Happy Birthday to Me

I turned 26 today, which really isn't in and of itself much of an event but it's what's going on in my life and clearly you don't have much better going on or you wouldn't be reading this so sit back and listen.. or read.. or, whatever.

I'll be honest, sometimes I question my choices. I wonder if maybe there's a better version of me living in some alternate universe. I could've gone to a better school, chosen a better career, given more to my community yada yada yada. And for some reason, my birthday always seems to be the occasion I choose for this masochistic vision into another world. Which inevitably leads me to get really angry at alternate universe Lea. She went to Columbia. She works at the consulate in Barcelona. She's a published a novelist. She competes in triathlons. She speaks three languages and builds irrigation systems in third world countries I can't find on a map. God, I hate her. And then today, on the inauguration of my 26th year on this planet I call home, it hit me. If there's alternate universe hate-her-cause-she's-too-damn-perfect Lea, than the laws of physics can only insist there is also underachieving-going nowhere-lifetime makes movies where she's the bad-guy Lea. What goes up must come down right? And THEN let me tell you, life just got a hell of a lot better. Suddenly I'm walking on air. You see, alternate-alternate universe Lea, we-he-hell. SHE thinks twinkies for breakfast are fabooo. College is for suckers, and that 4 pack-a-day habit is nothing to worry about. Who needs two lungs anyway, right? She doesn't vote, she never exercises and she pronounces library "libary".

I'm not saying somewhere in the middle is good enough for me, but I do think the gift of perspective is an exceptional present to give myself this year. Happy Birthday to me!

No I Didn't Join a Commune and Fall Off the Grid

There's been a little moaning and groaning about my lack of postings lately. Apparently a few of you actually give a rat's patootie about what I've been up to out here. (I'll admit, I'm flattered by both of you) So, guess what I did this last month. Get ready for it, here it comes, it's a big deal. I bought a couch. No seriously, about the only momentous thing I've done in the last month was buy a couch. What do you want from me people? I'm not made of adventure and sparkle ok? How many times can I blog about how sunny and wonderful and great California is? I'm void of ranting, this place has nothing to complain about. That's all I got. We're down to blogging about avocados and organic cotton. Ok Lea, breathe, you can do this. Block out the sunshine and channel your inner-bitter. Alright, here we go. Today, I'll start with things I already miss about the East Coast: Autumn. I miss the leaves shuffling and the smell of the air and the brisk breezes. I miss pumpkin carving with friends (the prospect of carving via skype was suggested but ultimately vetoed at the idea of pumpkin guts all over my brand new mac). I miss being able to hail a cab, having a guaranteed good time place to go on a Thursday night and the Friday morning camaraderie with my fellow Thursday-is-the-new-Friday philosophers. I miss pizza... a lot. I miss bosses that don't say "dude". I miss booking the Cape Air puddle jumper that cost forty nine bucks to fly home for Christmas. And of course I miss all the people. Making new friends is hard work, mostly because good friends are hard to find. But, I'm working on it, I'm getting there.

The apartment is almost completely furnished. A few more deep dips into my checking account and it will really look like a grown-up lives there. There is no grown-up, it's just me, but if you install a wine rack and actually try to make your furniture match, people will think you're an adult. It's an easy enough scam to pull off. I'll post pics as soon as I finish decorating (and by decorating I mean buying a coffee table and vacuuming the carpet)

Settling In

There's a single suitcase sitting in my living room. It's maybe one quarter full. I pass it every day thinking "I should really take care of that"... and then I don't... Ok you know what, I was gonna try to incorporate this into a more eloquent story line, but it's late and I'm lazy. I'll make it easy on everyone. The suitcase is me. It's an analogy... about how I'm mostly settled into this new life but a small part of me is still missing everything back east blah blah well phrased and eloquently spoken blah. I'll work from that angle some other time. I don't have it in me right now. Let me just give you a run down of what's going on.

I've managed to find Trader Joe's, a Peet's Coffee, Costco, and an awesome hairstylist, so I've got the essentials in life, but ask me how to get to gas station and I'll have to pull out the GPS (which we named "Jeeps" during the drive cross country, which is just GPS pronounced phonetically and subsidized with vowels, but I like it, and it makes me think of Jeeves, which almost makes me think someone else is driving around my base-model, purchased-used hatchback, and that makes me feel good).

The Purge of 2010 left Goodwill with literal carloads of my old crap. The great migration out of Boston left my parents with half the crap that didn't get lost in the purge, leaving only a carload of possessions to haul west. Logic, then, may only deduce that the proper course of action, after unloading what I already had, was to go out and get all new crap. Ten days and miles worth of receipts later, the new digs look almost livable.

"Bloggle" is the coolest craziest place on earth. It's like college only the food is much much better and they pay you to be there. There will be time to elaborate later but I should at least say that I've spent the last two weeks in shock, awe and utter bewilderment that I managed to land such a sweet gig before even reaching California. I'm so grateful to have employment especially with this country's current economic climate. I shudder to think what the last few days would have been like had I been wading in the uncertainty of unemployment.

The never-ending sunshine, marathon shopping and sweet, sweet kick-ass job have mostly kept me preoccupied but in all sincerity I hope all of you back east know I miss you and I can't wait until the next time we're on the same coast, whichever one that may be.

First Days

I used to love first day of school. Of course it was sad to see summer end but if truth be told it was getting a bit boring. By Labor Day the weather started to turn, Nickelodeon programming went back to the preschool shows and my brothers were wearing thin on my nerves. The night before I'd line up my school supplies and lay out that first day outfit. Counting the number 2 pencils and 3 ring binders I reveled in the newness awaiting. I can still feel the weight of one hundred sheets of wide-ruled loose-leaf paper wrapped tight in shiny plastic. A fresh new start in a brand new classroom. A new desk. A new teacher. A new me. Of course the first day came and went and it was mostly the same as the year before but the possibilities were there, and seemingly endless.

Tomorrow starts the new job at "Bloggle" (yep, we're still calling it that). I'm excited about all the perks and the cool gadgets. The health insurance and the paycheck will be welcome as well. But, more than anything I'm looking forward to a fresh start and new possibilities.

Are We There Yet?

So, in the last month I have gone through: 4 planes, 2 trains, 3 automobiles, 6 time zones, 5 houses, 6 hotel rooms, 3500 miles (driven) and countless pit stops. And still, I am not at my final destination though I'm hoping to sign a lease in the next few days. I'm exhausted. I'm sick of living out of a suitcase, and I am so glad I put myself through the whirlwind. Really excited to start the new J-O-B next week (as is my bank account) and I can't wait to settle back into a reliable routine.

PS, I'll be back tracking and blogging about the 2 weeks in Europe and the trio cross-country just as soon as I unpack and find the chord to upload photos from my camera. Words won't do the pictures justice!

Quick Like a Band-Aid

I have vivid memories of myself as a child pulling slowly at the sticky mess formerly known as a Band-Aid, my mother assuring me it was time for it to come off. And I remember how much it hurt with each tug pulling just one teeny bit at a time. "Just pull it fast. It'll hurt less". First one brother and then the other insisting that quick was better, but my mind couldn't fathom how all those little pulls together could hurt less than one at a time. Of course eventually I learned. The mind doesn't have time to process each sting, nor anticipate the next. So has it been with the move west. It took over a month to say goodbye to a job, a city, a neighborhood, an apartment, colleagues, friends, and family. And just like the Band-Aid, each goodbye has stung exponentially more knowing there were so many behind it and so many more ahead. Today was the last pull as I said goodbye to one of my nearest and dearest friends who was kind enough to make the drive west with me. And while it was a difficult farewell, it feels good to know that that hardest part is finally over. And if I ever move again, I'll say my goodbyes quick, just like a Band-Aid.

An American in Paris

I've been entirely too busy falling in love with Paris to devote any time to a computer but Sunday is a day of rest and Saturday was very much a day of play so some down time was much needed. This morning I ventured out for a cup of coffee and something to eat. Bad idea on a Sunday morning in Paris. I wandered past several closed cafes before conceding to be the American and grab a Starbucks (Judging me right now? Ya? Okay let's see what happens when it's you rolling out of an all night bender in desperate need of caffeine m'kay?). Please be advised, Starbucks isn't Starbucks in France. It's some type of substandard swill the French government engineered to assure Parisians french coffee is the best. It's a disgrace to the American cup of Joe and I'm writing to the embassy to have it removed immediately, if not sooner. (For the record, I ordered a black coffee, not one of those sad sugar laden things they call a latte. And yes, I love the espresso here but sometimes you just need a whole cup of caffeine not just a shot).

I should have quit while I was behind but I guess I'm just not that smart. I finally found a boulangerie that was open on a Sunday and hopped in for what I thought was going to be a tasty little lunch. I have to say that thus far I have only occasionally encountered the stereotypical french attitude towards foreigners but this particular bakery had it in spades. After being ignored, snapped at, passed by and snubbed, I walked out the door with what I thought would be a french bakery version of a pizza. No, I was not expecting American pizza. No, I was not expecting Italian pizza. What was I expecting? Some tasty bread with some interesting cheese. What did I get? A tastless carbohydrate dish with tomato soup/sauce and a non-descript cheese substance that I couldn't identify and didn't enjoy.

In the last few days I've had some of the best meals of my life. The french know how to do many things very very well, possibly better than any other culture and that makes it hard to remember that not every gastronomical experience will be a good one. When I go back to the states I'll spend weeks raving about the culinary experiences I've had, but the first thing I'm going to get is a giant cup of coffee, closely followed by a piece of pizza pie.

London Days 2, 3 and 4

Mkay, so I've bee entirely too busy to sit down at a computer and type out all the things I've been up to but I finally have a sec so here's a top 10 of things I've learned whilst visiting London:

1. You can slap a Mercedes symbol on just about any crappy looking car.

2. Fish and Chips, big let down

3. I was stupid enough to actually believe there was a magical way to fry fish that tasted better than what it sounds like

4. If it's called "Carnival" it's code for scantily clad people wasted before noon. No Ferris wheels involved.

5. As clothing goes, if it's not slutty or sequined I can't afford it.

6. The art of espresso and foam is alive and well.

7. A good friend is one who lives in a very cool area with a very high cost of living and is also willing to put you up for a week.

8. You must never assume that pudding is pudding. It's not always pudding.

9. Same goes for bacon.

10. You're never too old to find puppets amusing (go see Avenue Q, absolutely hilarious)

London Day 1

Firstly, I gotta say I love British airlines. On a six hour flight there were three beverage services (including free booze), a three course dinner, muffins for breakfast and "sweets" just before landing. Also, the stewardesses have really kept themselves up. Never have I seen more Bump-It and Bun combos in my life.

After much tribulation and an exceptionally rude customs employee I headed back to Shae's flat, entourage in tow (Shae, Val and Lindsay). Val and Lindsay were off to Paris today. I'll catch up with them next week. Shae and I hit up a bike shop slash cafe for lunch followed by a 3 hour nap, a pub visit and some delicious kebab (which here is in fact not meat on a stick but rather meat in a pita with various delicious things on top... my new favorite post-pub food) heading to bed relatively early in the hopes of catching up to London time by morning.

Cheers!

Leaving On a Jet Plane

All my bags are packed. I'm ready to gooooo!!!!! But I do know when I'll be back... September 9th. The time has come for me to actually take one of those vacation thingys people are always blabbing about. And not the kind where I sleep on my brother's couch and chase the munchkins around. They're cute but there's always some type of liquid coming out of them, they can't feed themselves and I can't take them with me to the bar... I mean I could... but I feel like people might judge. Anyway, so I'm crossing the big blue ocean and checking out the scene across the pond. As I've never been (gasp, judge the uncultured girl) it will be a brand spanking new experience. I plan on drinking too much, eating too much, and spending entirely too much money on a handbag so that for the rest of my life when someone asks me wherever did I get that fabulous purse I can casually reply "oh at this cute little shop dans Paris. (Yes I'll be one of those people.) I'll try to take some time to give the bloggity blog some love and update with photos. Otherwise stay tuned for a boatload of posts in 2 weeks when I get back. Au revoir for now!

Left a Good Job in the City

One of the unpleasant side effects of ditching the J-O-B in search of a career is that you have to leave behind some really great people. (It also means not having health insurance, a paycheck or a place to steal pens from, but those are minor details). On Friday I said farewell to my three year employment at a snazzy investment firm downtown. It was sad. It was draining. It was the right thing to do. And I know that because, while I had a hard time saying goodbye to the friends I'd made, I had no trouble letting go of the desk. I gladly bequeathed my duties to New Girl and bid adieu to the responsibilities formerly known as mine. I can't remember the last time something felt so right. Still, it’s scary to dismiss the security of established employment. The wager of searching for something more is not without its risks.

A more prudent girl would have stayed with the sure thing gig, watched her 401k grow, found a guy and a diamond ring and a mortgage and a couple of kids. And maybe that prude will be me someday, but right now I’m more afraid of settling for the status quo than I am of the unknown. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And I’m not going to lose even one minute of sleep worrying about the way things might have been.

Fantastic Fashion Fads and Where I Fit In

… or don’t as the case may be

Earlier this week a friend and colleague of mine was sporting a fabulous jacket around the office. So fabulous, in fact that I struggled for an adjective. In an expectatious stance she waited as I fumbled for a descriptor:


Me: “That jacket is so…”
Her *Expectatious stance*
Me: “Umm… Colonial?”
Her: *bursts into laughter*” Gee thanks Lea.”


Here’s the deal, I’m not what you would consider fashion savvy. Ok, that’s being too nice. My wardrobe is somewhere below mid-western soccer mom but just slightly above bag lady… most of the time. I honestly didn’t understand the need for more than one coat until I moved to this city. (The style back home was called “KEEPS ME WARM”. Also known as “I can ski/skate/hunt deer in this” It was very in). Anyway, the move to Boston was an eye opener as to just how oblivious I was. “So you’re telling me a cotton t-shirt and jeans is NOT the only option? Cause I’m not shopping at JCPenny for stirrup pants. Wait wait wait, there is something BETTER than JCPenny? Ho-lee-COW “. Flash forward seven years and things really haven’t gotten a whole lot better. There have been marginal improvements but no vast change. I walk amongst my better dressed colleagues wishing I had a knack for style and fighting the urge to trip them in their oh-so-cute peep toe pumps. What? I said I FIGHT the urge. And while I haven’t really caught up with the attire, I’ve grown accustomed to it. It’s part of what makes this town and even though I’m not usually wearing it, the fact that it’s around me almost makes it part of me too.

So, back to the well-dressed colleague, it got me thinking about what my fashion future will be like in California. I’m currently interviewing at a company, we’ll call it Bloggle, and the attire there is ultra-casual. I’ve spent the last few years trying, however unsuccessfully, to NOT look like a ragamuffin, and these people are now telling me this is not only socially acceptable, but expected in the office. I don’t know what to make of this and I have a feeling another onset of culture shock is about to hit. As I tend to fail horribly at moderation, I have a feeling I’ll fall one way or the other off this fence. On the one hand, I can vie for best dressed in the office, an award I am never going to win in any other setting. On the other, I can dismiss everything urbanity has taught me and choose to become Jammies Girl (just short of bunny-suit-from-A-Christmas-Story-style). Each has its perks. Neither will meet the high standards of Boston and no matter what I’ll be wearing a constant reminder of the big bold move I chose to make. Stay tuned for the result. .

Pictured below is the jacket referenced. Please note it is an underly enthusiastic model, and not my friend, who is wearing it.

Multitasking

Things have been kind of crazy as of late so I have to apologize to my dozen or so followers for slacking. The blog had to take a backseat for a little while, but I'm back and in full swing. Because my calendar has been so chock full o' stuff, I've had to get a little creative in order to fit everything in.

Last weekend a close friend of mine and I had a yard sale. As everyone knows I'm moving in a few short weeks and the leftover college dorm craptastic stuff I've been using as a supplement to actual adult furnishings just won't fit into the Vibe. And even if it did, I don't like any of it enough to bring it 3,000 miles with me. As the saying goes, one man's trash is another man's treasure and both my friend and I had a fairly large number of the other man's treasures just waiting to be carried away. A lot of people argue that having a yard sale is a waste of a perfectly good Saturday morning. Here's what I learned from the exercise. 1. It's way less miserable to pack up boxes of stuff you don't want and carry them out of your home when the activity is not immediately followed by carrying all the stuff out of your home that you DO want. AKA, moving day becomes significantly less miserable when preceded by a yard sale. 2. You get an excellent workout carrying those boxes up and down stairs which means that's an hour on Saturday afternoon you gain back by not having to go to the gym (2 if you count the commute). 3. If you do said yard sale with a good friend the majority of the time translates into hanging out with someone you care about, which you'd probably be doing on a Saturday anyway. 4. You MAKE money as opposed to paying the garbage man to haul it away or giving it away for free. By my calculations I invested all of 1 extra hour (spent setting up) of my valuable time and I made some sweet moolah. So, to recap this particular multitasking event allowed me to check a dreaded chore off my list, fit in an excellent cardio workout , spend some quality time with a close friend, and make some fast cash. All in about 5 hours. Multitasking, I love you.

If You’re Out on the Road…

In a few short weeks I’ll be making the drive west and a teensy little part of me is starting to feel a little anxious about, as Carole puts it “feeling lonely and so cold”. Though I don’t know about the cold part, the lonely, I am sure will come. And while I am oh-so-excited to ditch the wind and the snow, the friends and family I’m leaving behind are not so easily dismissed. For seven years, this town has been my home and choosing this cross-country endeavor was not something I entered into lightly.

This weekend I started packing and with each passing box I had to pause and take notice as I sifted through the memories of college and my first few “grownup” years. The parties, birthdays, graduations and weddings have passed all too quickly. I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I moved here. I grew up here. I found a second family here. I’ve built a life here. And now I’m starting from scratch again, or nearly so.

I know that moving doesn’t mean I’ll never see anyone on the east coast again but it will mean some bonds will be broken and some will be weakened. Weekly phone calls and emails will turn into monthly. Visits will wane as time marches on and eventually so many of the relationships I value now will be reduced to a name on a Christmas card. I would be a fool to believe otherwise. That’s okay though, because the bonds that do stand the test of time and distance will be the stronger for it. Parties and birthdays and graduations and weddings will still mean something. And when I say “an old friend of mine” I’ll mean someone I’m picking up from the airport or just wrote a letter to, not just a person I used to know. In time I’ll come to know those friends as the ones I share my successes and failures with, and the ones I offer my congratulations and condolences to. For those friends, thank you in advance. My great adventure west will have its ups and downs and I know you’ll be the ones who share the good times and help me through the bad. And in return, I’ll be ready with a shoulder to lean on or a glass to toast. All you have to do is call my name and I’ll be there.

Update on the Automobile

So, I don't have pictures of my actual car as it is currently sitting in my family's driveway far far away from the streets of South Boston where cars get banged, dented, broken into and generally eaten by the pothole infested terrain and hooliganery (not a word? it is now) of the neighborhood. But this is what it looks like. She's cute right? Definitely not the BMW I was hoping for but I had to make something about this move responsible and practical.


Just this morning on the Today show there was a segment about living "below your means". Something Americans aren't particularly good at. Frugal families were polled and one of the common budgetary restrictions was purchasing vehicles with manual transmissions. Apparently you can save approximately $30,000 over the lifespan of the vehicle in both fuel economy and reduced cost in repairs. Whatever stress I had regarding learning how to drive stick has been washed away with visions of European trips, designer handbags and four star meals I'm going to be able to afford all because of a few manipulable gears.



I have not as yet come up with a name for my car. Suggestions anyone???

Planes, Trains and (Finally) Automobiles

For the last seven years I have been, more or less, sans vehicular unit. To get around Boston I take the train or the bus, or I use the feet God gave me and I walk. When I want to visit family I shuttle myself out to Logan Airport and I fly. And that’s great. It’s great for my health, great for the environment and, on average, great for my wallet. Here’s the problem though, it’s pretty damn wretched for my psychological well being. Oh sure it sounds just peachy. How convenient to just hop a bus or a train. Umm, it’s not. I’ve spent more time standing in the elements waiting for public transit than I care to recall. And remember you’re sharing that bus or train with every walk of life. The high school squealers are obnoxious. Team Jacob? Team Edward? Justin Beaber? I don’t care!! Only dogs can hear you now. The cell phone talkers are just plain inconsiderate. That rash you’ve got? I don’t need to know about it. Baby mama drama? Text someone about it. And the smelly people, dear God the smelly people. I want so badly to carry travel sized deodorant and a can of Lysol. “Excuse me sir *spray spray spray*. That’s for now”. Hand him the deodorant. “That’s for later”. Wrangle them up and package them in a big metal box and that’s my commute to and from wherever it is I’m going. So you can imagine my elation when I purchased a car for the big move west. It’s nothing glamorous, a 2006 Pontiac Vibe. It’s a stick shift so I don’t actually know how to drive it yet but I know that when I do it will take me wherever I want to go when I want to go there. The only thing I’ll be listening to will be the songs I choose off my iPod and the only thing it will smell like is the coconut scented air freshener I’m planning on buyingJ

The Date is Set!

It’s Official, I’ll be starting the drive west to sunny Californ-I-A on September 12th. I don’t have a job out there. I don’t have an apartment. And no, for the thousandth time, I am not moving out there because of a boyfriend. I’m not the type of girl who uproots her life, says goodbye to a home she’s loved and schleps all her worldly possessions to the other end of the country for some dude. If you know me, you know that. Some of my closest friends and family have expressed some concern over my seemingly unfounded desire to transplant myself. Some people need an explanation as to why I decided to go. Here it is: I’m 25 years old and I can. What better reason is there? When else in my life will I be able to just pick up and move simply because I want to try something new? I’m excited and I’m scared and I’m anxious to get started on a new chapter in my life. I do love the life I’ve built in Boston and I’ll miss it more than I know, I’m sure, but it’s time to go somewhere different. Meet new people, try new things. I’m looking forward to seeing where that takes me and knowing the people and places I find along the way.

Sunday Brunch

Brunch might be my favorite meal to enjoy out and about in this town. Partly because you can find cheap eats in an otherwise very pricy environment (Masa on Tremont is my favorite) partly because I can justify the big meal because it's one of only two, and partly because Bostonians do brunch so very well.

The South End is the place to be of a Saturday or Sunday late morning/early afternoon. The socialites of the city are dressed down but not dressed poorly. Boat shoes and khakis replace suits. Sandals replace stillettos, and everyone's hair is let down. So, it's casual, but it's still Boston, it still has class.

Whether it be french, spanish or classic American, eggs taste better when enjoyed with linens. Grapefruit juice seems fresher in a champagne glass and a freshly baked cinnamon roll smells sweeter with the clinking of other patrons' silverware and the bustle of the sidewalk playing in the background. Brunch in this town is decadent and boisterous. The twenty and thirty somethings recap their previous night's excursions. The forty and fifty somethings recap the previous week on the stock market. The sixty and seventy somethings enjoy private conversations in corner booths but all come for good food, great conversation and a fabulous environment.

Trendy Bar Trend

I think of myself as a fairly sociable individual and in a town like mine this means hitting up the "trendy bars" for birthdays, cocktail hours and the occassional last minute suggestion. Oh the trendy bar phenomenon. I don't know who thought up taking a five dollar martini, splashing something pink in it, adding an exotic garnish of unknown origin and charging fifteen bucks for it but they're a genius and I wish I'd thought of it first. Women and men alike flock to the martini bar, the hotel bar, the newest of the new establishments to over pay and over dress at, mostly, over rated locations. And the only saving grace that keeps your bank account somewhat in check is the insufferably long wait to get back to the bar, at which point you must expell all the charms you can muster to catch the tender's attention.

I must admit I do so love to get "gussied up" and the lavish expense at what are admittedly some pretty snazzy digs seems a good enough reason to don a cocktail dress with some killer heals and a few shiny baubles. Still, as the evening unfolds my dogs start to bark, my wallet starts to empty and I begin to forget why we opted for swank over simplicity. As I tally the many local watering holes I'd prefer at the moment I can't help but wonder if the whole scene isn't just a little bit foolish. Best case scenario I'll have some good stories for the years to come, big picture I think it's all part of the ride of the urban twenty-something and I take it with a grain of salt, preferrably on the rim of a cocktail glass!

P.S. The photo is one of myself and some very fun-loving co-workers at Alibi, one of the trendiest of trendy bars found in Beantown.

Roomates, the Necessary (?) Evil

As a single twenty-something woman with a moderate income it's hard to justify shelling out a small fortune for a cramped studio (keyword "cozy" in most realtors' ads) when the option to take on roomates and split bills is so readily available and socially acceptable. There's someone to come home to. Someone to chat with. A second opnion on the outfit you're wearing or the guy you're seeing. On paper it seems logical. Sadly, as they say, the devil is in the details and it's the little inconveniences that seem to pile up and make me want to rent out one of those submersion tanks indefinitely. They eat your food, drink your wine and forget to pay their share of cable. They're too messy, or they're neat freaks and either way you spend way more time than than any sane person should worrying about a mug in the kitchen sink. I know I'm no picnic but I consider myself a relatively reasonable and level-headed individual and lately I've been shocked at how hard it is to find another like-minded person with which to co-habitate.



I think beyond the inconvenience of dealing with the domestic issues brought on by someone I have no emotional connection with is the frustration that I live in a world where this is, more or less, necessary. We live in a dual income society. Plainly put if I do not have a husband to shell out half the rent, I have to find randos or else wave goodbye to my savings account which my frugal mind simply can't accept. Hello Rock, have you met my friend Hard Place? RA's should have pulled us aside and warned us about this predicament during freshman orientation. "All the girls who plan on staying single after college, form a line over here and make sure you buddy up with each other because you're screwed out of a roomate when your other friends marry young." A heads up would have been nice. I'm not saying I begrudge my wedded friends, I'm just saying this whole pairing off thing seems to be working against me and I wish the system was a little easier to maneuver.



In the fall I will likely bite the bullet and rent a "spacious" studio or a one bedroom apartment. It will be smaller, more expensive and I'll have to down trade to basic cable but at least I'll know the bills are paid on time and the only mug in the sink is mine.

In the Beginning...

... there was a girl who got all blog happy and decided to start two blogs at once. One for her crusade against malnutrition in America (http://commoncentsonaplate.blogspot.com) And one for, well... everything else.

So welcome to my personal blog, friends, family, and people that have really boring jobs but no internet resitrictions.

On a scale of 1-10 I'd say the interest level of my life is about a 4 but lately I've been really busy and I've got a few moderately interesting adventures coming up that I want to be able to share with everyone, but don't have the time or the minutes on my cell phone plan to call y'all up and give an update. I thought this would be a good way to keep everyone in the loop. So, stay tuned...cause interesting stuff is coming...soonish.