour or so in the kitchen.  Let's hope I can match the domestic skills of my married male compatriots and arrive on Monday with a worthy batch of snickerdoodles.

Let me be honest.  I completely forgot to post on Monday night.  And my exhaustion far surpassed the desire to keep my promise to myself last night.  Quite frankly, I'm not okay with either of those things.  Without going into the minutiae, life priorities and mindset have been in a bit of upheaval lately, coming to a head at the beginning of this week.

Today I found myself thinking about something that I said off the cuff, when confronted by a situation where I was asked to speak to essentially our entire U.S. office without prior notice.  As a new-ish employee, I was asked to introduce myself and also mention what inspires me.  I don't tend to blurt what's top of mind, but there wasn't time to think.

Instead of saying something that would seem a likely response (perhaps traveling), I said that I'm inspired by the broad array of people that I run across daily, because interacting with someone in any way can teach you something if you keep your eyes and mind open.  I'm not sure where it came from, I wondered for a few seconds how open I really keep my eyes and mind, and then I became absorbed in the tasks at hand.

This week has made me hyperaware of my own words.  There was a perspective change that needed to happen, but I wasn't exactly changing my own mind.  So I tried to spend more time focusing on the people around, what they were saying, and what they really meant.  And things started to turn a few degrees.

I suppose the general point of my vague musing is that despite what seems like randomness or meandering, the universe always seems to lead you through and to the places that you need.  It may be discouraging while you're waiting to get 'there' and trying to figure out why you're 'here'.  Sometimes you can look back later and understand the journey, but often you can't.  Regardless of all of that, I have to marvel at the way the chips fall sometimes.

I went all the way to Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport for the day.  All I brought back was a photo of supersize checkers at gate A6.

With the way that November disappeared, I already foresee the next week and a half whizzing past me.  So things got a little crafty this weekend.  You see, I somehow started this belief in my family that I'm creative.  Hallmark has been deemed an unacceptable substitute, Mom and Grandma wait in expectation of what I can come up with on my own.

It's not that I'm Scrooge, I just don't have quite as much holiday cheer as most people.  Working in retail kind of turned me off holiday music.  Unless it's *NSYNC - Home for Christmas; that stuff is pure magic.  And I'm also a sucker for the ultimate Mariah holiday song.  I won't even deign to name it, you're already hearing it in your head.

One of the lines that I draw is a Christmas tree.  First of all, logistically, this studio apartment just isn't made for it.  Then there's the hassle of getting it in and out of the building, cleaning up after it, decorating and undecorating.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  So I'll just enjoy the scent of other people's trees when I visit.

Instead I've figured out a purpose for the fireplace, which otherwise serves as a rather vestigial part of my apartment.  (Thanks to the baseboard heat that never stops pumping - in fact, my window is open right now.)  I've taken to calling this my Christmas vignette.  A little $6 holiday celebration of red lights, ornaments, vases and a candle.  Fifteen minutes a year to unpack, set up, take down, and put away annually.

I don't make Christmas cookies, but I love to eat them.  I can't remember the last time I watched a traditional holiday movie, but I've seen most of Lifetime and ABC Family's repertoires.  They're horrible and I love every second of it.  I own zero ugly holiday sweaters or Santa hats.  Everyone celebrates the holidays in their own way, this just happens to be my way.

I also really wanted to play with my camera's settings in a situation containing twinkle lights.  As you can tell from the two similar, yet somehow distinctly different, photos that I've included today.

It's amazing how exhausting continuous days of mental exertion can be.  Or simply shaving off three hours of sleep that you're accustomed to.  It seems to fine tune all of my senses.  Noises seem louder, sharper, more clamorous.  Smells are too pungent, all-encompassing.  Lights are too bright.  Yet, everything tastes good.

All I could think about in my mental and physical exhaustion was the delicious comfort of carbohydrate-laden foods.  My body was yearning for bread and pasta.  So I indulged.  I met head on with an act of winter hibernation survival.  And I relished every ounce of those carbs, feeling guilty for none of it.  Even topping off the night with a little Ghiradelli chocolate ice cream for good measure.

Now I'm happily full, sleepier than ever, and barely making it through this post with open eyes.  I will dig deep for the effort required to transfer from my cozy state on the couch, only because my bed has so much more real estate and better pillows.

It's way past my bedtime.  And I just got home.  This is unusual for me, even on a weekend night.  But in the name of professional responsibility, I have spent a night imbibing and mingling.  All while wearing heels and standing in them for what seemed like an endless number of hours.  Also, I'm not sure that I've ever seen so many pairs of black heels in one place at the same time.

What I've learned: everyone in media and media buying knows one another, and I do not.  But I managed to run into an old co-worker, so my social tally wasn't completely vacant.  And we hosted a few clients in our group, so I suppose they count as familiar faces.  Few people surpassed the 35-year-old mark; I'm even willing to bet that the average age was closer to 25 than 30.  You could sense a little of that "not far removed from college" essence as the night drew out.

As responsible adults, we returned to the office just before midnight to gather our laptops and belongings.  The security dudes seemed less than pleased to see us, disdainful of our ability to ascertain (without assistance or prior knowledge) that you must swipe AND push the handicap accessible button to enter the office after hours.

Thus, at 11:45 Mountain Standard Time, I leave you for the comfort of my pillow.  Thankful that my morning commute consists of staggering from my bed to whichever sitting place in my apartment I decide to reside in.

Sometimes I'm intensely dedicated to tasks and projects.  At other times I pretend they don't exist until I've run out of time.  The latter category is where I'd place shopping 99% of the time.  That encompasses clothing, shoes, home goods, groceries, and so forth.  Maybe it's the overstimulation of so many choices between stores and products.  It would make sense with my penchant for list making.

For weeks I've intended to buy skinny black pants to wear with my boots, particularly for a work event that I'm attending tomorrow.  I'm sure you can guess when I decided to go in pursuit of those pants.  If I had a magical, go-to store where I already knew that everything fit me, maybe it would be a different story.  Instead I did a tour of State Street, ended up at Macy's, and bought a pair of pants that I'm not entirely convinced that I like.  But there was no way that I was continuing the shopping charade.

I have no doubt that I am not the only person who suffers from an acute case of procrastination.  (Although, for many, shopping probably doesn't fall in that category.)  I can feel myself doing it when I receive certain emails, perhaps because I have to deliver a negative response or put effort into digging up an answer.  If I let my dishes pile in the sink for more than a day, they're likely to stay there for five.  They become more and more intimidating as time passes.

Books and blogs and supposed experts all have their tips to prevent procrastination, but do you really think there's anyone with a 100% success rate?  Someone who always works steadily through the things that are handed to them, without question?  If I wanted to play with semantics, I could just say that what I'm doing is prioritizing.

I often joke that I work in a frat house; it's just the four guys and me.  Conversations range from dumb humor to things that are less than appropriate to baby strollers (they all have young kids).  A debate over the hotness of Christina Hendricks ended with the tables being flipped, the guys demanding my celebrity wishlist.

Although there's no doubt that I frequently swoon over an array of actors, musicians and athletes, I scrambled to come up with a top five.  I couldn't get past Adam Levine in the moment.  I'm sure it's because I was so focused on my work.  So I was required to promise that I'd develop a top ten.  I've run through who's top of mind, but I'm sure there are some obvious ones that I'm forgetting.

This is not about to become an insightful post.  Some days I'm not up for deep-delving thoughts and analysis.  Like today.  Instead I bring you my top ten, as it stands tonight, in no particular order.  Not surprisingly, most of these guys have dark hair.  And I want you to understand how difficult it was to not include 90% of professional male tennis players as a line item in my list.

1. Adam Levine
2. Matt Bomer
3. Andrew Garfield
4. Carter Oosterhouse (if you watch HGTV, you should be familiar)
5. Ben Affleck
6. Andy Roddick
7. Darren Criss
8. Ryan Gosling
9. Ryan Reynolds
10. Milo Ventimiglia (see: Gilmore Girls)

Hmm, now I can't stop myself from thinking of more possibilities, but I'm not willing to alter my top ten.  Some usual suspects that don't make my list?  David Beckham, Brad Pitt (maybe back in the day, not now), Channing Tatum, Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio.  If you don't have your own top ten, please take a moment to daydream.  And feel free to share.

Despite my appreciation for the 70 degree December day, it's thrown me off-balance.  Pair that with the fact that it's Monday and clearly I was incapable of gaining equilibrium.  That means I have nothing thoughtful or provoking to share, no stories or adventures of substance.  Unless, of course, you're interested in the cilantro-garnished chorizo taco that I ate for lunch.  Highlight of the day.

Actually, I take that back.  Lunch was usurped on its pedestal by the later realization that a business trip next Tuesday will put me within 1,026 AAdvantage miles of the 30,000 needed for the lowest class "free" ticket to Ecuador.  And it just so happens that the timeframe in which I want to go is considered part of the off-peak season (also a necessary caveat to get the flight for 30,000 miles).

Thanks to some site where I was taking surveys for points during my unemployment this summer, I redeemed those points for 500 additional miles.  And a little internet digging tonight may have warranted me a promo code that doubles any miles earned through the end of the year.  That should be me at no more than 526 miles shy and hopefully the double miles pushes me beyond 30,000.

I'm not getting my hopes up that a flight will actually be available, because word on the street (internet) is that these lowest-class tickets are hard to get a grasp on.  Hopefully, since Ecuador isn't a huge destination for the average American, I'll have a fighting chance.

Did you know that only at the equator will roses grow with straight stems?  And Ecuador has found a way to make bank on that: American men and a Hallmark holiday.  That's right, apparently one third of the United States' Valentine's roses are exported from Ecuador.  The things you learn when reading Lonely Planet.

The book also informed me that quinoa has long been a diet staple in the country, particularly the northern highlands.  Looks like I won't have trouble find something to eat on the menus there.  Although, I'm still a little bit on the fence about braised goat and guinea pig.

Thanks to the sixty degree heatwave moving through the Midwest, today was a perfect opportunity to go have a little photo safari.  I didn't wander far from home; in fact, all of the places that I passed, I've been to thousands of times before.

What's interesting is that if I keep my eyes open, I still manage to find something that I didn't notice or didn't exist before.  My natural tendency to always be observing and processing seems to help me ferret out new, interesting or unique photo subjects and perspectives.

And despite the warmth, the environment is still dark and dreary - things that don't particularly match my desired aesthetic.  Yet if I put in a little more effort and look a bit closer, there always seems to be one redeeming shot.

With my tendency to use micro-level life situations as metaphors for life at large, I started thinking about how even in the dark moments of life there are points of light and inspiration to grab ahold of.  You just have to let yourself keep seeking, avoiding the urge to feel like the negative aspects are all-encompassing.

One of my goals after Costa Rica was to find ways to bring myself back to the pura vida state of mind, to not squander all of the clarity and peace that came out of my adventure.