Grown-Up Snacktime

In America, we need grown-up snack time. Everyone I know is looking for a snack around for four to get them through the day until they go home sometime after six. The Britain has had this problem solved since who knows when. Why did we give up on tea time after the American Revolution? Did the taxes and the Boston Tea Party and all that just put us off from tea time forever as an organized snack/break ritual? It's quite sad, really. I'm also depressed to discover that this isn't even an everyday event in Britain anymore, though the actual drinking of tea in the afternoon may have survived.

I was randomly watching Love Actually last night and this morning and I'm watching the deleted scenes and commentary (which I never used to do but now love -- I'm devouring the special features of my entire DVD collection). Hugh Grant is the Prime Minister and someone interrupts his work to give him tea and some kind of biscuit or scone to munch on. I felt jealous -- though I am not at such a lofty employment level that someone will serve me anything while I'm at work, it would be a lovely to think that at a certain hour every day tea time was served at work. Or to imagine a post-lunch nap such as a Spanish siesta.

Missing socks and other things

It seems I've lost some things along the way. What's standing out at the moment are my grey zip-up fleece from Old Navy (Christina at work has the same one and it reminded me how much I long for mine); certain movies like A Walk to Remember, Shall We Dance, and others -- I often do not have people that will watch girly romance movies with me so I find that my DVD collection includes many; socks -- I have bought lots of socks in the last year and some of them have grey heels, other pink. I have only one sock with a grey heel -- I think it was something like a 10-pair pack of socks and I only have one of the socks left after a year? I mean, I know that people philosophise (if that's even a word) about where socks go but seriously, where are all my socks?

The movies may have been left at my parents' house one time or another and have been put in strange places for safekeeping. The Old Navy fleece may well be in a bag of clothing that I put aside 8 months ago because I wasn't going to wear it for a long time. But the socks -- the socks elude me. I ALWAYS need socks. They are not in fact seasonal. I suppose girly romance movies aren't seasonal either but for some reason, you just have to be in the right mood to watch a lot of them.

Current movies I plan to add to my collection?

-The Lakehouse
-Dan in Real Life
-He's Just Not That Into You
-Up
-WallE
-Center Stage
-When a Man Loves a Woman
-Step Up
-Little Big League
-The Sandlot
-PS I Love You

and... that's all I can think of at the moment. I had bought The Jane Austen Bookclub and The Darjeeling Unlimited from Blockbuster for $4 apiece, since that's how much they cost to rent just once. The Jane Austen Bookclub turned into an instant favorite but the Darjeeling Unlimited was...strange. And I like strange movies. But it seemed intent on you not know what was going on in certain things and focusing on the relationship of some brothers at hand, without really ever explaining the characters themselves. And while I can get behind this type of cinema, I really like to know the backstories eventually. It's sort of a throw-away at times to never explain why a character is so strange with certain mannerisms. Like missing half of a book.

Accidentally Locked In

In the middle of the night I could hear a rodent -- either in my apartment or in the walls. I had purposefully shut my door in suspicion of such a small intruder. I jumped out of bed and was going to go scare it away when I realized my door wouldn't open. My door closes with a tight fit on its own but I have an over-the-door shoe holder held up by hooks over the door and the tight space in combination with the hooks and the fact that I had entirely shut my door left it not only closed but EXTREMELY closed.

I couldn't get out of my room. The door opens in, so I had to pull rather than push. My doorknob is also small and of the shiny brass variety, so both slippery and hard to grasp. I am also quite weak; I have the strength of a small child (since I am in reality a small child). I pulled and pulled and pulled but to no avail. And I considered that even if I called my landlord, both of the doors to my apartment were secured with those little chain hook things (can't think of what they're called) but you have to release them from inside and require a fair amount of force to break. These are the kinds of problems in the middle of the night that you don't have if you have roommates.

I made a makeshift stool in my room and tried budging the hooks. I removed the shoe hanger and kept moving the hooks. After another five minutes of slightly less frantic but still frantic pulling on the doorknob (using a shirt to try and get a better grip) I was able to get out of my room.

I survived unscathed with an increased heartbeat and was unable to go back to sleep for a very long time. But hey, at least I'm not still stuck in my room.

Toby is my hero

Reason #8,472 why Toby is my hero:

Message on Facebook:

Hey, Al! I wasn't sure if you would be asleep yet, so thought I would message you. Are you thinking of coming over next weekend? I may be coming down with the flu (hopefully not H1N1), and I'll keep you posted. You know anything I have is yours, except when it comes to communicable diseases. Then I'm selfish.

List for the Day

My life seems to be comprised lately of mental lists. And whether or not I fail at life depends on how many things on the list I have mentally crossed off by the end of the day. More often than not, the lists are continuations of previous lists from the days and weeks prior. Do this, do that, accomplish this, finish that. I am slowly making progress but it seems I always have to check that mental list and then when I finish all of these things, I can just live my life. It seems sort of a strange way to plan for the future, though, because once I've finished all my lists, how will I know how to live without them? How will I live such an random, meandering life that is built on the foundation of these details? Won't I still make lists despite the randomness?

I thought I had my apartment more or less down until I bought and assembled my desk, which meant pulling everything out of my sunroom to install it and move things around. The trouble is that now that the desk has a place, the boxes that were in there do not have one. But I also assembled shelves for the sunroom closet and so I'm making slow progress. Tonight I need to get a step ladder so that I can replace all the light bulbs that have burned out the last few weeks. The kitchen one burned out this morning. I think I'm down to two overhead lights that have not burnt themselves to lightlessness: bedroom and sunroom.

At one point writing here was on the lists. Somewhere along the way I forgot to put it down and it got lost in all the other unwritten details of my life. It seems exhausting to think of updating anyone on my life since the last time I wrote. I'm still in Chicago, still learning my way around, still trying to make friends, still working, still finding my way. People are coming to visit me, both purposefully and inadvertently, and the inadvertent visits are as wonderful as the purposeful ones. Lots to be grateful for, lots of great people in my life.

And I finally saw the bean!

Lazing Around

I'm on call this weekend, so I'm in relative peace until the phone calls and e-mails start rolling in. It's not a matter of if it's only a matter of when for this weekend, I'm afraid. Yesterday's debriefing on what's going on this weekend ensures it. Le sigh.

Woke up right on time at 8:31 this morning, my body's absolute favorite time to wake up. Even when I change time zones it knows. Climbed back into bed after surveying my apartment and the cleaning and organizing I still must do. Lay there and daydreamed -- or was half awake and dreaming, really, as I would occasionally fall into moments of sleep for a minute or two but I was generally consciously dreaming/imagining. It's a nice thing to do in the morning when you don't want to be awake. I've been told that you can't dream unless you're in REM sleep and I find that to be impossible. Either that or I can instantly go into REM sleep. In the word of my sister, whatev.

Time for breakfast and other things. Cleaning, getting ready for the day and the work that's coming.

Telemarketer Apology

To all the telemarketers out there, I apologize. Your jobs must be terrible. And while you make better than minimum wage, it's pretty much a thankless job where people yell at you and hang up on you. But it was really quite funny when you just called into our litigation consulting firm and wanted to speak to one of our trial consultants about buying land. Really, this isn't his house, it's his place of business. And I'm sure the tract of land you have in Florida on the beach or in the mountains of Montana is just beautiful, really, but he's trying to help people in court at the moment. We all sit in a large room together and can hear people on the phone. One of our Workflow Coordinators picked up the phone and we were all subconsciously/unavoidably listening in on your conversation and the WFC's uncertain replies to a call that perhaps never should have been made about buying tracts of land. We all shared a collective laugh and agreed that the TC in question probably didn't want to talk to you anyway. But, being the nice person that he is, the WFC tried to put you through despite his puzzlement that you decided to call at all.

So I'm sorry -- we were all laughing at you and your futility this morning. I wouldn't take it personally -- sometimes that's just the way it goes.

Some of my friends, including Jordan and Glenda, have fantasized with me about a business we could go in on together (though Jordan and Glenda were separate conversations), sort of a bookstore/coffeeshop/bakery type of place. It sounds divine, the idea of a cozy, funky, unique, inviting place, balancing somewhere between a pseudo library, Italian coffee shop, a french- or american-style bakery with homemade pastries and breads. I think we all dream of our favorite book stores, coffee shops, and European bakery/pastry shops all rolled into one comforting place that would be ideal to work in.

I can recognize that it would be so perfect as I imagine. Owning our business would be a tremendous of work that revolved around all the mundane tasks that create and maintain such a place, not so much related to enjoying it. Although I can imagine a great sense of satisfaction that would come perhaps once a day when there is a small lull and opportunity to see others enjoying such a place. Who would want to create such a space and enjoy it with your friends? I can imagine us all working together and talking. Making friends with regulars, making everything perfect, debating about silly things. Doing work that somehow isn't work -- isn't that what we're all after?

Best wedding entrance EVER

Best wedding entrance EVER

I'd like to thank Jordan for pointing me towards this particular YouTube video. There are a lot of great wedding ideas out there but this has to be one of my favorites. I'm just jealous that someone else thought of it first! What a way to celebrate your special day -- AND including your entire wedding party of friends and family. Plus, ushers were included (for people like Philip, Jordan, Phil, Erich who may not be able to be part of my wedding party, I think this is just the ticket. Plus, Phil can do the fish dance with Philip)

Although Erich may just find himself standing up on my side of the aisle, it's only fair after I was a groomswoman for him:

I have to wonder when I became such an awkward person.

Some people who've known me for years say I'm not and never have been. Others say I always have. Some people look at me a little puzzled when I mention it, as if it's not a big deal or terribly noticeable. A good example was going to a goodbye party at a bar Friday night with coworkers. I was doing fine enough -- but because I feel awkward about not drinking and because I know that if I'm not drinking while everyone else does that people will ask me why I'm not drinking, I for some reason feel the need to blurt it out and sort of explain why. I make a bid deal about the thing that I would like not to not be made a big deal of. I'm my own worst enemy.

I just don't drink. And it really doesn't matter why, I don't have a problem with the fact that other people drink. My problem is that I feel out of place in a world where everyone else does and yet I can't bring myself to do it simply to fit in.

In new situations, it seems, I go one of two ways. I'm either markedly outgoing or introverted and shy. Chicago, it seems, has brought out introverted and shy. But how do I forget to be self-conscious? How do I know think about what I'm thinking about? Even thinking about not thinking about it is thinking about it....

Big Lots Sells West Wing?

Last week I drove several miles out of my way (which turned into 45 minutes of sitting in traffic) to get to Big Lots to look for cheap things for my apartment before heading over to Target. I bought laundry detergent, mover men (sliding things not actual people), and a clothing rack. I need a clothing rack because there is simply not enough closet space for my clothes (this is more a testament to the smallness of my closet space rather than the extensiveness of my wardrobe). But when I drove the extra 30 minutes in more traffic out of my way home, the clothing rack was missing one of the rods and thus worthless to me. I drove back over there a few days ago and returned it but didn't buy another. Went to Target, bought one there; it's flimsy and sways.

So, back to Big Lots I went yesterday after work. I had a little more time to peruse the selections and wander around and wander I did. In a corner, hiding with all of the soap and shampoos and home pedicure products were DVDs. Some slim pickings to be sure until I stumbled upon something magical: the second season of The West Wing. I gasped in delight -- I'm not ashamed to admit it. Because I own the first five seasons on DVD but I am missing the first disk of the second season. I have been unwilling to spend $30-$45 to replace the entire set and have been desperately missing In The Shadow of Two Gunmen, Shiboleth, It's Surely to Their Credit, and more. These are perhaps my favorite of all favorite episodes from the entire series' run and they have been lost to me. But no more. For SIX DOLLARS I bought the entire second season again. I had to resist the urge to buy 5 of them and see what I could get on eBay. For when I have tried to buy them through such web sites, the cheapest I could get them used was $15-$20. Ahh, life is magical. Good thing I listened to that small voice in the back of my head that said go explore that corner that looks like it has nothing in it.

And the clothing rack even had all the parts this time. No matter that two of the screws didn't fit into the holes they were designed for. It seems to stand fine on its own without them. Stay tuned to see if in a few months you hear about a tragic accident and my demise due to a badly put together coat rack....

Golden Train

Isn't it always the best songs that aren't nearly long enough? You never want them to end -- they're magical wherever they're playing from and they completely transform your day or your life or everything just in the few moments that they play. Few songs are magical like that but I wish they would release an album of truly magical songs that span any time or genre. Not only classics but perhaps songs people have never heard of but should.

I can't get "Golden Train" by Justin Nozuka out of my head. It follows me wherever I go. I'm singing it at work, in the car, late at night. I wake up with it still in my head. It just makes me happy. I'm listening to it through my earbuds on my iPod at work. I wish I could blast it through the speakers at work and get up and dance and be happy. I want to sing along. Every time it comes on my iPod, there's a veritable movie scene playing in my head of me jumping up and dancing and singing to this song -- a pure example of happiness. I think everyone should know this song, love this song, hear it and know it after just a few notes, like all those other classic songs that aren't nearly as well.

One of my favorite Guster songs, The Captain, only has two parts two it and then it's over, instead of a few verses and then repeating the chorus several times. This Justin Nozuka song is much the same way -- simply not long enough. Man, I haven't heard that song in a while. I need to unearth it from wherever it lies buried in my music collection.

Also can't stop listening to "You Got Growing Up To Do" by Patty Griffin and Joshua Radin. Other honorable mentionables:

On the Radio - Regina Spektor
Samson - Regina Spektor
Everything Went Down - Kate Tucker and the Sons of Sweden
I'll Be Your Water - Keb' Mo'
Sanvean (I am your shadow)- Lisa Gerrard
Like Blood Like Honey - Holly Brook
Back to Where I Was - Eric Hutchinson
My Song - Brandi Carlile
What Can I Say - Brandi Carlile
Paperweight - Joshua Radin & Schuyler Fisk

The Next Best Thing

I stayed late a little at work tonight and was driving home famished. It occurred to me that just at this moment in my previous life I would have gone to Chick-fil-a and gotten a number one combo with Chick-fil-a sauce or a chicken strip salad. It's amazing how much better your day can get when you end it by eating a Chick-fil-a chicken strip salad. But alas, neither option was available to me. I took an alternate route home and what did I pass? Perhaps the next best thing: Kentucky Fried Chicken. I am now overly full but in the best possible way.

There were so many things that I wanted to get done tonight that sadly will no longer be done. My big accomplishment for the evening was finding a parking space within 5 minutes of looking for one on a street one block over and down the way. Now laundry and perhaps a little bit of cleaning while Kate and Leopold plays in the background.

Slowly Discovering

I haven't done much today. I seem to be stuck on the computer and watching the 2nd season of Greys Anatomy. Thursday night Steve from work pointed out the restaurants a block or two away from work and we got Mexican after I hung out at work until he closed the office (surely a sign that I am new in town that I wasn't running out the door on a "Friday"). Yesterday afternoon Carolina came to pick me up and we went to go see The Proposal and together we discovered the movie theater several miles away -- it's silly that you have to pay $5 to park for a movie.

Tomorrow I'm discovering a new church and going to a hardware store down the road. I think there's also a Burger King somewhere down the road that I intend to find. I also found a few local groups to get involved with and a few no-cage, no-kill cat shelters that are also within a few miles. This helps me in two ways, both an organization to volunteer with and perhaps the place I will find my future cat.

I might be taking swing dance lessons for the next month but there may be a scheduling problem there. I've spent too much time sitting around -- I need to find the battery charger for my digital rebel. I need to get a bus pass, take my camera, and take pictures of my newfound city. I also joined a book club.

What to Do With Time You Weren't Expecting to Have

This Saturday is the 4th of July. I had a general idea that June was ending and July was beginning, but it didn't really register until today that the holiday was also quickly approaching. I have Friday off, since the 4th of July falls on Saturday. This is a gift but what to do with my time?

I can unpack. I can finish moving in and getting settled. I can hang out by the lake, though I figure it will be so busy and crowded that it would be the type of environment that I'm likely to avoid. There's something about large crowds sometimes when I'm alone -- the're oppressive and exhausting. There's too much to listen to, to pay attention to, to be aware of. Almost like losing my place in the world and being an unwilling part of a collective, jostling to simply be as I want.

I'm not really sure what to do with the time, though I should perhaps be tackling this as a positive rather than a problem to solve. No matter what I do, I'll have the time. If I want to sit around and do nothing, I don't fail at life and lose the time.

Finding New Things to Love

I'm in love with the radio station that we're listening to at work right now, 93XRT. Everything current and otherwise, just a good mix of music. U2, Brandi Carlile, Bob Dylan, Ben Harper, Counting Crows, Snow Patrol, Shawn Mullins, just to name a few bands that have been on that I've been keeping track of the last few hours. I'm in love. Plus, there's also This American Life! I should find a way to go to one of their live tapings....

I'm also in love with a TV dinner brand called "Eat Right" that is not available in the ATL. I had turkey slices with cornbread (just like real cornbread with cornbread consistency) topped off with a light sauce and cut carrots -- for all I knew, I was eating real food. (I know, right?)

I realized today that part of the reason that online chatting is so fun is that you can interrupt someone and you're not interrupting them. You can just keep talking if you want to and the other person can fend for themselves in terms of getting a word in edgewise. And you can always catch up with each other and read over what each of you said if there are somehow two different conversations going on simultaneously. It's one of the ultimate forms of multitasking all within one "conversation."

Lost in the Day

It took me all day to get to where I am now -- ready to get to work. And now, it's actually time to end the day, to wind down, get ready for tomorrow, be at peace with the day's events. Why did it take me so long? I got a few things done, admittedly. I haven't left my apartment. I watched hours and hours of the West Wing. I assembled a cabinet/shelf system for my kitchen and I unpacked a few boxes and made brunch and later, dinner. I did a little bit of cleaning, a little bit of organizing, and some reading. I played on the Internet a lot.

Just now, I started unpacking boxes in the sunroom, realizing that it's really too late to begin any of those projects. Have to wait till tomorrow. But tomorrow, there's church and hanging out with Jeff later. Maybe I won't get anything done at all. But I needed today. I needed a day of leisure. I haven't had that in several weeks, in over a month, really, and in the wake of the move I needed to just take it slow for a day. My conscience is screaming at me that I could have done so much more, that I need to learn to not be so lazy. And while I agree, I'll give myself this day. I won't give myself many others while I'm in the process of unpacking and acquainting myself with this new city of mine. But I'll give myself today.

I was starting to wonder where some of my clothes were until I unpacked a box just now -- one of the duffel bags I'd packed to go in the car with me had been left in my bedroom and thus had been packed in a box with a group of other random items in the process. Here were most of my bras, undergarments, and summer t-shirts I thought I would wear or want in the first few weeks. I was starting to think I needed to go shopping but I just needed to unpack. I wasn't insane thinking I'd packed these items. I only forgot to separate them from what the movers packed.

I'm looking forward to a time when I no longer compare everything in Chicago to something in Atlanta or something in Atlanta that I no longer quite have to something in Chicago that's new. I wish I talked about it less with coworkers but evidently it's what's on my mind because that's what I talk about. Endlessly. I talk about it. Others' patience will wear thin eventually.

Everyone asks me how's Chicago. What's it like living here. It's fine, I tell them. I'm not really at a point where I can tell them what it's really like. I don't have my routine down or parking or my neighborhood or friends or.... My life is still in transition. I appreciate their asking, however. I simply don't know what to tell them. I share random details about my street or work or the cute little restaurant my mom and I went to on her last night here called Cafe Turquoise, which had the BEST Mediterranean food. Pictures later when I found the cord that attaches my camera to my computer. I thought I'd packed it in a reasonable place to come with me and yet I find myself without it already....

What to Do?

I woke up this morning and realized that wasn't anything I HAD to do. I woke up on my own at 8:30 AM (not surprising but I was exhausted, so I'd hoped to sleep in). My internal alarm clock rarely fails me even though I'd prefer to find a way to reach inside that precarious part of my subconscious that thinks that I am a morning person and slap it across the face. And thus, probably why it cowers somewhere in my subconscious.

I have a variety of things I need to do a some point in time, preferably sooner, but I realize I don't have anything I HAVE to do. I'll do something, don't get me wrong, but this the precise reason my mom wanted to stay longer or at least steal me away from work for a few extra days and help me weed through all the mundane tasks of organizing and moving in. She could only do so much while I was at work (which is frankly very selfless of her to be here and doing it). I need to put together a wall cabinet, find my light bulbs, assemble my television connection cords, assemble a bench, clean out my sunroom where all the boxes have been put, find a way to hang all my remaining clothes somewhere outside a closet, buy and install shelves above all bars that hold up clothes in the closets I do have, et al. I'm just not entirely certain where to start.

So, time to go make some breakfast (turkey bacon, fried eggs, waffle, and a apple, for those interested). Then I'm figuring out how to put in order my worldly possessions. After carting them 700 miles north in a process I was not able to oversee or supervise that involved loading and unloading them on several large trucks, I still don't know what to do with them. Why did I buy all these things?

Why did I ever think these things would make me happy? They're what I have from my life and yet they're nothing; they're just things. There are other, better things that I could be doing with my time. I could call my father; I have yet to wish him a happy Father's Day almost a week since the day itself; I could pray for the world; I have yet to find any organizations to volunteer with in Chicago; I could call my sisters. So I should tackle these first -- there will undoubtably be time in the rest of my day for all the other mundane but necessary things that I must do to finish moving in.

Mom = Home

My mom has been here for almost my entire existence in Chicago, really. The same day my worldly possessions arrived, my mom arrived. She's been here since and will leave tonight. She's been incredibly selfless in helping me get settled -- today she said she'd clean my kitchen floor.

Once she leaves, I'll officially be away from my family and friends. I've been in limbo the last week, in a good way, with my immediate family very present in my life in simple physical presence here, both Laura and my mom. Now I'll have to forge ahead alone. It's not a bleak thought but I'm aware that life will be very different. It just makes me that much more grateful for my family. It's always good to be reminded that we are not alone.

Hard Water (makes my life harder)

There's something in the water.

Every time I take a shower, my hair seems to get dirtier. It's a tangible feeling, not just my own paranoia about my hair. It's losing its luster, it's shine. It's limp and changing to a duller color of brown instead of the subtle red highlights of my former life (seems so long ago, though only a week.) I'm pretty sure it's the hard water.

This is annoying. Should I talk to my landlord? Even the cheapest systems that you can buy to soften your water are around $300. Is that asking too much?

If you know anything about tablets that I can stick in my shower head, please let me know. The Internet has been worthless to me in this endeavor except to deprive me of hope....

Love Stories (Loving Stories, Not Stories of Love)

I love stories. Fiction, non-fiction, half-truths, personal experiences, second-hand accounts, tales of others from my hairdresser, news, journalism, gossip, you name it -- I love hearing about other people's lives and how they unfold.

This is not profound. I feel silly even writing it -- except it's true. And while I do my best not to gossip, I find myself analyzing my friends' lives because I love them and their lives are interesting to me. I'm invested. More than that, I'm simply invested in people's lives. I love stories about anything and they never get old. I love books and reading and I've been doing that since I can remember. I love music and how it tells a story and it's meaningful beyond the notes on the page, even when there are no words beyond the notes on the page.

I have degrees in English and Journalism, two fields that record the stories of peoples' lives. My hobbies include reading, writing, photography, collecting quotations -- all things that catalog life and stories. One of my favorite blogs is Our Labor of Love, a blog of a photographer that does mostly weddings but also other photography engagements. I love looking at everyone's unique wedding story. They're all the same and yet somehow very different.

I adore movies -- every kind, with the possible exception of horror and gross scary movies that are more about creative ways to kill people slowly or grotesquely than anything to do with a movie. I love documentaries and reality television (real reality television, not I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.

Six months ago and I started aggressively listening to This American Life, which is a Chicago radio station (it's like I knew I'd be moving here) that offers stories of people once a week in a strange mix that all fit together into a strange sort of common link. It's difficult to explain, but amazing stories ensue.

I always love the backstory to everything -- like discovering WHY Chicago is such an architectural gem. When the city burned down in 1871, they invited all the architects of the country (perhaps the world) to come and rebuild it. Though the fire was devastating, it allowed Chicago to be what it is today, both in the Downtown area and all the neighborhoods surrounding it (read: not suburbs, but neighborhoods. All part of actual Chicago). It feels very planned and it is. Now if only Atlanta's burning down and reconstruction had been so successful.... I love it but I mean, let's be honest, there's hardly a grid system in much of the city and 12 streets named Peachtree? Seriously.

But I love that Atlanta has the story. People say it's not the same as other cities -- and it isn't. It doesn't have that same city feel. It's too sprawling, it's not laid out quite right, there are no seamless neighborhoods like Chicago, there is laughingly public transportation and thus a city where everyone drives, it's filled now with chain restaurants that have replaced local gems, and somehow it doesn't work to live in a lot of it, as the grocery stores and living amenities are all in some places while businesses are all in others. There is some small mixture but that sense of community can often be lacking. And thus the endless miles of suburbs. But I love it. It WAS home to me. I loved that I could go to any music concert I wanted and had easy access 15 minutes down the road. Endless restaurants, culture, music, movies, festivals, whatever -- it's an interesting center in the south for all things coming through. So you get that big city feel without actually having a proper big city -- but it works. So no, it can't really compare with New York or Chicago or Los Angles or San Francisco or Houston or Boston, or any of these other unique cities with so much history and architecture. When our city burned down, we were in the midst of actual civil war reconstruction and we were not left to our devices to rebuild, stuck for years in the process of rejoining the union. Even though I don't really understand the clinging to the past, it's no wonder that civil war history remains every day in the lives of all the people who remember and talk about it and reenact it. It shaped Atlanta as it is today. It seems to me to be one of the great reasons why our city is different. It's the strange red-headed stepchild to all the other big cities of America.

Having felt a little different, a little outside everyone else for much of my life, I can relate. That's why it's my city. Things change, however, and who knows what I'll say in five years, assuming I'm still living in this gigantic city called Chicago. Maybe I'll think of it as mine one of these days.

But the point is, I love stories. I write because I love stories. I'll always have to do something with stories. Everone loves music and movies and reading. Is it as simple as some people like to read and others like to lose themselves in movies and others like the way notes sound when put together? Or do we all just love stories?

Stubbornly Awake

There are times when I don't want to go to sleep. Sleep lies on my body heavy but I resist. And then, when it is time to wake up, all I want to do is sleep. Small child that I am, I'm enjoying this time to myself, just surfing the Internet, unpacking, and watching random episodes of The West Wing. Why is that I don't want to be doing what I'm supposed to be doing? I love sleeping -- why can't I just let go of today and move on to the next? What do I think I'm gaining by depriving myself of sleep? I'm stealing time from tomorrow by being awake right now. All too soon I'll have to pay the debt.

I was going to say that I'm just working off Eastern Standard Time still except that would be some fairly flawed logic, seeing as how it's 2:21 AM EST right now as opposed to Central Standard's 1:21 AM. Either way, it doesn't really matter. Either way, it's still Monday and I haven't let go of Sunday.

Perhaps there's something missing in my life, some activity or task I have left unfinished. This is some sort of subconscious drive to stay awake because I have sense of unfinished business in some area or another. What can I accomplish at 1:20 in the morning? But here I am, stubbornly awake.

Move to Chicago: Check

I arrived in town on Monday morning, my wordily possessions arrived on Wednesday, my mother arrived Wednesday night, and my twin sister arrived Friday morning. Some unpacking has occurred in addition to cleaning, eating random food, hanging out with family, and a fair amount of working included. I was on call this weekend, which was regrettable but necessary, and it wasn't as bad as you may think. I did work some fairly long hours but they were stress free hours.

It's strange being in a different city, sort of like an extended visit that feels like it will never end. At the same time, life isn't so different. There are different problems to deal with, including parking, that have never really been an issue. The sad thing is that I used to avoid places in Atlanta that had valet, parallel, or limited parking. I can avoid these situations no longer. They are in fact, part of my daily life now. They say that whenever God closes a door somewhere he opens a window -- but I think the phrase that is more appropriate for this situation is that I have to learn to face my fears or life is a test or this was a lesson that I needed to learn or that things happen for a reason. Unfortunately, other than that the irony of the situation is not lost on me, I find no comfort in any of these ideas. It sort of sucks to have to look for parking all the time. But whatev. I'll get over it. (I'll top comparing everything to Atlanta soon, I promise)

Back to my original thought: it's funny that being at work is actually comforting because it's something that I know how to do. It's something I'm good at. And the people there are familiar. And even though I still feel a little like a nomad because I don't have a permanent office/work space at work, it's nice to be there. It's a point of reference in a strange city. I still want to go home at the end of the day, I'm certainly not thinking about pitching a tent at the office but it's good to point out that it's a comforting place in an otherwise alien place to me.

And now I'm sitting in my kitchen unpacking and watching Stranger Than Fiction as a tribute to my new city. I wonder where Harold Crick lives?

Perhaps the most surprising thing to me in this entire process is how nice people are. Everyone is so damn nice everywhere I go and it never ceases to surprise me. Everyone is happy to help.

Driving to Chicago

"I am an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way."
-Carl Sandburg

Today I drove five hundred-something miles to Indianapolis, IN in a two-day trek to Chicago, IL -- my new home.

It was a good day, surprisingly. Somehow I have never driven this far before in my life. I have ridden in cars for trips that spanned weeks across the country but never have I been driving and certainly never was I alone. And while I had fervently wished that someone would come with me as I planned this trip, I found myself grateful to be solitary today. It was like the calm before the storm except I see no tempest. Yes, there will be the whirlwind of getting settled but that is a resettlng and not the destructive side of the elements.

Rather than being upset about leaving, it all just sort of came and made sense. I've already made peace with leaving my family and all my friends and the extended "family" of those people that make up my daily life. All week long I kept reminding myself that I won't live here anymore, that this will no longer be where I am or where I will be. It never felt like there was a change coming. Life seemed too constant to be changing; too full to be lacking, too sweet to be sad at any type of ending. I'm waxing poetic but the simple truth is that I was driving down the road and everything made sense. There was no joy or sadness about it -- I was simply where I was supposed to be. And while flying the distance from Atlanta to Chicago is certainly much easier than driving, the drive helped put the distance in physical perspective. The thought kept coming (perhaps repetitiously so that I wouldn't forget it) this is the distance between where you were and where you are going. This is the distance between where you were and where you are and where you will be. It's not so great that you couldn't travel it in one day (if you're stubborn or energetic enough). It wasn't theoretical or imaginative or too big for comprehension.

I'm rambling, I apologize. I'm too tired to edit this evening.

Celebrating Leaving Your Parents With Your Parents

"...every generation moves away from the one before. It is curious that we Americans have a holiday, Thanksgiving, that's all about people who left their homes for a life of their own choosing, a life that was different from their parents' lives. And how do we celebrate it? By hanging out with our parents. It's as if on the 4th of July we honored our independence from the British by playing cricket and nibbling on crumpets.

Thanksgiving morning my parents take Owen to see the Macy's parade while Amy and I start making dinner. Let me repeat that -- my mother leaves while I cook. Specifically, cornbread dressing, a dish my mother has made every thanksgiving since before I was born. To her credit, she has not inquired about my process since she phoned to ask me if she should bring cornmeal in her suitcase. As an Okie, my mom only uses white cornmeal processed by the Shawnee Company in Muskogee. She does not even consider my cornbread to be cornbread at all because I make it with yellow cornmeal and, heresy, sugar. 'You don't make cornbread,' she told me in the same deflated voice she uses to describe my hair, 'you make Johnny Cake.' I'm standing at the cutting board chopping sage and it hits me what it means that she's letting me be in charge of the dressing: I am going to die. Being in charge of the dressing means you're a grownup for real and being a grownup for real means you're getting old and getting old means you are definitely finally totally going to die. My mother is a grandmother and my sister is a mother and I have decided the dressing will be yellow this year, therefore we'll all be dead some day. Happy Holidays!"
"-Sarah Vowell, Birthdays, Anniversaries, and Milestones from This American Life, December 14, 2001

In case it isn't obvious, when I am tired of listening to my ipod, I listen to radio online and right now I'm working my way through the entire archives of This American Life, trying to catch up with something I've learned to love only recently in an attempt to make it somehow mine historically despite the fact that we are only newly friends.

My mom is coming up to Chicago to help me move at some point and I'm very excited. Now our conversations run to things like when I'm coming to visit or when my family is coming to visit me. We've spread ourselves out fairly well with my parents in Atlanta, Laura in Boston, Christy and Alden in Houston, Uncle Bob and Aunt Janet, et al. in Idaho, Uncle Breck, et al. in Wisconsin, and so on. Uncle John and Aunt Deborah, et al. still valiantly staying in the Atlanta area and now they will be so far away....

Thanksgivings are some of my favorite memories from childhood, with Mimi (my grandmother) always cooking for all of us, even after Grandpa passed away, dinner at the home she moved to after his death, my sisters and I watching old movies that she had rented for us in the unfinished basement that never seemed creepy despite the exposed studs and insulation-exposed walls. So much light coming in from the floor to ceiling windows on the side made this impossible, I suppose. Trust Mimi to find the only unfinished basement in the world that has no element of creepiness. The food was always the same and wonderful. It was a day that no one seemed to fight. Everyone had endless amounts of time to be with family and laze the day away just lying around on couches and talking or watching TV.

It's easy these days, with everyone spread across the country and holidays comprising of family gatherings of only my immediate family members, to think that I don't have a large family or that I didn't have the same family experiences that I see other people having now. It's not that I don't have them; it seems that other people are having now what I used to have. Large, copious amounts of family members all together for Thanksgiving or Christmas or the 4th of July. I've had those memories. We're all busy and spread out now but we still love each other. I would be welcome at anyone's house, I could call anyone at any time and rebuild the physically estranged relationship into something measured with telephone bills, letters, e-mails, packages, and the elusive sense of knowing someone beyond the cursory details.

It's easy to forget but I do have family. And I also have all the wonderful family that grew from the people I'm not actually related to -- the Bullards, Beth, Lyndsey, Philip, Chris and his mom, and others. They're all part of my family. They've never replaced my original family or the people that I would list on my family tree. They've stepped in to fill the holes left behind as my family went off each in their own way to live their lives. I could never hold it against them -- hypocrite that I am, I know better, particularly in light of my impending move to Chicago.

Time to fill the holes again. I have a strange sense of being grateful - that my life is open enough to welcome people in.

Your Belief Finds You

"The problem was I also no longer believed in God. Something had happened where Chariots of Gods had kind of been an occupying army in my head that had killed off the army that was God's army. And then when Rabi Smaller came in and killed off the Chariots of Gods’ army, there was just basically nothing left. I was basically a blank slate. I was a clean blackboard. And I have never found again any kind of religious faith since the time I was 14. I just don't believe in God. Every now and then someone who I'm close to who is Christian tries to tell me about Jesus. Whenever that happens, I've taken it very seriously and I have heard them out and I have looked at the bible and every time it's happened it's come down to this: that I find that I don't seem to have a choice over whether or not I believe in God. I simply find that I do not. And trying to force myself to believe – it would be like trying to convince yourself that you are in love with somebody who you're not in love with. Either you have faith or you don't, either you believe or don't. Your belief finds you and then you and it have each other. And once your faith is set, I think only the biggest kind of seismic event in your life can change that, even if you want to change it."
-Ira Glass, on “Faith” from the radio show This American Life, December 21, 2001

I should be doing anything other than what I'm doing at the moment. Packing, cleaning, organizing, sleeping, spending time with friends while I still can. But I was listening to an old episode of This American Life at work today from 2001 and loved the intro by Ira Glass, particularly the part about forcing yourself to love someone you don't love and that your belief finds you and then you and it have each other. Personifying belief as a companion you find.

Reminds me of several books I've read as of late, though I'm not really sure why. The Celestine Prophecy; Eat, Pray, Love; and The Sharp Teeth of Love. One about human energy, one about balancing spirituality with pleasure and knowing yourself, and the other about finding yourself while talking to a ghost from the Donner Party. I mean, really what ties them all together spiritually is the cannibalism....

Good night

Tonight I went to Malibu Grand Prix as a farewell activity with a diverse group of friends, both new and old. I forgot to call Glenda to give her the final details so she wasn't there but everyone else was (sorry Glenda, I'm a bad friend). It was good to see everyone and play. Sort of depressing to say goodbye and then go home to an empty apartment.

I will have driven something like 600 miles this time next Sunday. Getting ready to move this week and tying up some loose ends. T-minus one week.


Priceless: Blaring Hanson in Jen's car and crooning with Taylor Hanson in Mmmbop while dancing in dorky ways with Jen and Anthony while Jordan and Beth cower in the pain of over-enthuisastic silly music.

Skee ball, putt putt, riding go karts, Chili's....

Honorable mention to Mike for inadvertently driving a long way to be there.

Too tired to write in actual interesting sentences that form a paragraph.

Keeping in Touch

I'm realizing that I have to change the way I communicate with a large group of people. There are all sorts of people I see here and there -- we catch a movie, dinner, coffee, ice skating, braves game, whatever. But if I don't make an effort to stay in touch, even loosely, it's likely I'll lose whatever connection I had with these people. Connections have to be renewed or they go through the lengthy process of being rebuilt. (Much more expensive in emotional capital -- far better to just maintain friendships in the long run.)

I was looking through an old folder of personal e-mails and noticed that I use to send people e-mails all the time. I'd say hi, talk about my day, ask for advice, and generally keep in touch with a variety of people and friends that I'd made along the way. I'm hoping that as I move to Chicago I make all sorts of new friends and people to share my life with but that I keep the spirit of maintaining those old friendships. My mom is very sad that I'm leaving as the last of her children to leave the state but I reminded her that we can e-mail. She's on e-mail all day long at work and we can share stories from our lives or just say hi or anything. It doesn't replace phone conversations and visits but it can keep us primed and ready for those moments when we do (gratefully) get to be together in physical presence.

There's also regular, old-fashioned mail. I want to get back in that habit. At the height of my middle school fanaticism for pen pals I had over 100. I think I can manage to write a few pages to old friends once in a while.... Plus, who doesn't love getting mail?

Last nigh was an impromptu viewing of Up with Mike. I had no expectations so it was sort of difficult not to surpass them but I LOVED it. It was one of those movies that transforms me from whatever I am to happy. Small child that I normally am, it was nice to feel like a kid and just laugh and be happy for a night and not bogged down in the details of being an adult.

Coke vs. Soda vs. Pop vs. Soda Pop

I live in Atlanta (for three more weeks) but I was also born and raised in the state of Georgia in the suburbs of Atlanta. This city is the Coke capital of the world, where Coke was founded as a drink that actually contained Cocaine as a prescription for medicinal purposes. Growing up here, my friends and I have had many discussions over the years about what people call carbonated beverages. In the south, you can ask someone for a Coke and you could really want a Spite, a Dr. Pepper, or even a Fresca. Atlanta is also the place that people move to. In elementary school it was like a little game -- what state were you born in? It felt like there were more people born in California, New York, Ohio, Michigan, Illinois, Colorado, Washington, or basically a state that is not Georgia or does not surround Georgia. Occasionally we would get people from Alabama, Tennessee, Florida, and South Carolina, but these people usually migrate here for college or employment reasons thereafter and not during the elementary school years.

But the one thing we all in common was being in the land of coke. And even though people tried to bring their love of Pepsi to the south, it never really took. My friends and I stared at each other in horror when we would go to a fast food or restaurant chain that featured Pepsi products as the carbonated beverage options. Pepsi tasted nothing like Coke. Mountain Dew is green and scary (though others later learned to enjoy it stay awake), Sierra Mist has a strange name and doesn't take exactly like Sprite, and there was a lemonade product. I was saved occasionally if Pepsi had teamed up with Dr. Pepper to replace Mr. Pibb in the service offerings.

Coke was everywhere. The above did not happen often. I believe Taco Bell and a few other places are the Pepsi champions but even chains that regularly offer Pepsi products can be bought and I imagine that's what happened. Virtually all restaurants of all calibers, both expensive and cheap, offer only Coke drinks and, of course, freshly brewed sweet tea. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do when I move to Chicago -- it's a double whammy. I will probably be greeted with Pepsi drinks and unsweet tea or worse, no iced tea at all.

But I digress. The point is that the word "Coke" has replaced "soda." You can ask someone for a Coke and want any type of soft drink. People might look at you funny if you ask for a soda. Personally, I use the word "soft drink" before I use "soda," which is odd, because "soft drink" is two words versus one and it's harder to say. Every time I use the word "soda" I say it with a marked nothern accent. My friends and I used to discuss this, though we never really got anywhere with it. We used to ask each other what other people call it in other areas. We had a difficult time imagining asking anyone to grab us a "pop" as they were on their way to the kitchen.

I was thrilled to discover that someone made a graphical depiction of these terms at wikipedia. It's sort of like a childhood dream come true....

I cringe

I don't like my post a few posts ago about religion. I let anger an my insecurity about having a religion that a lot of people don't know about or hate or don't understand get in the way of making a valid point about the separation of religion and government and the fact that Christians can be very unchristian. I didn't need to bring up my own religion at all to make that point -- it didn't matter what religion I was. And while the introduction had to do with my Bible lesson, which is a little different from most religions, it didn't need to be the thing that introduced my thoughts to the world. While it was my mental inspiration, the thought, the inclination to hide it, it didn't need to actually be the thing to jumpstart my post. I could have used any of a million versions of examples.

I actually cringed after I wrote it at the thought of checking the blog later and seeing anyone's comments, sure they'd call me out on it. It was an angry rant about religion that could have been refined into an actual piece of work worth reading. I did have a point -- but it feels like it got lost in my own anger and self-consciousness.

Since then, I've been too self-conscious to blog. I'm my own worst critic.

I don't take enough time to blog. It takes time to write and sometimes I just throw it away. Writing used to be easier when I wrote more -- go figure.

In other news, I'm moving to Chicago. I have to be there in a month, which is pretty surreal. It doesn't feel like I'm moving. Perhaps when I'm there this week the live and in person apartment searcing will make it more of a reality.

So expect future posts with me freaking out about the details of moving, the move itself, and me inevitably getting lost in a city I've only been to three times.

Abbreviated Hodgepodge of Two Weeks

Life has been a litle busy and a little crazy, thus my non-posting. Consolidated post of details, here we go!

-The Holiday and Hot Fuzz were both much better movies than I thought they would be. I watched the Holiday for the first time months ago but was delighted to find it on demand from my cable service for free yesterday. Also watched Up Close and Personal. Hot Fuzz came later with Beth and Mike -- was everything I hoped it would be and more.
-I am on call this weekend and have been editing away this morning. Was delighted to discover that The West Wing comes on Bravo even on Sunday mornings.
-Many close friends of mine are getting married within the next 6 weeks -- this is pretty exciting guys. Glad I bought the digital rebel instead of a regular point and shoot (which I have too, but you know, you can never have too many cameras)
-I am moving to Chicago in like a month -- Roger expressed his opinion of this well "That is both awesome and terrible at the same time." Later, his comment included something about sh*tballs but I'm going with the original quote. Nope, I didn't see the move coming but, you know, I like keeping my job, so....
-The Wandering Sons/Meiko concert is May 5th in Atlanta if anyone else wants to come. You know you want to....
-All of the clocks in my apt were not changed to reflect daylight savings time until Roger came over for dinner the other night.


That is all.

I'm Not One of Those Religious People

I'm not one of those religious people who judges and condemns others for nearly or identical missteps. I am not one of those people who constantly proselytizes and thinks that all of the other people not with me are going to hell. I'm not one of those people who thinks I've figured out religion and that I know better. I am not someone whose life is dictated by religious dogma or scripture. I do not try to interpret the Bible to defend bigotry or intolerance.

Religion is personal.

But I am a religious person -- I am a Christian Scientist. Each week, I study a pre-prepared Bible lesson published by the Mother Church in Boston. Each Sunday, the same lesson, readings of the Bible and Science and Health with Key the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy, is read by two readers. This is my lesson and sermon to study and grow from. My copy of the lesson is currently sticking out of my purse in plain view. that it is a religious and Bible-related pamphlet is unmistakable -- the cross and crown and the giant "BIBLE LESSON" text at the top in all capitalized letters. Just now I had an urge to hide it less someone see and think I left it there in view on purpose or that they think I am one of those people I mentioned above.

It's unfortunate, really, that I expect that response from people. Revulsion to religion. Revulsion to what they conceive of as judgment, bigotry, self-righteousness, bothersome proselytizing, hypocrisy, ignorance, believing only what I have been taught, insanity, naivety, and so on. With the Christian Right and popular religion, these are what I see. Christianity concerned with being anything but Christian. The teachings of Christ left by the wayside while still invoking his name in support of war, tyranny, mob mentality, and persecution. This is the stereotype I see and want to get as far away from as I possibly can.

It's pretty ironic, really. Here I am pretty religious and steadfast in what I believe but I don't really want people to know because I expect them to see all these negative misconceptions instead of who I am or what I believe. I don't want them to see me as the same Christian as others. And it's unfair, really, that I stereotype all of Christians into the same group when I know so many who aren't any of these negative things. They are so loving and accepting and intelligent and able to distinguish between what they believe and the rest of the way the world is -- that we do not live in a Christian country in the sense that you do not have to be a Christian to live here. You do not have to agree with any particular sect of Christianity or Christianity in general to live and move and have your being. As Americans, we disagree in terms of what man is and where he comes from and where is going and everything in between -- how we live our lives and why. That by congress making no law restricting the free exercise of religion, it includes the freedom to disagree. To me, it includes the freedom to not exercise any religion at all. To This could be one of the one of the highest first amendment representations and genius, really, when you think of the verbiage used to construct the statement. Isn't not having one expressing religion? Isn't forcing religion on someone making it no longer free?

Personally and from a CS perspective, I don't believe in hell. I don't fear for anyone's immortal soul. And surely those who fear for mine and others, if we haven't participated in the particular rituals and steps that supposedly save man, can respect that fact that it is my immortal soul and assuming there is a God, that it is between Him and me. And while I appreciate other people who may try to convince me otherwise in order to save my soul, it is really diametrically opposed to any kind of loving sense of the Divine that I could imagine (I would have said "divine" but that would have been using the word one too many times for that sentence). And should the Infinite Life be different than I imagine, surely I get credit for rational thought and loving my fellow man.

I'm rambling again but the point is I shouldn't be afraid of letting people know I'm religious. And in counterpoint, I don't think religion should be mandatory in this country. I think that is ultimately what some people want out -- and that terrifies me. Because what I think of religion and what they think of religion are two very different things.

Elizabeth Gilbert: National Cathedral Lecture

It's important not to take authors too seriously.

a few weeks ago, Lyndsey and I went to hear Elizabeth Gilbert speak at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. For those of you who have been looking quizzedly at me and asking me why I was traveling DC, this was why -- this lecture. We had seats in one of the side niches, perfect and only perhaps 8 rows back from the "pulpit." It was an added bonus listening to such an arresting personality with the backdrop of such beauty and grace as that glorious cathedral.

I don't mean to criticize the woman who introduced her and (I apologize for not remembering her name) but as she spoke about Ms. Gilbert, she spoke with a reverence that made me a little uncomfortable. Yes, I love this woman's writing. Yes, I think she has done and accomplished some very wonderful things and has gained and shared wonderful insights as result. But I do not in any way worship her or believe she has the answers to my life. The speaker spoke of her the same way you would speak about political activists and spiritual leaders and righters of wrong in the world. Not that I don't think Ms. Gilbert has helped people; it's just that there is a line where you put too much on one person, perhaps giving her more credit or responsibility than they should have.

What was funny about that evening was Ms. Gilbert spoke to that sense of uncomfortableness. She began with lecture with a story -- she was sitting at the gate at an airport hours early for a flight but was so zoned out in her own thoughts that she actually missed the flight. And she said that people seem to think that because she was meditating every day and doing all these things on her trip that she wrote in Eat, Pray, Love, that she had somehow gotten her life together.

She spoke honestly and humbly, self-deprecating without actually putting herself down. That yes, she did these things and she wrote about them and it helped people but that there is no moment when you figure out life and then it's all easy from then on out.

She spoke about her next book and what how her life had changed since Eat, Pray, Love was published. It was one of the shortest hours of my life while she talked. When she was finished, a Q&A session began. It too passed by all too quickly. So simple and lovely complex at the same time.

If you live in a city where she will be talking, please go. You'll find it charming and funny with a subtle taste of inspiration and wisdom. Perhaps her greatest wisdom lies in her honesty and willingness to share things bluntly.

I never got to meet or hear Madeleine L'engle speak; this was a little retribution to me.

I need to watch out for what other authors I love are speaking somewhere: Paulo Coelho, Stephen King, Amy Tan, Emily Griffin, Judy Blume, Jennifer Weiner, Stephanie Meyer, Nicholas Sparks, Greg Mortenson, Cecelia Ahern, Ann Brashares, Sue Kidd, Tim Farrington, Lauren Weisberger, Nick Hornby, Alice Sebold, Tim O'Brien, Philip Pullman, and many others that I cannot think of at the moment.

If you know of any good books or authors you think I may be missing out on, please let me know.

Nurturing Creativity

Elizabeth Gilbert on Nurturing Creativity

I was running around aimlessly on the Internet looking for music ideas from people whose music taste I love, new books to read, new blogs to read, new things to buy, new ideas to consider -- and I found this video of Elizabeth Gilbert. There is currently no video link on the National Cathedral website of her lecture that I heard a few weeks ago but this video would give you a good sense of what it was like, particularly given that it was given only a month before the DC lecture.

I'm also learning to love www.ted.com and all the fabulous videos and ideas and wonderfulness. Did you hear about the guy regrowing rain forest in Indonesia?

When I hear that there is someone regrowing rain forest and doing it in such a hopeful, positive, smart, community-building, and sustainable way, it makes me think all the other problems in the world aren't so unsolvable. There is a giant garbage patch of plastic floating around in the Pacific Ocean that is estimated to be twice the size of Texas -- scientists say that we may never be able to get the plastic out. Plastic bottles float in by the coast and instead of biodegrading, they "photograde" by becoming brittle by the sun's UV rays and then splintering into small pieces and even, regrettably, becoming as fine as dust. Scientists have been saying for a few years now that we may never be able to get this plastic out of the ocean, it's just too small and it's too remote from land to make the process doable. But when I hear about rain forest being regrown and Elizabeth Gilbert saving creative people from themselves and their daemons, I start to think that maybe we just haven't come up with the right way yet. But we should....

There is, after all, that mysterious source of goodness and ideas that everyone can link into. Ideas are unlimited. They give us hope.

This American Life -- Chicago Radio

This American Life

Kudos to my friend Joel to recommending a particular podcast from This American Life, which has led to my love of this Chicago radio affiliate and its podcasts. Turns out, it was a radio show on Chicago Public Radio for years and transitioned into a television show on Showtime (gah, if only I had that channel!). The idea is stories -- they tell people's stories and snapshots of people's lives.

From the website:

The radio and TV shows follow the same format. There's a theme to each episode, and a variety of stories on that theme. It's mostly true stories of everyday people, though not always. There's lots more to the show, but, like we said, it's sort of hard to describe.

I am in awe of something so simple that seemed to be missing from my life. With all of the mediums out there for entertainment and news, I miss the simple things that I never really had. Apart from the children's public television shows, I've never really watched or listened to public radio or television. Only recently have I ever listened to NPR. But I find that while I'm copyediting at work each day that I need sound. I need music or a television show to listen to or standup comedy on my ipod or a podcast or...something. The silence kills me. While I have fairly extensive music collection, I can really only listen to it so many times over and over again, nevermind the fact that my iPod is currently out of commission due to the fact that I have misplaced the Ethernet chord that charges it as well as connects it to my iTunes library to allow for the changing of playlists. The other problem is that I the same, though excellent, 2 gigs of songs have been housed there for perhaps a month.

Thanks to my disorganization and slight absentmindedness, I am turning to alternative sources for sound. NPR and Chicago public radio may not be very out there in terms of unknown or crazy choices, but they're fairly radical for me.

I realize that without this chain of events, I may have never found them. I wish someone had thrown them in my face or that I had seen an advertisement for them somewhere, on a bus or on TV or in a magazine or something. I think there's a sentiment that everyone knows that these things are out there and are wonderful but in the face of all the other options, they sort of fade away. Listening to them was never a learned habit, as my parents didn't listen to them.

So, listen away. Check them out. Listen to the amazing stories.

Falling Behind

I've been falling behind as of late in everything it seems but not excepting my blogging. Life has been happening despite the updates so look forward to too many posts about my trip to DC to visit Lyndsey and thoughts on life in general and various other topics. Since I have abstained from writing as of late expect too much writing in pursuit of balance. It is, after all, time to make up for lost time.

Cleanliness has fallen by the wayside. By virtue of being in a city where I hiked miles each day, I kept up with exercising. I even woke up early this morning to work out but when I got to the gym someone was on my beloved elliptical machine. With a heavy heart, I took a walk around my apartment complex instead, knowing it wasn't really enough. Perhaps I'll try again tonight. Time to climb back on the horse for the millionth time. At least I've done it enough times to know that not trying is ultimately unsatisfying.

I gained more than a little insight while on my trip. The entire thing was brought to life by Lyndsey's realization that Elizabeth Gilbert was speaking at the National Cathedral at the end of March (author of Eat, Pray, Love, among other novels). Our many conversations on the book and the topics covered and our love of the author meant only one thing: we must go. And go we did!

So much more to write on the experience, but one thing that hit home for me was during the Q&A after her talk. The audience was handed out index cards with the programs and encouraged to write questions down during the talk to be answered later. One question about writing and organization prompted an answer by Ms. Gilbert that you have to choose one person and write for them. You can't write to please everybody. So, if you're writing to your sister or husband or Aristotle or whoever, write to them as our audience. Then, when you are stuck or floundering or trying to decide between two ideas, ask yourself what that person would do or want or think was appropriate -- and there is your answer. Always go back to that one person.

I was much better at this on livejournal. I approached writing like I was writing for myself instead of writing for anyone else. I need to pick an audience for my blog or at least a specific person for each entry. Then if someone else wouldn't understand or wouldn't like it, who cares? It was never intended to be the thing for them....

Conquering Cleanliness

The conquering continued this morning in other areas of my life. I was determined to wake up and immediately go work out but I didn't feel like it. And since I wasn't conquering anything by not going to the gym except perhaps my conscience (which is never good), I forced myself to do something else productive. I cleaned.

I ate breakfast and then I did the few dishes leftover from last night's cleanliness marathon. I put away the hand-washed dishes from last night, deep-cleaned the counter tops and my stove, swept the floor, loaded the dishwasher, made a pile of boxes and things that need to go to the trash on my next trip out the door....

For those of you know who have never visited my apartment, let me explain. I don't *like* being dirty or disorganized or slovenly or cluttery but it seems to happen. No, not seems, it does. And while there have been short periods of time in my life when I have not been this way, the general rule is that I am messy. I can recognize the flaw and I am not happy with the status quo. But whenever my life gets hectic, cleanliness falls by the wayside. I give up. My living room is nothing to boast of at the moment but if you'd seen my living room over the last few years, you'd be impressed. It's getting there. My kitchen at the moment is something I can be proud of. And while there is laundry from the last few days haunting my bedroom, it is otherwise mostly clean. The best part? I refuse to make my closet messy or disorganized, so while things tend to hang around outside of it as a result, I can find every single piece of clothing in it with no problem. I walk into it and things are generally in a neat and pleasant order.

Please understand -- this is progress. This is extreme progress.

When I'm done meandering on blogs and writing and getting ready for my day, I will go into my bedroom and put away all the laundry I started a few days ago. It will have a place.

Who knows? Maybe later I'll vacuum. Haught, isn't it? Being clean is the new sexy. (or the new Alison sexy)

Conquering the Elliptical Machine

I've been a coward. I admit it.

I have been afraid of my apartment complex gym. I'm was afraid of walking in the dark early morning hours by myself. I was afraid of the other people who may be there and what they might think of me and my workout routine and my obvious newness to working out and well...what they think in general. I was afraid of the gym equipment, in particular the elliptical machine. No matter what I've done, I cannot seem to figure out how that damn machine works and how not to fall off of it. This led to fears of not being able to use the elliptical machine when other people were around, a fear linked to my previous listed fear.

Now, I know what you're thinking. The other people could care less. If I'm that afraid of walking in the dark, just drive. These are simple solutions that just didn't fit logically into my thinking at the time. Because even though I know deep down inside that the other people don't care, I still don't want them there while I'm exercising. Even though I could drive, there could be an attacker lurking in the darkness to maim me in the simple 15 foot walk to the gym.

But no more. I'm tired of living in silly fears that are really only excuses for me not to wake up earlier than I have to and exert myself physically. I've been mildly successful at waking up and accomplishing this over the last few weeks but this morning was a little different. I lay in bed after hitting snooze on my alarm and refused to allow myself to go back to sleep. I lay in bed and forced myself to be awake. In my warm, comfortable, cozy bed, I forced awakeness on my tired body. (It is important that you realize how much I love sleep and my bed and that doing this to myself must be the result of a certain amount of personal reflection and forced discipline and perhaps even a new wave of thought and outlook on life for me in order for me to accomplish this.)

Not only did I wake up early and go to the gym. Not only did I do it in semi-darkness. I also did not shy away from the building when there was a girl already in there running on a treadmill, looking like an Olympic athlete and making me feel like a sloth. I also surveyed the room of available equipment and, despite her encroaching presence in my subconscious, went immediately to the elliptical machine. I stepped on cautiously but with bravado. I was determined that even if I fell off, I would, so to speak, climb back onto this electric horse and tame it -- and in the process, relinquish my fear.

It was a bit awkward at first but when I stopped thinking about it, my legs and arms moved in a seamless balance and grace that almost felt like no movement, save the aching in my arms and legs and my heavy breathing. The room felt brighter (no, not just the rising sun), the air felt cleaner (no, not just the feeling of exercise), and the world was a better place. This may seem like the tiniest of tiny things but for me in my little world, this was victory.

A smaller victory from this week was me being the Atlanta office champion for our company-wide Connect 4 tournament. In the coming weeks my skills will be tested in inter-office play. With my resounding workout victory to boost my confidence, I am a force to be reckoned with. They'll never know what hit them....

One Minute Writer: Pendulum

Today's Writing Prompt: Pendulum

In what area do you tend to swing from one extreme to the other, and back again?

There is no "area" for me here -- this is much of my life. Even if my calm exterior says otherwise, I am usually swinging from one thing to another internally.

You know, I say that and that's not entirely true. Perhaps I swing from being in the middle to extremes. Perhaps a pendulum isn't the best metaphor, because I do find rest in the middle. I just also have a tendency to swing from one extreme to the other at times.

This was totally not worth a blog post...but I am too exhausted to think of anything else to write.

Lists

"Eliminate something superfluous from your life. Break a habit. Do something that makes you feel insecure. Carry out an action with complete attention and intensity, as if it were your last."
-Piero Ferrucci

The above quote is a good start or continued step in changing my life. Let's make a list, shall we?

1) Eliminate something superfluous from your life.

Soda?

2) Break a habit.

Be clean and orderly instead of putting things where ever. Wake up without hitting snooze. Be active rather than slovenly.

3) Do something that makes you feel insecure.

Take a dance class. Learn how to shoot a gun. Ride Goliath at Six Flags. Use an Internet dating site. Introduce myself to a stranger in a coffee shop.

4) Carry out an action with complete attention and intensity, as if it were your last.

Pray for the world. Write a novel. Create a web site and catalogue all of my quotes. Save for a house.

Lists are my new favorite thing, can you tell?

Running Away to Italy

In other ways, I wish I could just leave my life for six months to a year and go live in the Italian countryside writing and learning Italian. It would be running away but at least it has the potential to be a peaceful running away with personal growth.

- LiveJournal post from June 28, 2007

See Lyndsey, it's like I knew one day I would read Eat, Pray, Love =)

I'm looking through old livejournal entries, sort of a checkup on what I was doing this time and a little later through the years. I came across the above. I am going to Washington D.C. at the end of the month to visit Lyndsey and hear Elizabeth Gilbert speak at the National Cathedral (none other than the author of Eat, Pray, Love, the non-fiction account of Elizabeth's year-long journey to find herself and spirituality. The first phase of the trip is Italy where she learns Italian.)

As I read the book, I wanted nothing more than to take a similar journey, to leave everything in my life behind for a time and become...better. It seems that it wasn't just inspiration garnered from the book -- it was something that I truly wanted even before I recognized it in the wonderful book....

Sleeping Confuses Me

I was restless the night before last, unable to sleep but exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to leave my thoughts and slip into the sweet oblivion of nothingness that can be sleep. I wanted to wake up on the other side of something. Instead, I woke up feeling as if I'd been tensed the entire night, my eyes clenched shut and dry as a rock, as if I'd closed them so tightly that tears couldn't come. I could tell that it was too dark outside to be time to wake up. And while I thought it was perhaps 3 or 4 in the morning it was really 6:35 am and really too late to go back to sleep. Instead, I convinced myself to drag my exhausted ass to my apt complex gym. Impressive, no?

I spent basically all of yesterday exhausted. Everything hurt and yet nothing hurt. Like having a low-wattage electric current going through your body all day (or so I would imagine, I've never actually experienced something even slightly similar) but electricity for some reason seems an appropriate likeness. I know I looked terrible. People even commented on it. I'm grateful I was still able to get work done without making a mess of everything I edit. That's the trouble with being a copy editor -- there's no room for being truly distracted by anything. When things are going in my life or I'm tired or lazy, mistakes get to the client. Drama. Panic.

It was nice to fall asleep gracefully last night, like I'd recovered grace from wherever I lost it. I woke about as peacefully, having just had a lucid dream where I'd been in Boston with my family visiting my sister. I was trying to catch up with everyone on the streets but it had turned dark and I had lost my sense of direction. The dream changed dramatically and I was essentially flying through the air with not as much control as I would like, trying to get back on the right road in daylight. As I realized I was flying instead of driving and unable to get quite back to the road and land, I thought, hey I'm dreaming anyway, who needs to be on the road? and set out to do whatever it was I wanted. I landed in the lake next to the road and started flying up on trees, stripping bark for fun, doing back flips, forward flips, flips in the air, whatever whim or fancy struck me at the time. I adore flying dreams.

It was pleasant to wake up this morning, in contrast to waking up the day before. It was 8:30 but I went to sleep at 10:30, so I can deal with getting 10 hours of sleep and no more. Normally I can't sleep that late but obviously I needed it.

I think it's funny that I had a lucid dream without thinking about it whereas if I actually have the goal of a lucid dream, it never really happens. Funny that the conscious decision to have one results in nothing whereas naturally I tend to stumble upon them as I go along. Sleeping confuses me....

[Note -- Ha! No spelling errors found by spell check! That means no typos as I was typing this either. I am awesome.]

For the Hearing Impaired

Melissa Baird reading from the February issue of Real Simple (her favorite magazine and also one of mine)

I was catching up on some magazine reading this evening and I came cross the above article. I read it, I loved it, and I instantly thought of my friend Jordan.

Jordan is known for his love of sleeping. He has been rudely awakened by some people we will loosely call his friends in a manner of ways, including by snow brought indoors. He is not inherently lazy and is very much fun to talk to and be around but he does love his sleep. I found this article and was filled with a deep desire to share it with him. I had found something that spoke to his love sleep.

Knowing that I could scan in the physical article itself and e-mail it to him when I'm at work tomorrow, I still wanted to share it with him immediately. I googled with hope. My hopes were dashed against the jagged rocks of despair when the article in question was not listed on Real Simple's website or anyone else that I could find on the vast Internets. But Eureka! There is a podcast online. Someone has read it out loud and recorded it for the benefit of the hearing or visually impaired in California. And while Jordan is not hearing impaired or located in California, I wanted to share and share immediately.

I listened to the article myself out of curiosity. After listening to Melissa Baird read the story for only a few sentences, I was floored. I was enthralled. I was rooted to my computer for the remainder of the 19-minute podcast. Her reading became my background music. Her voice is delightful. It reminds me of someone I know but I cannot divine the resemblance. No matter -- her voice is divine. And I am now on a mission to discover if she reads anything else. I was happy to listen to her read out the ingredients for a recipe and describe verbatim from the magazine how to cook a particular dish. Anyone who can read a recipe in such a way that I am enthralled deserves further research and certainly recognition on my little-read blog....

Surely she must read other things than Real Simple! I must find out!

To Be Continued....

I'm catching up on Grey's Anatomy -- don't talk to me about it yet because I'm three episodes behind.

I'm not looking forward to doing my taxes and am pretty much putting it off but at least I'm doing a better job of taking care of my apartment.

I've noticed a few things lately: I never seem to allow myself to sit in silence and that I can't want anything more until I can take care of what I have.

To speak the first thing, I always have sound around me. I used to think this was because was comforting but now I'm realizing more and more that I use sound as a way to distract myself. When I'm driving, there is always music on or the radio or a tap of a lecture. When I'm at home, even if I'm not watching television, it is virtually always on in one room or the other either tuning in to regular television or with something on DVD that I am "watching" by listening to it as I go around my apartment doing God knows what. Certainly not often cleaning it, as my friends can attest. It's not so much that I'm dirty as I don't seem to put anything away. Things sit in places, sometimes for months, because I don't know where to put them and while I wish they had a place, I'm not particularly motivated to actually find them one. Also, the sound sort of helps to drown out the neighbor who lives below me who seems to have a rather nice subwoofer (see previous entry about neighbors.) But even watching Grey's Anatomy at top volume right now doesn't drown out the sound of the base....

I want an office. I want a place where all I have is a desk and books and things that make me happy. I want a tranquil room. I don't want to have to hook up my laptop in my bedroom or at my kitchen table. I want a place to think. But I can recognize that I can't handle anything more right now than this one bedroom apartment. I can't keep it organized, I have trouble remembering to clean on a consistent basis, etc. And while I would like for it to be better, I can't seem to accomplish that. But I'm working on it. I'm not giving up. And hopefully when I get that figured out, there will be an office waiting for me....

It's 11 PM -- Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

...I'm someone's child and I'm still at work. I think we've finally come almost to the end but I'm still here waiting it out. We were almost done and I was about to leave to meet Sarah for coffee and then possibly see Coraline with her and the guys but.... then we discovered that we were missing something. An entire stack of client originals still needed to be scanned and turned into graphics. A few hours worth of work, proofing included. Denise, Joel, and I all stared at each other in horror. You could feel the curse words lingering in the air but no one had uttered them...yet.

I've been following Denise around, almost like a puppy, because I do not enjoy hanging around in my office at night when almost no one else is here. I crave company after a while. I've been sitting in here all day getting work done with my only contact with the outside world talking to other people in the company about whatever problem I'm helping them with. But now I'm back in here, sitting alone and waiting, listening to as many versions of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah I can find on YouTube. I mean, sometimes you need comfort music the way you need comfort food or a good hug. If you're bored, go google "Mieka Pauley Hallelujah" and take a listen. Beautiful. Even better in person....

It's time to shut off my computer and head home. Hallelujah! =)

Connect Four and (Semi) Cold Calling

TrialGraphix is having a company-wide Connect Four competition. How cool is that? (I know, right?) Everyone was given the option of signing up for a few weeks and then we were paired off with people in our respective offices for first round matches. Now that the first round of play is over, the matches switch to inter-office play. They found a version online where two players can connect and play each other in real time.

I had no idea that I was such a wizard at Connect Four. Greg, the new workflow coordinator, was practicing before the tournament to beef up his skills. He and I started practicing together and playing against a computer online. We both felt solid but not experts. Greg went out and bought a Connect Four game for the office and we started playing while we were bored. Yusaf heard us talking about it. Before I knew it, trash talk turned into putting my money where my mouth was and Yusaf and I were off to the conference room to settle the score. I beat him unmercilessly. Next thing I know, everyone around the office is buzzing about my mad Connect Four skills. I didn't even have to do my own trash talking -- Yusaf did it for me! =)

Today, Sam and I played our first round match in the conference room: best two out of three. Erica, the President of the Company, happens to be visiting from the Miami office for a few days and she along with the VP and half the office were in the conference room to watch our match; talk about pressure. Sam and I played forever, me winning the first match and him the second. Our third game was a draw.... I barely won the fourth game with a little strategy and a little luck, as Sam had nowhere else to go but a place that would give me the win.

Other office excitement today including Greg's birthday (which equals cake) and I'm helping out the sales dept. by calling attorneys to see if they want to come to our CLE in March. No matter how you slice it, it's really not that much fun talking to people you don't know on the phone, particularly if they don't want to talk to you....

Madeleine L'engle: Glimpses of Grace

I'm now starting to read Glimpses of Grace: Daily Thoughts and Reflections by Madeleine L'engle. I'm not entirely certain what it is, for it seems to be sort of part journal part excerpts from books but I suppose I will figure it out along the way.

I'm reminded again of how I failed to travel to New York to meet her before her death this past year. I wanted so terribly to meet her, to speak with her, to listen to the ideas I love matched with a face and a handshake and the sound of her voice. Not that I worship her but that I admire her and what she did. From reading some of her autobiographical works, I discovered that she struggled to be a mother and an author but accomplished both with tender success. Everyone knows her for her children's books but she's written so many novels and I love everything I've ever read by her.

I suppose I never made it there to see her, a writer in residence at an Episcopal church, because it seemed arrogant to go to her. It was claiming to be among her ranks. What could I possibly say that would be worth the visit to her? Now I wish I'd been strong enough to go. Coward that I am, I wish I had been courageous and just gone despite my awkward floundering.

Sometimes when people don't understand me, I wish they could just try to see past the awkwardness. Surely it is not this natural to be so awkward. Surely it is only a barrier to break through, as I and others have done time and time again with all my walls and self-consciousness. For years altogether the walls have vanished, only to be hastily built again at different times in my life. It makes me sad when people only know me as self-conscious and awkward -- because they think that's all I am. They don't know any better, it's not their fault, but it's still saddening that they don't see the potential or what used to be. They don't know to look for anything more.

And so, I try again. I tear down walls. I read more books, consider new ideas. Make new friends. I fall and get back up again. For, as the Chinese proverb says, the glory lies not in never falling but in rising each time you fall.

I wish I was better

I look at my life and I wish I was better. This is not a passing thought but a continual one. I do not suffer from lack of self worth or the idea that I am a bad person. I just wish I was better. I wish I could handle the pile of details of life better.

Lyndsey once told me something about how we're both similar in that we expect more of ourselves than we expect of others. And that in doing so, we will always fail to meet those expectations. In other words, we try to be supermen (or superwomen, if you will) and accomplish superhuman feats.

I don't want x-ray vision or the ability to fly (I mean, I do want to fly but I don't have any honest expectation) but I still feel that I can do better.

Lately I seem to be unable to keep things in balance. I focus on details for small things instead of the bigger picture. I get bogged down in details. I worry. I get caught up in memories of the past and things I wish had occurred differently. I'm holding on to hold thoughts and emotions more than I had realized. I bury them but lately everything seems to be coming to the surface. Have I run out of land to bury them? Has my landfill filled up?

Now I'm focusing on my own discontentment at my inability to focus, which is itself both redundant and amusing.

I can at least realize that I need more discipline in so many more things. And while I genuinely want to enact change and be more disciplined, day after day, month after month goes by with little to no change except that I noticed that change has been at a habitual standstill.

I think I write about it now only because if I keep everything to myself, all these details and my sense of failing and my guilt at failing and my guilt at not being disciplined and the desire for more discipline and so on and so forth, it only perpetuates an endless cycle of mild chaos.

At the end of the day, I wish I did more for other people. I suppose the question to ask myself is what am I getting out of the things that I do? And is it enough?

One-Minute Writer: Economy

If you could personally do one thing to improve the economy, what would it be?

I know that I already continue to tip generously. Word on the street is that people don't tip like they used to to save money, which is sad. People who rely on tips to get by still rely on tips to get by. If you can't afford to tip, then perhaps eating out just isn't for you....

I know that there is the argument that if people stop eating out then there won't be waiting jobs to wait on the people who used to eat out, but.... I'm ignoring that sentiment at the moment.

If I could do anything for the economy, it would be to help others. To be aware. To buy products that help stimulate the economy and make smart choices about my own finances so that I do not find myself living in a hole these next few months. Taking three different trips in three months seems to not be the best choice to follow that example but...it makes me happy. People are important to me. I haven't been to visit my sister in three years since she moved to Boston -- it's time. I cannot think of a better excuse to visit Lyndsey in DC than to go hear Elizabeth Gilbert talk (our unofficial guru, if you will). Plus, Brandi Carlile is not going to be anywhere closer to the state of Georgia than Kentucky and so to Louisville we shall.

There's a good start for research, though. What can I do to help the economy?

He's Just Not That Into You

He's just not that into you (he's into me).

Just kidding. Sarah and the boys were kind enough to invite me to see He's Just Not That Into You on Saturday, which was exciting on multiple levels. I had high expectations for this movie and it didn't disappoint. It did, however, disappoint the critics.

What were they expecting? I saw a wonderful comedic movie that was both honest, introspective, and touching. It was a perfect ensemble of well-known actors and actresses that I had never seen together on the stage. None of them outshined the other in terms of stardom or lead character. It wasn't a movie about Jennifer Anniston or Ben Afleck or Scarlett Johansson or Jennifer Goodwin or whoever. It was a collaboration. It was well-written and funny and entertaining. I want to know what the critics felt was missing or wrong....

I am a person who gets easily bored in movies that other people enjoy. Let's take for example the first Spiderman movie. Love Toby Maguire and Kirsten Dunst. Love the idea of Spiderman. Bored to tears during the first 2/3 of the movie while Toby learns all about his amazing new spider-like superpowers. But we all knew it was coming. And it was all predictable -- gee, it's fun to jump across the roof on a building. I wonder if I can do it again. And again. And again. I wonder if I can swing from building to building. I wonder if....

Two thirds of this movie with just discovering what's going on with his body. It's not that I begrudge him his learning experience -- it's just not that interesting.

But He's Just Not That Into You didn't bore me at all and with over two hours of film on the reel, no less.

Loved it, would consider buying it when it comes out on DVD in three months (because now everything's practically straight to video there's so little time between theater release and DVD lease -- though you can hardly blame movie makers because they can cash in on all that movie theater advertising for the DVD sales, which account for 2/3 of movie profit these days).

Maybe people didn't like it because it's not an oscar winner. It doesn't have a revolutionary or ground-breaking subject: relationships. It has people we've all seen in movies before. But it was funny. The actors meshed well. They were believable as couples. It was a girly romance comedy. And there are so few good ones these days....