A Change of Scenery

I know blog posts have been sporadic at best lately...Well, I have a decent excuse--I've been busy. Real busy!
Cherry Blossoms' runs will soon be experiencing a change in scenery...B. and I are now proud homeowners (or we will be on closing day). I'm super excited about the house and painting and buying new furniture (and getting out what has become a very loud apartment complex). In about a month we'll be moving a few minutes farther west, and with the move comes new running routes to explore. You know how much I love running in the Clayton, Brentwood area. I love the extra wide bike lanes and the lush tree-lined residential streets. I adore Forest Park. And, I will certainly miss my old favorite go-to routes, the ones where I could predict which people I'd pass based on the time of day I went out. But, I'm very excited to map some new routes and explore my new neighborhood on foot!

In the intervening weeks since my last post, yes, I've still been running. I'm getting up early before work and doing 3-5 miles on most days. I love being up early when the sun is just rising and feeling like I've accomplished a ton by the time I sit down at my desk for work. The half marathon was...well, miserable. Because of unseasonably hot humid weather, they ended up calling the marathon off. The heat really affected me, and my time wasn't even as good as last year's. Oh well. You can't control the weather in the Midwest, I suppose. My next up-coming race is a the Zoo fundraiser 5k. If you recall, it was my first ever 5k two years ago. This year I'm running it with my very speedy sisters. I am still trying to regain my speed (if it could ever be called that), but my sisters are hoping to place in their age groups! It's awesome to have a family that you can be active with! Can't wait!

Dear Me:

Earlier, I was reading a post from one of my favorite bloggers
Christine of Storked!. In this piece, she wrote a letter to a younger version of herself as if preparing and encouraging herself before hand for the many twists and turns her life would take. Her words really got me thinking and inspired me to do something similar.

If I could sit down with myself around age 13, here are some of the things I'd make sure I knew:

1. Pefection is not only impossible, it's boring. Be imperfect. Be yourself. It's not so bad. Go out without makeup. Get a B or two. Spend the majority of your time living life.

2. Don't participate in activities just because you think someone else expects it of you or even to spend time flirting with a boy. Think how much more free time you'd have if you skipped all those basketball practices, choir rehersals, and study groups you didn't want to go to. This extends into adult life too. Do what you want, even if you do it alone.

3. You'll get your heart broken many times before you meet the right guy. But don't let that stop you from meeting him or the ones in between. Just know that no matter how much you think you'll die at the time, all those heart pieces can be put right back together again and you'll be as good as new in no time.

4. Follow fewer rules. Really. Being too sheltered is worse for your spirit than falling down a few times because you pushed the envelope. Figure things out for yourself. Experiment. You can always change your mind.

5. Disappoint more people. You worry far too much about what other people think of you. Teachers, parents, friends, friends of friends. Like the perfection thing, you'll never please all of them all of the time anyway. Worry about whether or not you're disappointing yourself first.

6. You'll be most disappointed in yourself for not reaching your potential. You can often do better for yourself than you do. Try to get into the dream schools and interview for those dream jobs. Being bored is a fate worse than death for you.

7. The "cool" people you think you want to be like are only cool because they think they are. So, have more confidence in yourself.

8. Friendships come and go. Just because you grew up with someone doesn't mean they automatically get a free pass into your life forever. People who gossip, judge, lie, cheat, or abandon don't really care about you. Surround yourself with the people who get what you're about and support that. Let the rest go.

9. Don't spend all your time hating your body and obssessing about numbers. You're thighs aren't that flabby.

10. Finally, life usually doesn't turn out in line with your carefully organized plans. Deal with it. What was so good about your plan anyway? When you look back at those old plans years later, you might be glad they never happened.

Those are just a few. What would you tell a younger version of you?

It Built Character...or something

"You've had an incredible number of jobs in your life," B said to me the other day. This, after the revelation that I had once worked a holiday season at Victoria's Secret. I started trying to mentally catalogue them. I really have had an absurd number of odd jobs from the 13 year old me trying to save money for Calvin Klein jeans to currently supplementing sorrowful adult income. Here are a few I can remember:

1. Babysitting.
It started with my own siblings. I joke that I raised my youngest sister and that's why I don't need to have my own children. It branched out to my cousins and eventually a friend of the family. Defining moment: "Josiah, you cannot start a campfire on the deck." "My mom would let me..."

2. Server at Fillmore Cafe.
My childhood bff's parents bought the little cafe and turned it into a 1950s style diner. For a couple of years, I poured endless cups of coffee for the farmers who spent the better part of their day there, gossiping like old women. Highlight: a jukebox that automatically played both Blueberry Hill and Aerosmith's Crazy about 15 times a shift.

3. Cashier at the Fillmore grocery store.
When the Cafe was sold, the new owners hired me to work in their grocery store. There were three aisles. And one shelf for VHS movies for rent. I learned to slice roastbeef on the meat shaver. I learned to count backwards to give back change. Favorite part: Selling sandwiches to the same farmers I used to pour coffee for.

4. "Sandwich Artist" at Subway.
The summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college, I made sandwiches. It sucked. I did enjoy the people who ordered fries with their subs. Do you see a frier?? Best exchange: "We also own the Subway in your college town. We could arrange a transfer if you'd like." "Uhm...no."

5. Psychology Department Secretary.
I had my own office. I made a few copies, graded a few tests, and helped recruit soccer players (as one of the profs was also the coach). Most of the time I played solitaire. I felt like the two hours a day I had to spend there really cut into my social life. High point: Sneaking a boy I liked into the office one night when we were looking for a place to make out and sitting in the dark holding our breath when security came along to check the doors.

6. Office staff/Volleyball instructor at Kanakuk Kamps.
It kept me from having to live at home in the summertime. I lived in a cabin with a bunch of other girls my age, had very little to do with the campers, and spent most afternoons lying by the olympic-size pool. Frequently took days off to go outlet shopping in town. Biggest coup: Sneaking out of the locked gates for midnight runs to Sonic on a regular basis.

7. TGIFridays.
It supplemented my pathetic graduate assistantship stipend. It kept me in groceries and booze. I had lots of flair, but I don't want to talk about my flair. I've said it before and I'll say it again...Mel, April, Shelley, and Jeremiah are the only good things that ever came out of that job. Low point: Bursting into tears when the kitchen manager berated me at the end of a double shift for not adequately scraping out the empty salad dressing containers in the salad bar. May Lemay rot.

8. The GAP.
I worked the summer and back-to-school season. It was like the mothership calling me home. I spent WAY more money than I made. When I started teaching part time I had to quit to save money. Skill learned: I'm not a sales person at heart, but I can sell almost anything to a man. "Wow, those jeans look great on you! You should try them in this color too."

9. Victoria's Secret.
The holiday shopping season brought me to VS from Black Friday to New Years. I worked in beauty. No boob measuring for me. My boss had a lazy eye. I could never tell if she was looking at me or my co-worker. But, at least I got a 50% discount. Worst part: Asking to put lotion on other people's hands. That really fucked with my personal space issues.

10. Game Stop.
Also a holiday season job. This was probably my favorite part time job ever. I got to alphabetize the video games and use the plastic machine and hair dryer to seal the used games. Greatest compliment: "You work here?" "Yeah." "You don't look like a girl who works at a video game store. He (pointing to the dorky manager) looks like he belongs here, but not you."

11. Outback Steakhouse.
Yes, me. I worked in a steakhouse. I wore the stupid jean shorts and even stupider "bushman's" buttondown shirt and those ridiculous pins. I stayed for less than 6 months. Humiliating moment: Losing my grip on the enormous, full tray I was holding on my shoulder and sending ranch salads and new york strip steaks sailing across the dining room.

12. Catering St. Louis.
For exactly two months I served hors d’œuvre and wine spritzers to rich schmucks at wedding recptions and events. I did learn how to knot a tie for my uniform, a skill that continues to serve me well. Funniest moment: When a very spoiled Busch (August?) asked me to bring him a Heinekein from the bar. I laughed at the irony (Alanis Morissette-type) and told him I was busy.

13. Spyglass on the Park.
I spent about a month in the most unprofessional restaurant in the world. The manager got blasted at the bar over the course of every shift and harassed the female servers. The clientele was mostly skeevy, newly-single 40-something men who lived in the apartment building next door. Best decision: After one particularly bad shift, I just never came back. No 2 week's notice or anything. I'd always wanted to do that.

There you have it. I still have two jobs, but both are related to my fields of interest. It's unfortunate that there's no place on the resume for all of this work experience.

Almost But Not Quite

I have a theory. It's physically impossible for all the separate areas of one's life to go well at the same time. At least for me. It makes me nervous every time I notice it. I stop, eyes widen, and I think, "Well, clearly this can't last. Something's gotta give." And it does.

Not that I have that much to complain about. I'm completely aware that there are people who are far less fortunate than I, people whose lives offer real reasons to be depressed. I'm healthy. I have a roof over my head (one that also offers a great pool in the summer time--VERY excited about that). My family is supportive. My group of friends is as tight as a second family. I've been on a whole string of truly amazing dates lately. I even have a good job.

But I wanted an awesome job. Recently, I applied for a managing editor position, even though it was a bit of a stretch seeing as I'd been there for such a short time. But I knew I could do it. My boss knew I could do it. Apparently even her boss (who was doing the hiring) knew I could do it. But it came down to senority, the one characteristic I didn't have. So no awesome job this time.

The thing is, I knew it might not happen. Like I said, it was a stretch, a long shot. But the harder I tried to keep my hopes down, the higher they were. I'm not crushed or anything. My ego isn't even wounded. I'm just really bad at not getting the things I want. I've never quite digested that the old maxim, "Work hard and you can have it" doesn't apply in every situation. Until today, I've never NOT gotten a job I interviewed for (yes, even as a teacher who just used a double negative). How could they say no to this face?? :)

I was ready for the big break. I wanted to finally be able to say to my parents, "Hey, look at your English major daughter, she finally made something of herself...aren't you proud?!" Hell, I just wanted to be impressed with myself for once. I wanted to rise to an actual challenge. And of course, I wanted to live a life in which I could stop worrying about income and enjoy myself (don't we all).

In reality, it's not the end of the world. Life will go on in the manner to which I am accustomed. There will be other opportunties. And when they come, I'll have more experience and be better prepared for them. By tomorrow, I will have snapped out of this funk. But until then, I'm going to take a minute to pout. Don't mind me.

Big bug in a little apartment

Ordinarily, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself. I've grown accustomed to living alone. Most of the time I love coming home to the sweet silence of my own home. I can change a tire, I own a small tool set now, I've even managed to rearrange my house with just myself to do the heavy lifting. But there's one thing I just can't handle.

I came home last night, talking on the phone. I threw myself on the bed in exhaustion. I looked up at the wall above my head. "Holy shit, what is that?" I said out loud, into the phone. "That" was a ginormous bug. I thought bugs this big only lived in remote South American jungles. This is not true; they apparently live not only in St. Louis but in my apartment specifically.

My greatest fear is not cancer or dying alone, it's swallowing a bug in my sleep. The fact that this little alien was in my bedroom made the sighting that much worse. My brother, whom I was talking to at the time, suggested the tried and true paper towel squish. I was already hyperventilating just a little, and all I knew was I was NOT going to get within arms length of this thing. I contemplated the extension arm of the vacuum cleaner, but even that put my hand a little close to the offending insect. Besides, this thing was so giant, I wasn't sure the vacuum could suck it up. Finally I opted for the super powered bug spray I keep on hand (just in case) the way other women keep mace. I spread a beach towel over the bed to catch the bug if it fell; I stood about three feet back and let her rip.

As soon as the blast of pleasantly clover-scented poison hit the bugger (pun-intended), it bounded off the wall (yes, I'm quite certain bounding was involved) onto the waiting beach towel and scuttled off the towel and behind the bed. I was too busy shrieking at the top of my lungs over the way it had projected off the wall to stop it from getting away.

By this time, my heart was pounding, I was sweating just a little from all the adrenaline. This could be a fight for survival. First things first, I stopped and put on tennis shoes. I was going to have to move the bed out in search of this thing, and if it were to scurry across my pink polished toes, I was certain my heart would have exploded. Behind the bed, I found a lot of dust, a cat toy, a headband I've been looking for for the last six months, and an M&Ms wrapper, which is weird because I don't eat M&Ms. But no dog-sized bug. I removed all the blankets and pillows and shook them out and put them in the "safe zone" in the hallway. I reached to pull up the corner of the mattress, and I saw the monstrosity making a run for it from between the mattress and boxsprings.

Now it was war. I moved the matress to the other side of the room and stood it up against the wall. Then I cautiously tipped up the box springs, spray can in hand. Nothing. It was gone. But where? I needed some moral support, so I dialed J. I knew of all people she would sympathize with my mental breakdown over a bug. She did. She instructed me to lie in wait with boots made for squishing. So I did. Nothing.

Eventually I had to come to terms with the fact that my bad ass cat is apparently useless and somewhere out there, this giant bug has either crawled away to die or plot revenge. Either way, I've never wanted a boyfriend or a roommate or anyone at all who is braver than me to be around. Humbling moment. Talk about a damsel in distress. Ha.

I slept on a bed of folded up comforters on the living room floor last night. I don't know if I'll ever be able to sleep in that bed again...I may have to move.