Tis the Season for Lots of Pressure

In the weeks leading up to Christmas and New Year's Eve, I find myself carefully planning out gifts and which events I'll be attending. I accept invitations, plot my outfits, and calculate how much money I can afford to spend on gifts and parties. I love spending the holidays with my friends and families, I really love going to parties filled with said friends and family, and I absolutely love giving gifts to those I love the most. With that being said, between the commercials, the Christmas music, and the Christmas countdown (on almost every TV channel), there is so much pressure to do the holiday season right.

Let's start with Christmas: you're expected to buy gifts for your family and friends. Certainly, you may have different arrangements with your family and friends, but according to just about every media outlet, you're expected to come up with the perfect gift for each person in your life. Gift-giving is supposed to be about finding something special for your someone special, because you want to show that person how much he/she means to you. Giving a gift is an opportunity to say "thank you" or "I love you" or even "You're awesome - here's a gift!" But it's becoming increasingly difficult to do that during the holiday season without feeling stressed and anxious.

Gift-giving guides and in-store arrangements suggest that this is the "perfect gift for mom" or that your boyfriend needs a new watch, not that book you know he's been gushing about for the past few months. There are gift-giving guides according to how much you want to spend -- as if you monetary value correlates to how important someone is in your life: $500 for mom, $300 for your brother, $200 for your sister who you've been fighting with, $400 for your dog because he is your best friend, naturally. However, this is hardly representative of the purpose of gift-giving or of the intricacies of your relationships. After all, isn't it the thought that counts? 

The over-commercialization of Christmas and the over-sharing of social media makes for a big mess of it all. You aren't just giving your gift in the quiet comfort of your home. Your gift may have to stack up to everyone else's gifts on Instagram or Facebook. I've seen Facebook posts boasting about Christmas and Hanukkah gifts, or Instagram pictures proudly revealing said Christmas loot. Throw in the fact that almost every website, blog, and store has a gift-giving guide which, though very helpful at times, seem to take the thought out of giving gifts in the first place and suggest what is the best gifts for the people in you life that they don't even know. 

There's so much pressure to get the gift right  or to buy the most presents. But the pressure doesn't stop there. The gift-giving might come to an end after Christmas, but New Year's Eve opens a whole new can of worms. New Year's Eve is arguably the most important party night of the year. It's your one chance to leap into the new year at your most fabulous, ensuring that the year to follow is one equally as fabulous as the party you attend in order to ring it in. It's one night. One night! You have to have your dress ready, champagne chilled, cover charges paid, and a cool party to attend -- not to mention, it needs to be fun. That is a lot to ask for. And it's not that it can't be done. New Year's Eve was once one of my favorite holidays, but that was because I spent in in the company of friends sans cover charge and in my pajamas. 

When you put so much money, effort, and energy into one night, building it up so as expecting it to be one of the best nights of your year (and last nights!), you're bound to set unrealistic expectations that end in a slump the next day as you nurse your hangover, and for some of us, human bites. Again, this is a night that's going to be on display. Expect pictures documenting every half hour of the night to appear on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, so you better make sure that your hair looks good, you're parting with attractive people, and you're somewhere fabulous.

How can we just enjoy the night without letting all of the pressure -- the pressure that we have to have fun and have an amazing night -- get to us? Maybe it starts with lowering our expectations, or maybe it just starts with lowering the cover charges to get into all of these places. Either way, I think it starts with remembering what the night is at its very core: New Year's Eve. This goes for Christmas too. What are these holidays in their most basic definition? Even if you aren't religious, both holidays, and all holidays for that matter, are an excuse and a celebration to be with the people you care about the most, or to be with people that could potentially turn into the ones you care about most. These holidays are a time to showcase our love for each other and enjoy each other's company over great food, a bit of bubbly, and hopefully, some festive music. I think once we recognize what's beneath all of the bells and whistles, the advertisements, and hype, we can enjoy the season and relax. FINALLY.

Can Harry Be JUST Friends with Sally?

I watched When Harry Met Sally for the first time this winter break. I know -- it was a long time coming. After all, I'm a 20-something female. It's my duty to watch the entire library of chick flicks and move through life according to the chick flick code. After joining the rest of my sisterhood as someone who has seen the film, I talked over one of the major themes with a friend: can you truly be friends with someone of the opposite sex?

According to Harry, you can't; according to Sally, you can. My friend and I were decidedly "Team Sally," agreeing that of course you can be friends with someone of the opposite sex. It's 2013 -- soon to be 2014 -- men are not from Mars, and women are not from Venus. We may be different in some ways, but we are certainly not from different planets, and we most certainly can have a purely platonic relationship with each other. Men and women are just as capable as having a fulfilling relationship sans romance with each other as men have with other men and women have with other women. In fact, I think it's possible to have a friendship with someone of the opposite sex without ever wanting it to develop into something "more." These different-sex friendship function much in the same way that same-sex friendships do, and sometimes, the only difference between these types of relationships is in the sex of the friends and society's apparent bewilderment at how this friendship exists and prospers.

So we've established that men and women can be friends -- and good friends at that. But what happens when you misinterpret the joke of a long-time friend or mistake an intimate gesture to be more romantic than platonic? If a friend of the same sex offers to pay for your dinner or gives you a kiss on the cheek, you may not think anything of it. If that friend is of the opposite sex and does those things or strays from the firmly established norms of your friendship, suddenly, you question the motivations of your friend. When someone puts the bug in your ear, suggesting that this friend might feel something more, then what happens?

All it takes is for someone to plant the seed. A mutual friend might misread a text or a gesture from your "Harry" and propose that Harry wants fiery romance rather than friendly repartee. You might have never considered Harry as anything more than your friend, and you still might not be interested in pursuing romance, but all of a sudden, you're reading all of Harry's verbal and nonverbal cues as amorous. A simple text in the middle of the night might have previously been just another text from Harry, but now that the "seed" is there -- that little piece of doubt that your relationship isn't strictly platonic -- that text is a sign that Harry is in love with you. And that's how you begin to interpret your exchanges with this friend. Every actions seems to beg the question: "Does this mean that he likes me?"

He probably doesn't, and you probably still don't want to venture into romantic relationship territory, and yet, now that Pandora's Box has been opened, your previously neutral interactions are now seemingly sexually and romantically charged. And once that box has been opened, can you go back? Can you just shut off the filter -- you know, that sifter in your mind that filters everything your Harry or Sally says to determine whether he/she is more than just a friend? It's difficult, for sure, but then it just gets worse.

As my friend and I were discussing this phenomenon, the "friend-to-faux-flirtation" situation in which you begin to doubt this strictly platonic friendship, we wondered if it could wind up being a self-fulfilling prophecy. He and I have both been in situations when we have been friends with someone of the opposite sex for a really long time, never wanting nor being interested in pursuing something romantic. However, there came a point in those relationships when we began to question the motivations of our interactions with said friend, and started to question our own feelings toward that person in the process. I told my friend that he should set up his "Sally" with another guy, if he wasn't interested in her, so that he could divert her "imagined" romantic interest toward someone else. However, he made a valid point: what if he realized that her faux flirtation wasn't so "faux" at all, and decided that he wanted to move past friendship and onto a romantic relationship?

But is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? Could you start being interested in your friend as "more than" because of this "imagined" romantic interest? Perhaps we should consult the chicken and the egg for their take on situations of this sort of complication. Relationships are prone to living in that "grey" area -- regardless of the genders involved -- but it only gets more muddied when you're dealing with a Harry and Sally. Does this mean that Harry and Sally can't be friends? No. But I think what this comes down to is the basics of any good friendship or relationship: honesty and open communication. If you can be honest and truthful with your Harry or Sally, then you won't have any mixed messages -- even if those messages end up being that you do want something more than a platonic friendship.

Is Facebook Ruining Reunions?

Every year around Thanksgiving, people trek home for not just the holiday, but for a long-weekend extravaganza of eating, drinking, and reconnecting with old friends from their old neighborhoods. For some, this reunion is informal, merely congregating at the local watering hole or "townie" bar. For others, though, the dreaded --or anticipated (largely depending on if you've lost weight or are unrecognizable)-- high school reunion serves as the facilitator in a more structured reunion with your friends from yesteryear. It brings a small community together once again, albeit in a mostly forced, awkward, and drunken way, in the hopes of reminding everyone of their shared inside jokes, memories, and potentially, worst years of their life.

Okay, maybe it's not entirely bad. High school reunions can be fun. After all, the people you graduated from high school with know you in a way that someone can only know you after sitting through class after class from kindergarten to senior year. These are the kids you sat on the bus with, the kids you attempted to outrun during gym class, the kids who misguidedly attempted to explain the "birds and the bees" to you for the first time in elementary school. Sure, the people you graduated from high school with may not necessarily know the person you are now, but they were a part of those very crucial formative years as you were attempting to become a functional and educated human being.

So I digress. High school reunions give you the opportunity to reconnect with everyone, for better or for worse. However, in the age of social media, Google searches, and Skype, you are never really more than a click away from your fellow class of (insert high school graduation date here) members. Just as the Internet is killing print media (debatable), and the video killed the radio star, Facebook is killing the high school reunion.

Think about all of the stereotypical hype surrounding a high school graduation: wondering what your crush looks like now; if the nerds are now ruling the world; if the cheerleaders have horizontally outgrown their uniforms; and more importantly, wondering what sort of interactions will take place at said reunion. This information is readily available prior to the fateful day in November, thanks to whatever social media platform on which you choose to connect with those from your past. You might not still actively talk to your former classmates, but there they are, "blowing up" your feed with posts from their weekend festivities, recent vacations, and life updates. Sure, you and Sally Smith may have parted ways after your senior prom fiasco, vowing never to speak to each other again, but you do know where she works, that she recently got promoted, is moving in with her boyfriend, and has dyed her hair a horrific shade of blonde.

That's the thing. Facebook takes all of that anticipation and "magic," we'll say, out of the high school reunion. You already know everything that has happened to your classmates post-graduation, and yet, you show up to the reunion location, asking the appropriate small talk questions, as if you didn't already know everything they were doing. They might fill in the blanks, yes, but if you're just asking due to a technicality, then what's the point? The thrill just isn't there. 

There's a certain expectation that when you go to a high school reunion, you'll learn new things about your former classmates and have refreshing and exciting interactions with them -- the kind you wouldn't have been able to have when you were in school together because you had such a familiar history. Even only five years removed from high school, you are (hopefully) not the same person you were when you got that high school diploma. You're also (hopefully) no longer just an extension of the "click" or social group you represented when you were in school. However, with Facebook granting us all access to each other's lives, we cannot escape that high school hierarchy or categorization because we don't have time to grow and develop away from the watchful eyes of those very same classmates who placed us in those hierarchies and categories to begin with. Inevitably, we show up at our high school reunions reverting to the same clicks/groups as opposed to intermingling and learning new things about our classmates.

Okay, I'll admit, the interactions at my high school reunion weren't entirely limited to the people I was friends with way back when, but I do think that with Facebook, it's harder for us to escape those former stereotypes, and even harder to reconnect in a way that's meaningful and mature past our high school years. We have the potential to keep in touch with our former flames, or poke an old friend, and even though preserving that connection via social media isn't necessarily bad, it is rendering an event like the high school reunion to lose some of its luster and appeal. 

I'm interested to see what happens in another five years. I anticipate that with time, as we move away from our hometown and make our way further into the real world, my classmates and I will finally be able to have a proper reunion. Til then, I'm going to limit my Facebook poking to those in my current circle only. You've been warned.

I referenced this once, and now it's stuck in my head; therefore, I must share it with you.

The Boyfriend Card

This is only semi-relevant to this blog post... If by wizard's chess you mean "flirting at bars" and if by normal chess you mean "talking to people" and if by "muggles" you mean you are in a relationship and by "wizards" you mean single people???
Did you get all of that?

Sometimes, I feel as though the bar scene is akin to that of a game of chess.  Now, I don’t actually know how to play chess, aside from very basic knowledge and a failed attempt at game play in middle school, but I at least know that in chess, your movements are entirely dependent and reactive to those of your opponent. You size up your opponent, try to calculate their next move, and in return, develop your own strategy in the process. And really, how much different is this then our interactions with each other at a bar? Not much –though, probably a lot less intellectual.

Once you’re locked into this flirtatious chess game with your new bar-friend of choice and you’ve determined that they want to check your mate*, what happens if – insert ominous music here – you have a boyfriend? Sure, you’re enjoying the exchange with your pseudo-new-friend and find the banter to be above par for a conversation noticeably under-the-influence, but you’re not exactly going to drop your current beau in lieu of a flirtation with little potential to exist outside of the two beers you’re sharing.

So that leads me to ask: when do you drop the boyfriend card? You know what I’m talking about – when do you bring up the fact that, yes, although you are reacting to his moves by flirting and smiling and laughing at all of his not-so-funny jokes, you actually are not interested in progressing form the bar to the bedroom? The way he's making his moves and playing the game -- touching your arm, making eye contact, complimenting to you -- suggests that you need to react with moves that continue the game-play without leading him on but also, without making him ditch you solely because you have a boyfriend.

You must tread lightly, my friend -- just as you can't move certain chess pieces at the beginning of the game, you can't just make the preemptive strike by bringing up the boyfriend. Not every guy who talks to a girl at a bar is trying to hit on her. And while it's pretty likely that this guy may be hitting on you, it's not a given. By moving the "boyfriend" piece at the beginning of the conversation, you run the risk of sounding pretentious and narcissistic. You're talking to someone who you, at this point, are getting along with, and run the risk of alienating. Some guys -- believe it or not -- will still talk to you even if you have a boyfriend, so start the game off with the boyfriend card, and you risk losing out on having a nice conversation with a nice person.

Okay, so you can’t open up the conversation with a good ol’ fashioned, “hey, nice to meet you. I have a boyfriend.” That much has been established. Yet, I’m fully aware that the further the conversation progresses, the more likely it is that the omission of your non-single-status could be an item of contention. Obviously, you want to be truthful, but you don't want to lead this guy on. He keeps moving closer to capturing your pawn, and lady, your pawn has already been captured.* 

Be subtle. Throw your boyfriend into the conversation in a subtle, yet gentle way. Everyone knows that, when you're at a bar, you run the risk of flirting with someone who already has a boyfriend/girlfriend, but that doesn't mean that they're solely out for some pirate's booty every night. Sure, there will be the occasional guy who forfeits the game as soon as he finds out you're already the object of someone else's affection, but who wants to continue to talk to those guys anyway? For the nice guys out there who are having a good time talking to you regardless, there's no reason to lead the poor chap on. If I'm talking about basketball with a guy, I'll slide in a boyfriend reference by saying, "Oh yeah, that's my boyfriend's favorite sport, even though I don't really like it much" or if we're talking about a particular place, I'll mention "yeah, my boyfriend loves that bar." It's not in-your-face, but it's enough to let the person know that, alas, at the end of the night, you'll be going home to someone else.

Ultimately, the point is not to sound so contrived. Hell, you're just having a conversation with another person. Be friendly, be nice, be you. When you're talking about yourself, inevitably, it happens that you bring up a friend or a family member, so just throw the boyfriend in there too. There have been times when I've mentioned that "I have a boyfriend" early on in the conversation and have been met with the response, "Oh, I wasn't trying to hit on you." Even if said guy wasn't actually trying to hit on me, I made the rest of what had been a good conversation awkward. I've since just tried to go with the flow. Next time you're out and chatting with a friendly fellow, just be sure that you're reading his moves and responding with the right ones -- yeah, you're taken, but you're not opposed to some more banter. After all, I'm at a bar to engage in fun conversations and have a good time. And aren't we all just people trying to have a good time?

 *Bad chess puns. Don't hate me.

** Unrelated asterisk -- don't throw the boyfriend card to get rid of guys you don't like. That's mean. You're above that.

Me, Myself and I Go to the Movies

memegenerator.net 

For some, Saturday night is typically classified as "date night" -- the night where you go out with that one special person, paint the town red, purple and pink and hopefully have a few cocktails in the process. In general, Saturday night is reserved for all sorts of fun, but basically that fun includes multiple participants in the form of either pairs, threesomes (if you're into that -- good for you) or groups of innumerable members. 

We look upon those who spend this holy night (holy in the sense that you revere and worship free time to party!) riding solo, folding their laundry while watching Gilmore Girls re-runs as social anomalies and hermits. Why waste the wide-open freedom of Saturday night and the subsequent promise of  Sunday morning hangover-recovery-time? And better yet, why be alone? Why not include a friend in those precious work and commitment-free hours? It seems as though everyone and their mother, grandmother and great-grandmother plan their Saturday nights around doing something -- anything --  with someone -- anyone -- so why not participate and join a friend for questionable revelries?

I usually am one of these people. My Saturdays are saved for going out, hanging with old friends, chatting up new friends and hopefully, finding a DJ that will submit to my Whitney Houston requests. This past Saturday, though, I joined the ranks of those who choose a path of solitary companionship. 

I braved the new world of doing things with me, myself and I alone and decided to go out on a date with myself.

It wasn't that I couldn't have found something to do that involved human interaction. It was a deliberate decision. Despite the fact that I am a self-proclaimed chatty Cathy, I wanted some time sans external dialogue and conversation. I was okay with limiting my interaction to the internal dialogue that exists inside my head. That was just fine. 

My options were to stay home alone with my dog and watch a movie or go out alone and watch a movie. I already had a cute outfit on, my hair looked good and I was energized for the night to begin, so I figured I might as well go out. I had time, I was free, and there was a movie I wanted to see -- why should I let the fact that I didn't have a "date" or hadn't made plans with someone deter me from doing something that I wanted to do? Exactly. I shouldn't and I didn't. So I went to the movies.

It was my first solo movie experience. Despite the fact that watching a movie requires minimal conversation and optimal silence, it seems as though attending a movie in theaters is an experience relegated to pairs and groups. I went to the theater, bought my ticket, grabbed a snack and found a single seat.

Sitting alone, I realized that being alone at the theater wasn't a bad thing. I didn't care what people thought. There was no reason to feel bad for me -- I wasn't being stood up nor was I an outcast or loner of some sort. I reveled in the silence and took in the people watching pre-movie. It was ideal. Once the movie started, I was free from interruptions or commentary (even though I'm usually the one providing it). I stretched out, didn't worry about hogging the armrests and relaxed -- almost as good as being on my own couch, except I was shrouded in the mass of people, which made me feel like I was out and doing something. And I was.

I thought that going by myself might feel a little weird, but it wasn't for the most part.There's nothing particularly revolutionary about seeing a person alone at the movies.  Plenty of people show up sans +1 in tow or are in line waiting for a snack while they're friend takes in the pre-movie. Sure, there were a few times when I was very aware of the fact that I was alone -- like when I was waiting for my overpriced pizza to be given to me at the snack-stand or when I had to ask to purchase just one ticket -- but those things really weren't a big deal. People who go to the movies in pairs and groups have to deal with those things sometimes too.

The best part about being by myself, though, was that I was in complete and total control of my movie-going experience, only needing to focus on what would provide me (myself, alone) the best movie-going experience. I didn't have to worry about meeting and finding my movie companion beforehand, and once the movie was over, I could bounce out of there without having to wait for said movie companion to hit the bathroom or throw their trash away. My night was relaxing. Once the movie was over, I was free to go out somewhere else or head home. I was no longer confined to going places or attending parties/events with a date! I felt empowered in that I could go somewhere alone that generally holds the stigma of being a +1 activity.

Is this growing up? Am I just more comfortable with the person that I am and can stand to be alone with that person? Am I just now old enough to be responsible for myself and therefore, not necessarily in need of constant companionship? Probably a combination of all of those things. And probably the fact that sometimes, you just don't want to share your movie snacks.

What's Next?

Ah, Bloggerverse. It's always a challenge trying to communicate news and change to you, my followers. How much of an introduction should I give to said news? Should I ease into it? Should I just let my title give it away? Are these rhetorical questions enough of a build-up to stir some anxiety and anticipation within you as you now begin to wonder what it is I am going to tell you?

This story goes all the way back to last fall as I braced myself for life's big transition: from student to adult -- leaving the undergrad world for the cold, harsh reality of working hard for my money and moving back home with the "roomies." By that December as I neared my last few weeks at school, I had done minimal job hunting, lots of fun-having and only a little bit of philosophical thinking. While considering my options as I approached this inevitable change, I decided that, perhaps, I should return to the classroom the following fall to continue my education and pursue a masters degree. I did what I needed to do to make it happen: requested reference letters and transcripts, took the GREs, wrote required essays, and completed several applications -- applying to four schools and patiently waiting to hear whether my pursuit into another realm of higher education would continue come the fall of 2012.

After graduating, I was even more set on returning to grad school. It made sense. I loved being in the classroom, I wanted another degree, and I had the momentum from only just recently finishing up my undergraduate degree. I was ready. I was eager... and then I was torn. As I received acceptances and rejections, I realized: this was going to be an expensive endeavor and was I really sure? Was I willing to make a commitment to this costly continuation of my education right now? I wasn't 100% dedicated to the degree I had applied to pursue (journalism) and the cost of tuition was daunting. I made the decision to postpone my return to grad school until I was more certain of the degree I wanted to pursue and that grad school, in general, was a step I wanted to take.

As the first few months of summer went by, I was a 9-to-5 ingenue. Only having been at my job for so long, being a cubicle crony was still a novelty, and yet, the thought of returning to grad school was still lingering in my mind. I had since given more thought to the degree path I wanted to pursue, exploring a variety of options and programs, doing more research than I had ever done as an undergrad into the prospect of going back to school. I was more aware and realistic this time. I knew what needed to be done, what it would cost and the compromises I was willing to make.

So I applied. Again. This time, though, I applied to communications-based programs (such as public relations and integrated marketing communications) and one fashion program. I re-wrote the essays, re-requested the transcripts and reference letters and filled out a few more applications this time. I wrote down deadlines, requirements and filed important emails away for reference. I wasn't kidding around this time -- I knew, for sure, that I wanted to go back to school. I missed writing essays, engaging in scholarly discussion/debate and immersing myself in a wholly academic atmosphere where the people around me wanted to be there and also wanted to learn. I missed that. I needed the challenging intellectual stimulation that my desk job just wasn't giving me. I wasn't satisfied with my cubicle confinement and I had the urge to learn -- an urge that, I have a feeling, never has (and probably never will) leave me.

I continued at my desk job, waiting for a response from the various schools and this time, it was even more positive. I got into 5/6 schools and of those schools' acceptances, I got very generous scholarships to each. This time, the ball was in my court -- each school had given me great offers and I was no longer in a position where I needed to scrounge for dollars and cents to make it all work. Inside, I was elated -- an internal fiesta took place as I celebrated these little victories, finally culminating after years of hard work as a student.I could return to school and I wasn't going to go broke in the process! Isn't that what we all aspire to accomplish in this day and age?

My decision was tough -- I battled with the pros and cons of each school, but ultimately, it came down to two, which were both excellent options. One would have required me to take a pre-requisite undergraduate class, move to the South and take out a lot more in loans; the other would allow me to stay local, offering me a very generous financial package and teaching assistantship and the option of spending my last semester interning and taking classes in London. Ultimately, I accepted the offer to the local school -- they have an excellent program, a great alumni base and a positive reputation for post-graduate employment opportunities. Plus, their generous financial package allows me to take out very minimal loans (if I even have to). I can breathe a big sigh of relief -- I am finally going to make it happen.

So there you have it, folks. I am returning to the classroom this fall -- both as a student and as a teacher. I'll admit, I'm equally excited and nervous to make the transition back to school, since I've spent the last year working, but I think I'm ready. I'll prepare for the new challenge and you can prepare yourselves for some new blog posts -- how's that sound?

In the words of Billy Madison, here goes nothin.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMtkiS1SU_c

Reconciling My Wants with My Wallet

http://shoppingonline230.wordpress.com/2012/11/08/online-shopping-memes/

It’s your traditional tale of head versus heart – two foes often at battle with each other, generally over matters of romance, friendship, pursuing life’s passions and risks. The rational, logical side of you engages in a tango with the emotional, passionate side, only to leave you with a list of pros and cons and perhaps an incurable headache. For me, these days, these two formidable opponents have been tangled up in what seems to be a never-ending struggle for me: saving money.

Every time I go to check my bank account, I trepidatiously view the numbers and then have either one of two reactions: 1.) a mixture of surprise and relief at how little I spent in between paychecks or, more often than not, 2.) disappointment and guilt. How did I get to that number? Where did my money go? As I mentally comb through each purchase or payment, I wonder if some of them were really necessary.

Endless hours browsing through fashion blogs, Pinterest and my favorite shopping cites leave me foaming at the mouth, hands trembling above the “place order” button as I justify purchasing yet another pair of shoes. My email inbox is filled with my favorite stores notifying me of their scorching sales or of how my favorite items are selling fast – tempting, teasing, taunting. Once the few bills I have are paid, I am left to decide whether to save my money or spend it. Though the logical side of me (and my bank statement) may push me to save, the emotional and fashion-hungry side of me pushes me to spend.

I suppose this is the challenge that comes with having a big-girl salary for the first time in my life. After all, this isn’t the first time I’ve blogged about the budget blues and I suspect that this won’t be the last. I still struggle with reconciling all of these wants with my wallet and lately, I find that it has been more difficult than usual as I have too much time to browse and window-shop. For the most part, I tend to veer towards being more responsible with my money, but every now and then, I get caught up in satisfying that want. With social media’s over-exposure to the “latest,” “newest” and “trendiest” of things in conjunction with a personal affection for fashion and style blogs, I have to remind myself of all of the things I currently have and all of the financial goals I have for later, such as: paying off my car loan and moving into an apartment. These things will probably be more satisfying in the long run than the immediate satisfaction of a new pair of shoes or splurging on a fancy dinner, but it can be difficult to see that when taking a walk through Nordstrom or viewing a killer sale on Shopbop.

So how do I tame my “wants” in an effort to protect my wallet? I’m hoping that some new changes to my life and its schedule (more on that later) will fill my daily activity with more productivity and less idle-time for browsing, which generally causes me to fall prey to making a trip to the mall or to being ensnared by online shopping. Maybe I can even get rid of some of those emails from shopping sites I frequent so that my inbox isn't littered with justifications on another purchase (why be tempted?) I’ve also tried to keep a running “shopping list:” things that I want to add to my closet and/or need (such as specific toiletries) so that when I go to the mall or to a place like CVS, I can stick to buying only things that I’ve rendered essential beforehand to cut down on impulse purchases (because I really don’t need five crop tops, do I?) So I guess that leaves us all wondering: will it work? Who knows-- check back in a few months to see if my wallet is overflowing as opposed to my closet.  Stranger things have happened, right?

An Exercise Epiphany

http://workoutmemes.com/skip-the-gym-today/

A funny thing happened to me over the weekend. No, I wasn't bitten by one of my friends nor did I embarrass myself by drinking too many Dirty Girl Scouts. This funny "thing" that happened was actually more of a surprising revelation. As the weekend drew to a close and I looked ahead at my schedule for the upcoming week, I realized that -- gasp -- I was looking forward to my workouts.

You see, I've never been the athletic type nor have I been someone drawn to exercise by some sort of innate desire to be active. I'll admit, more often than not, getting myself to work out has generally been hard work (you've read this post about it, right?). I have  often just been one of those people that have associated "working out" with a type of chore -- another thing I have to fit into my life. Yes, I know that there are so many healthy benefits to working out and staying active, but I just couldn't find something that could fit into my schedule and that, to me, wasn't synonymous with masochism.

In spite of this, I have continually searched for workouts that would prove to be the perfect fusion of fun and effective. At the end of the day, I do strive to be healthy and it would be nice to have a bikini-ready bod throughout the year. It wasn't until the past month, though, that I realized that I had finally achieved the sort of synthesis I was looking for. By incorporating a variety of workouts throughout the week, I may have just found the perfect combination for me.

I've been trying to keep up with my yoga classes, my TRX class and, recently, dance fitness classes throughout the week. By making small, easily attainable goals, I find myself able to make it to these workouts and want to go to more. 

I knew that it would be unrealistic to commit to "as many yoga classes a week as possible," even though I would love to make it to more classes. Instead, I told myself "try to make it to just one a week," and have been able to make sure I incorporate yoga into my weekly workout routine. Then there's my weekly TRX class -- also one night a week with a group of my neighbors. I know it's always going to be at the same time, so I schedule around it. Throw in my Saturday morning dance/fitness class, which is late enough that I can still go out the night before, yet early enough to kickstart my day, and I've made it to three workouts a week! While this in and of itself is no extraordinary feat, I still am getting in great and effective workouts throughout the week.

I think I owe part of my success in making it to these workouts to the fact that they're all community/group-based workouts. While I do have to be motivated to attend the workouts, I have a support system -- whether it is the community at my yoga studio, my neighbors who do TRX with me, or my cousin who comes to my weekend workout -- that encourages me to attend and makes the experience more than just a means to great abs and toned legs. These workouts have become a social activity too, which allows me to feel as though I'm accomplishing more than just checking-off that work-out box. Instead, I can also get in some valuable social time with great people and even have a laugh or two in the process.

Another reason I think I've been enjoying my workouts is because of the variety. I don't just go to the gym every day, run for 20 minutes, lift weights and have a go at the StairMaster. I switch things up by attending different types of classes that engage in fitness in different ways. All of my instructors switch up their workouts every week too, which makes me excited to try something new out when I step into the studio/gym. This variety coupled with the communities participating invigorates me and motivates me to attend classes -- making me excited to go, ready to challenge myself and eager to do even more.

I was shocked when I found myself telling my cousin (who will not be able to make next weekend's dance workout) that I was still going to go to class, even though she wasn't going to be there. Willingly wanting to wake up for a two hour workout on Saturday morning? That was when I had my epiphany. I had settled into a routine that worked for me, and dare I say it, I find myself enjoying my workouts.

Guess we'll see pigs flying next, right?

Can I Buy You a Drink?

From 21st century master composer T-Pain

We're all familiar with the scenario: it's Saturday night, you're leaning over at the bar attempting to catch the bartender's attention and order yourself a vodka tonic. Teetering on your heels, your patience is being tested as you think, "What's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?" -- a cliché that, up until right now, had always seemed reserved for bad, fictional screenplays as opposed to real life.

This brief period of drinklessness, however, serves as the perfect opening for the fella or group of fellas standing right beside you at the bar, waiting for their own even-more-hopeless chance at getting a round of drinks. You’re all vying for the same thing and this, inevitably, leads to a new sense of camaraderie, and therefore, opportunity.

You know how it goes: girl starts walkin, guy starts gawkin, already standing next to you and starts talking. All of a sudden, you're engaged in a verbal tango, a tête-à-tête at the bar, and this once-stranger is now the subject of your weekend flirtation. As you and this no-longer stranger bond over shared observations of the scene, the bartender finally recognizes your lack of cocktails and points toward your new friend, implying he’s ready to make you some drinks. That’s when the once-stranger-now-friend turns to you and asks, “What are you having? Let me buy you a drink.”

Up until this point, it has all been so seamless and easy. Girl meets guy. Guy meets girl. Someone needs a drink and you’re both in the perfect location to get one. But is it okay to let your new friend pick up the tab? Should you embrace the generosity or stand firm in your feminist resolve? What does it all mean?

I have found myself in this exact situation too many times to count. Regardless of whether or not I’m single or in a relationship, I am never quite sure as to what the protocol is. There are so many different components that affect my acceptance or polite decline—all of which are scenario dependent and thus, dispelling any hope of issuing a standard “rule” as to how to handle the situation.

I’ll be honest—my first inclination is to accept the drink. I’m a girl on a budget and saving $10 on a cocktail sounds pretty appealing. However, I recognize that this might not always be the best course of action as there are implications and repercussions to an innocent “sure, I’ll take a vodka tonic.”

When I accept a drink from a guy, I usually offer good conversation (on top of our current one), some mild (harmless) flirtation and my phone number (if I’m single) in exchange. I like to think that this is a fair trade. When I’m out with my friends, I think nothing of buying them a drink or two because they’re offering me their company, I enjoy being with them and I know that my friends will do the same for me. Sure, it may be a bit naïve of me to think that a bit of witty banter and batting of the eyelashes is enough to satisfy my new friend after he has graciously bought me a beverage. But at the same time, to think that I would offer anything more than that is presumptuous on the part of the suitor.

Last Thursday night, I was the girl in this scenario, yet again. I was standing alone at the bar waiting to be served when the gentleman next to me offered to buy my drink. I had been waiting for my boyfriend and a few guy friends to meet me, so I politely turned the gentleman down, worried that accepting a drink from him meant that I was contracted to a certain amount of flirtation and interest. If I hadn’t been meeting a bunch of guys for drinks, would I have accepted the free drink? Perhaps. But the fact that I had a group of fellas joining me shortly felt a bit manipulative of me – I didn’t want this guy, stranger or not, to think that I was only paying him any attention in the hopes that I could get him to open his wallet up to me. In accepting a drink from him, I would've been implying a certain degree of interest in him, our conversation and continuing/committing to that conversation -- something that wasn't the case this time.

Ultimately, I think the whole situation comes down to circumstance and the person you meet. Are you being open and honest about your intentions? Are you both having a good time? The times when I do accept a drink from a guy (single or not single) are when I’m having a good time and we're both getting along. I’m clear about my intentions and give the guy realistic expectations about what’s going to happen post-drink. 

The times when I don’t accept a drink from a guy? If I don't feel any sort of vibe/chemistry and the conversation doesn't seem to go anywhere, then I'll decline. Obviously, you shouldn't accept a drink from anyone who makes you uncomfortable, seems pushy or offers it to you in a white van. And don't be that girl who accepts the free drink just to say that she got a free drink. 

At the end of the night, you want to make sure that you treated the opponent of your verbal-sparring match with integrity and respect, regardless of whether or not you were offered a drink. The whole point of going out is to have fun and meet good people. If you're lucky enough to be the recipient of someone's generosity, make sure to match it with a gracious thank you, and heck, treat them to a drink in return!

You Are What You Do

Scary picture, but scarily appropriate
http://collegemedia.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/screen-shot-2012-05-14-at-2-56-48-am.png?w=500&h=366

Throughout the first twenty-something-or-so years of our lives, we recent post-grads have identified as a "student," or, at best, a "student of (insert focus of study here)." It was easy. From kindergarten until the end of our years in higher education, our identity was inextricably linked to our education and what it was we wanted to do with that education. We were never plagued with the ominous question of "so, what do you do?" because it was self-explanatory: we went to class, we learned, we were working towards a degree. The majority of our life was consumed by academics to that point. No pressure, no worry about what it is we were going to do with that accumulation of knowledge, simply that we were immersed in it, and far too inundated with schoolwork to really broach any silly questions of the practical implications of our degrees and what that meant about us.

But when the tassel inevitably moves to the other side of your mortarboard and your degree is hanging up on your wall in the same room you grew up in (and will now, again be living in), people are no longer satisfied with an answer filled with potentially lofty-goals or innocent dreams. The first thing they ask is: "what do you do" and, by golly, you better have a good answer.

We have abandoned the security blanket of answering with "I'm a student," and forced to identify ourselves in terms of our current job. While answering as a student may have allowed you to be associated with all sorts of grand aspirations, answering "what do you do" with your current entry-level job leaves much to be desired. Instead of being able to cling to the things I love to do and want to do when coupled with my academic path, I have to identify with the ugly reality that is: I work at an entry-level job, I don't get to do all of the things I love to do (nor pursue any of my interests) and I am more interesting than my job lets on. (I swear!) 

And yet, when someone asks me what I do, that's the starting point. The conversation builds upon what it is that I do and if first impressions are important, then what sort of impression am I making in the first five minutes of conversation by having to identify with a job I really can't identify with?

Such a simple question, and yet, I can never answer the same way twice. I immediately find myself trying to explain it in the simplest terms and then adding a precusory, "Oh, I know, it's boring" in an attempt to separate who I am from my job. I don't want my answer, or more specifically, my job (at this early point in my career), to equate to who I am, what I care about, and what I want to do with my life. For those who know me, it's obvious that there is far more to me than the office job and cubicle I frequent 40-hours a week. But I just cannot escape the question and the inevitable bridge it forms to who I am. I may spend five days a week in my cubicle, but who I am is not what I do, certainly not in my current position. I might be working towards a better job or career path that would be more cohesive with my personality and my values, but I'm just not there yet and it's sometimes defeating when that is one of the first questions that I'm asked in order to help a new acquaintance assemble my identity.

I recognize this is something that is going to happen regardless of whether or not I cause a fuss about the question, ignore it, or create some public service announcement about the emotionally damaging side effects of being asked this question a few years post-grad. What can I do about it? Not much. But in the mean time, I'm trying to make it a point to steer conversations more towards those aspirations and goals I have. I still got 'em, folks, despite being the jaded working girl that I am these days, and I am going to make them happen.

The Pressure to Be Interesting

http://applecopywriting.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/spock-interesting-300x223.png

As I sat at my computer, fingers still, mind unnaturally devoid of my usual ceaseless internal conversation, I realized that I couldn't think of anything to blog about this week. 

My last post saved me from a multiple week hiatus, leaving me scrambling to come up with a topic that could actually be rendered blog-worthy. Despite utilizing my countless hours in traffic for brainstorming, when I logged into Blogger to write a new post, I faced a blank screen and embarrassment. I couldn't allow myself to fall into the hopeless chasm that is writer's block. But was it writer's block?

I faced a reality that appeared far more grim than the notion of being plagued with just writer's block. No, it was far worse than that. Could it be... that I was just uninteresting?

With the past few weeks consisting of little more than going to work and coming home, interspersed with some relatively drama-free hangouts lacking friend bites and awkward small talk, I had nothing to share, nothing to show, and certainly, nothing to blog about. Sure, things have happened, but is it worthy to spend time chatting on about? Probably not. As cute as my dog is, I don't know if I could really attribute an entire post to my dog's napping locations throughout the house.

The realization that this past month of post-vacation daily activity has left my bank of ideas empty got me to thinking. There seems to be an immense amount of pressure to be interesting. I mean, let's consider all of the social media outlets demanding content from us: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. What good are these accounts if not to show the entire world how interesting you are? Our Tweets display our wittiness or clever social commentary. Our Instagram accounts prove that we do exciting things like get into fancy bars, meet celebrities and drink artistic cappuccinos while eating cute breakfast pastries. Oh, and Facebook? Well, obviously Facebook proves that we have lots of friends who like to talk to us and take pictures with us and of us. If I fail to meet a certain level of interest, then I might as well cease to exist! At least, via social media. These social media outlets link our online lives to our offline lives-- so if I'm not doing anything interesting offline, what am I going to post online? What content will I be able to produce if my life offers nothing of interest to share?

I suppose we can take this into philosophical territory, if we so dare. What comes first: the interesting life or the interesting online profile? If my life is yielding little material for blogging fodder, does this force me to lead a more interesting life, in hopes that I'll have something to show for it via blog? Or do I have a great online presence because I have an overall interesting life and interesting things to say? Or... worse... am I focusing too much on creating an interesting life online, leaving my offline life to suffer for it? 

We are all curators of the online "museum" of ourselves, so to speak. We choose what to show, what to say, what to share, and therefore, do our best to control that particular image. Yet, unless we decide to "Catfish" our entire audience, we need to maintain that element of authenticity, and are thus subjected to trying to be that "person" we reveal online and offline. Should this blogging writer's block serve as a message that I need to get out more-- perhaps, re-acquaint myself with the rest of the world in order to produce more and better content? Or am I just not looking at myself hard enough to see that I have plenty of material just waiting to be typed out and posted? Perhaps neither, and instead, I just need to focus on doing my own thing, not worrying about whether or not it will give me something to write/Tweet/post about and enjoy life -- you know, reconnecting with life outside of this humming little monitor and chattering keys? The pressure to be interesting is something provoked by all of these online entities, which would be nonexistent were it not for modern technology. My Facebook page needs a smartphone/computer/tablet to exist -- but I do not. Could it be that I am more interesting than I give myself credit for?

Probably not, but the the good news is I have managed to turn this bout of uninteresting-ness into a post. Silver lining?

For more on this sort of social media insanity, check out this brief article on "Social Media Mental Problems" -- I think it sums things up pretty well:
http://nymag.com/thecut/2013/05/six-major-anxieties-of-social-media.html

How Technology Saved Me from Missing a Legendary Bruins Game

bruins.nhl.com

On Monday night, I committed blasphemy -- specific only to Bostonians.

Let me explain. My friend and I have a weekly hangout ritual, based around new episodes of "How I Met Your Mother." Say what you will about the show (I personally love it), but regardless of your feelings, it's actually been a great way to insure that my friend and I see each other regularly. 

This particular Monday, our usual routine ran into a conflict: the Boston Bruins' game seven would be on at the same time as the season finale HIMYM. Naturally, as native Bostonians, we felt an obligation to watch the game, but made the compromise to do the channel-flip in between commercial breaks to insure we could fulfill both of our commitments to each franchise. Easy enough.

Alas, it is never that easy. The Bruins had already lost their 3-1 lead in the series to the Toronto Maple Leafs, giving up the other games to their opponent with feeble efforts and only two goals. Toronto had proved to be a formidable opponent and I can't say I was optimistic that they would be able to change their current pace to take back the series. Needless to say, my friend and I were less concerned about the Bruins and more about HIMYM and finding some other way to spend the rest of the night as we were not keen on watching our beloved team repeat the mistake they made in 2011 to the Flyers. Ouch.

After HIMYM ended, we made the compulsory switch to see how the Bruins were doing. Let's just say, not good. They were losing and it was if they weren't even present on the ice. I get so much anxiety while watching high-stakes sporting events when I have a personal attachment to one of the team's involved. My palms get sweaty, my whole body trembles, and I do this weird thing where I have to put my hands on my face, as if my head is going to fly off of my body at any moment if I don't stabilize it. Simply put, I can't handle it.

My friend and I made the decision to change the channel around the same time that our Facebook and Twitter feeds turned into a frenzy of defeat, sadness and rage from our fellow Bruins' fans. I KNOW -- it is blasphemous. How can we even dare to call ourselves Bruins' fans, or, better yet, Bostonians, after changing the channel on our home team? The shame will forever haunt me, but we were downtrodden and tired! We settled on something less stressful (eating pudding pie and watching "Family Guy") and just hoped that we could recover in time for next season.

And that's when the power of texting and social media did the unthinkable: it saved us. My friend got an iMessage from another friend telling us that the Bruins were back in it. What? They were down 3-1 the last time we checked. It was the third period. That can't be right! BUT IT WAS RIGHT. I checked my Facebook and Twitter feeds, watching the posts progress from declarations of disappointment to cries of hope, pride and utter disbelief. There was a new status update every few seconds from different friends and acquaintances, all expressing the same thing, leading me to believe that the impossible was suddenly possible. The universe had smiled upon me and didn't want me to miss the end of the game -- social media and my iPhone had saved me from missing what was arguably one of the most exciting endings to a hockey game I have ever seen.

After my friend confirming that the tide had turned and every social media outlet firing off posts including capital letters and exclamation points, we changed the channel back to the Bruins and found that it was true -- the Bruins were back in it and they had a chance to win. My friend and I watched the rest of the game as the Bruins made their comeback and headed into overtime.If you don't follow hockey or Boston sports, spoiler alert: THEY WON.

If my friend and I hadn't checked our phones, we would have missed the entire end. I wouldn't have been able to watch the end of that unbelievable game had it not been for the power of modern technology. Thank you, iPhone.


More on what happened during the game here:
http://espn.go.com/boston/nhl/story/_/id/9272864/2013-nhl-playoffs-boston-bruins-pull-epic-turnaround-game-7-win

I Came, I Saw, I Conquered: The Family Vacation

We meet again.

 Maybe I'm belaboring on my vacation a bit too much -- you've already had to hear my lead-in to my vacation, then my recap on returning to London -- but if you've loyally read my insightful posts (I use both "loyally" and "insightful" loosely), then you probably noticed that I left out mentioning just over half of my trip...until now! A month later and I still wish I was back there. Blame it on Kinder Eggs withdrawal or maybe a nostalgia for a guilt-free binge on pizza, pasta and gelato, but my visit to Italy is still on my mind.

Unlike the first leg of my trip where I was travelling solo, hoping to spend my days leisurely enjoying old sights and friends, I went to Rome (and Florence!) to visit my brother, who had been studying there since January. Not only would I be seeing my brother for the first time in months, but my parents were going to meet me and my brother there as well. Talk about switching gears.

My days in London consisted of sleeping in, sporadically gorging myself on snacks and big meals, and trying to survive night after night in a different club. I knew that my trip to Rome would be a completely different pace, not only because of the cultural differences between the UK and Italy, but because, well, I was suddenly going from one-time-pseudo-local to obnoxious American tourist sans fanny-pack. Instead of being able to seamlessly hop from tube stop to tube stop, I'd be dragging around my camera and map, hoping not to annoy anyone as I tried to get the perfect picture in front of the Colosseum with the obligatory cheesy grin.

Oh, hello, Colosseum. Lookin' good for your age

Not only was I going from familiar to foreign, but this time, I had travel companions in tow: my family. This was not your typical family vacation of yore. I can remember, as a kid, going to places that were pretty kid-friendly: beach resorts, Cape houses, Disney World, etc. Those vacations were pretty heavily structured mainly because of the fact that, at eight years old, I could barely tie my shoes let alone have a sense of time management needed to move the vacation along. I was incapable not only of packing for myself, but basically figuring out how to manage in this new vacation zone. Heck, I passed out on a ferry en route to Disney World -- do you think that I was capable of providing any input aside from "I need to take a picture with Cinderella!?" Exactly.

This time, my brother and I not only had more say as to what we wanted to do and when, but we were more familiar with being abroad than my parents. Yes, my parents' travel experience may trump ours in terms of being prepared, but when it came down to interacting with locals, figuring out the best schedule for sightseeing and being aware of the nuances of travel abroad, our suggestions suddenly held some legitimate weight.

There was less of a divide between us and our parents . We were no longer helpless or relegated to strollers. My parents could safely take a picture without the fear that we would wander off. We could go into a bathroom alone, and my parents would be rest-assured that not only would we emerge unscathed, but we wouldn't get lost en route back to them. My brother and I had become travellers in our own right, capable of navigating, adapting to the cultural differences and able to problem-solve when needed. The pressure of needing to take care of my brother and me in addition to planning the day-to-day activities of travel could finally be taken off -- we can take care of ourselves, we can help figure out how to spend our time on the trip, and better yet, we can all enjoy and appreciate everything we were doing.

I'll admit, it isn't quite a family vacation without an argument, but for the most part, my family and I were able to enjoy all aspects of our time together. Not only did we bond over being able to visit the Colosseum or admire the Sistine Chapel together, but we could all recognize the overwhelming impressiveness of each of these historical, artistic and cultural sights. Seeing these things for the first time was something that we did together -- and whenever we think back on seeing Michelangelo's David or walking through Palatine Hill, we'll think of being together too. We were able to share an knowing appreciation for the sights as opposed to just checking off another item on the tourist to-do list.

I suppose you can see why, despite being firmly grounded here in Boston, my thoughts occasionally float back to my trip a mere month ago. The sights, the food, the lack of alarm clocks... It's amazing that I was even able to convince myself to return home. In the mean time, I look forward to the family trips of the future -- who knows where we'll all go next?!

Reuniting with My Former Flame: London

society6.com

It's been just over a month since I returned from my tryst across the pond in good ol' London town. A little under two years since my summer there, I arrived at Heathrow airport sans companions, alone with my luggage, an old Oyster card and a wave of jetlag on the brink of rendering me incapable of functioning. I remember when I had arrived there in June 2011, fueled by nervous adrenaline and a pit in my stomach that can only be described as the harsh realization that I was thousands of miles away from every single person I knew. This time, both the pit and adrenaline were gone. I focused on getting a cab -- I knew exactly where to go, what to do and what to expect. The fear that my overseas excursion would swallow me whole and leaving me cowering in the large belly of a foreign city was a distant memory. Instead, I sleepily made my way to my friend's apartment, encouraged by familiar sights and early morning London traffic.

Despite all of this, hopping right back into things, it didn't actually hit me that I had finally returned to the place where I had so many fond memories. In fact, it wasn't until the next day (Saturday) that I was faced with the reality: I was back in London. It hit me when I was riding the London Underground -- the tube. After a bit of assistance, my Oyster card was not only re-activated, but even had some money on it. I headed to one of my favorite spots/events: Borough Market.

My friend was sleeping in, so I set forth alone, safely hiding my A to Z map in my bag, lest anyone mistake me for an annoying American tourist. I could hardly be called that -- I had a UK phone number! A working Oyster card! A decrepit tube map! As I headed towards the appropriate platform to board the tube, I was shocked at how effortless it all seemed. It had been two years, but all of the city's familiarity embraced me. Steadying myself for my ride towards the London Bridge stop, I felt like an old friend was hugging me -- granted, that may have just been the fact that I was packed like a sardine into the subway car, but I felt an amazing sense of contentedness. I was back. Had I even left? There may be a famous song about leaving one's heart in San Francisco, but in that moment, I was sure my heart had been left in London.

The rest of the week was a happy medium of sightseeing, relaxing and partying. There was no pressure to fit in tourist attractions/major sights nor was there an urgency to plan my schedule down to the very last minute. I had a few goals -- visit an old friend, see the British museum, have a Kinder egg -- that were easily attainable and would insure a successful trip.

I remember talking about my trip prior to leaving with a friend I met that 2011 summer in London. We were trying to figure out whether or not our love for London was something that would pass with time or with another visit. I wondered that too while en route to the city. However, once roaming those all-too-familiar streets, emerging myself in the London's busy activity and foot traffic, I realized that my love affair with London was far from over. If anything, it only reaffirmed my fondness for the city and its people. Certainly, I could list some of the things I love about London: the almost seamless way it blends modernity with its rich history, the wit and dry humor shared by its friendly inhabitants, the way it welcomes a diverse international population and yet still is very distinctly "British..." And yet, still, I know that other cities exhibit qualities similar to these (in their own way). I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but I believe Samuel Johnson says it best: "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." Suffice to say, I am anything but exhausted.

Catching Up

Apologies upon apologies to my devoted followers (if you exist...) -- it has been a crazy few weeks since my return to US soil. Although I can't say I brought back any souvenirs from my trip, I can say that I seem to have brought back some sort of virus that has rendered me almost completely useless up until a few days ago. Blame it on late-nights of London escapades or long days of sight-seeing in Rome, but whatever took down my immune system is still trying to keep me confined to the couch, cuddled under a blanket and armed with a bottle of ibuprofen. It seems as though I've almost shaken this pesky cold, however, which means that my brain can focus less on willing my body to rest and more on sharing my wit and wisdom to the blogging world.

More importantly, though, I, like the rest of the Boston community, have been dealing with far more difficult things. Thankfully, my family and friends are all safe, but not everyone was so fortunate. Please consider donating to The One Fund, which was established to raise money for the victims and others affected by the Boston bombings that occurred last week at the Boston Marathon. As Mayor Menino said during the memorial service for the victims, "We are one Boston. Nothing can tear down the resilience of this city." I know that I and many other people from the Boston area are forever grateful to law enforcement officials, first-responders, and other selfless people who offered their help throughout this past week. Please keep the victims, and their families and friends in your thoughts.

The One Fund Boston

Ciao for Now...

My ex- boyfriend, Big Ben.
We couldn't survive the distance

I know there have been times when I go M.I.A. from posting, but this time, it's for a reason! If you've read two of my most recent posts, you'll know that I will be travelling to London and then to Rome over the next two weeks. Try not to miss me too much -- I will share tales of my adventures and, most likely, misadventures upon my return! Cheers!

 

Returning to Rome... three years later...

TMI: How Much is Too Much?

Thanks for letting me know.
http://tbonecafe.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/social-media-explained.jpg

When I first started my blog, it was meant to document my seemingly hopeless pursuit in job hunting as a post-grad and the subsequent transition from college life to, sigh, real life. While unemployed, my most controversial posts consisted of what type of cookies I baked that day and my success at avoiding kitchen fires. However, with each post, I often faced the question of deciding what to share from my life. What would prove most post-worthy or relatable? What did the readers want? After all, I only had so much from my personal life that was even anecdotal enough to warrant publishing on my blog.

Once caught in the middle of my job search, though, and then later, when finding an actual job, I realized that I couldn't impetuously or haphazardly post to my blog like I did before. There were certain details now that I was working (and continue to work) that just weren't suitable for posting online -- not because they were inappropriate, but because they compromised professionalism. Despite wanting to give you, my readers, an authentic view into my life with all of its details (for better or worse), disclosing certain aspects about what was currently going on in my life (i.e. how things were going with my employer or even potential future plans with a different employer) could put me in a risky position.

All of this led me to thinking about sharing information in an era where over-sharing (much like a certain degree of narcissism) seems to be the norm. Certainly, giving readers access to every minutiae of your life establishes authenticity, insight and a connection -- yet, there needs to be a line drawn somewhere, right? How can you maintain some semblance of privacy in 2013, when all you need is a little strategic sleuthing to pull up pages and pages of information on a particular person?

Obviously by writing a blog I am opening up parts of my life for public consumption. At the same time, though, I can't open up every single part of my life for the taking. If I were to post about resuming my job search while currently at my job, well, that is just a bad idea. Certain things need to be kept under wraps for the simple reason that sharing these things could risk not only current opportunities, but future opportunities. I constantly read tweets, status updates and view Instagrams that sometimes border on too much. Yeah, there are the annoying posts that reveal intimate family moments, egregious and unfounded personal opinions and overall, questionable taste in judgement. I've seen tweets from funerals, Instagrams of half-naked bodies, and Facebook status updates letting me know of people's every single action from sunrise to sundown. For the most part, these things are harmless, albeit sorta tacky. However, these sorts of posts are not the ones that concern me the most . What about the posts where you rant about your boss? Or the millions of tweets you post while you're in the middle of an important meeting? Or an Instagram of you celebrating getting that new job -- when you already have a job?

Just because we can post with the click of the button doesn't mean we always should. Your Twitter/Facebook/Instagram needs to reflect some process of thoughtful curating. Yes, I understand this suggests a bit of manipulation: only showing things that we are permitting the public to see. But what exactly is wrong with that? Aren't we all entitled to a bit of privacy? And even more so, aren't we all entitled to you keeping things private from us? (There are certain things I don't need to know, folks.) I think we could all benefit from exercising a bit more discretion.

Again, this is not to say that we need to lose that element of authenticity from our lives and from our social media platforms, but I think that there is a reason "TMI" has become so integrated into our everyday vernacular. With crotch-shots being a regular facet in tabloids these days, it's clear that our society has blurred the line between what should be considered private and public. Social media platforms have only confounded this issue even more, as each facet encourages constant use and egotism. Maybe people do want to know more rather than less, but I think that ultimately, they want authenticity. They want to know that the person behind the posts is real and they're being thoughtful -- that what we choose to share with each other is a result of wanting to make genuine connections. The moments/opinions we choose to share online are a reflection of ourselves online, so I guess my last question is, what do we want our online-selves to say about our offline-selves?

As an avid-Tweeter (perhaps, even over-Tweeter), I know that a little self-reflection on the matter will probably benefit myself, future opportunities and most definitely, the people who are reading my tweets. Sorry guys!

Why Hello, Old Friend: Thoughts on Returning Abroad

Oh, hey girl.
(http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/queen-e-pop-art-terry-collett.jpg)

I've had a case of the Fridays all day (is that a thing?) and all I've been able to do is look wistfully towards the weekend and my upcoming vacation in order to get me through the final afternoon slump. Freedom is on the horizon -- in the form of Saturday, Sunday and a ten-day getaway across the pond.

As I lose myself in daydreams, I realize that in returning to London and Rome (but especially, London) I will be reuniting with old stomping grounds. I visited Rome briefly for a few days during a college trip to Italy, but I spent an entire summer in London. How strange that a foreign city could seem so familiar, while remaining so geographically distant from my everyday life. I'm not sure how I'll react to landing back in Heathrow, riding the Tube and meandering through the same streets I explored just under two years ago. Will the city welcome me back or dismiss me as a once-tourist and now-stranger?

It's different from other vacations I've had where I've returned to the same place. Every year, my family skips out of suburbia and plops next to the beach in Cape Cod -- but that is a two-hour drive from home, littered with Boston-pride and New England's creature comforts. I have friends who live on Cape Cod and I'm not relegated to a once-a-year visit to Massachusetts' hook, or even once-every-so-many-years visit. London, on the other-hand, is obviously not so easily accessible from this side of the Atlantic. With a six to seven hour flight separating me from the the US's former frenemy (circa 1776), I wonder if I will seamlessly re-acquaint to the city or be overwhelmed by a surprising exoticism of it all. Is it just like riding a bike? Will I hop back on that metaphorical Schwinn only to find that I need training wheels? Or will I be able to pedal around the city, finely attuned to my place on the left side of the road?

My summer in London left me with an indelible affection and attachment to the city. Whenever I click through Facebook photos or peruse my old travel blog, the nostalgia inevitably resurfaces and I think back to everything I did there -- both the trivial and the anecdote-worthy. I'm obviously curious to be back there and perhaps even re-trace some of my old steps, to see if this nostalgia returns full-force and if I remember the same sights and smells. Some of my favorite memories are the least ostentatious or illustrious. I remember walking to Kings Cross in the morning to take the tube to work and just feeling like I was a part of it -- as though, I was one sort of minute piece of energy contributing to the overall life of the city. The air was fresh and crisp, the streets still wet from the morning rain, and yet, amid the serenity of climate, the people's vibrancy propelled me forward, invigorating me. I always felt a rush whenever I was diving into a different part of the city -- whether it was getting lost and then surprisingly stumbling upon my desired location or when I simply took the time to take in the people as I walked through the streets. I suppose this sort of sensation is not purely indicative of my experience of London, but of travel, in general, but because I had these inaugural feelings of developing familiarity with London, I now think of it as an old friend associated with a summer filled with memories.

I'm not quite sure what to expect, really. I'm hoping to fit in time to see some familiar faces, but also to  venture to corners of the city that were left unexplored while I was there.I'm sure this trip will not signify any sort of end to my love affair with the city. Instead, I'm almost certain it will rekindle it, as I feel as though once I am, again, caught up in London's energy, I will feel the overwhelming urge to ditch my flight, stay put, and peddle my way into some sort of Notting Hill apartment. 

If you don't hear from me in April, it's probably because I'm still there...