I have been blessed with the, um, "luck" of the "Irish." Red hair, freckles, (naturally) fair-ish skin. Yet I'm not Irish.
Anyways, this means that I have a lot of green in my closet. It's something that just goes well with red hair and it's something that not everyone else can wear, so about half of my closet seems to be green or teal.
Since I don't get to do anything fun for the holiday- and the past three I've been away on Spring Break doing very fun things- here are some green things that I'm loving.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Priorities
Me: Sitting here reading everyone's Facebook/Twitter updates of warm places has led me to look at cruises/flights/etc. Now I'm even more depressed.
Boyfriend: Yea, well the world is ending right now and the market is crashing so it could be worse. Luckily I sold everything a few weeks ago.
Me: Well if the world is ending, I'd rather have it end as I'm tan and in a bikini with a tropical drink in my hand.
Boyfriend: Yea, well the world is ending right now and the market is crashing so it could be worse. Luckily I sold everything a few weeks ago.
Me: Well if the world is ending, I'd rather have it end as I'm tan and in a bikini with a tropical drink in my hand.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Disasters
Just like it's the little things in life that make me happy, it's also the little things that bring me down. I know that this is something that I have to change because it's just not fair. I shouldn't be upset right now because my car is in the shop again, I'm stuck at home and Boyfriend felt that it would be a good idea to go golfing instead of visit me because I'm mad because I'm stuck at home.
I should feel grateful that these are the biggest problems in my life.
On Friday, I was woken up around 5:15 a.m. with blaring sirens. There was a four-alarm fire a few blocks away from my house. The first report said that it was just in one empty house that was in the middle of being renovated and immediately it was relief- no one was there and no responders were injured.
When I saw this headline, though, I was also informed of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan and watched the tragedy with the rest of the world.
I left my apartment to drive home around 7:30 and smelled or saw no smoke in OG. By the time I got home an hour and a half later, the report I read a few hours ago had drastically changed. Most of the houses in OG were built in the late 1800s and are very close together. The fire had spread and destroyed eight other buildings and damaged five more.
But what if that fire was two blocks over? What if that earthquake triggered a tsunami that did affect the Northern California coast where my family lives?
I know that I have no right to be upset now that I'm stuck without a car or grumpy because my friends still in college are on their way to warm places for Spring Break.
It's times like this that I know that I'm truly a lucky person and I do have to be thankful that these are my biggest problems.
I should feel grateful that these are the biggest problems in my life.
On Friday, I was woken up around 5:15 a.m. with blaring sirens. There was a four-alarm fire a few blocks away from my house. The first report said that it was just in one empty house that was in the middle of being renovated and immediately it was relief- no one was there and no responders were injured.
When I saw this headline, though, I was also informed of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan and watched the tragedy with the rest of the world.
I left my apartment to drive home around 7:30 and smelled or saw no smoke in OG. By the time I got home an hour and a half later, the report I read a few hours ago had drastically changed. Most of the houses in OG were built in the late 1800s and are very close together. The fire had spread and destroyed eight other buildings and damaged five more.
But what if that fire was two blocks over? What if that earthquake triggered a tsunami that did affect the Northern California coast where my family lives?
I know that I have no right to be upset now that I'm stuck without a car or grumpy because my friends still in college are on their way to warm places for Spring Break.
It's times like this that I know that I'm truly a lucky person and I do have to be thankful that these are my biggest problems.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Not-So-Spring-Break
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The End of an Era
One of my favorite TV shows, Greek, ended last night. I started watching it when it first came on years ago- I had just pledged a sorority and was expecting a TV show that was way off of my Greek life experience. I was pleasantly surprised- not only was it a great show, it was also really relevant.
I aspired to be Casey Cartwright- something no one would have ever expected me to be. Completely confident, the president of a sorority, future law school student. Not to mention a really, really hot boyfriend. (Team Evan forever). I eventually became my own Casey Cartwright. I was president of my sorority. I wanted to go to law school until my senior year of college, and I've never been so thankful that I changed my mind. I have my own Ev
an.
The end of my era came less than a year ago. Don't get me wrong; I loved college. I always knew that I would be a better grown up than a partying sorority. But with graduation comes moving on. Letting go of what the best four years had been.
A lot in learned in college. On your own, you learn how to do things for yourself. Who to trust. Who will be there at 2 a.m. How long you really need to give yourself to prepare for something. How to take risks.
Then, woops, you're back home again. You all these new skills and independences- but nothing to do with them.
You have sorority banners and pledge paddles. Badges. Silver, gold and blue paraphernalia. Penguin stuffed animals. Sixty sisters you know still at school, sixty alumnae scattered (in my case) across the state.
Greek did, in addition to lots of other things, a great job at showing the transition from undergrad to grad student or real person. That transition is important, but for most, it's hard to do it right away. For some, it took living there to see that it was time to move on. You have to hope that the work that you did while there will leave an impact. After you have that diploma, it's someone else's turn.
Because guess what: yes, college was a blast. But there's bigger and better things out there. There's grad school and careers. Washington DC and taking relationships to the next level. New relationships. (Rusty and Ashleigh? Ew.)
Greek showed a tasteful ending: it ended in its prime. It ended with the same cast, good acting and better writing than when it started.
It knew when to let go.
I aspired to be Casey Cartwright- something no one would have ever expected me to be. Completely confident, the president of a sorority, future law school student. Not to mention a really, really hot boyfriend. (Team Evan forever). I eventually became my own Casey Cartwright. I was president of my sorority. I wanted to go to law school until my senior year of college, and I've never been so thankful that I changed my mind. I have my own Ev
an.The end of my era came less than a year ago. Don't get me wrong; I loved college. I always knew that I would be a better grown up than a partying sorority. But with graduation comes moving on. Letting go of what the best four years had been.
A lot in learned in college. On your own, you learn how to do things for yourself. Who to trust. Who will be there at 2 a.m. How long you really need to give yourself to prepare for something. How to take risks.
Then, woops, you're back home again. You all these new skills and independences- but nothing to do with them.
You have sorority banners and pledge paddles. Badges. Silver, gold and blue paraphernalia. Penguin stuffed animals. Sixty sisters you know still at school, sixty alumnae scattered (in my case) across the state.
Greek did, in addition to lots of other things, a great job at showing the transition from undergrad to grad student or real person. That transition is important, but for most, it's hard to do it right away. For some, it took living there to see that it was time to move on. You have to hope that the work that you did while there will leave an impact. After you have that diploma, it's someone else's turn.
Because guess what: yes, college was a blast. But there's bigger and better things out there. There's grad school and careers. Washington DC and taking relationships to the next level. New relationships. (Rusty and Ashleigh? Ew.)
Greek showed a tasteful ending: it ended in its prime. It ended with the same cast, good acting and better writing than when it started.
It knew when to let go.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Baby Proof
I have a confession to make.
I hate children.
To those who know me, they know it's just part of me. I shudder when I hear squealing. I cringe when I'm out at a restaurant and babies and screaming and crying. I hate whining at a store. People who don't know me- mainly adults- keep telling me I'll grow out of this. My mom tells me that's how she was at 23 (she was also a wild hippie, but that's another story). My uncles tell me that I'm just like my dad and I won't want one until it's mine and it's in my arms.
I don't know. I can't see myself, you know, putting someone else's needs in front of my own. Selfish? Completely. But at least I've come to realize that before I pop one out.
Since I've opened up Emily Giffin's book Baby Proof, I've obviously associated myself with the main character.
"I never wanted to be a mother. Even when I was a little girl, playing dolls with my two sisters, I assumed the role of the good Aunt Claudia."
All right, I was the completely bossy older sister, but still- I've never put myself in that role. Even now, my friends are gushing about how much they can't wait to be that mother and housewife. That's my nightmare. I want my career. My writing. My body.
Then there are the friends- and there's an overlap of these later into this group- who want to be a teacher. It's a really, really crappy time to want to be a teacher in NJ, but that's a whole other issue. I just can't imagine wanting to be an elementary school teacher. A high school English teach I totally understand. But who really wants to technically babysit nose-picking, smelly, germy children, or teach them to write their ABC's? No thanks.
Getting back to Baby Proof, it's really everything after the first page that scares me. I won't give anything away because I highly recommend reading the book because she's amazing an amazing writer. But read it and get back to me on this: is it completely out of line that I associated myself with that book, but it made me so mad?
I hate children.
To those who know me, they know it's just part of me. I shudder when I hear squealing. I cringe when I'm out at a restaurant and babies and screaming and crying. I hate whining at a store. People who don't know me- mainly adults- keep telling me I'll grow out of this. My mom tells me that's how she was at 23 (she was also a wild hippie, but that's another story). My uncles tell me that I'm just like my dad and I won't want one until it's mine and it's in my arms.
I don't know. I can't see myself, you know, putting someone else's needs in front of my own. Selfish? Completely. But at least I've come to realize that before I pop one out.
Since I've opened up Emily Giffin's book Baby Proof, I've obviously associated myself with the main character.
"I never wanted to be a mother. Even when I was a little girl, playing dolls with my two sisters, I assumed the role of the good Aunt Claudia."
All right, I was the completely bossy older sister, but still- I've never put myself in that role. Even now, my friends are gushing about how much they can't wait to be that mother and housewife. That's my nightmare. I want my career. My writing. My body.
Then there are the friends- and there's an overlap of these later into this group- who want to be a teacher. It's a really, really crappy time to want to be a teacher in NJ, but that's a whole other issue. I just can't imagine wanting to be an elementary school teacher. A high school English teach I totally understand. But who really wants to technically babysit nose-picking, smelly, germy children, or teach them to write their ABC's? No thanks.
Getting back to Baby Proof, it's really everything after the first page that scares me. I won't give anything away because I highly recommend reading the book because she's amazing an amazing writer. But read it and get back to me on this: is it completely out of line that I associated myself with that book, but it made me so mad?
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