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.

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.

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.

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.

You couldn't possibly have expected anything other than gratuitous photos of Thanksgiving food.  It was all delicious and I happily ate too much of it.  I made sure to be thankful that I was able to eat too much, while watching the Detroit Lions lose on Thanksgiving.  Again.

And per usual at my extended family gatherings, I found myself wondering if other people's families are as oddly raucous.  It's difficult to explain the dynamic; you sort of have to experience it.  All I know is that I would never want to be a stranger walking into it for the first time.  Every time someone introduces a new boyfriend or girlfriend into the mix, I always keep an eye on them, wondering if they'll try to sidle out the back door.

The first word that comes to mind is loud.  Everyone trying to talk at once.  Some people raising the volume of their voice to be heard, others increasing the shrillness in their tone.  And, unfortunately, as the day wears on, those two tactics tend to blend into one: loud and shrill.  There's also bound to be pounding, laughing, random bursts of off-key singing.

Conversations blend along a continuum from normal (sports, school, jobs) to long-standing family inside jokes to thinly-veiled inappropriate jibes.  As everyone in my generation gets older, the veil is pretty close to fully removed and we regularly hear our parents throw around sexually-tinged jokes.

Sometimes I hit a wall, the noise and activity becomes overwhelming.  My head starts to pound and I start to shut down, dreaming of walking quietly through an empty forest.  Yet, in the back of my head I know that I couldn't possibly imagine having a man in my life who couldn't handle these chaotic family gatherings.  It's sort of a deal-breaker.  So I guess I must kind of like my crazy family.

Forewarning, this post is likely to wander into stream of consciousness.  Blame it on an overwrought brain or the verge of of sickness.  I'm positive that my penchant for soup over the past three days stems from the cold that's attempting to wage war with my immune system.  That scratch in the throat, the pressure in the sinuses, that's what has me grasping at the hot, brothy goodness.  And that's how I ended up with a custom order (with assistance from my gracious cashier) at Corner Bakery today.  Nothing beats tomato soup and grilled cheese when you're feeling wintry.

Besides soup, there is one other thing that I thought about today.  Trusting my gut, even when it's inconvenient.  My instincts have a habit of being correct.  At the rate that I think and analyze things, I would expect that I've built up a deep well of reference points for my instinct.  Despite knowing this, I have a tendency to ignore or push them off sometimes.

Tonight I fought through the inconvenience, engaged in what I needed to do even though I wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of my couch, and it didn't take much effort to realize that I chose correctly.  In addition to averting a bad situation, I also quelled my own anxiety in wondering if I made the right decision.

So, from grilled cheese and tomato soup to gut feelings and decision making, that's how I've defined my Monday.  Is it Thursday yet?  I'm dreaming of Thanksgiving.

Yes, I really did sort my packet of fun size M&Ms by color, then quantity, and flipped every other row with the branding facing down.  As a disclaimer, I would like to note that although I can be pretty anal retentive, this particular act was more about procrastination.

It's been one of those weeks where I can't remember the last time that I saw the sun.  Every morning has been an exercise in hitting the snooze button five times.  It's dark outside when I wake up, as far as I know it's gray outside all day, then I leave work and it's darkness again.  Ah, yes, tis the season for seasonal mood disorder.  Or seasonal affective disorder, if you prefer.  I think they just started calling it that to have an ironic acronym: SAD.

I've never had much love for November.  If it wasn't for Thanksgiving, I'd be willing to wipe it off the calendar completely.  There's something about the drab, gloomy, shortening days that makes me say, "No thank you".  I could even make do with the cold if I could just get some more sunshine and daylight hours.

People like to tell me that I should move south or to San Diego if I hate winter.  The problem with that is how much I love spring, summer and autumn in the Midwest (and I don't hate winter, per se).  Essentially, I just need to become a snowbird at a premature age.  November to March, you could find me in Costa Rica.  Then I'd head back just in time to see nature's spring awakening.  Sounds great in theory.

In the meantime, I'll work on different angles to counteract the sunlessness of my days.  One of the benefits of sunlight that you lose in winter is a higher level of serotonin.  Luckily regular workouts are known to increase serotonin, so I'm working on making it happen.  So far I've successfully made it to three yoga classes, in hopes of not only improving the condition of my spine, but keeping a mental balance.  Namaste.

Sometimes it seems unfortunate that I'm not really into sushi; it's so aesthetically pleasing.  I want to like something that pretty, but I just haven't acquired a taste for it.  Thus, the order of teriyaki-smothered land animals on the far right of the frame.

So this happens more often than not these days, but I find myself laughing at how content I am with many aspects of being old and uneventful.  And it's amusing the things that satisfy or excite me.  It's a Friday night, I'm home by 10:00pm, and I feel like I had a robust social calendar because I hit up two different venues and drank two glasses of red wine (with a side of tater tots, because I'm classy).

I give myself another half hour, to finish this blog post and pack a bag for tomorrow's trip to Wisconsin, then I'm going to be out cold.  There's just something so inviting about my bed on a Friday night.

On top of that, I opened my mailbox on my way into the building and felt noticeably excited that my health insurance card had finally arrived.  I've noticed that these days my parents and their friends have a primary conversational focus of health, medications, aches and pains, and other such topics.  I'm starting to see how that trend begins.  Hopefully I'm still a ways off from being that old.

There are certain things about myself that I know to be true.

1) I don't belong in River North after 8:00pm.  It's so far from my scene that it might as well be a different galaxy.

2) I don't have the innate skill set needed to work a room, carry on more than five minutes of meaningless small talk, or schmooze in any way.

3) All of the above are exhausting enterprises that make me long for my couch.

On the flip side, as I've gotten older, I have grown to accept that it's unlikely for me to always avoid things that make me uncomfortable or anxious.  Instead of giving myself a hard time for not being a natural, or comparing myself to someone who is, I try to walk away remembering some positive highlights.

In regards to the River North scene, it may not be for me, but it's nice to force myself out of the comfortable yoga pants and ponytail bubble - if only to recall that there are other modes of living going on out there and maybe I'll happen upon something that will expand my horizons.

And instead of berating myself for awkward approaches and segues at this event, I've decided to walk away with pride in the fact that I impressed a couple people with my honesty, independent moxie, and a firm handshake.  Yeah, so maybe I only met 20% of the people in the room and carried on conversation with a quarter of them.  Maybe it's baby steps and I'll eventually grow bolder.  Or maybe that's just my interaction level.  Either way, I walked away calling it an outside the comfort zone victory.

This is a story about apple pie, sort of.  It's more of a story about a story about apple pie, you know the one.  Boy meets pie, dad walks in on boy.

Once upon a time, I was in high school and planning to rent that movie and watch it at home during a mellow girls' night.  My mom has never been shy and decided that she was going to join us, no matter how much I tried to convince her that it wasn't her type of movie.

Let me set the stage a few years further back, for perspective's sake.  In eighth grade, I went to see Titanic with a friend and our moms.  My mom insisted on covering my eyes, at the age of fourteen, when Kate Winslet was posing nude for the portrait, as well as when Kate and Leo steamed up the stagecoach windows.  I couldn't quite understand why she was afraid to let me see breasts, since I had my own.

Fast forward a few years to a scene where I want to laugh at raunchy comedy and the mom who censored me from seeing portions of Titanic wants to join me.  It was incredibly awkward and rather uncomfortable.  But I lived to tell the tale.  And I made sure to watch all subsequent American Pie movies in a locale where parental presence would be unlikely.

When I saw this homemade apple pie on her counter though, I couldn't help but think about the day when I watched Jason Biggs make love to a pie on screen while feeling the awkward tension of my mom in the room.

Instead of going straight to my hotel room after work, I have a tendency to wander.  Today I made my way over to Chelsea Market, which seems to be popular among both the tourist and resident types.  I'm not a huge foodie, but from what I could gather this place is chock full of gourmet and specialty food stands and marketplaces.  I snagged a brownie for a $1.50 and called it a day.

My main interest, per usual, was taking in my surroundings and finding photo ops.  Since the market is housed in a renovated warehouse space, there was definitely a uniquely modern and historic mix of styles.  Ah, yes, contrast.

Many thanks to Yelp for existing and allowing me to find small, hole-in-the-wall joints to buy a NY cheddar grilled cheese and avocado sandwich.  And if my brownie and grilled cheese weren't enough, my hotel bar was offering $4 glasses of pinot noir for happy hour.


So despite being in NYC, where prices can be notoriously high, I managed to piece together a delightful concoction of comfort foods (and drink) for $13.50.  Not too shabby.


Plans are already under way for my Saturday wander.  I'm thinking it will be an Uptown kind of day, since I've really only ever spent time in Midtown or Downtown.

P.S. Despite my NYC love affair, I'm feeling homesick for Chicago.  I miss my friends.  And making my own dinner at home.  And my pillow, I can't wait to get back to my pillow.

 Since my parents moved hours away from where I spent my childhood and adolescence, I don't come to my hometown that often.  When I do, there's a strange sensation of feeling far removed and like I never left at all.

When I drive down what has always been the main hub of town, things couldn't look more unfamiliar.  What once was a truck stop is now a Meijer.  Where there used to be empty land, they've packed in a Wal-Mart.  Stores and restaurants with corporate governance now reside where local businesses or nothing at all used to stand.

But when I started winding down the dirt roads, connecting one familiar stomping ground to another, the comfort returns.  When I'm noshing on the best donuts known to man, they taste as wonderful as I remember them when I was five years old.  There's a well-worn ease in sitting around the living room with three of the people that have known you best, despite the time and distance that makes these occasions rare.

As much as I've never been one to think longingly back to high school days, I walked away from this wedding reception with a far less sour taste for that era than I have been carrying around for ten years. I forget what it's like to be around an entire group of people that know each others' pasts, spending nearly every day in the same general surroundings and events.  I suppose I enjoyed waxing nostalgic a little bit.

There's still no chance that I want to move back to the same realm where I grew up.  But an occasional reminder of where I came from and the building blocks of my adolescence proved to be welcomed.

In what could possibly be the quickest hiring process ever, I came out with the long end of the stick.


August 17: Initial phone conversation
August 20: Lunch in Chicago
August 27: Interviews in New York
August 28: Offer extended
September 4: Start date


Translation: I'm hired!  This is one of the many life outcomes that could've only been possible because of the lessons I've been accruing the past eight months.

Seriously, does it get more efficient and decisive?  Just my style.  No one likes waiting around and wondering "what if?".  I treated myself to overpriced fro-yo to celebrate.

In addition to that uplifting good news, I spent the evening in a small business discussion group.  There are always ideas and side projects swimming around in my head, and I thought it may be interesting or inspiring to listen to other people's.

Great experience, hands down.  Honestly, I didn't expect to throw any of my ideas into the ring, mainly because none of them are particularly formed.  There was a moment where the discussion leader singled me out, and I could've passed, but I decided to just blurt out my nebulous vision for the 'break it down' blog.

The enthusiasm and ideas that started bouncing around amazed me.  And I managed to walk away with a re-imagined, and more viable, version of my initial brainchild.  Maybe that's why I couldn't summon the motivation to work on it before; it already felt like a dead end.  So, let's see if this concept makeover reinvigorates my drive.

Sure, I saw plenty of beautiful scenery in Grand Haven today.  White beaches, Lake Michigan, the pier and lighthouse.  This all pales in comparison to one thing.  The highlight of my day can be pinpointed to about 40 square feet.  Pronto Pups.  I can only grace you with a visual representation and written ode, but that's not nearly representative of the goodness.  After nearly a year of impatience, the cholesterol bomb made its way back into my life.  If I ever happen to end up with a "last meal" request in this life, a Pronto Pup is required.  No question.

The lake was actually a perfect respite from the 100 degree temperatures.  Despite racking up my first sunburn of the year, I'm ready for day two tomorrow.  As much as I'm tempted, I'll keep my cholesterol craving in check though.

You know how there's that sort of unwritten Law of Target?  As in, you drop by Target to run in and grab laundry detergent, then you stumble out $100 poorer?  Somehow I tend to skirt that law pretty well.  My weakness, though,  is Meijer's grocery section.

After three years of doing my daily/weekly grocery shopping in Chicago-sized stores, I nearly go weak in the knees when those automatic doors open and I behold the masses of spacious Meijer aisles.  Have you seen how long the cereal aisle is?  I can't help myself from putting one thing in my cart because I can never find it in Chicago, then another thing in my cart because I never see a price that low.  Then I reach the produce section; prices are a non-entity.  Needless to say, my fridge looks like a fruit market right now.

Urban grocery shopping, you will never win me over.  Sorry.  My heart and stomach belong to Meijer.

A great thing about being available during the daytime hours throughout the week is grocery shopping.  Have you ever seen Trader Joe's on a Sunday or directly after work hours?  I think I'd rather go to bed hungry than try to navigate that mess.  This morning my cupboard and refrigerator shelves announced that grocery shopping was imminent, but unfortunately so was the rain.  To make life easier, I took advantage of the Trader Joe's parking garage for the first time.  In the elevator lobby, they kindly reminded me that I was located on the "Orange Chicken" level.

I need the temperatures to rise and the rainy, gray skies to move out; this blog could use more interesting content than groceries and parking garages.  Being sequestered indoors isn't working for me.

You know what makes everything better?  Cookies.  You know what makes cookies better?  When you can make 24 of them for $0.99.  What do I care if they're emblazoned with slightly distorted pink bunnies a week after Easter?  I should neither be proud or forthright about this, but I'm pretty sure there are only about ten of those little babies left.  Out of two dozen.  And I just made them at 5:30pm.  Oh well.

In other good news, I finished my third paying gig in a five day period.  So far I don't have any additional projects on the horizon that will contribute to my bank account, but that will give me a few days to dig my heels into my break.it.down. blog.  I'm all over the map lately, doing something different every day.  So far, it's kind of working for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I test drove a free yoga class at this experimental community events/financial advising/cafe hybrid that State Farm created in Chicago.  Obviously that landed me on their email distribution list.  It turns out that this was in my favor.  Yesterday I received an email with an irresistible offer: free coffee and crepe (nutella!).  Sold.

As it turns out, it's nice to get out of my apartment for a few hours.  You know, mingle with the masses.  Truthfully, that's been one of the things on my mind during this quest for employment enlightenment.  As much as I want my lifestyle to be fluid, would I go crazy playing the "work from home" game?  Sure, cubicle dwelling can feel confined, but there's something to be said about having other people around to liven up your days.

Oh, and I really liked the tables there - that nice, natural woodgrain.  I wish I could bring one of them home.