Apparently This is an Annual Thing

Around this time last year I wrote this post. It was a follow up to this post from the year before. I guess every January I have to look back at my life and wonder, "What the hell happened? And what the hell am I going to do now?"

2011 was a difficult year and I'm glad to see it gone... It was very stressful, but it wasn't all bad. Looking back I have quite a few lovely memories...

• I went snow tubing!
• My bar closed. This was extremely depressing and I miss it terribly.
• I went to Boston to visit my very first friend from college. Hanging out with him and his awesome friends was probably one of the best weekends of the year. Nothing but love!
• My boss left my organization. The Development Department consisted of only me for a few months.
• I went to Maryland to babysit my sister for a few days while my very lucky parents went to France. She and I get along splendidly when my parents aren't around, it's really amazing...
• I organized a few events for work all by myself and did quite well, if I do say so myself.
• I went to the beach A LOT over the summer. AND I LOVED IT.
• Nick finished his pre-med program FINALLY. And he got an excellent score on the MCAT. We started pondering potential relocation to other cities for med school...
• Then he and I went to his cousin's wedding on Long Island and had a blast with his ridiculously fun family.
• I went to Ireland with my family for two weeks. It was so beautiful and is truly a magical place, but the weather is horrific. At least I took a lot of excellent pictures. 1,400 of them to be exact.
• I got a new boss and he's awesome!
• Nick and I went to my cousin's wedding in Michigan. Our complete debauchery made it clear that we are still extremely immature and no one should invite us anywhere.
• That same weekend we ended up stuck in Detroit because of the hurricane on the East Coast and realized that Detroit is truly the city that God forgot. I hope I never have to go back. EVER.
• My beautiful mother turned 60 while we were in the armpit of the Midwest (sorry, Mom). To cheer her up I made her an amazing photo book of her life. I am such a good daughter! Even though I slacked off so I had to give it to her at Christmas. Oops.
• I turned 26. I went to see my favorite band Beirut on the night of my birthday, which was absolutely magical. Then I tried to have a birthday party at a bar and just ended up depressed. I'm old!
• The aforementioned first friend from college came to visit NYC and since he is politically active and silly things like that, we went to Occupy Wall Street for a little while. It was interesting enough, but we soon left for beer and burgers, because we have our priorities straight.
• I had a very successful gala for my organization which was about 100 times better and less stressful than last year. I actually got drunk afterwards! It was GREAT!
• I went home for Thanksgiving and kept things fairly quiet and only hung out with one friend. And I'm grateful that he's such a good friend after literally 13 years.
• That weekend my cousin had her engagement party. It was so incredibly lovely that I had to have 7 glasses of wine to deal with the beauty of it all. I don't want anyone to grow up but I think I'm okay with this...
• I went home for Christmas. I saw my best friends and both of my wonderful grandmothers and realized how very lucky I am. I got an iPad that I'm pretty sure my sister tricked my dad into buying. Good job, kid!
• Speaking of my little baby sister, she turned 13 and it has absolutely traumatized me. I keep looking at the picture on my shelf of me holding her when I'm 17 and she is 4 and I can't believe where the time has gone.
• An old friend and his darling girlfriend came to New York on December 30th and we saw one of my favorite bands from college. It was the perfect way to end the year.
• I had a very quiet New Year's Eve with lovely people, just the way I wanted it.

On the schedule for this year....

• I will attend four weddings in June, July, August, and September. Oh. My. God.
• In October I'll go to a family reunion of my mother's side of the family.They will be Irish. They will be Catholic. They will be crazy. They will be drunk. There will be hundreds of them. And they will all look like me. This will be weird.
• Hopefully I will visit my best friend and her boyfriend in Florida and watch them revel in the early days of cohabitation. Hopefully I will do this soon, while it's still cold in NYC but nice and warm on the gulf coast...
• I also hope to visit this crazy lady and her girlfriend in Raleigh and see an old friend of my parents' as well. And I'll wonder once again why I don't live in the South because everyone is so nice and the weather is splendid.
• I will also try my very best to head west to see if "Portlandia" is an accurate depiction of a city that is called home by a dear friend from New York, an old friend from high school, new friends from Bonnaroo, two aunts I haven't seen in much too long, a number of tiny cousins I've never met, and another cousin who was a little girl the last time I saw her and is now a gorgeous teenager. Wow.
• If all goes as planned, Nick will start medical school in the Fall. After many months of contemplating the merits of other US cities, I realize I am terrified to leave New York. I am crossing my fingers that he gets into a school in the city so we never, ever, EVER have to leave. Please please please please please!
• Hopefully I will finally buckle down and apply to grad school. I know I want to do an MPA, but I'm again considering if I should pair it with an MSW just for the background knowledge that would entail. I don't want to be a social worker anymore, I know that for certain. But I am interested in the experience... Luckily I know that the MPA is where it's at for me, hands down. I just really need to work my ass off this year in my new role!
• I also need to save tons of money so I can FINALLY go to France and/or Germany like I've been talking about because I need a goddamn European vacation.
• Also I was reminded last night by a very good friend that I had always planned to go volunteer in India. He told me I should probably do it before I have kids. Thanks for the advice, buddy. I said I'd check out Central America...
• I think we're going to get another kitten. YES!!!!

Life is too short. I hope you've stopped reading by now. Good night.

A Sense of Accomplishment

With these words, I have ensured that I have not broken my very first New Year's resolution! AMAZING. I have already broken others that weren't written down, like getting to work on time every day and bringing my lunch rather than buying it. But since I didn't write them down, they don't count. Duh. So I'm pretty much on the right track in this first week of 2012. You can stop applauding now.

Or keep it up if you like, because I've had a very successful week filled with exciting, grownup accomplishments! You will be very proud to know that:

1. I went to work. And I did important things.
2. I went to yoga for the first time in months.
3. I didn't eat banh mi, not even once.
4. I painted my nails a weird color. And I liked it.
5. I downloaded nerdy word games on my iPad.
6. I sat through an entire football game with my boyfriend and his friends without complaining or making rude comments about the corpulence of the players. This was managed by accomplishing the previous two activities simultaneously.
7. I went to the Museum of Chinese in America and learned all about the hardships faced by Chinese immigrants throughout the years. I'd like to go back because I didn't get to finish seeing everything before it closed, but now I know who Bing cherries were named after.
8. I cleaned my kitchen multiple times after the boyfriend made dinner (using food that I bought at the grocery store! BONUS!). And I cleaned it at other times when he didn't even cook, like today! I EVEN SWEPT THE FLOOR. I'm pretty much a domestic goddess.
9. I caught up with a dear friend I hadn't seen in far too long and we conceived a new plan for our book club. BECAUSE WE ARE GROWN UPS!
10. I went to see not one, but TWO movies. This is big news, because I never see movies. I saw "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and "My Week With Marilyn." Go see them. They are both excellent. And I didn't stuff myself full of popcorn til I was sick, I actually practiced restraint! YOU GUYS, THIS IS SERIOUS.

In other news, even though it's Saturday and I had planned on doing NOTHING all day except maybe (MAYBE) cleaning my room and petting the cat and not talking to anyone because my boyfriend is working all day and night, I actually left my house. I forced myself to stop watching "Portlandia," even though watching it is another accomplishment in itself because I kept meaning to and I never did before. Yay! I made myself take a shower and put on actual clothing and shoes and I went for a walk around my beautiful neighborhood and drank in the sights and enjoyed the fresh air and unseasonably warm temperatures. It was lovely. I even saw a puppy! Her name was Peaches.

To recover from all this activity, I got a coffee and sat on a bench and talked to my mother for a long time and then got a delicious bagel to take home. On my way back I ran into an old friend who was visiting with his adorable little boy, who after a year of living in England HAS AN ACCENT. He told me he was "three and a hoff" and I nearly peed my pants. Then I came home and cleaned my kitchen (again!). I took off my nail polish. I talked to another friend on the phone and got the scoop on his love life. Now I'm here. WRITING.

Wow. I'm so proud of myself.

This probably won't last. My life tends to follow a trajectory much like the one pictured here. Doing stuff is HARD. But tomorrow I'm going to try again to be a grownup who does things. I'm going to wake up early, go to yoga, go to a musem all by myself, clean my room, and then be social by seeing a few friends play music in the neighborhood. Dear god, at least I am going to try. I AM GOING TO DO THINGS. Or not. I don't know. Maybe I won't do any of those things. I still have plenty of time to just give up and shut down altogether.

I think I'll go watch some more "Portlandia" now. Or perhaps I'll just browse the Internet! FOREVER...

The Obligatory New Year's Resolution Post

As you can probably tell from the title, this is going to be boring. But that's pretty much what my blog has become, seeing as I NEVER post anymore. Without further ado, here are my new year's resolutions in no particular order.

• Blog more. Perhaps a goal of once a week is attainable. Yes, let's try for that...
• Read more nonfiction and news. I've already begun this one with "How We Die," which is beautifully written and very interesting. And I am going to finally buckle down and get subscriptions to The New Yorker and The New York Times online.
• Play more guitar. Mostly as an excuse to sing, and also it's therapeutic.
• Make long overdue doctor's and dentist appointments. Four for me, plus one for my cat!
• Continue thinning out my wardrobe. I really need to get rid of more things.
• On that note, buy fewer things. Unless I really need them for work or something. And then I will continue to fix up things I already have and try to only buy designer things at Housing Works.
• Eat better! I used to eat spinach for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Let's try that again. I pretty much just need to not eat delicious banh mi EVERY DAY for lunch.
• Exercise. At least twice a week. Right now I do NOTHING, so anything is an improvement. No gyms, though, because they are awful and I hate them and I refuse to go. I will run, take ballet, clear my head with yoga, use our pull up bar at home. I can do it!
• Along those lines, lose a few pounds so I don't look terrible in my cousin's wedding pictures this summer. If I actually do the previous two things, this shouldn't be too difficult. I hope...
• Work my butt off in my new fancy big girl job, because guess what, I am getting a promotion! This also entails negotiating a decent raise.
• And while I'm getting the big nonprofit bucks (hah!), I should probably try to get my financial life in order. It's in shambles right now. I need to find a new bank I think.
• So once I have all that in order... I need to save serious money.
• And while we're saving things, let's save the whales.
• And the trees.
• Let's save the ozone, too.
• And also puppies.
• Last but not least... Save Ferris.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Dream Dogs

I had a dream last night about being back in my childhood home, running around with two of my dogs. These animals are now deceased, but playing with Baby and Allblack in my dream was so real at the time, it was like I got to visit with them again. It was wonderful.

I was somewhat conscious that it was a dream, because I remember really appreciating the fact that these dogs were dead, that I was a child again, and that eventually it would have to end but that I should enjoy it for now. I don't really even recall what we were doing, just that Allblack (as usual) was being goofy and neurotic and was terrified of a thunderstorm... And Baby (as usual) was being adorable and sneaky and prancing around like she owned the place.

Baby was just that, my baby. I picked her out of a litter when I was 6. She was a little mutt, half purebred Cocker spaniel, half godknowswhat, but we assumed some sort of terrier mix due to her feisty nature. She was little and yellow and long-haired and floppy-eared with white feet and freckles on her nose. She was adorable and awesome. Totally fearless and terrifically fierce. She was the alpha female 100% of the time and wasn't afraid of other dogs, no matter how much bigger they were than her. I once watched her go after a Great Dane when she was just a puppy. The larger dog was unfazed, but she had set a precedent of domination that she would uphold forever.

My dad used to refer to her as "The Bubs" or "The Bubbers," although her official name from my 6-year-old brain was Baby's Treasure. I'm sorry, it's true. I was a weird kid, but I was lucky enough to have an amazing dog to grow up with. When I was 18, I had to put her to sleep due to a rapidly growing tumor in her stomach. I was holding her when it happened. I felt I owed her that much. She went long before her time and I'm still broken up about it. She was officially my best friend and the dog to which I will compare all other animals for the rest of my life. Yup, Baby was just that cool.

Allblack was a different story altogether, and a sad one at that. He was rescued from a neglectful situation by my dad when I was about 9. He was at the time around 5 years old, we're really not sure. Or maybe a vet told us but I just don't remember. I do remember that he was a painfully skinny, scraggly, shy black Lab with a skin condition, a voracious appetite, and a fear of raised hands. He had essentially been abandoned by his owner, who owned the house next door to my friends but had moved out and left his dog behind. Allback (or Spike, as he was called back then) used to roam their neighborhood looking for food. While he mostly stayed away from us kids, we were scared of him because he was a stray and we didn't know what to make of him. I didn't really pay him much attention.

Then my dad came to pick me up from my friends' house a few times and, having lost his black Lab (the original Allblack) a few years before, took note of the poor creature. One day my dad knelt down, put his hand out, palm facing up, and coaxed the dog to come over to him. He got the story from my friends' mom and decided that he'd take the dog home. We learned that he had spent an entire winter, one of the coldest that Maryland had ever seen, chained up on the back porch. He was only saved because the little old ladies who ran the post office would walk over to bring him table scraps. When we got him to the house, Baby quickly asserted herself as the alpha dog and we gave him some food. I have never seen a dog eat so much, so quickly.

Within a few days, my dad heard the owner was home went down the road to talk to him. As the story goes, he knocked on the door, told the guy he had taken his dog home, the guy got a little defensive until my dad made it clear that he was criminally neglectful and that he did not deserve to own a dog, and finally the guy handed my dad the dog's collar and feigned regret. He apparently said, “I’m really gonna miss him,” to which my dad retorted, “No you’re not.” Spike was officially rechristened Allblack II and he was our dog from then on.

Allblack was a beta dog if there ever was one. Hell, he may have even been an omega. He was totally submissive to Baby, to all other dogs, and to humans. His lack of training in his first few years was evident every time we tried to get him to sit, lie down, stay, etc. He was not dumb, but he was definitely a bit damaged and neurotic to the point of being obnoxious. He was also extremely gentle, so he was one of those dogs that a kid like me, totally comfortable around animals, could never be fearful of again. He never quite got "drop it" through his head and I would have to pry his jaw open with my little hands to retrieve whatever potentially harmful object he had scooped up hoping for a snack.

A few years later we adopted Max, a middle-aged yellow Lab, from some family friends. He too was totally beta and together he and Allblack were generally known as "the big dumb Labs." Oh, they weren’t completely dumb and they were sweet and slobbery and just wanted to be loved. They were also totally neurotic and submissive and couldn't quite get basic commands through their heads, and they were both petrified of thunderstorms. I remember being home alone at some point in high school during a raging storm, and I was sitting on the kitchen floor trying to comfort two huge, drooling, whimpering Labs as they both tried to crawl into my lap. Baby just dozed calmly through the whole thing and kept looking at them with a judgmental glare.

I guess a thunderstorm is what did Allblack in. I was about 16 and he was getting old, with hip dysplasia, cataracts, and the beginnings of deafness. During a bad thunderstorm my mother went outside a few times calling to him, trying to bring him inside since she knew he would be scared, but she couldn't find him. Sadly, he ended up wandering a mile away from our house and was hit by a car. The guy was nice enough to pull over and call the vet, who of course had to put him down. It was not a good way for him to go, sad and scared and alone in a storm. For all his suffering, though, I'm glad my family was able to give him a good home for most of his life. He deserved it.

This post was supposed to be short. It was supposed to be about a brief, fractured, yet sentimental dream. But now I can’t stop thinking about my dogs and how it felt to be running around with them, to touch Baby’s fur one more time, to give Allblack a well-deserved scratch behind the ear. I miss my dogs. Perhaps one day I’ll have one again, but for now I guess I’ll just have to make do with memories.

A Hopeful Millennial Rant

A lot has been written about my generation in recent years. We are growing up, but only into "emerging adults.” And we are more screwed than any other generation in modern history. Yes, I am a Millennial. I am of a demographic that has apparently has been spoiled, coddled, overindulged, endowed with inflated self-esteem and a debilitating sense of entitlement. We have come to expect the best and assume that everything will work out in our favor. If you read my last post, that assumption is generally true. Because you know what? It will.

We know that because we're special, right? Our moms and dads and teachers and guidance counselors and soccer coaches and piano teachers and camp counselors and career mentors and SAT tutors and academic advisers told us so. I'm not a fan of all the names we've been called, but I find it funny that those who say we are so spoiled and entitled are the ones who did the spoiling. As far as the coddling and indulgence and entitlement, well, could we really help it? We were told we could do anything we wanted basically from conception. Women and blacks didn't have to fight for equal rights anymore (just equal pay), so therefore, anyone can be president!

We were the biological products of the prosperous 80s, missing out on all the bad hair and shallow music but reaping the benefits of prenatal vitamins and public education. We blithely marched to our Gifted & Talented programs and learned about self-esteem and why drugs are bad and how babies are made, all within the safety of schools that had plenty of crayons and books and playgrounds for everyone to share. We were the cultural products of the 90s, the children of the Internet and Nickelodeon and Disney. We were thrilled to hear that we've got mail, that messages were instant, that information was unlimited, that no question could go unanswered, and that we were constantly connected to millions of kids just like ourselves, who despite different time zones still knew all the words to catchy American pop songs. We paid attention to Clarissa's explanations and truly believed we would inherit a whole new world, which, I suppose, we have.

But it's not the world we expected due to forces completely beyond our control. And apparently trying to do something about it makes us whiny and entitled. Why do you think we expected this fanciful world of plenty in the first place? Because people told us we would! And if that world wasn't perfect, we could make a difference! So while half of us waste away without full-time jobs and move in with our parents and struggle below the poverty line, we have to accept that this is just a phase we're going through. We'll make it through, because what other choice do we have? Call me crazy, but I think all that "you can do anything you put your mind to" talk has really paid off. We actually have hope.

Really though, what else is there? It's one of the little things we can still cling on to and the only thing we've always had. Remember Obama (the 2008 model, that is)? We got excited about politics for the first time in a long time, because we had seen our country attacked and seen our economy turn to shit and seen our classmates come home without arms and legs due to wars that we didn't start and seen rich old white men in power for too long. We didn't get excited because Obama was black, we got excited because he was different, he was unique, he was new. And everyone is different and unique, remember? Free to be you and me? And unlike all the people who wanted him to wave his magic wand and make it all better, we knew that things would take time. Even though we grew up enjoying instant gratification, we knew that while the previous generations still reigned supreme, things would stay largely the same. So we still hold out hope.

We are hopeful because we grew up thinking the world was a lovely place to live in. We think it's weird when people are unnecessarily cruel and judgmental. Remember equal rights? Well, we always had them. We don't remember the fight for blacks or women because we grew up in their stead and just expected equal treatment. So my generation does not look down on women and blacks and gays as second class citizens--because we never did in the first place. That's why we couldn’t care less, regardless of our political or religious beliefs, if two gay men get married. We think that's pretty normal actually. We want them to marry, in fact, because we're practical and with half of us being the products of divorce, we'd rather families just be stable because it saves a lot of therapy and sad song lyrics and money in the end. Also, married people are more economically secure, so they can pay more taxes. Which means that we can provide more social services, you know, for things like that public school education that most of us benefited from and got us into the colleges that gave us the degrees that now we aren't using because of that economy that the older generations took a wrecking ball to and screwed us royally. Jerks.

In these dark and difficult times, there is still a feeling of togetherness. We're all in the same boat and we know it, because we see it in each other every day. Remember Facebook? We have always been inextricably connected, but one day in college suddenly our worlds fit onto one screen full of little blue boxes. We can now share our lives and hide our selves and unite in the present with those we knew in the past and suddenly it seems like everyone's lives are really fun and exciting! And hard. We share our daily activities and our favorite song lyrics and our differing political beliefs and what we had for breakfast and these new shoes we want but can't afford and our bargain vacations and our third world volunteering and our soul sucking jobs and our search for fulfilling jobs and our desperation for any jobs and our desperation in general and our yearning to succeed and our hope and our hope and our hope in the face of it all. We share and share and share because we have a network of people who get us, who know us, who are us. So what that our parents and their friends are on that same network now? We will share anyway. We have no shame because we are proud of who we are and what we’re doing and we something to say. Even if it's not always important (and it usually isn't), well goddamn, 900 people hear us! That gives us hope!

I am proud of my generation for the fact that we’re us and we're okay with being US. We're hardworking and lazy, motivated and apathetic, family-oriented and tradition-bucking, isolated and interconnected, directed and confused, yet we are fucking HOPEFUL. Most of us are doing what we need to get by and expecting the best and just having faith. We're tired but we're optimistic. We're accepting of our fates but we know we can still shape them in the end. We know we're lucky if we’re employed. We know we're lucky in general. I just hope others can see that.

The Old College Try

This past weekend I celebrated a "substitute Homecoming" with friends at our alma mater, Fordham University. Since we weren’t able to make it to the actual event this year, a friend organized a special trip instead. We were graced with an amazingly perfect autumn day that also turned out to be part of Parents' Weekend, when parents of students are invited to check out where their money is going. It was awkward and hilarious. We started the day with freely flowing mimosas, rode the Metro North, browsed the bookstore for maroon gear, enjoyed drinks as real adults at Dagger John's, ate wings at Howl at the Moon, devoured sandwiches at Tino's Deli, filled up on pitchers and bad 90s music at MugZ's, and finally headed back to the city. Unlike the days of old however, instead of going back out after a full day of partying, we found ourselves exhausted by midnight and asleep by 1 a.m. Yes indeed, we have gotten old...

I loved my college years and will always look back on them with love and affection and surprisingly few regrets. But college was not perfect or painless and I'll be damned if I ever start referring to it as, "the best years of my life." I like to think that the best is yet to come. College was, on one hand, a dream world... but it was tough at the same time, and not just academically. It contained a lot of personal changes, extreme highs and painful lows, unnecessary drama, crazy all-nighters, debilitating hangovers, and a serious sense of dread as graduation approached and you realized you were no closer to knowing what you wanted in life than the first day you set foot onto that lush green campus.

Still, compared with the “real world,” college life was grand! And making difficult decisions was just too easy! Ordering pizza at 4 am? Of course! Skipping class because it was just TOO NICE outside? Obviously. Choosing to buy vodka instead of food because your bank account didn't allow for both? That's simple! Risking your life by climbing on a roof just to watch the sun rise? Why not? Writing a paper you had a month to prepare for in four hours the night before? DONE. And then getting an A on it? YES!

Of course, there were serious things, too. Like debating the merits of Sartre vs. Kierkegaard vs. Heidegger vs. godknowswho... Or comparing literary children of nature with accounts of feral children because you developed extremely bizarre interests... Or tracking dialect changes and vowel shifts because you were suddenly going to be a linguistic anthropologist... You know, things that really prepared your for the real world. This was the essence of college.

In the end, I guess the real beauty was that those years were full of endless possibilities for the future, the present, and hell, even the past. Don't like your major? Change it. Don't like this class? Drop it. Don't like your name? Well, no one knew you in high school anyway. Just kidding. I actually didn't do any of those things. Yet looking back I realize that we were very young and very carefree and simply had faith that everything would work out in the end despite the pointless classes we took and poor decisions we made. In fact, we ASSUMED everything would work out. And as far as my classmates go, I think most of us are doing just fine, though we’ve taken a few detours and hit some bumps in the road. Like the economy, for instance. You know, little things. But in the end, regardless of things we did or didn’t do or said we’d do and couldn’t or didn’t even try to do or never expected to do in the first place or never could have predicted or were completely beyond our control… Well, the kids are all right. Really, we are. Thank you for asking. Now please, give me another beer.