couldn't be more true

I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I'm out of control and at times I'm hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.
- Marilyn Monroe

great expectations

Most of her dates were disappointing. Like biting into a cookie expecting to find a chocolate chip, only to find a raisin.

I jotted down this quote in my journal years and years ago. It must have been from some book I was reading at the time, but after all this time has passed I can't even begin to remember what it was, who it was by or what it was about. (Besides maybe a single girl, it would appear.) Apparently it hit a cord with me at the time and resonated yet again when I ran across it last night.

We're always expecting. Expecting things to happen a certain way, to be a certain way, to act a certain way, to taste a certain way. Expecting that delicious looking cookie in front of us to be filled with indulgent chocolate chips, not healthy raisins. We just can't help it. We see something or someone and our mind just starts wondering. Starts supposing. Starts expecting.We probably do this most often when it comes to dating. Anyone who's spent any time being single would have to agree. First impressions are lasting we hear time and time again. We judge people unfairly (whether it's to their benefit or detriment) without even thinking twice.

We learn, often times the hard way, that people are who we expected them to be. Who we imagined them to be at their worst.

But every once in a blue moon someone surprises you. Someone has a way of surpassing your expectations of them. And it's those times, however rare, that keep us holding on to hope.

It's those times that keep us reaching into the cookie jar.

twenty ten

It's pretty plain to see that I’ve been a little bit (okay, a whole lotta bit) delinquent in my postings. I've lost the handful of friends that somehow were conviniced to read this blog every once in a while in the first place. And worst of all, I've lost faith in myself as a writer. A real writer. A writer who writes to be read. Not a writer who scribbles in a journal every couple of days.

But it's 2010. (Okay, it's been 2010 for a month and a half now, but it's never too late to start over, right?) And with the new year, comes a new me. I know, I know. I've said this before. We all have. But a month and half into the year, I think I might be getting there. I've got a new job, a new set of resultions and goals and a renewed determination to propel me along. 2010 is going to be a good year.

What about the last 7 months? Well, let me catch you up. In the last 7 months I:

• Turned 26. (And 26 and a half.)
• Learned that hiring a moving company is the best $200 you will ever spend.
• Completed my first marathon, running the entire way. I even beat my goal time of 4:20 by ten minutes! Crossing that finish line was, by far, one of the coolest experiences of my life so far.
• Watched Cliff Lee and CC Sabathia face off as starting pitchers in the World Series. Unfortunately, neither were playing in an Indians jersey.
• Learned that you have to be careful of people who have hurt you in the past. They may not know how not to hurt you again.
• Realized (over and over again) that I have the 2 greatest brothers in the world. They've set a really high bar for other guys in my life.
• Learned that now more than ever I know I'd rather be alone than with the wrong person. No matter how great they are.
• Found a new appreciation for a $5 bottle of Andre champagne. (Who says Mimosas are only for brunch?)
• Saw my first 3D movie. (Seriously!)
• Realized that I like seeing everyone wearing the goofy 3D glasses more than I actually like watching the movie in 3D.
• Baked what feels like a truckload of cupcakes, mostly red velet. Yummy!
• Watched the Colts throw away a potential perfect season. In person. (I really could have gone my whole life without ever seeing Curtis Painter play live.)
• Quit the first and only real job I've ever had and said goodbye to the most amazing co-workers.
• Started a bright, shiny new job and said hello to some potentially equally great co-workers.
• Learned how important it is to have a strong mind and a soft heart. (Thanks Maya Angelou.)
  

I'm sure that's not everything, but it's something. Something to get you from there to here.

And so we're here.

Yes, 2010 is going to be a good year. And if it's not entirely good? Well, then I'm going to learn a couple things along the way.

Cheers!

if i were a boy

As I rode the train home last night from work, I couldn't help but get caught up in the conversation three twenty-something boys were having next to me. They were debating who was the most unique super-hero. Was it Batman because he put his super-hero costume on over his daily clothes, vs Spider Man and Superman who seemed to have it always underneath? And which one had the coolest alter-ego? (As if there's any question that it's not Bruce Wayne, right!?) And even which one had the best comic book background? In all honesty, I was sort of fascinated and it took a certain degree of willpower to restrain myself from jumping into the debate.

Now, if this had been three twenty-something girls, you can only imagine what they'd most likely been talking about. Boys. Boys. And probably more boys. Why Chris hadn't texted yet. What Matt meant when he said "I'll call you later". Why Jason was acting strangely. What outfit should be worn on the date with Nate. Whether or not Bryan would wait til this weekend to call. . .

I mean, I can't help but thinking that we're all a little crazy. Always talking about our feelings. Always overanalyzing what was said (and what it really meant). Always being expected to share every detail of every interaction with our twenty closest friends. Most of the time, being a girl is pretty darn amazing. But, girls, you have to admit it, sometimes it's just plain exhausting.

Which is why I guess I sort of pride myself on being a bit of both. It's the best of both worlds, I'd like to believe.

I mean, I'm a girl when I take two hours to get ready. Because I'm having fun trying out new make-up tricks. Or because my hair doesn't look quite right. Or because I just can't find the right thing to wear. Or decide between the three pair of black heels I have sitting in front of me. But I'm a boy when I throw on tennies, a t-shirt and a baseball hat and call it a day. Without thinking twice.

I'm a girl when I turn up the speakers and sing my lungs out to Britney Spears, Taylor Swift or (embarrassingly) Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana. But I'm a boy when I'd rather see the newest X-Men movie than a chick flick having to do with weddings. Or love. Or bridesmaids. Or feelings. Or relationships. Or Matthew McConaughey.

I'm a boy when I don't want anyone to interrupt me during the game. And when I start talking sports stats. When I'd rather watch ESPN than another E! special about Speidi or Jessica Simpson. And especially when I'm on the football field and my flag football team is down with 2 minutes left in the game. But I'm a girl when the camera zooms in on Tom Brady and I can't help but swoon.

I'm a girl when I flirt with the boys at the bar. When I'm secretly flattered that he's obviously a bit nervous when he asks for my number. Or when he eventually calls to ask me out. But I'm a boy when I meet someone that I find attractive and interesting and I just want to be the one to take the situation in my hands and call him up.

I'm a girl when I'm in the kitchen baking up a storm. And whenever I watch Casablanca or When Harry Met Sally. Or listen to sappy country songs. I'm a girl when I start to tear up at weddings. When I sit by a toddler on the train and can't help but think about being a mom in the future. And I'm a girl when nothing seems to help but a glass of wine and a good cry.

But I'm a boy when I go two weeks without plucking my eyebrows or painting my nails. I'm a boy when I order a bratwurst and don't care who sees me do it. And when I'm counting down the days until I leave for a camping trip because I love the idea of roughing it for the weekend. I'm a boy when I'm challenged to a dare and my pride won't let me back down. And when I'd rather drink a can of beer than a fancy martini. Even at a cocktail party.

I can't imagine always being girlie; I actually like being a tomboy most of the time. I like being tough enough to take whatever you're going to throw at me, but vulnerable enough to admit when I can't. I like putting on a fancy dress and being told I'm pretty, but I'd much rather put my hair in a ponytail and be told I'm fun. I like going out to a nice dinner every once in a while, but most of the time I'd be just as happy with ordering a pizza.

I'd like to debate the relative uniqueness of super-heros, but I'm probably going to spend a lot of time analyzing what my new guy's text meant. And why he waited two days to send it.

At the end of the day, though, I think Beyonce might be on to something.

to do: update blog

Confession: I'm addicted to to-do lists. I mean, seriously addicted. I've even been known to, on occasion, have a to-do list that has, as a line item: "make tomorrow's to-do list". A to-do list within a to-do list! What sort of twilight zone world am I living in? There's just something so satisfying about crossing off items from the list. I get a sort of demented pleasure from it. I wish I was lying, but that's just the way I am. I'm a planner. I'm an accomplisher. I have an anal Type A personality. (I mean, I organize my closet by color and type - dresses, shirts by sleeve length, pants, etc - of clothing for crying out loud.) I like there always to be an order to things. If I can anticipate, I'll always be ready. I'll never caught off guard.

And that's reassuring. Sometimes.

A couple things have happened to me (well, rather, around me) lately that have me second guessing the validity of having a plan.  First, I got an email from a friend of mine who is in the middle of a 6-month trek with her husband through New Zealand.  Both had great jobs, close family and friends, a nice apartment; the works. But they pressed pause on their life in Chicago and decided to explore for a while. They went without a real plan other than to make their way around NZ and make any money that they could, picking up odd jobs along the way.  An approach that I admired when I first heard of it, but, secretly, it scared me shitless. And now every time I read their blog I can't help but be jealous.

Second, one of my dearest friends got into the summer publishing program at NYC. (Congrats, Lyd!) So, she's picking up in a couple weeks and moving out to New York for the summer to chase down her dream job in publishing. When she first told me she got in she was excited, sure. But she was also really nervous. You know that nervousness that sets in when you realize you don't know what you're doing or where it's leading? Yeah, that's the one. I couldn't help but commiserate with her. These things are exciting, but they're scary.

And, finally, I just said goodbye to one of my co-workers who left for Europe on Tuesday to bike around the continent for 6 months. He knows where he's flying into and he know when and where he's flying out of. The rest he'll figure out as he goes. And if he's got to sleep on the side of the road a couple nights? Well, he's looking forward to that. The planner in me was screaming: but you don't know what's going to happen!

But that's the thing. We have no way of knowing the end. We can't predict what's going to happen. We can't plan for everything. Life's just not like that. Sometimes we just need to leap and trust that the net will appear. Or, better yet, leap and believe that somewhere along the fall, we'll spread our own wings and take off. Take off to new heights we could have barely dreamed of before. 

And if it's a little bit scary? Well, sometimes that's the only way you know you're doing it right.