Well, I've clearly been offline at The Billing Room for a good while. However, I've recently started a new blog dealing with my primary interest, travel. I'm tired of hearing myself whine, I guess, and want to polish up my travel writing skills a bit. So, here's my new blog... The Billing Room is likely going dark, so if you want to follow me, you can do so at my new blog, the Clever Nomad: http://www.clevernomad.com.
Thanks!
Hold the presses. I know you guys have been dying, asking "where IS that Island Chica?" That Island Chica needed a break, and she needed to take some stuff down off her blog. Once the name of my jewelry company was posted here, I realized I had some housekeeping to do. That's the problem with blogs - if you're anonymous, you can say anything you want but then you aren't that interesting. If you're "out", then you can share more interesting details but can't say as much.
Decisions, decisions.
I went to UGA for law school. I'm not really much of a football fan, so the whole bulldog ritual thing is sort of lost on me.
Admission: I attended three years of law school and never once attended a UGA football game.
What can I say? I was raised in NC and I'm a basketball girl. Sue me.
Anyway, the good people down in Georgia are nuts about football. They are also nuts about bulldogs (bullgods?), the mascot for the University of Georgia. A real live mascot dog attends the games, and the dog (god) is always named UGA. UGA VI recently died, and while the death of any beloved animal is sad, what I read in the article about his burial was surprising.
The god (typo but I'm keeping it) died in Savannah, Georgia, which is a few hours from Athens. Upon his death, THE UNIVERSITY FLEW THE DOG'S CARCASS ON THE UNIVERSITY PLANE FROM SAVANNAH TO ATHENS. In case you don't understand me, let's get this clear: public funds were used to fuel a plane, when gas is at it's highest price ever recorded, in order to transport a dog's body?
Then, the dog was buried after a ceremony, complete with anthems and speeches.
We're not talking about an epic car ride from Savannah to Athens. It's maybe 5 hours. I mean, we're not talking Sacramento to San Diego here. Using public funds to transport dead soldiers in planes? Why yes, that's a-ok by me. Using public funds to transport a dead dog in a private plane? Fuck off, State of Georgia.
The following word and all of its many variants should be banned:
CHILLAX.
Anyone who uses it should be punished with a swift kick in the ass and banished to the Nevada desert so they may chillax together.
That is all.
Okay, so I'm about 1.3 days into my little cleanse, and so far, so good. This should surprise no one, because if you can't stick with something like this for 1.3 days, you're pretty much hopeless.
I digress. I tried a recipe last night - quinoa with sweet potatoes and black beans (and other stuff too, but those are the main ingredients). It was pretty tasty. I also found a gluten-free cereal that's decent, since I rarely have time to cook oatmeal in the AM.
This morning, I've had a soy sausage, 3/4 cup of my gluten-free cereal with soy milk, and decaf tea with a tiny bit of splenda. Lunch is the quinoa stuff leftover and a soy yogurt with blueberries. Tonight will likely be the quinoa again (it makes a lot and I'm a believer in leftovers) along with some steamed broccoli... but what to put on the broccoli? No butter allowed. Maybe Olive Oil?
I promise this blog won't be all about food from now on. It's easy to write about and I'm busy.
On another note, my 6th wedding anniversary is this weekend. That's six years. The first half of our marriage was spent with me in law school, so it's hard sometimes for me to count those years. They were such a blur and I really didn't get to spend that much time with my husband. It's really only been these last three years where we've felt married, if that makes sense. I think we're going to the mountains for a night. It should be fun... of course, as always, what am I going to eat when we go out?
I'm afraid my cleanse might be cramping my anniversary.
So this 21 day cleanse is going to be something. I was starving by the time lunch rolled around at noon. This clearly means that I did not eat enough for breakfast. Will change that tomorrow. After I ran my errands, I went to the grocery and picked up Lundberg Rice Chips (delicious BTW, and will taste good in salsa or guac), an Amy's Organic gluten-free and dairy-free meal, and a soy yogurt. After eating about 15 chips, the meal and the yogurt at 1:00, I'm starting to feel hungry again.
I clearly hadn't given protein it's due.
I somehow think that the point of this whole thing isn't to replace tortilla chips with rice crisps, though it's definitely an improvement. I also hate eating frozen meals, but I didn't have time to make soup yesterday. Maybe tonight.
Tonight for dinner I'm making quinoa with sweet potatoes and black beans. It sounds good. I hope.
I'm kind of faddish when it comes to food. Though I really don't have any kind of weight problem, I still wish I were more athletic or leaner. Yes, I know what I have to do to get that way. My problem is that regular, intense exercise is difficult for me to maintain. Call it laziness, call it life, but at the end of the day, my schedule just doesn't allow for it to be in my top five priorities.
Anyway, I've been giving thought lately to trying something called the 21 Day Cleanse designed by Kathy something-or-the-other. Oh god, it's an Oprah thing and the fact that I'm even admitting to doing this makes me feel like the most obedient little sheep in the pasture. I've given this some thought of a four or five day period. Should I? Do I want to? Am I committed to this?
The idea is simple. For 21 days, you give up the following:
1. Sugar (added sugar, not those found in fruits);
2. Caffeine;
3. Alcohol;
4. All animal products; and
5. Gluten.
The hardest for me will be the alcohol and gluten. I drink wine a lot, probably a glass a day. I have one cup of coffee a day, and while it's a habit, I don't think it's an addiction. The gluten thing will be hard, because while I can do without animal products, I usually substitute bread or some other wheat-based grain. Not this time.
Anyway, I intend to post my progress, for better or worse. I decided to start today. For breakfast, I had decaf tea, a soy sausage patty, a cherry LARA bar and five almonds. It's 11:00 am, and I'm hungry. No headache yet from the lack of coffee, so that's good.
The idea behind this is surely better health, but also to be more conscious of what you eat. This is particularly true in regards to animal products. In the US, so many of the animal products we consume contain chemicals and by-products. Our cows eat corn feed, and cows are supposed to eat grass. Our chickens eat other chickens... and that just seems wrong. Our pigs eat, god, I don't even want to know, but I feel confident its probably not great for us.
I long ago cut mammal meats from my diet. I've been eating just poultry and seafood for years now. Those will be a little tough to give up, as will eggs. But it's only three weeks.
Right?
1
comments
Labels:
diet,
food
325-282-9898, who are you and why do you keep calling me? I pick up my cell phone and an automated voice prattles on in Spanish. I don't know Spanish, and I have no idea why you think my number is connected to someone who speaks Spanish. I know you're some sort of telemarketer, but I have no idea what you're selling. I wish you would quit calling, but I hear from you one every two days. Please cease and desist on the harrassment.
Same with you, 702-520-1447. I've now received approximately 11 "2nd and Final Notifications" that my car warranty is about to expire. I don't even HAVE a warranty on my car anymore. I never did, because I bought it used. REALLY?
One rant down, one to go. Let's talk about the girls at Gloucester High in Massachusetts who made a pregnancy pact. Seventeen girls at that high school are pregnant, and many of them got that way because they made a pact with other friends to have babies and raise them together. How very commune-ish of them. REALLY?
Unfortunately, these little harlots got grown ass men involved. See, they went out and solicited men for sex, including A HOMELESS MAN, and probably looked a hell of a lot older than 15 when they did so. Can you say jailbait? So now, I bet some of these dudes are going to end up as registered sex offenders because some dumbass 15-year old who told him she was 19 lured him to have sex with her. Further, she probably lied about being on birth control so she could have a little bundle of joy that would "love her unconditionally."
I wish someone would give me just 10 minutes alone in a room with one of these pieces of jailbait. The tongue lashing I would dish out would make her face turn hot with shame at the remembrance of it for the rest of her natural born life. Seriously, what the fuck were these girls thinking? Are they the biggest, DUMBEST idiots on the face of this planet? They've essentially ruined their own life, the baby daddy's life (to criminal consequences for some) and perhaps even the life of their spawn.
It's nice to have the support of your other pregnant 15-year old girlfriends, but you know what? Those bitches aren't going to pay the bills or rock YOUR baby to sleep when it wakes you up at 3:42 am. No, ma'am. Do you know how hard it's going to be to get a guy to date you now? To get a guy to marry you? When you've entrapped a guy before and now have this little "bundle of joy" (aka "albatross") that will go everywhere with you?
Talk about ruining your life before it even began.
That's not to say that some teen moms don't turn their lives into something great. Some do, but many more don't. The Italian's cousin got pregnant as a 19-year old freshman in college. All these years later, she's a 37-year old attorney with an 18-year old son and a brand new baby from her marriage. She's lucky... but then again, her parents raised her son 3/4 of the time so she could go to college and law school. She was LUCKY.
Many of these girls will not be so lucky. I haven't even gone into what their actions have done to their parents, both financially and emotionally. I can't, because this post would be four pages long.
The Gloucester pregnancy pact. Nomination (and lead contender) for the dumbassery of the year award.
Blah, blah, blah. That's what all these loan documents I'm working on sound like. It's almost 5:30, and while any self-respecting lawyer should work until 7:00pm, I'm outtie in a few minutes. Who said I had any self-respect anyway? It's overrated.
Funny story I've never told on the 'ol blog. A few months ago, the Italian and I were just settling down to dinner in the living room (no, we don't eat proper meals at the table), had turned on the 7:30 showing of Scrubs, and were tucking in to that night's meal. A minute into our munching, we hear a cacophony of muffled, horrific cat screeches. The Italian and I look at one another, puzzled. Instantly, we put it together - cat, outside, another cat, attack.
The Italian jumps up and heads for the door. Halfway there, he turns around and looks at me, frozen. I look at him and plead "DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO."
Do what you have to do?! WTF?! Is he supposed to pick up the other cat by the tail and swing it around? Or maybe stab it with his dinner knife? Where did I pick up that dramatic, soap opera-esque phrase?
Do what you have to do, indeed. Turns out all he "had" to do was open the door. Stupid cats.
Tim Russert's death is just wrong, wrong, wrong. Fucking wrong. It's rare in this world to find someone with such depth, intellect and composure, especially when that person is a journalist. He cannot be replaced and the world has lost a great political mind. He had the ability to make a politician answer - and REALLY answer - tough questions. He was one of the few, if not the only, journalist who could do that.
I heard someone describe his death at this point in his life as "cruel." Cruel because his family had just celebrated his son's college graduation, cruel because Sunday is father's day, and cruel because he died during one of the most crucial presidential races in this history of the United States.
Cruel indeed.
My day-to-day existence as a real estate attorney is fairly mundane. Once upon a time, though, I wanted to be a criminal attorney. To that end, I did a clinic in law school with a DA's office in a large metropolitan county. While I'm not sure I could do that for a living, the gig provided me with no end of interesting stories.
I worked with Mike* (named changed to protect the innocent), an Assistant DA with four years experience who was awesome at his job. He and I got along really well and he was a great mentor. Mike tried mostly murder cases by the time I arrived at the office, and his cases tended to be gory, horrifying and thrilling all at the same time.
There was a case where a 23-year old girl was killed by her ex-boyfriend. He'd disposed of her in a lake, and, when finally found a couple of days later, she had some discolorations on her skin that made it difficult to discern the fatal injury from post-mortem decomposition. In order to prepare for trial, Mike had to meet with the Medical Examiner.
This meeting happened while I was in the office. Mike asked me to join in and I jumped at the chance. I'd never met a real-life M.E. before. I had the mental image of a wry, brainy woman, like Dr. G or the M.E. on Law & Order. At the worst, I pictured the wise-cracking guy from CSI. Nothing could have prepared me for the Medical Examiner I met.
I was introduced to the doctor, a slight man in the later stages of middle age. He had thinning salt and pepper hair, glasses and wore a sport coat and gray slacks, professional but about a decade away from fashionable. Pretty typical stuff. The problem began after the intial introduction and hand shake. For the rest of the meeting - which lasted approximately 30 minutes - the good doctor was unable to avert his eyes from my chest whenever he looked at me.
Literally, it was so obvious I looked down to make sure I didn't have a stain or maybe a small, furry mammal hitchhiking on the front of my shirt. Don't get me wrong, I count my breasts as one of my best assets, but to be this obvious? It was unprecedented. Clearly this guy had spent the last twenty years in a hole... okay, well, a sterile building surrounded by dead people. Okay, I guess I could see his interest. He's not exactly used to seeing those things when they're ALIVE, ya know?
So we ended our little meeting, and the M.E. left. Mike looked at me and asked, "Do you think he was happy to see a live woman? He didn't take his eyes of your chest the whole time! Did you notice? Tell me you noticed."
I kind of felt dirty, but I guess I couldn't blame the guy. I mean, how many live women does this guy get to see on the average day, let alone live, 26-year old women with highlights, heels and a graduate degree?
Public Service Announcement: Medical Examiners like boobs too, ladies.
I smoked for several years in my early 20s. I don't remember those times fondly, so I don't generally mention it. My mom and dad were both chain smokers; it killed my dad, but mom's still puffing away. More power to her, I suppose, but I decided years ago to quit the habit. I quit when I was 22, after a friend from college was killed in a car accident. Virginia was a girl who took impeccable care of herself, and her death helped underscore how fragile life is.
I never really liked the way cigarettes tasted, but I did like the social aspect of it. In general, young smokers are a lively bunch. In college, we smokers were a bunch of drunks who excelled at mindless banter whilst maintaining our balance like a Russian gymnast (it's dangerous to drink and hold hot fire in your hand). You could always tell the regular smokers from the girl who had one too many sips of her Blue Cup at He's Not (if you're from NC, you'll know what the hell all that means) and decided to throw caution to the wind and light up. Those girls always ended up getting knocked on their ass by the nicotine rush and stabbing people with the lit end of their cigarette.
One night, I was in line at this bar that used to be called Brother's, and some drunk ho jumped in line to playfully hug the guy in front of me. Her lit cigarette landed right on that indentation in your clavicle and burned the f*ck out of me. I'd like to report that I punched her, but I'm just not that tough. I'm sure we exchanged words, and I probably told her to contain her mess.
My stories have no real point, other than the fact that I'm feeling reminiscent today. Oh, and that fact that I've been craving a cigarette lately. Isn't that weird? A full eight years after I had my last drag, and all of the sudden I'd kill for a puff. I could have one and feel confident it wouldn't affect me. I was a rather casual (re: drunk) smoker, and it's not as if I go out and party anymore. Quitting was a breeze for me - one day I just stopped. Still, I just think it's weird that I want one, especially since I think the taste is across the board nast (left off the "y" on purpose).
If pressed, I'll say that I don't like people very much. I say that because it shocks most people. I don't really hate other people, it's just that I don't have much use for the surface personalities of 99% of the people I meet. If I got to know them better, maybe I'd like them, but somehow my tough exterior never lets me get that far.
However, my rather sociopathic view towards others was put on its head when I took a Myers-Briggs personality test a couple of years ago. Come to find out, I have extrovert tendencies and draw my energy from others. As you can see, this puts me in a rather awkward position.
Instead of working with others, I've been internally competing against others for years. I blame this partially on my mom, who is competitive even with her daughters when it comes to vanity-related matters. You win, Mom, I can never be as skinny as you are.
Recently, I discovered that a law school acquaintance started her own jewlery business. It's similar to mine in name and style. Going by my history, I should declare my hatred for this interloper and put a hex on her beading hands.
However, something else has happened. I've contacted her by email to let her know about our similarities. Turns out we have waaay more in common than I thought. We're both commercial real estate attorneys, have both traveled to Maui since law school, both make jewelry and we were both candidates for the same job back in 2007 (which neither of us got). Okay, I've explained all this in an earlier post, so let's press forward to the point, which is....
Instead of petty jealously, I feel really inspired by my friend and the changes she's made in her life. It inspires me to get my ass moving. I should be in bed right now, but I stayed up to finish a necklace. I'll be up a lot this week since I want to have our photography up and running on our official site by next week.
The point is, I am actually feeding off someone else's energy, but not in a competitive manner. I'm not trying to outsell her or beat her, I'm just trying to learn from her and use her momentum to get my own ass moving. We're even discussing a collaborative show. How cool would that be?
In business, I find that women are each others worst enemies. The egos, the fear, the sheer exhaustion... at the end of the day female lawyers just don't have a lot to give each other in the way of support. Whether it's backstabbing or just forgetting about that female colleague on the other side of the office, working in a law firm can be a lonely place for a 31 year old woman.
I want to change this, at least in my own life. I am going to support my new friend A., and learn from her. I hope I have some lessons she can take from me as well. I hope we both succeed, and can do so while supporting each other. Look at this little extroverted introvert go!
I have this big, meaningful post half-written, but I can't seem to refocus to continue writing it. In the meantime, I thought I'd write a little ditty about delayed gratification. It's not a concept most of us are familiar with these days. You want an iPod? No need to work a few extra hours to get it, just put it on the AMEX. After all, you DO get miles.
In this me-me-me, now-now-now world, I've decided to do something almost unprecedented and delay doing something I want to do that I could do right now. You follow? Anyway, two of my favorite authors (who are oddly similar writers) have come out with brand new books. David Sedaris has just released "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" and Augusten Burroughs publised "A Wolf At the Table" this spring.
I cannot wait to read these books. I am one of those dorks who practically groans with pleasure upon entering a bookstore. I love it all: the quiet, the tall rows of perfect books whose spines are virgin, uncreased. I can (and do) spend hours in Barnes & Noble. I love nothing more than getting lost in a good book. However, as much as I want to read these two books, I've decided that I will leave them for my October vacation.
Is it a small sacrifice? Of course. It's not a delayed gratification that really means anything to the world or to my bottom line. But it's something to look forward to. Knowing that when I arrive at the airport on October 3rd, I will have two unblemished, unread, glossy books in the my travelpack that I am positive I will enjoy reading.
The thought makes me dizzy with anticipation. Weird? Yes. But I became friends with weird a long time ago.
I've been pretty non-chatty when it comes to my jewelry. I've been busy in the last few days, and here is a sampling of my most recent creations. This is soooo much better than drafting loan documents.
Oh, and please pardon my photography. I'm still working on our ideal set-up, but I don't have a soft box right now. Give me time, give me time. If you're any kind of photographer, I wouldn't mind some tips. I've got a DSLR and a couple of tripods, so I've got the equipment, I'm just lacking in the knowledge department.
1
comments
Labels:
Jewelry
So, CLIO is back on, my friends. We're running full steam. Our URL is currently under design, we're working feverishly on production, and we're going to run it like a business instead of a hobby. We've got 9-12 months to see what happens. Wish me luck.
First order of business? Get the cats off of my workspace. Second order of business? Relocate my workspace to an area that is NOT my dining room table. Sounds like somebody has a Sunday project.
0
comments
Labels:
Jewlery,
Pets
I had too much wine. What can I say? My friend went out with us and she's pregnant. So I had to drink her share. It's only right.
Tee hee.
Dear Racist Friend,
Yes, it's true I am a white American who was raised in the south. No, it's not true that this fact automatically makes me a racist. In fact, I live in a neighborhood that is decidedly diverse, with people from Asia, Europe and even (GASP!) Africa. I don't make fun of Spanish-speakers by calling them "mexicanos", don't call Muslims "ragheads" and definitely don't go around saying things like "we should just build a damn fence!"
I've heard you and similarly-minded friends say one or more of these things (or worse, but that's not fit for print) at one time or another.
None of my best friends are racist or hostile to any particular ethnic group. If anything, we find diversity of skin color and life experiences fascinating. I forget sometimes when I meet new friends that I don't always know where they're coming from.
I received a wake-up call today when my husband received an email from you, a relatively new friend. You and your wife are well-educated, well-traveled and socialize with people of different ethnicities. We thought you were like-minded.
Then, we received the Barack Obama email from you. The one with a title like "THIS COULD BE THE NEW FIRST FAMILY". It proceeds to enumerate all of the Obama family "sins" (I guess you forgot about good 'ol Bill and his philandering or Bushie and his coke use?), from alcoholism to Islam to a distant relative named "Fidel." Then, there are pictures attached showing Barack with his mom and his African birth father, with his Asian stepfather, and with African relatives.
I guess some Americans, including you, find this new first family portrait to be an aberration. I call it progress. Have you looked around? Here in my city (where you also live, BTW), every other car contains people whose skin is a shade other than white. WAKE THE FUCK UP. Why does this potential "first family portrait" scare you so much? Are you scared because Barack looks different from you or has different life experiences than you? Be honest - is it his funny name, his dark skin? Maybe it's his Harvard law degree that he earned on his own, without the benefit of nepotism, money or pedigree.
"But he got in because he was black," you argue. True, affirmative action is alive and well, particularly in law school. But guess what? Getting in doesn't automatically entitle you to graduate Magna Cum Laude or be elected President of Law Review. No, those were honors he EARNED. My dear racist friend, I'd like to see you at Harvard Law and see if you could accomplish those things. My guess is a resounding "NO."
I don't mean to imply that if you don't support Obama you are a racist. Just please, choose not to support him because you don't agree with his ideas, his message or his politics, but not because you don't like the way he looks. That's all I'm asking. If people judged you on your looks, dear racist friend, you wouldn't have gotten very far.
Now look what you've made me do.
And, dear friend, please don't send these racist forwards any longer. Obama is NOT a Muslim, he's not a communist and he isn't out to "get whitey." If you do continue to send these emails, do so at your own peril. You will lose friends.
You've already lost one.
I have to do a couple of really unpleasant things at work today. Oh, and I have to go to the DENTIST. The last time I went there, they found three cavities and committed crimes against nature in my mouth (that sounds dirty). So I've put off going for two years. There'll be hell to pay, I'm sure of it.
When I'm in that chair, high on gas, I'll really be on Maho Beach in St. John:
PS - Something is up with my template b/c my black background is not showing up. Sorry if it's hard to read. I suspect that image shack is having an issue, but if this doesn't resolve in a couple of days I'm switching templates.
PPS - Thanks to Saratica for the shout out on her blog, www.abroadincostarica.com. My readership has, like, doubled today (from 7 to 14!). Big times.
0
comments
Labels:
Torture,
Work
I have a doppelganger. Okay, so maybe she's not really an EVIL twin, but she appears to be a twin nonetheless. I just like saying "doppelganger." She's not a twin in a physical sense, but in the "oh my god we're living parallel lives" sort of way. It this girl A. that I went to law school with. A. and I were acquaintances in law school, but not really friends. I always liked her, but she seemed a little aloof and lost in her own world. Okay, again, I've probably just described myself.
Regardless, I've recently connected with her on Facebook. I've discovered that she's opened her own jewelry business with an eerily similar name. She had also been working as a Commercial Real Estate attorney until recently. She revealed to me that she and I were both interviewing for the same in-house job back in the Fall, and we've both traveled to Maui and taken similar pictures on the same beach since graduation.
How is it possible to have so much in common with a person and never know it? I guess that's really a dumb question, because it happens all the time. You find yourself locked in to a pre-conceived notion about someone so you never get to know them. Anyway, I think we're going to have lunch soon and this is exciting - a new friend!
She has recently made the very giant move of leaving her traditional law job and going in to contract work. She works part time and does her jewelry the rest of the day. I've been needing to talk to someone with this kind of initiative. Someone who has said "I'm not going to accept being unhappy" and then gone out and done something about it. While I financially cannot do that right now, I can put myself in a position to make that move, and that is something.
I think going to law school is kind of like the military. They break you down and then build you back up, mentally-speaking. You drink the water and begin to think that law is a very linear career path. Associate-Senior Associate-Partner-Dead. That's the life trajectory. Except I've always known that's not the path I will take. It's just harder to get off this treadmill than I'd bargained.
With time, I will get off that treadmill. Thanks A., you've inspired me and you probably don't even know it.
0
comments
Labels:
Weird,
Work
You know how you forget about funny stuff you did as a kid or a young adult? And then all of a sudden you see something and it reminds you and BAM, the memory comes flooding back? That happened to me today.
When I was in Middle School, I wanted to be a writer. I got involved in our school's paper and got drafted to do the horoscopes. No one but me, the teacher and our editor knew it was me. I never told anyone (which was weird because I have a big mouth, and to know me is to know I cannot be trusted with confidential information. It's a personality flaw. Sue me.).
Anyways... So I would make these horoscopes up once a week. We're talking pull them out of my ass. I was all "ARIES: This week you will face struggles in your studies. Stick with it. But be sure to give that special someone a wink when they look at you. Don't worry, the feeling is mutual!"
I probably scarred a lot of people with horoscopes like those.
Clearly, I enjoyed playing the role of a little sociopathic soothsayer. I clearly remember one friend going on and on about how the horoscope was SO TRUE for her. I had to put "so true" in all caps because she was a 12 year old girl and that's how they talk.
Ah, fun times. And to think, I'd forgotten all about this until today.
0
comments
Labels:
Youth
Any regular reader around here knows I have a certain amount of sarcastic anger bubbling just under the surface. I'm considering a weekly (or bi-weekly or monthly... so basically when I feel like it) feature called "REALLY?!" where I list all of the dumb shit that has pissed me off. A few gems from recent days:
1. My mom asked if we wanted to buy her car. Once we got into negotiations and made plans, she started backpeddling and yesterday told me that she's decided to keep her car and we have to go to Plan B. REALLY?!
2. The semi-idiot kid across the street ran out in front of my car yet again yesterday. He's 8, which I consider old enough to KNOW BETTER. I was only going, like, 10 miles an hour, so I fortunately had time to slam on my brakes. REALLY?!
3. The President-elect of our Home Owner's Association has said he will step down because he recently lost his job and "his family is his first priority." He has suggested that my husband, a board member, would make a fine President. Oh, fuck no. I will get a d-i-v-o-r-c-e if that happens. REALLY?!
4. An acquaintance from law school that I haven't seen in years just started a jewelry company. The name is oddly-similar to our name. REALLY?!
5. Someone just sent a box of hot Krispy Kreme donuts to our office, and I sit right by the kitchen. I'm watching all these fools run in for donuts, and I'm on a diet. REALLY?! (UPDATE: I have 1/4 of a donut. It wasn't that good. Urge solved with very little diet damage.)
That's all the anger I have this morning. See, I feel better already.
3
comments
Labels:
Idiots,
Jewelry,
Really?
I'm at a bit of an impasse with my jewelry business. When it started, it seemed like it would be a fun diversion.
How quickly things change.
When we did a couple of shows in December, it quickly became apparent how much work this would be. Besides making the jewelry, which is time-consuming enough by itself, there's logging inventory, accounting, marketing and pricing. It's not that I mind, it's just that I'm a big investment/reward person. Is the time and effort I'm spending worth the money this is bringing in?
So far, the answer is a resounding "NO."
If I had more time, I could really do something with this company. I'm sure of that. But isn't that the way it always sounds: "If I had more time, I could... cure cancer... save the rainforests... learn how to pilot small aircraft." Insert your own wish in, the point is always the same. There's just not enough time in this life to do everything.
So I feel like it's shit or get off the pot time with jewelry. Either it's a hobby, or it's a business. But this hybrid hobby/business model isn't working for anybody. Not me, not my business partner, not the bottom line.
I've certainly learned a thing or two from this experience. But maybe it's time for a new dream? Or is it time to push forward with this one?
I don't know what to do.
UPDATE: I didn't buy a dress yesterday. I figured it was contra to the whole "living simply" idea
UPDATE: My mom decided not to sell us her car. Now I've got to find a Plan B to eradicate the yuppie albatross from my life.
0
comments
Labels:
Business,
Jewelry,
Living Simply,
Work
Here's a sampling of Costa Rica pictures. I've selected some of my favorites. Enjoy!
Aerial of Drake Bay, Osa Peninsula:
Arenal Volcano:
Horse Stampede:
La Fortuna Waterfall:
Island Chica Ziplines!: 
Pacific Ocean: 
Spider Monkey:
Osa Animal Sanctuary Beach:
Howler Monkey:
Bosque Del Cabo Cabina:
0
comments
Labels:
Costa Rica,
Travel,
Vacation
As I've mentioned 3,389 times, I'm in the commercial real estate business. Up until April, there was enough work to keep me busy. Since I returned from Costa Rica, the well has dried up. As in bone dry. The good news? I know for a fact my job is safe because I've been told so. Twice. I feel a little guilty collecting a fairly large paycheck for little-to-no work, but I figure I've been working consistently for three years now, with little down time. This business is cyclical, and I've been told to enjoy myself for the time being.
So today, I think I'm leaving early to go shopping. I want a new dress, and I'm going to buy one, dammit. Okay, if I can find one that is in my self-imposed budget, I'm going to buy one.
On a completely unrelated note, I realize that I've failed to provide any real report for my Costa Rica trip. I've written most of one, but frankly I've lost steam to finish. Somehow it's just not as important to me to document every little occurence as it used to be. We had a great time, met some great people and stayed in fabulous places. The Osa Peninsula in particular was enchanting.
This is a catch-all kind of post, but I've been busy with life lately. Between making new jewelry, working, keeping my house clean, cooking and seeing friends, I've had little time for blogging.
The Italian and I had a discussion yesterday and he's on board with paring back our lives a little bit. We went to a going away party for our friends M and T this weekend. They live in a perfect suburban neighborhood with huge homes, luxury cars and Stepford wives. All the men wear polos, all the women wear Lily Pulitzer. After spending the evening at the perfect little cul-de-sac barbeque, the Italian told me: "I don't want that life, and I feel like that's where we're headed." I agreed and we discussed how to change things.
First, we're going to sell our home when we can. Second, we're selling my car. Third, we're going to save like little squirrels storing nuts for the long winter. For me, freedom = happiness. Right now, we're just not free. We are one job loss away from a major catastrophe, financially-speaking. I am uncomfortable with that situation.
This post is just one big brain-dump.
0
comments
Labels:
Costa Rica,
Living Simply,
Work
I've been pretty silent lately. I've been thinking a lot, but not about anything I really want to write about. Work is d-e-a-d, so that monkey is off my back for a little while. I do feel guilty collecting a paycheck when there is little work to be done. C'est la vie, I suppose.
I'm selling my yuppie albatross, the BMW, in the next couple of months. We're going to buy my mom's car, which is an older Accord. It's a fine car and it will get me around for two years until we can purchase a newer car outright. I find myself wanting to get rid of some other trappings, but I don't know where to start. I WANT to get rid of the McMansion, but I can't, not without taking a huge financial loss. Hold on, hold on for two more years.
Why is home ownership a good thing again? Can someone remind me?
0
comments
Labels:
Living Simply,
Work
I've reached a good point in the last couple of weeks. I can actually see myself working somewhere other than where I'm working now, and see myself doing it successfully. I've realized - 100% FOR SURE - that this is not my long term career. My life is too short, and I'm too unhappy.
The problem, as always, is money honey. I make a decent amount of it. So, over the next year, we plan to save as much as we can. I'm selling my fancy car in a couple of months and buying an old Accord. We'll own it outright in no time.
We did make a mistake. We bought a very expensive house, and now we can't sell it. For a while, at least, I've got to keep on in my current position. I hope that within the next two years we can sell the house for our purchase price. I'll even move back in our townhome if we have to. We have two properties, and we've got to get rid of one or both. I've learned a valuable lesson, I just hope it doesn't cost us too much.
I don't know where I'll end up, but I know a change is coming. I've already changed. Like when you know a boyfriend isn't right for you, I know this job isn't right for me. Now, it's just down to timing. When can I move on?
A small shift has happened since May 1st, which just happened to be the day we landed in Costa Rica. Sometime since that day, I gained a pair of balls. I don't mean this in a real physical way, of course. I mean this metaphorically, never mind the fact that the expression is a bit misogynistic.
I really pushed my boundaries in Costa Rica. I went zip-lining, which involved getting tethered to a steel cable and pushed off a metal platform into a precipice some 600 feet above the tree canopy. I did this not just one, but seven times. I reached speeds of 35 MPH as I cruised along zip-lines more than a half-mile long, which, in case you were wondering, IS long enough to ponder what would happen if your harness broke. I was terrified, and I loved it.
Me, pre-May 1st:
I don't really ride roller coasters. I don't like to fly (though I am fascinated with aviation). And I definitely don't understand why people would jump out of a perfectly good airplane with just a little parachute attached to their back.
Me, current day:
Maybe I'll ride a big coaster next time we go to an amusement park - don't knock it 'til you've tried it! Flying on that 20-seat puddle jumper in Costa Rica was so cool and bumpy, the turbulence on our jet ride home barely phased me. The flights were fun. I still don't want to jump out of an airplane, but I get why people do it.
See? I think I may have been bit by the adrenaline bug.
My mom and my sister are notorious wimps. So vocal are they in their wimpiness that it rubs off on the impressionable people around them. Notably, me. I think of how many years I wasted nursing THEIR fears. Why?
When I stood there, terrified, deciding if I wanted to pull up and let the guide push me across that precipice in Costa Rica, I thought about why I was afraid. In an instant, I decided I needed to know for myself what my limits were. I looked at the guide and said: "Ready."
Apparently, I was ready. Ready to say goodbye to old, irrational fears. And ready to start living for myself.
And today, I drove a speedboat for the first time. In case you've never done so, driving on a crowded recreational lake on a weekend day with heavy winds is not the easiest introduction. But it was fun. I think I'll do that again. And who knows what else I'll do?
My post-vacation bliss is fading. Today has brought the following: my sister being all shitty about costs for a mountain trip this summer, a snafu with the maid in cleaning our townhouse, the realization that the carpet in both our townhome and our real house is fucked, a person who has known me for THREE years totally pronouncing my name incorrectly (she calls me something different every week) and a surprising lack of work at my real job. The last thing scares the shit out of me. I'm a real estate attorney, and the real estate market sucks big ones.
THUD.
I think that's the sound of my return to reality.
I'm sitting in my office, which is starkly illuminated by flourescent lights. If it weren't for the large picture window that faces actual trees and birds, I might go crazy. It all seems so harsh, the flourescent lights, the suit jackets, the sounds of the office phones, ringing and ringing. Costa Rica was so soft. The sounds, the air, the light, the voices of its people, all somehow less intrusive than the soundtrack that accompanies life in Atlanta. So subtle and dream-like was Costa Rica that I wonder if I imagined it. The pictures and video prove that it wasn't all in my head, but still it feels like a dream. An oasis, really.
A complete write-up will come later, but suffice it to say that I loved Costa Rica. While I'm sad to be back, I don't have the despair that has accompanied my return from other vacations. Why? I can't place it, but somehow Costa Rica is still with me. I found myself very at peace there, even in the large city of San Jose. The peace is still inside, and I'm determined to let it remain for as long as it can.
Look down on the right side of my page. See that trip counter? Right now it says 2 days until our Costa Rica Adventure. 2 days is not much time. It feels like an eternity as I sit at my desk, one more day of serving my sentence until I can be free. I'm being dramatic, I know. I haven't had a week off since the very first week of July 2007. My office isn't an office that supports taking time off. They make it difficult for you to do so, and the clients are so demanding. There is no "putting in your time." If you aren't here to do your job, it doesn't get done. Period.
I can't wait to be off, exploring a new country. In truth, I'm scared because I speak only restaurant Spanish. I can greet people, tell them I don't speak Spanish, order food and say "thanks!", but that's about it. Lots of people in CR speak English, but not all. I think we'll get around okay... I hope so.
We have to ride on a small, 20-seat plane for an hour to reach one of our destinations. I hope we make it okay. I'm most nervous about that flight. Okay, that flight and the ziplining. But I'm determined to do both.
Ugh, will Thursday ever get here? I've miles to go before then, and delaying my work isn't going to help, is it?
I'm not getting much work done today, so a blog post seems in order. At least I'm producing SOMETHING this way.
I've recently created a profile on Facebook (FB from here on out). I've resisted for so long, and now I know why. Don't get me wrong, it's fun to catch up with old friends, but sometimes it just brings back memories I'd just as soon have forgotten. FB is an excellent stalking tool. Even if one of your old friends isn't on there, there's a pretty good chance that a mutual friend will have some pictures of that person or some info about them. I guess it's better than totally losing track of folks, but still... I'd like to forget about a lot of things I did between the ages of 15 and 22.
Some people are on my mind today. People I haven't reached out to, but have found pictures or snippets of information about. People who I can't and won't contact directly, for a variety of reasons that are intensely personal and not for any public forum. To those people, I have a few things to say:
To AL, you are probably the most beautiful person I've ever met in real life. In college, you were so troubled and I lost patience. Crazy, promiscuous and psycho were words I often threw about when describing you to others. That was mean and I'm sorry. The truth is, you were troubled. Deeply. I'm sorry I didn't even try to help more, but honestly I didn't know what to do with you. People were completely bewitched by you at first meeting, and I was intensely envious of that. And of your physical beauty. Was I shallow? Yes, I freely admit that. But I was also jealous. Part of me wanted to be as carefree and damn ballsy as you were every single day. But you were too carefree, and that turned me off. You were carefree to the point where you neglected your responsibilities, imposed on others with your irresponsibility, and physically and emotionally hurt yourself over and over again. You exhausted me.
I hope you've found some sort of happiness in your life. Honolulu seems as if it would suit you. Even with all of your horrible choices, countless mistakes and personal tragedy, I'm still jealous that you have the balls to step outside of what is expected and normal. Just please don't end up like your mom did. I still think about you, even though it's likely I will never see you again. I doubt I ever cross your mind these days, and I'm okay with that. Please find peace, please don't repeat the cycle.
To AN, I admit a small part of me still harbors a grudge. What you did to me was really low, probably the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me. You were cutthroat and manipulative, and in the end it didn't really work out so well for you, did it? I know it was 10 years ago, and I want to like you now, but I find it hard. I can't like you because I don't trust you. Actually, that's probably not correct, the whole problem is that I do LIKE you, but I can't trust you. So, I guess we can be friendly, but not friends. What I don't want is to feel the grudge anymore. I want to wash that away. With this post, I am acknowledging to myself that the grudge is gone - it has to be. It's childish and stupid and small of me to hold it any longer. You were a very young woman who used bad judgment. I was admittedly irresponsible for a while there. I was tough to live with and we fought often and hard. I accept my part in what happened, I still wonder if you accept yours. Do you ever feel bad about it now? Did you ever feel bad, at any point? These are the questions I will never have the answers to, but I wish you well with your pregnancy. Twins! You will be busy for a while, and I may not see you for some time. I wish you all the best. Truly.
That gut-dump down memory lane is all I can handle for today. My feelings and thoughts about these individuals (and a few others) are so complex and I've never put them into words. If I could have 10 minutes to speak to either of these women, I would read them exactly what I've written today.
Relationships are complex, especially between women.
It's been a while, but we've had a lot going on. The Italian's sister had her gastric bypass on April 15th (tax day). She is just being discharged today, as she had a serious complication over the weekend. She had an intestinal blockage and some sort of umbilical hernia. She's better now, but there were some tense times.
We also had some of the Italian's cousins from NYC in town for the last week. It was really fun.
Things have been surprisingly good for me lately. I'm not sure if it's the arrival of spring weather, the upcoming vacation, the fact that I've been taking measures to get my workouts back on track, better eating or just an overall shift, but things feel clearer now.
We received news a few weeks back that one of our good couple-friends is moving to Texas. These friends are some of our last true family-like friends left in this area. We haven't been terribly close in the last year because since they've had their first child, they've dropped off the map. It happens sometimes. I try to understand, but I can't say my feelings aren't hurt.
Anyway, I am really thinking hard now about where I want the Italian and I to be. No question, if I wasn't married, I'd be out of this city like a bolt of lightening. However, realities being what they are, I am married and I have two residences. Shit. How are we going to sell these places?
The Italian and I have some stuff to figure out. If I had my druthers, one of us would find a contract somewhere warm, like the Cayman Islands, Bermuda, St. Thomas, etc. I don't know if I'll win that battle though.
I realize that I've been spinning my wheels here at work. While there are certainly good things about where I work, this place makes me feel as if my world's a little small. I never get the chance to travel in this job, and I never will. While many of the people I work with are nice, a lot of them have a very defeatest attitude. There's a lot of complaining, and a lot of people who just accept that moderate unhappiness is their lot in life. I won't accept that.
So, here I am. I know I need to move on, but I'm frustrated because I have to wait to do so. For now, I will save as much money as I can, keep myself healthy and employed, and wait it out. I'll travel as much as we can afford to, and not worry so much about how much time I'm taking off work. After all, I highly doubt a partnership here is in the cards for me.
It's 75 degrees outside today and not a cloud in the sky. I'm going to Costa Rica in 10 days, going to the beach and mountains this summer and going to St. John in October. Life could be worse.
I feel sorry for the Italian right now. Up until three years ago, his family was solid as a rock, albeit with some small pieces chipped off along the way. In the past three years:
1. Sister #2 has gotten divorced, had major behavioral problems with her children, major money problems due to her ex, and is now having major surgery for weight loss purposes next week (it's a big risk).
2. Sister #1 has decided to leave her husband of 16+ years on what seems like a whim. She has her reasons, but basically she thinks she can do better. I know this to be true, but she's not admitting it. She's been unfaithful, and she's used the Italian as her confidante. It's unfair.
3. The Parents have retired, and each is now getting progressively more annoyed by the other. The bickering has reached fever pitch. Dad is extremely opinionated, and is very disappointed in Sister #1's recent decisions. He thinks she's over her head at her job and trying to run with the big dogs when she needs to be at home with her kids. I disagree on that front. The kids have two parents... it's time for Sister #1's husband (soon-to-be ex) to step up to the plate and take care of those kids since he hasn't been around for a while. He's retired. He can do it.
4. Brother #2 is engaged, but they can't set a date. They keep changing their minds. There is uncertainty, and a lack of confidence in the relationship. This is the Italian's closest sibling, and we just want him to be happy. Easier said than done.
5. Brother #1 has a wife with mental health issues. Major ones. They've been stablizied lately, but it's never easy.
The Italian is on the phone right now arguing with Sister #1 about something. Apparently, some family function (maybe a first communion for a niece?) was scheduled during our upcoming vacation (which has been on the books since August 2007). They're upset we can't come. They didn't ask before they scheduled. It's getting nasty.
The walls are crumbling a bit, and it makes me sad. My family foundation is so unstable, and I always looked towards the Italian's family to fill certain gaps. Now, it's not so dependable.
This is a depressing post. I'm going to drink some wine.
It's a beautiful day outside today. 75 degrees or so and brilliantly sunny. Weather like this makes me long for the smell of sunscreen. You know the scent: when you're on vacation and you've got nothing to decide except whether to read US Weekly, People or that smut you brought along that technically qualifies as a "book." Before you head out of the day, you slather yourself in coconut-scented sunscreen. Everywhere you go, people have the same scent, sun-exposed skin mixed with coconut. It's delicious. And my time is coming - soon.
I just have to get through the next 21 days. C'mon May!
I've sunken to new lows. This is a post about weather, my friends. After a weekend in Hilton Head Island, SC last week, I'd sort of gotten accustomed to this spring thing. I like warm weather. Even better, I like bathing suit weather accompanied by beer and cookouts. Weather.com swears that the average high temperature for April in my city is 73 degrees. Fair enough, it's going to be 73 today! But, this weekend things get decidedly cooler. I mean, 57 on Sunday and 51 on Monday? Ick. If I wanted January weather, I'd live in the Northeast. I need spring. Spring has sprung, then it takes two steps back.
I just want to lie in the sun. Is that too much to ask?
While I don't normally use the Starbucks drive-thru, when I noticed the completely free drive-thru line this morning I simply couldn't resist. I pulled up to place my thrice-weekly order, a tall skinny vanilla latte, and was greeted with a peppy voice pulsing out of the order box: "Good morning and welcome to Starbucks, would you like to try a cup of our new Pike Place roast with one of our new top pop donuts?"
First, that's a mouthful. Second, now I'm beginning to understand why your damn drive through line is so fucking long every morning. If you read a chapter of War & Peace to every customer who comes through, it's going to take a hot minute. Third, no, I don't want to try a damn new roast. You roast your beans to hell and render a plain old cup of coffee completely undrinkable.
But did I say that, even though I was thinking it? No. Alas, you held my morning salvation, in the form of an expresso shot, in your peppy little hands. I just said, "Uh, no, I'd like a tall skinny vanilla latte."
Then you asked me if I wanted anything to eat. I think by this point we've established that I understand how this ordering thing works. If I'd wanted a nasty, pre-made, tasteless muffin, I would've ordered it the first go 'round. The coffee will be just fine, you dolt.
Again, using restraint, I just said "no." Then I was asked to hold on a minute while you got my total. You know what? I don't really care. I know the answer: the total is TOO FUCKING MUCH FOR A CUP OF COFFEE. See, I know that, yet I come anyway, as I am a fool. An addicted fool.
I pull up to the window and another peppy, hip chick takes my card. She then forces some literature about a Starbucks card into my hand. Are they fucking kidding me? I pull off, and wonder if the hassle was worth it.
I take a sip, and decide that mediocrity has a price. $3.27.
You know how sometimes when you feel pressure to do something, it just seems like too much, but then once you remove that pressure, the thing you were stressing about didn't seem so bad? Well, that's how I felt on my break from blogging. That, and of course the fact that the week I chose to break from blogging, lots of shit happened... some good, but mostly bad.
My best friend had her second baby, a girl. Good! Then, my friend developed a uterine infection and her husband - the sole breadwinner - lost his job. Bad! I'm working out a lot more and am really happy with the plan I'm following. Good! I've eaten like absolute shit the last week. Bad! A pep talk from my boss led me to learn that I am in no danger of losing my job during this crappy economy. Great! I bought my house during the 2006 boom and I hate it... and I have no idea when we'll be able to sell and I refuse to do so without breaking even. Bad!
I really treat this blog like a bit of a personal diary, which I suppose is good and bad all at the same time. Good, because I need to get certain thoughts out. Bad, because even though I didn't want to lose my anonyminity, I did in certain cases. A few things have been bothering me lately, and I've been hesitant to really even think through these thoughts, let alone write them down. I guess I have to deal with it sometimes.
First, I'm having a bit of conflict with my chosen profession. I am a commercial real estate attorney. There are good things about my career - it's stable, it only becomes more stable the older I get, I make good money and my hours are very reasonable. Those things are all very important. However, I've been having a bit of an ethical conflict lately with some of the projects I have to handle. I don't mind refinances, even though I don't love finance. I do mind new projects where beautiful farm land is being turned into a concrete shopping center filled with another nail salon and Quizno's. The Italian reminds me that this forward "progress" would occur whether or not my firm closed the transaction. He's right, of course.
I just found out that one of my favorite places in my county - a game ranch where injured animals are rehabbed and you can visit and feed these animals by hand - is being sold to a Buddhist temple. Granted, it's not a shopping center, but it's not going to be the "game ranch" any longer either. Sigh.
Second, I've written a lot about being "down" or "unhappy" or "annoyed" lately. In general, I think I operate at a lower level of "happy" than a lot of people in the pervasively, ridiculously optimistic US of A (see?). However, I think something else is going on. There is a history of depression in my family, and I suspect I'm carrying on the tradition.
I definitely have long cycles where things seem very dark and impossible. I'm not the kind to lay in bed, shades drawn, and wither away. I'm functioning, although not at maximum capacity. My energy level is fairly low, my concentration level is pretty bad. I don't feel like cooking, one of my favorite hobbies, even on weekends when I have the time. Going to the store for groceries, or even going clothes shopping, seems like a monumental task. Don't even talk to me about cleaning my house. That's like climbing a mountain. Thank god the Italian is around to pitch in.
I'm easily irritated, I'm snapping a lot lately, and any little thing someone says that disagrees with one of my thoughts or ideas seems like a personal attack. I'm very difficult to be around, and I don't like myself very much right now.
I was seeing a therapist about some family problems back in 2007. I gave it up for a variety of reasons, but ultimately I didn't feel a connection with the therapist I saw. I don't know if I want to try again. I probably should. I've always been a little leery of medication, and I've never taken an anti-depressant. Maybe I just don't know enough, but messing with brain chemistry sounds scary to me. Maybe there's another way.
Anyway, it's really scary to admit depression. I don't even like typing it. But I know ignoring it will not make it go away.
I have more to say, but I pretty worn out from this post already. I'll be back, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week.
I'm officially taking a break from blogging. I don't know for how long and I don't know when I'll resume. It may last a week, it may last a month. My stats show me that only 3-4 people read this on any average day, so my absence will not leave much of a mark on the world.
I've been reading a lot of blogs and travel message boards lately. The end result of all of this reading and researching is that I end up annoyed by people. Annoyed by people's opinions on crime, travel, money, breastfeeding, child-rearing and a host of other topics, some of which I don't even know anything about.
It's stupid, and I need a break. Plus, this spring weather is just so delicious that I need to spend time living, and not writing about living. My world, my life is not a stage.
They caught one of the bastards who killed Eve Carson in Chapel Hill. They know who the other one is, but he's on the run. He's 17 years old. Given that most 17-year olds don't have the common sense of my cat, I have a feeling his days on the street are numbered. Since I'm a lawyer, I probably should say "the guys who allegedly killed Eve Carson," but I'm not interested in playing charades. They've got these guys on video using her ATM card the night she was killed, in her car.
This story makes me so angry. The guy in custody has an abrasion on his face. Did she fight back? Did they shoot her multiple times, including once in the head, because she fought? Did they try to rape her and she resisted too hard? Did she fail to give them her PIN code?
Of course, everything I say is just speculation and none of it helps anyone. These two guys, who are really half-grown sludge from Durham, killed this girl for no reason. I hate that one day I'll have to explain to my niece, or my (potential) daughter, that there are certain times of the day you can't even leave your house to go to your car by yourself.
This is a pretty shitty world we live in.
Costa Rica is a go. I put my big girl panties on, took charge, and now am the proud owner of reservations for all three of our destinations, in addition to a 4 day rental of a Suzuki Grand Vitara.
I'm excited and scared all at the same time. Not of the new language or culture, but scared of the bugs. We're going to the Osa peninsula for part of our trip, and it's one of the most remote places in Costa Rica. Word on the street is that the creeps come out at night. Our cozy-looking bungalow will receive visitors during the night, including tree frogs, scorpions (!!) and things of undetermined name, shape and poison level. Holy fuck, I'm definitely taking earplugs and a sleep aid.
Here are our choices:
San Jose (our first night and then one night in transit): Orquideas Inn
Arenal/La Fortuna: Silencio Del Campo
Osa Peninsula: Bosque Del Cabo (and I'm linking to tripadvisor b/c I think their website is abysmal)
I'm excited now. This will be a very different trip, but an adventure I'm looking forward to. When we were on St. John, I enjoyed our daytime hikes and snorkel adventures much more than staying around the stuffy resort. I think I'm up to the challenge of Costa Rica.
Plus, I get to go to St. John in October anyway. I'm spoiled with travel and I love it!
For better or worse, I was a sorority girl in college. Though I'm not sure I'd do it again, I did walk away with a few really great friends who I still depend on to this day. However, one of those friends lived in my dorm, so I'm pretty sure we would've been good friends even without the sorority.
I'm rambling. All to get to the point that when I was in college, my sorority faced two tragedies. First, one of the older girls was killed in a fraternity house fire. She was one of five or six who died. Second, another girl was killed in a car wreck about a year later. Another one of my sorority sisters was driving the car. It was a bad time all around.
I felt like tragedy was stalking my campus when I was in college. I went to UNC-Chapel Hill, and by all accounts its an idyllic school. In many ways, it is. However, in the four years I spent there, we had a campus shooter, a frat house fire, the suicide of a guy who was a member of the fraternity that had the fire, and several car wrecks that killed people. In addition, THREE (I'm not joking) members of my high school debate team all died while away at college. One had a brain aneuryism, one had a heart condition, and one was kidnapped and has not been found to this day. All this on top of the awesomeness of one of my best friend's mom being diagnosed with what turned out to be terminal cancer.
Life was just beginning, but all around me, it was also ending. If I ever seem a bit macabre, I come by it honestly. I embrace people who have a genuine excitement about life. I want to be one of those people. I just can't summon the energy or courage. I've seen too much tragedy in my 31 years. My best friend has lost both her brother and her mother since we left college. I've lost my father and watched him suffer horribly. I know how ugly and unfair life can be.
This week, tragedy again struck the place I most consider home. The student body president of UNC was murdered. I'd never heard of her before this week. Her name was Eve Carson, and she was the big cheese around campus. A prestigious Morehead scholar, involved in campus politics and policies, beautiful and seemingly fearless. This girl had a genuine excitement about life. This girl anticipated the future and each coming day. She was apparently shot in the head by a random robber who wanted her ATM card. She was dumped on the road a mile from her house, shot multiple times. The most recognizable girl on campus, and it took the police 24 hours to identify her.
They have a photo of the monster (I'm sorry, "person of interest") who did this, but don't have him under arrest at this point. I'm scared and sorry for my school. I was so hoping that a stalker had killed her. Not that it would have made it any better, but it wouldn't have been as scary for the students at UNC. Chapel Hill is a safe place. At least, it was. I hate that the safety and innocence that one should have in college has been taken away from the student body.
I don't have much of a point. I'm just sad for my school. I'm sad for the town. I'm sad for the world. Most of all, I'm sad for Eve Carson, whose dreams and ambition for the future will remain unfulfilled. And that's the most unfair thing of all.
We're taking time off in May. Right now, we've got frequent flyer tickets to Costa Rica. We've got one of our places booked, but we have until the 6th of March to cancel without penalty. After totaling up the cost of the Costa Rica trip, the costs came to almost $5000. Yikes. That's a chunk. We can go back to St. John in May for about $2600, not including a little bit of spending (we eat lots of meals in there). That's almost half as much!
I'm conflicted. I put pressure on myself to see and try new things, trying to collect travel experiences like they are a valuable commodity. But they aren't. The goal of my vacations right now should be to relax, cause I have major problems doing that these days. Eight nights on St. John sounds heavenly. I've only been once, and I saw less than a quarter of what there is to see of that rich island.
I also think that Costa Rica is a fabulous family destination for kids in the 6-13 age range. We've probably got time to do that trip after we have kids. On the other hand, I really grew fond of the ideas of seeing monkeys, sloths and macaws in their native habitats.
Can someone tell me what to do (don't answer that question). I don't think vacation is supposed to be this stressful. Am I right folks?
I'm up early today, for me. The Italian is playing hockey this morning, and I woke up around 7 to brilliant sunshine. It's supposed to be almost 70 today. Hello Spring! I plan on making some jewelry, running, and going to the market today. That's all that's on my list. Oh yeah, and going outside.
We went over to a friend's place for dinner last night. This particular couple are really good friends, and they have a 1-year old son. We just learned that they are possibly moving in the next year... and they won't say where. Long story, but the Italian and our male friend worked together for years, it's a really evil company and a very small world. Our friend needs to extricate himself from the company, but doesn't want to find a new job in our area because the company will sue him to enforce his non-compete agreement. Lawyers! They've either sued or threatened to sue many different valued employees who've left, including the Italian.
Anyway, I'm sad. These friends are some of the only people who make living here truly tolerable.
On a unrelated note, we're having to re-examine our May trip to Costa Rica. I've added everything up, and this is going to be one expensive trip. *Sigh*. I really don't want to go through the hassle of cancelling everything. We're trying to figure out if we can do St. John any cheaper... not sure if that will work.
I just read an article about the sorry state of the US economy. When a reporter asked President Bush what he thought about a recent economic report that suggests gas might reach $4.00 a gallon by next year, his comment was "That's interesting, I hadn't heard that before."
Geez, those words suggest the kind of lazy, half-ass response I give when the Italian starts blabbering on about string theory or outer space or some other article from Discover magazine. "That's interesting, dear."
Did anyone ever teach this guy how to respond to a question appropriately? How about, "I'm not familiar with that report, so I'm not equipped to comment on specifics at this point. However, the government is doing everything it can to...." I mean, come on! It's not that hard, dude! At least act like you care, lame duck or not.
We arrived in Vegas on February 13th at 10:00 pm, shortly after the airport re-opened after closing for high winds (70 MPH gusts). It was an unpleasant flight that involved one aborted landing attempt about 30 feet from the runway, lots of white knuckles, and a plane packed full of anxious travelers. After hearing that we had one more chance to land or else we were being diverted, the captain received thunderous applause when he actually put the plane down, albeit clumsily.
As always, we do carry-on only, so we quickly got a cab and arrived at the MGM. We checked in to the MGM easily around 10:30 pm. This was my first time staying at this property, and I'm not sure I'm in a hurry to get back. We were put in a "West Wing" room, which is some sort of code for "ultra-sleek design involving a non-private toilet, non-existent bathroom countertop, and ship-like tight quarters designed to distract you from the fact that this block of rooms has ABSOLUTELY NO VIEW." Hell, we'd paid $69 a night and it was Valentine's Day weekend, President's Day weekend AND a fight weekend at the MGM. I'm pretty sure we're lucky they didn't put us in the maid's closet.
One of the things I love about Vegas is looking out of my hotel windows and seeing the mountains in the distance. It reminds you that, despite the glitz that is Vegas, Nevada still has a tremendous amount of natural beauty if you step outside the city. I barely saw the mountains at all this trip since we had such a crappy room. If I had it to do over, I'd have requested a different room.
We hit the casino late that night and stayed up until about 2:00 am. I really don't remember much of what we did that evening, though I feel certain we lost about $200. I should've known when our flight landed safely and (relatively) on-time that I'd already pressed my luck enough. As usual, I couldn't leave well enough alone.
On Thursday, February 14th, we awoke to beautiful skies, brisk temperatures, and MY BIRTHDAY! We got out around 9:00 and headed over to NY NY. This casino is undergoing renovations, but it's still nice. We ate at the Il Fornaio (sp) cafe, where I had a yummy, fat-laden parfait and a latte. We soon moved to the blackjack tables where I promptly lost about $100. Huh. However, NY NY will "rate" you if you're playing even $5 a hand, so I'd like to think that I'll eventually see some of that $$ back in reduced room rates at other MGM properties. I also began imbibing vodka and grapefruit juice at this point. Perhaps a bit prematurely, but whatever, it was my birthday.
We soon moved to Planet Hollywood, which replaced the former Aladdin. Woooeee, this place is fancy! Planet Hollywood redid the front parts of the shoppes, and it's now white and very sleek. I quickly entered Max Studio and promptly dropped $80 on a silk shirt. Again, it's my birthday. I took my loot and hit the casino. I played slots for a while and stayed constant. Hubby went to the blackjack table and managed to win. Yeah! Once I came over to the blackjack area, he started losing. Eventually, I took hubby's place on the table. I noticed that the table surface said "The Pleasure Pit." Apparently, after 8 pm, dancers mount these little stands and wiggle it to very loud music. The combination of loud music and a grouping of blackjack table was popular at many different casinos, including Flamingo and Harrah's. I don't get it, you can't hear people talk, and it gives me a headache.
Anyway, I played for a long time and embarrassed myself with my tipsy verbal banter. Hubby finally pulled me away as we had tickets to O that night. We grabbed a quick piece of pizza at the MGM before heading over to the Bellagio, and we saw Howie Mandel while we were eating. A minor celebrity for sure, but I'm pretty bad at noticing people, so I felt happy I saw someone famous on a big weekend in Vegas. I later found out that George Clooney and Paris Hilton were in Vegas that weekend as well. I mean, come on! I wish I'd seen George instead.
O was incredible. It's a Cirque Du Soleil water show, and I was mesmerized. We had great seats, about 14 rows from the stage in the center row, and we were on the end. That means that the actor's interacted with us a bit, as they come up and down the aisles several different times. Though it is expensive, I'd highly recommend this show for anyone who wants to pick one show to see in Vegas.
After O, we went back and ordered room service. I fell asleep, exhausted but content.
Friday was spent gambling at the Monte Carlo, which had just reopened that day after being shut down for several weeks due to the fire. Business was slow, but the employees seemed glad to be back. We played for a while and then had lunch at Diablo's, a new place that opened up in front of the Monte Carlo. It's a mexican joint that reminds me of the Pink Taco at Hard Rock. We had some great nachos and margaritas, and it was nice to take a load off.
We tinkered around to several different casinos and played more blackjack. I'm pretty sure we lost again. Dinner that night was at Trader's Vics on the patio, under heat lamps. The food was so-so, but the Bellagio fountain view was great and the company couldn't be beat ;) After dinner, we hit Paris, where I jumped on a $10 blackjack table. With the Italian standing behind me, I quickly started garnering quiet, hateful stares from my tablemates as I won hand after hand after hand. I couldn't lose - for once! I more than doubled my cash and walked away.
Saturday was our last day. We were leaving on a red-eye back that night at midnight, so we had the whole day to kill. We ate at the MGM buffet that morning, and I'm glad we waited until Saturday to use our free meal. The buffet was positively buzzing that morning as it was a fight day. I'm not a boxing fan, but this was apparently the middleweight championship fight between Pavlik-Taylor. There were quite a few "important" folks in the restaurant that morning - now, I'm not sure who they were, but they sure thought they were important.
We checked out at noon and headed down towards the North strip. We ended up playing most of the day at the Mirage, which continues to be the one casino I can rely on for blackjack wins. I was dismayed to see that most of their blackjack tables are continous shuffle, which really sucks for the player. However, we found a few traditional tables and played most of the afternoon, leaving about $400 up. We had dinner at some random restaurant, tinkered away most of our winnings at Paris and the MGM, and then headed for the airport. We didn't time it too well because we were leaving right as the fight ended. The MGM flooded with more people than I thought possible. Fortunately, a very nice porter moved us to the front of the extensive taxi line, and off we went.
I was exhausted and ready to go home. I needed detox. I needed my treadmill. I needed my bed.
Our flight was on time and we arrived home around 7:00 am.
Overall, I was less enthused with Vegas this time than I've been on my prior trips. I didn't win, which is unusual for me, but typical for the average player. I suppose I've had better than average luck until now, and that was bound to run out at some point. I didn't care for the South strip area around the MGM. I much prefer to stay in the Paris/Flamingo area as that area has less junk shops and "porn slappers" shoving naked lady cards in your face. I don't know if I'm in such a hurry to go back. I look at the money we spent that weekend and think "gee, I could've gone to Mexico and laid around a fancy resort all weekend and gotten really relaxed." Instead, I spent half of the next week exhausted and drained.
Nonetheless, it was a good birthday. I really enjoyed O, walking around during the beautiful sunny days and seeing snow covering the Nevada mountains. I was dismayed at some of the changes I saw in the casinos, from switching to continuous shuffle blackjack to the exorbitantly high table limits at most of the places on the strip. A lot has changed since my first ever visit in 2004, and I've seen changes for the worse every year since.
I feel like I've ended on a negative note, but the trip was very fun. We spent part of Saturday evening sitting in the Paris hotel walkway at a cafe, watching dozens of people attending fancy events walk by. Some of the wardrobe choices were questionable, and we had fun making up stories about the people that walked by. People-watching in Vegas simply can't be beat. I think it even surpasses New York. Like I always say, if you can't find a way to have fun in Vegas, you don't know how to have fun.
I've had a bad reaction to some medication and now I'm itching like a fool. Apparently I'm allergic to minocycline. Who knew?
Please god, please, let the nurse call me back soon.
The good news: we got to Vegas last Wednesday night.
The bad news: we only arrived after battling 50 MPH wind gusts and an aborted landing.
My reign as the unluckiest flyer ever continues! Seriously, why do I even try to fly to Vegas any more? Each and every flight I've ever taken out there has sucked with a capital "S."
The kicker this time? It seems we used up all our luck on that landing, because getting on that plane was the only gamble we won all weekend. Okay, so that's not entirely true, we did come out ahead at the Mirage (what else is new?) but pretty much donated our winnings to MGM later that same evening.
I'm not really in the proper frame of mind to write a trip report, but when I do the following topics will be covered: Ugly Americans, kilts, the Pleasure Pit, O, and a really embarassing birthday moment.
I bet you can't wait!
Tomorrow is my birthday. See that little trip counter down on my page that mentions Vegas? It currently reads less than one day until departure. See, technically we're supposed to leave tonight at 8:00pm and arrive in Vegas at 9:30pm. I looked at weather.com last night and it hit me that neither of these things is likely to happen.
All hell has broken loose in the NE USA. Delays abound, the weather sucks. In my little city, we're overcast with increasing winds all day. In Vegas, they're expecting sustained winds of about 28 MPH when we're set to land. Never mind the gusts, which could reach 50 MPH. Holy mother of shit. My air traffic controller SIL tells me we may be able to land, but it'll be a game time decision.
I don't want to throw a pity party for myself, but I'm sad. I've been looking forward to this little getaway for so long, and a day's delay would pretty much ruin the point of the trip. We only have about 3 days as it is, so one less would mean we'd be running around like crazy and would have no relaxation time. C'est la vie, I suppose.
And, the Italian told me last night he bought tickets to O for my birthday tomorrow night. I hope we make it by then.
I know I said I wouldn't be back for a while, but I lied. I do that sometimes. Yesterday I was a model of efficiency. This afternoon, I've been a big model of lazy.
There's a mystery woman who pees on the bathroom floor in my office building. I bet that got your attention. Thing is, I'm not lying. She's been caught in the act four times now. She's about 35 years old with long dyed black hair and an average build. Overall, she's very average and doesn't appear homeless. She doesn't work in our building (it's pretty small) and no one has any idea how she arrives, by car or on foot. Four times now, a different co-worker has walked in our eight stall bathroom and found this woman with her pants around her ankles in a full squat, either urinating or (once) defacating. What's your take: mental illness or drug addict?
All I know is this: someone who will squat and piss out in the open will cut me with a knife if confronted. I'm not going to fuck with her.
Switching gears, I've been pensive lately. I'm really trying hard at work to be positive and pro-active. Things are going okay, but in the end I'm not satisfied. I was reading a random blog this afternoon (see? lazy.) and the author is moving to Europe soon from the US. When she told her parents, her father needed to process the info and then told her he was glad she was moving, because she'd just been existing, not LIVING, where she was.
Those words hit like the proverbial thunderbolt. Why hadn't I thought of that before? That's exactly how I feel each day: going through the motions, with no excitement or variation mixed into my days. Since I live and work in the suburbs, my life feels very sterile and intentional. There's no possibility of going out for a walk and getting lost. There's also no true natural beauty in my environment. Now, I am not stupid enough to think the answer to my malaise lies in moving to Europe or some far flung place. I realize the grass is always greener. But I'm moving to the steadfast realization that the answer is also not where I am right now.
I haven't been blogging lately and probably won't for another week or so after this post. I've been absolutely slammed lately. Work has been... tough. Interpersonal conflicts are dominating the work landscape. I'm trying hard to work through them, but somedays I just want to give it all up and hang out in my house for a month or so.
After a really hard week of work last week, I found myself hosting 35 people for an engagement party this weekend. It was fun, but I am still totally exhausted. Still, only one wine glass broke, a bowl of sauce got overturned on my hardwoods and a small splatter of red wine ended up on the carpet. Not bad considering the group I had.
My birthday is this Thursday. Yes, I'm a Valentine's baby. No, I'm not really sweet. I'll be 31, and that pisses me off. But whatever. I'm going to Vegas tomorrow night for my birthday. We return on the redeye Sunday morning around 7am.
I could talk about so much more, but I can't find the energy.
Why, oh why, didn't this occur to me before? Many people have done this before me, but I feel as if I have discovered some deeply guarded secret to happiness. It's name? Happiness, thy name is MAID SERVICE.
We had a maid come today for the first time. When I entered my house (or oasis) at 6:02 PM, I smelled the lovely scent of pine. My hardwoods, they shone. My stainless steel cooktop, it glimmered. My bathroom? There isn't an appropriate adjective.
Whatever I have to do to keep this up, I'm doing it. Bi-weekly maid service, I must have it. I'll drive a crappy car if I have to. I just don't care.
We're hosting an engagement party this weekend for my brother-in-law and his new fiancee. The maid was hired to clean before the party because we finally admitted that we don't have the time or energy. I can literally FEEL the stress lift off my shoulders when I think of how much more time I have to concentrate on work and the party. Now, the party might actually be FUN!
How did I ever live before? (okay, a little dramatic, but still...)
Since travel is a passion of mine, I frequent a few different travel message boards related to my favorite destinations. Most posters are really nice and have genuine questions or answers to said questions. For those folks, I patiently answer their questions and move along. The minority, about 10%, are just a pain the ass.
Like the people who make 10 separate threads asking about 10 separate villas. Things like "Villa Extravaganza: construction noise?" and "Villa Spirulina: construction noise?". Days go by, no one answers. Inevitably, when you nicely respond that they would be best served to call the rental agency and inquire about these properties, they say something like "I know, but I'm just hopeful someone can tell me something." Hm. I think the rental agencies CAN tell you something. They're not in the business of lying about construction noise because an unhappy customer is a squeaky wheel. These are people I hope I don't have the misfortune of sitting next to on a beach.
Then, there are the folks who inquire if anyone can tell them of a place to stay for a few nights. Something clean and comfortable like Guesthouse X, who they've called and gotten a quote from. Oh, and does anyone know anything about Guesthouse X? So, when I respond and give them some alternate suggestions (which they asked for) and then proceed to tell them that I've never stayed at Guesthouse X, but the reviews on trip advisor aren't great and they should really check those out, they respond "I'm looking for reviews from people who've stayed there." DUH, assholes. For the FORTIETH TIME, LOOK AT TRIP ADVISOR! Despite some stupid reviews, it is hands down the best place for hotel reviews if you can read through the lines and separate picky travelers from ones like yourself.
I'm going to take a break from stupid people.
Oh, and I brought a "fun mix" of Valentine's Skittles and Starburst into my office, and I'll be damned if some asshole hasn't eaten all of my Skittles and left the Starburst. I'm gonna have to kill somebody for denying me my Skittles.
Oh and Oh - We've got a maid coming tomorrow! Yeah! Now I just have to clean my house before the maid comes. You think that's crazy? So do I, but apparently your house has to be in some sort of order for the maid to do her job. I want to move back in to a very small apartment right now.
I'm officially over it. I don't want to feel crisp air on my skin, have cozy nights wrapped up on blankets or eat hearty soups any more. I want strawberries, tank tops and outdoor dining. Oh, and flip-flops.
The wind is blowing something fierce today and the sky looks, well, melancholy. It's neither rainy nor sunny. Large, grey puffy clouds are blowing by quickly and peeks of blue poke through. Not unattractive, but there aren't enough sun peeks to warm it up out there either.
I said "peek." Twice.
I'm glad it's Friday. I'll be working all day tomorrow on CLIO. We're going to a really dorky bead show and I'm excited. Then, at 4:00pm we meet with a contact about designing some jewelry for a new day spa that's opening in my area. What he wants will be a bit of a challenge, so that's exciting.
Oliver the cat fell in the bathtub again last night. That cat has an issue with water. He's obsessed with it and but doesn't seem to realize he HATES it until he is actually IN it. Oh well, at least I know he can get himself out of a half-full bathtub by himself. Oopsie.
I have a problem with regret. Like Catholics with guilt, regrets haunt me almost daily. On my mind today is my regret at going to law school. You know how some people have a mastery of their careers and when questioned, they can fire off information? I'm like that, only the exact opposite. I can't remember shit.
See, I have a terrible long-term memory when it comes to stuff that doesn't impact me daily. On the other hand, I also have the entire bank of knowledge from Trivial Pursuit Pop Culture Edition in my head, so that kind of goes against what I just said. Okay, so I don't remember things when I simply don't CARE enough. You beat it out of me. Happy now?
So it goes that a couple of weekends ago a friend was discussing Roe v. Wade. He was going on and on about what the case actually says, and despite the fact that I studied the case intently in law school and used to know it really well, I couldn't recall if he was correct or not. I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't correct, but what the hell was I going to counter him with?
I'll often get asked a legal question from family or friends, and I really can't answer the question without looking information up. Sometimes that "information" is basic legal terminology that I used to know really well. I then start to think I have some sort of brain tumor that's robbing my memory, but then I remember that I've always been like this.
Today at lunch I was explaining a concept to someone and I forget to use the legal term "waiver." Another lawyer filled it in for me (she wasn't being ugly, she just helped me along).
Somedays I feel like a fake lawyer. I suspect because I haven't been doing this long enough, but what if I always feel this way?
Ah, self-doubt and regret. What a fucking combination!
On a similar, but topically unrelated note, I'm also having regrets about upcoming vacations. We're going to Vegas in two weeks, but I'm starting to wish we'd chosen somewhere warm. I'm itching to release my toes from their winter shoes. My skin is dry. And I really want to feel the warmth of sun on my skin.
We've got a trip to Costa Rica planned for May. I guess I'm excited to try somewhere new, but I keep inventing reasons to put off booking a hotel for two of our three locations. I'm really indecisive on the whole thing, and I think it's because I look at the logistics and just lose patience.
And underneath it all, I kind of regret that we're not going back to St. John. See, there it is again! The ugly spectre of regret.
Ugh, damn it all. I'm going to go back to being a subpar lawyer now.
Results were released yesterday from a study that measured happiness and depression in eighty countries around the world. People were survyed, and the results tallied by country. In the US, people reported 44 as being their most unhappy age, regardless of financial status, marital status or overall place in life. Wow, what a lot to look forward to.
I'm surprised at this because, at age 30, things seem so damn HARD some days. I've got so much to prove at my job and I feel as if my youth hampers success. We're constantly stressing and straining to build a life for ourselves, to begin paying off the house, the cars, the student loans. It's an uphill battle. One that I'd hoped would be mostly over by the time I was 44. To me, a large part of happiness is financial independence. Maybe I'm wrong?
Those that were married reported being happier in general than those not married. However, those without children reported being happier than those with children. Now, the study didn't say whether those who were married/partnered with children were any happier than those un-partnered folks with children, but it gives me pause. Many people with children tell me how great it is, but most of those people have young children or adult children without problems. Those who have strained relationships with their kids or kids who've battled substance abuse/eating disorders/etc often tell me to "think about it hard and long before you have kids."
In the end, I guess it all comes down to your individual experiences. And sometimes we don't get to choose those experiences.
This study upsets me because I'd always looked toward my mid-forties as a sort of prime in my life. You're old enough that people take you seriously, but you still feel and look pretty young. If you've been a little saver, you have a decent amount of financial independence. Kids are getting older and your freedom is returning. Sure, life's probably halfway over, but if you haven't come to grips with the fact that "we've all gotta go sometime" by 44, I think you've been deluding yourself. I don't know, it's always sounded pretty good to me.
My sister is 40, and she seems better than she was at 35. The Italian's sisters are both in their early 40s, and though they've both had tough relationship issues, each seems to have a sure idea of what she wants and is going for it. I'm trying to enjoy my 30s, but standing at the front-end of the decade, it seems pretty hard. I've got a lot of work to do in the next 10 years. Having kids (or not) - either way it's going to be difficult. Saving money while still trying to travel, buy furniture and pay off a house - more tough. Building a career and name for myself in my chosen field (or figuring out what my chosen field even IS) - tough, tough, tough.
In the end, is it all even necessary? I've been asking myself this a lot lately. Part of my wants to "opt-out" of the traditional American life. I'm always reminded of a cheesy, but apt, parable about the businessman and the fisherman:
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"A few years ago, a very rich businessman decides to take a vacation to a small tropical island in the South Pacific. He has worked hard all his life and has decided that now is the time to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He is excited about visiting the island because he’s heard that there is incredible fishing there. He loved fishing as a young boy, but hasn’t gone in years because he has been so busy working to save for his retirement.
So on the first day, he has his breakfast and heads to the beach. It’s around 9:30 am. There he spots a fisherman coming in with a large bucket full of fish!
“How long did you fish for?” he asks. The fisherman looks at the businessman with a wide grin across his face and explains that the fishes for about three hours every day. The businessman then asks him why he returned so quickly.
“Don’t worry”, says the fisherman, “There’s still plenty of fish out there.”
Dumbfounded, the businessman asks the fisherman why he didn’t continue catching more fish. The fisherman patiently explains that what he caught is all he needs. “I’ll spend the rest of the day playing with my family, talking with my friends and maybe drinking a little wine. After that I’ll relax on the beach.”
Now the rich businessman figures he needs to teach this peasant fisherman a thing or two. So he explains to him that he should stay out all day and catch more fish. Then he could save up the extra money he makes and buy and even bigger boats to catch even more fish. The he could keep reinvesting his profits in even more boats and hire many other fisherman to work for him. If he works really hard, in 20 or 30 years he’ll be a very rich man indeed.
The businessman feels pleased that he’s helped teach this simple fellow how to become rich. Then the fisherman looks at the businessman with a puzzled look on his face and asks what he’ll do after he becomes very rich.
The businessman responds quickly “You can spend time with your family, talk with your friends, and maybe drink a little wine. Or you could just relax on the beach.”
----------------------------------------------------------------
Why work so hard to accomplish something that I could do right now, if I was willing to live on less? Is this American way of life too ingrained within me?
City Tree by Dan S, inspired by stiletto.love. See more Blogger Templates