Yikes!

Uh oh, I went over the quota on my hosting plan and now need to fix it, otherwise no one will be able to read new posts! Pardon me while I freak out find a solution…

[Twenty-Somewhere] Episode 7: The new kid in the cubes

[ Last week's episode: "Something to prove" ]

After dating all through college, Sophie and X broke up after graduation, for a variety of reasons. But over the summer they never really created a new — separate — routine. They still called each other to grab lunch, work on job applications, or watch a movie, just like always. They had been each other’s companions for so long that they didn’t really know how to be alone.

So true, so sad

I found this list of Top Ten Ways You Know You’re a Writer at the blog of Kasie West, fellow future published author. Sadly, all of them applied. These were the top 3 for me, though.

6- You are rejected more now than you ever were in high school.

5- Your daily mood is directly correlated to your daily word count.

3- You spend more time with your imaginary friends than with your real ones (and you’re perfectly fine with that).

Worst. Sleep. Ever.

Ugh. Woke up with a headache and Cousin It hair today. Didn’t sleep well at all. I blame the dog. He’s a monster in bed.

… Wait a minute, that came out wrong!

Foto Friday: Wedding mania

No, not my wedding, don’t worry!

But we are going to two weddings in one weekend this month. Then Andy’s sister’s wedding in summer of 2009, and another in summer of 2010. Then Alex’s wedding in 2011 (estimated). And who knows what’ll crop up between now and then!

I guess I’m just at that age where everyone and their moms (not literally at this point but I wouldn’t be surprised) are getting married. All I hear about anymore are flower arrangements, reception halls, appropriate dress, head counts, rings… It goes on and on.

(And showers! And babies!)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for everyone — like, really happy — but… it’s weird! When did we grow up? Am I the only one who still wants to run around a playground and watch Disney movies?

Anyway, this photo was taken in Florence (Italy not Kentucky) during the summer of 2006 when I was visiting Mengfei. Loooots of weddings then and there, too. We kind of made a game of stalking couples and taking their pictures. Luckily they were all so happy-in-love that they didn’t care. :)

To pack or to purge, that is the question

The other day I happened upon a New York Times op-ed in which writer Laura Miller talks about culling books. When I read it, I simultaneously thought: “How wonderful!” and “How horrible!”

Now you have to understand, I am a compulsive cleaner. I constantly pick up after Andy, who is too concerned with efficiency to bother with things like aiming at the laundry basket or scraping food off plates before putting them in the dishwasher. But me? I fantasize about throwing things away. I revel in dropping off bags at Goodwill, or cleaning out a box by dumping its contents in a trash can and then folding IT up and dropping it in the recycle bin. I burn with desire to get rid of about 75% of the things in my parents’ home — half of which is junk I accumulated growing up, the other half is stuff my dad can’t bear to let go of even though he hasn’t even SEEN it in two years or more. You know, “just in case” he needs it someday.

(He was born towards the end of the Great Depression, so maybe he has some excuse…)

Anyway, being “streamlined” and tidy is a compulsion for me. But it does NOT apply to books.

I love books. The feel, the smell, the pages that turn, and have words on them, and form stories! How could I throw them away? We even have doubles of a few titles on our bookshelf, since we took a couple of the same courses (with the awesome Scott Sandage).

So, since I am too weak-willed and nostalgic when it comes to literature, I must resign myself to the fact that I will probably always have some form of “junk” in my house. I can weed out old clothes that don’t fit, recycle papers I don’t need, even delete music files that I never listen to, but books… books are just too hard to part with.

What do your shelves and drawers look like? Are you a pack rat, or a purger? How do you decide what to keep and what to toss?

Dream big, work harder

Girl At Play has more great advice in her post “Living well is more than organic fruit.”

Please go out there and do. Live. Don’t be the same as yesterday. Don’t live vicariously online. Don’t use language that has no meaning or talk ideas you don’t really live. Don’t hide. Don’t copy others or live their ideas or life. Don’t fear doing your thing. Don’t fear doing. Instead of reading a decorating magazine, paint that room. Instead of thinking of baking, do up a cake. Run, walk, bike. Put that self help book down and pick up yourself.

The whole thing is really motivating, but I didn’t want to just straight up copy & paste it here. Instead I’m trying to live it. I’ve reinstated my No Internet Till Noon rule, adding in Daily To Do Lists, and am finding success so far. I am DOING instead of just blogging about wanting to do. Imagine that!

For any writers out there, I also highly recommend “Typing Without a Clue,” an op-ed by Timothy Egan. (Thanks, Mary, for sending it to me!)

Most of the writers I know work every day, in obscurity and close to poverty, trying to say one thing well and true. Day in, day out, they labor to find their voice, to learn their trade, to understand nuance and pace. And then, facing a sea of rejections, they hear about something like Barbara Bush’s dog getting a book deal.

FOR REALZ. Anyway, sometimes it’s just nice to hear from someone on our side. Especially when that someone is funny.

Confessions of a desperate idiot

I’m in trouble. And an idiot.

On his business trip to Ireland last month, Andy bought me a beautiful but simple necklace, the first piece of jewelry he’s ever given me, as well as a lovely shepherd’s hook bookmark with a tiny (I’m talking TINY) four-leaf clover in the charm. I instantly loved both.

But this was not the first time that I’d had a shepherd’s hook bookmark. Once long ago, I found one that featured a gorgeous jeweled rose at the end of the hook, which hung over the spine of a book like a flower on a vine. I bought three of the same kind, one for me and each of my two best friends, Alex and Amanda. I felt like this created a special bond between the three of us — even though the two of them never really played together unless it was at my birthday party.

Well, I took said Precious Bookmark of Sisterhood to school one day. As I was waiting for my notoriously late mom to pick me up after class, I decided to read to pass the time. I opened my book, delicately removed the bookmark, and gently laid it on the stone bench beside me. Anyone who has seen me read — on planes, in class, in the middle of a bar while people are heckling a football team on screen — knows that I can completely disappear into a book. Heck, I’m oblivious even when I’m not reading! Needless to say, that was the last I ever saw of that bookmark.

I cried the whole night. My mom told me to stop being stupid, it was just a $7 bookmark after all. (Although, seriously? She let me spend $21 on bookmarks?!) But I insisted that I had broken the eternal bond of friendship between me and Alex and Amanda, and my life was ruined.

Note: Alex and I are still close as ever, and Amanda and I are meeting up when I go home for the holidays in a couple weeks. Yes, clearly I broke the eternal bond of friendship by losing the bookmark.

Fast forward back to today. Or rather, Sunday. When I was reading in the middle of a bar while people were heckling a football team on the screen in front of me. (Oh, you thought I was kidding?) Well, that was the last I saw of the bookmark Andy brought me from Ireland.

:’(

The next day I called the bar no less than five times, to no avail. I figured they probably weren’t going to check the parking lot, so today I decided to drive down myself and search. I wanted Andy to know how important this was to me, that I valued his gifts, that I wasn’t a careless idiot!

About five minutes into the drive I realized Andy would probably prefer that I not endanger myself and our dog by speeding through the pouring rain. Oops.

But I was too stupid stubborn desperate to give up and turn around. So while Riley whined in the back seat — have I mentioned he doesn’t like car rides? — I plowed ahead. Again to no avail. After an hour of driving, ten minutes of bugging the bar employees, and fifteen minutes of searching the parking lot in the rain, still no bookmark.

Edit: Also, do you know how moronic you feel telling people you’re desperately searching for a bookmark?? Not a wallet, or a ring, or kid, but a bookmark.

Moral of the story? I suck. And should never get a shepherd’s hook bookmark again. Or least never use it outside the safety of my home.

Got any stories of your own idiocy to cheer me up?

[Twenty-Somewhere] Episode 6: Something to prove

[ Last week's episode: "Frustration in Aisle Three" ]

When you’re in your twenties, life is all about proving yourself. At your job, in your relationship, to your family. You’re transitioning out of school, in many cases out of the home you grew up in. Your shelter is gone. You may or may not still have a safety net, but you want to feel independent. You want to “make it on your own.”

Random Question #9920b

Can you support your friends/loved ones without supporting their specific views or actions?