On the Choices We Make

The Inevitable Path.

For some, making a decision is a painstaking opportunity to weigh the pros and cons until they blend together, and any decision is better than none. For others, either admirable clarity or undeniable impatience brings haste to the road eventually taken, and decisions are made with a seemingly untethered ease. Either way, choices are made, consequences are had, and the inevitable path is irreversibly paved. Enjoy!

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On Letters to Self

Dear [Insert Your Name]...

The youthful writer in me (from a lineage of writers, you should know) always appreciated the summer camp activity, Letters to Self, often within the first twenty four-hours of decorating our bunks, kissing &/or hugging our parents goodbye (sometimes in tears, but never for too long), and initiating the process of making new friendships (that would inevitably last a lifetime). In these letters, we reflected on whatever our semi-developed psyches could muster, and then - months later when we least expected - the self-addressed envelope arrived in our mailboxes, reminding us of the person we once were (in June) compared to the person we had become (in October). Enjoy!

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On Giving Birth

Everybody's Doin' It.

Between the mid-winter plethora of facebook announcements welcoming (much more than one) childhood friend into parenthood, local (30-something) birthday party conversation between second-time mothers, and my own sister describing the minute details of her recent birth, it feels as if a club has formed between women my age and I'm on the outside looking in, with many more years to go. And while psych 101 taught us that the view is considerably better from the inside looking out, this is one club I'm not rushing to be hazed into. Details too foreign to wrap my (semi-maternal) brain around, combined with comfortless reassurances that everybody's doin' it, have slowed the ticking of my (wildly fearful) clock as I take my sweet time to smell the significantly caffeinated coffee. Enjoy!

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On Bursting Into Flames

Light My Candle.

Scarred by those random stories we've (all) heard about how so-and-so's friend/cousin/neighbor/co-worker burned down their apartment during a trip to the corner store to buy milk for their hot chocolate but forgot to blow out their candle (that was innocently meant to create ambiance instead of mayhem), I hesitate to set the mood in my own abode even when it's much desired. I've even bought renter's insurance (for previous apartments) just in case my urge to light up (the candle I once made in summer camp) can't be squashed by my night-light substitute, since there's little comparison to the calming curiosity created by the flickering bluish-whitish-yellowish flame combined with [insert scent of choice]. Enjoy!

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On the Granny Cart

Never Too Young.

Back when I lived amidst the pedestrians of Brooklyn, New York (a short six months ago), I hauled many a back-breaking grocery bags from the Park Slope Food Coop (oh, how I miss thee) to my humble abode nearly ten blocks away, and actually sprained my 20-something back more often than I preferred. When dabbling with the idea of potentially relocating to Denver (for my roommate's graduate school program), a recent Brooklyn-to-Denver transplant boasted that the 'car culture' alone meant a grocery-ease that would make the change worthwhile. In spite of my hesitation (to move), I was excited by the prospect of life without back pain and as many groceries as my car trunk could muster, until we moved near a Whole Foods two and a half blocks away. To drive or not to drive... Enjoy!

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On the Clever & the Competent

Defying Distraction.

For those of us who spend more time gazing out the window than at the tasks in front of us, the term 'daydream believer' is significantly preferred to 'easy distracted' in comparison to our (highly-focused) 'clever and competent' counterparts. Rather than berating us for lack of prioritization, celebration our infinite imagination. Enjoy!

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On Unromantic Questions

Pre-Wedding Vows.

Far from the hopeful minds of recent newlyweds and the blissfully engaged are the what if's associated with life's impending dooms -- the possibility of unhealthy children, a cheating partner, or the ultimate dreaded d-word (divorce), and so on -- and rarely do these topics surface during pre-marital dinner conversations. And yet research suggests that having these Difficult Conversations will increase the odds of a successful marriage, but that the gloomy material should be spread out over a series of sessions (w/alcohol?) so as not to break up the marriage before it even starts. Enjoy!

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On RIP Whitney

I Will Always Love Her.

My main memory of Whitney Houston is nearly identical to that of most people my age. In 1992, we all sat in our neighborhood (movie) theaters wondering if Costner had it in him to save the day this time (-he always does). Sitting next to Joanna Stein, a middle school friend who would (one year) later make me cry at her 13th birthday party, I was mesmerized by Whitney as she belted out the words to I Will Always Love You in the final scene (?), with her perfectly red lipsticked mouth and bright, white teeth. Like most, my immediate next stop was the (local) music store (called 'Soundtrack' on 7the avenue in Brooklyn, NY) to buy The Bodyguard soundtrack (a cassette), which I would play ad nauseum for the next several weeks, and then search ruthlessly for in 2012 when I heard the (terrible) news. Enjoy!

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On Engagement Rings

Just a Rock?

My parents were married for over 30 years (as of last month, 41!) before my father surprised my mother with a (semi-engagement) diamond ring. The story goes something like: they were young, broke, and in love - the ring did not matter. And yet today the ring is all the rage. Facebook walls document carat and cut within forty-five seconds of real-life proposals while pinterest showcases numerous collections of must-have's. (BTW - To Those Not On The Pinterest Bandwagon, Get On Already!) Enjoy.

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On Second Guessing

Knowing Who You Are.

Our reflections are often familiar faces, and yet every once in awhile we do or say something that contradicts what we'd otherwise anticipate. Morals are reevaluated, questions go unanswered, and reflections reflected upon, as we make sense of the stranger looking back. Enjoy!

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On Family Dynamics

Complicated Complications.

Family dysfunction is an inevitable fact of life, though some families function better than others, and what goes on behind closed doors typically stays behind closed doors ... except when it doesn't. Glimpses of (other people's) life-long grudges and pent up aggression can be witnessed during holiday dinners and/or family crises (whichever you happened to be privy to), serving as fond reminders that our own familial complications are no better or worse than the next. Enjoy!

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On Love in Three Photos

Happy Valentine's Day to All.

We play cards
until 3am
the second night we met.

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On Too Much Information

Online Over-Sharing.

During a recent happy hour with girlfriends, we commiserated over the inevitable consequences of (our) sharing too much information (about ourselves) during (actual) conversations with (everyone from) acquaintances to colleagues - a communal tendency we coined "over-sharing" - and wondered where to draw the (appropriate) line. We agreed that specks of roommate frustrations, our latest ailments, and relationship advice seep into exchanges about copy machines and rainy weather quite naturally and rarely leave sentiments of guilt. Yet despite my own ability to share-when-I-shouldn't (on occasion, of course), I take extra care to maintain a mid-to-low online profile (this blog barely scratches the surface) and find myself horrified (and moderately engrossed) when naked shots from labor rooms and grumblings about recent break-ups make headline news on facebook and twitter feeds. Enjoy!

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On Solo-Habitation

Living Alone.

While the pros of living alone can be hard to ignore, the upside of roommate companionship can just as easily outweigh solitary appeal. Leftovers for lunch become dinner-for-two as previews of The Bachelor are anticipated over early morning cups of Joe. Enjoy!

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On Friendship Breakups

Let's Just Be...Nothing?

As we get older, we get wiser -- or so the saying goes -- and with it comes the preferential wisdom to sustain or nix the friendships we once couldn't live without. Friends get married and have babies, others (continue to) go on dates, have quarter and mid-life crises, move away (to Denver!), and go back to graduate school, while dinner conversation and telephone catch-up becomes less frequent and/or less interesting, not always in that order. And the decision to call it quits haunts some more than others, as (friendship) breakup lines are mulled over and rehearsed, and phone calls never (ever) returned. Enjoy! (Post Scriptum: For those I haven't called back, you'll be hearing from this evening; some of us are just texters.)

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On Germaphobia

Within Reason.

A NYC-to-Denver transplant a little over five months ago, people often ask me if I like living in Denver. My typical answer is I like things about Denver, with half a committed foot in the City I call home while the other half dabbles a mile higher than usual. The things I'm referring to are the usual suspects -- the things everyone likes about Denver: the beautiful views, access to mountains (sans skiing, for me), the (much) slower pace of (daily) life, and the (extreme) kindness of strangers. But one of the things I like most about this city, which rarely makes it on other people's lists, is the ability to forgo the germ-infested, chaotic commute of the NYC transit system and, instead, walk leisurely from my car (when I'm not sharing it with my roommate) to my cubicle each morning, bite into my breakfast fruit (usually an apple) without having to wash my hands! Oh, Subway Poles, how I do not miss thou, especially after once-upon-a-time (about 8 years ago) observing a homeless man walk up and down the F-train car, wiping his grimy hands on every piece of metal he could access. (I'm clearly still traumatized.) Enjoy!

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On My First Job

Summer Camp Counselor.

I spent the majority of my pre-desk-job destiny (aka my adolescent years) avoiding the sterile office environment at all costs, as friends applied to internships in careers they convinced themselves were (eventually) meant to be while I frolicked in the Catskill's sun. I remained a (sleep-away) camp counselor until it was (borderline) no longer socially acceptable (for me, age 23) and justified the unconstrained, aimless choice in (summer) day job as a personal responsibility to play role model to the numerous fourteen and fifteen-year-old's whom I counseled through many-a-break-ups and homemade facials (oatmeal, cornstarch, and cucumbers). Enjoy!

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On Relationship Imperfections

Strategize, Compromise & Prioritize.

Nobody's perfect (except ourselves, of course) and, so, relationships - be them marital partnerships, roommates, best friendships, or office-mates - require meeting at a halfway point. The trick, perhaps, is deciding where, when and what that point looks like, and how to strategize, compromise, and prioritize our own ideals, desires, and (ahem) occasional imperfections [insert smiley face] with those of the people around us. My personal halfway point consists of sitting through a super bowl (harder for some than others, you should know) in exchange for an uninterrupted hour of Gossip Girl with a side of chocolate (and, okay, strawberry) ice cream. Enjoy!

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On a Snow Day

Means No Blog Day. This blog will resume on Monday, Feb 6, 2012.

[Photo Credit: Me Five Minutes Ago.]

On Mid-Life (Non-)Crisis

Comfort in Age.

For those of who bemoan the popular kids in our adolescent years, heartbreak in our 20's, pregnant friends in our 30's, the perseverance of wrinkles in our 40's (and so on) are correct to be envious of folks in the generations thereafter (ahem, check out today's article) because, it turns out, there is actual comfort in mid-life confidence and consistency. Smile lines are secondary to one's well-versed smile, as wisdom leads the wise (wo)men through a decade of good fortune. Enjoy!

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On Crossing Over

Into Adulthood.

During a recent conversation with a colleague who described the contents of her niece's dress-up box (three princess dresses; three tiaras; and, most importantly, three pairs of matching high-heeled shoes), I immediate recalled my own childhood collection (an emerald green, silk blazer; a multi-layered, floor-length-to-a-five-year-old purple skirt; and, most importantly, two pairs of high-heeled leather shoes - black with an ankle strap and white with open toes, to name a few) and wondered where those shoes ended up. Old enough now to dress-up-in-real-life, I imagine that if I sported my beloved, childhood glamor-footwear today, I'd still feel a sense that these shoes belonged on someone older, more confident, and more stylish than I, even though - deep down inside - I know they'd both look perfect with the gold and black dress I recently purchased for an upcoming (dress-up friend's) wedding. Enjoy!

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