2011 Absolution

Recently, I was talking to my girlfriends about how enthusiastic I am going into 2012 with only a small number of expectations.  Literally, I can count them on one hand.

2011 was an ultimate years of highs and lows.  I embraced my friendships and chose to let go of one that defined my life for four years.  Romance meant both a steamroller and a mack truck, forcing me to pick myself up after I just discovered my footing again.

Professionally I'm happy and after three years in the same building, I better be.  Of course, I want more and I'm on the right path.  I'm expecting only big things in the recent future and am enthusiastic about the possibilities.

Thank God for friends.  With them, I've created some of the best memories.  Ski trips.  Birthday bar crawls.  Trolleys. Thursday nights playing volleyball on the beach.  Softball teams, each with their own set of teammates.  Bike rides out to the lake.  Then you have the more surreal moments of 2011.  Naked bike rides.  Bottle service at 2 a.m. Spontaneous boat rides on Lake Michigan. Trolling college bars.  Back-to-back Ad World Series Championships!

In late summer, some people told me that the next few months were "supposed to be harder" but they couldn't be more wrong.  I'm happy.  I'm learning what it's like to be myself, even if that means talk to empty air while watching TV on a Monday night.

One friend said that going into a new year without expectations or plans would make her nervous.  But I'm a little different.  In the game of taking what life throws at you, I'm all in this.  And looking forward to the results.

Revertigo

One my Thanksgiving drive to Springfield (from my parent's current home farther South) I heard Diddy's "Coming Home" and laughed at the cheesiness of it all.  This was likely because I was by myself in a car for three hours.

Then a DJ talked about "revertigo."  It is basically the experience of regressing in age based on circumstance.  For example, when a 20-something goes home to his parents' over the holidays he may stay in his childhood bedroom, sleep in his old bed, see high school friends.  For this brief time, we transport ourselves into a past moment as if we can pick up life right where we left it.  My Wednesday before Thanksgiving was no exception as I cheerfully hugged the people that have defined my best memories for the greater part of the last decade.  Throughout the good and the not-so-good, I embrace these friendships more than any others.

Surprisingly, Southern Illinois brings on these feelings of revertigo more than Springfield.  Southern Illinois was a weird time in my life.  At 18, I graduated high school and was ready to start college at a school where I knew no one.  I chose this last part for myself, to be different from my peers, and take a risk.  Even for someone who was familiar with being the "new kid," I was terrified.  Then, my parents packed up our lives and moved three hours south from the city where I called home for 18 years (outside of a two year stint in Missouri).  Three weeks before I left for St. Louis, "my parent's house" was not my own.  Labor Day weekend I came home from college and drove two miles past the new neighborhood.  I stopped in a parking lot and cried at the overwhelming feelings of being in too many new places at once.  I missed my old life.

Somehow, that experience shaped me stronger than I would ever imagine.  I waitressed and made a small fortune for a 19-year-old living with her parents, made mistakes, hung out with people I definitely shouldn't have, "posted up" and ate Wendy's after work, dated boys with trucks AND camouflage (sometimes even together).  I went through a couple phases of bad friends and worse boys, until I finally found own niche.  I became close with girls from college whom also called the area home, found Jamie as she always made me laugh and became a sweet hearted partner in crime, indulged in $3 pitcher nights every Wednesday, and enjoyed a July 4th scavenger hunt and picnic I will never forget.  Through it all, I became closer with my family as those three were the only constant in this whole strange situation.

So when I was driving down Route 13 on my way to Carbondale, listening to "Dirt Road Anthem," I experienced the ultimate revertigo.  It brought back memories of being 20 years old with few cares in the world other than living from Cracker Barrel paycheck to paycheck, driving my boyfriend's beat up pick up truck with Jamie as we sang along to whatever radio station we could find during the most fun scavenger hunt of our lives.

Now when I go back to "my parent's house" (as I call it now), it's all different.  My close friends, the one from college, aren't there and we've all moved on from that life.  I let some friendships fall through the cracks and wonder how their lives evolved.  Oddly enough, the moving experience I once described as "one of the worst things to ever happen to me" turned out to be one of the best.  It made me grow up and redefine myself, leading to some of the most genuinely happy experiences I could find.

If you Don't Like Big Red, then Fuck You!

I went through a drastic change this weekend and love every second of that decision.  I walked into a hair salon (seven hours too late because of my choice to part-ay the prior night) with a picture of "pre-coke/poor life choices Lindsay Lohan."  Recently single?  Bring. It. On.

Me: "I want this."
Amazing stylist whom I now love/BFF: "This is going to be fun...ya, I love this.  We are going to make this happen."

A little over an hour later, I began life as a happy-go-lucky redhead.  My best friends from home and I were shopping in Chicago this weekend when a homeless, wheelchair bound man with no legs (as most solid Chicago stories start) even declared, "a brunette, a blonde, and a redhead?!  Well I be lookin' at Charlie's Angels!"

Yes, sir.

After a truly epic weekend it is fair to say that is a good start.  Keep the "Ginger," "Ariel," and "Fire Crotch" nicknames going everyone.

Lolla. Epic.

Lollapalooza is a three day music festival of absolutely epic proportions.  As a Chicagoan of over three years, I obliged to attend at least one.  At the end of it all, it's nearly impossible to describe my abundance of love for it.  My parents raised me and my brother with an appreciation of all types of music (primarily Fleetwood Mac, Meatloaf, the Eagles, the Beatles, you name it).  Ryan began playing guitar around the age of eleven and I am still jealous of his ability to create.  Someone, if you're reading this, buy me an acoustic please!

I wrote about Lolla, I talked about it plenty, played the music on loop, and took enough pictures.  I will leave you with those because sometimes experience cannot be put into words.  Seriously, three of the best days of my life.

One for mom and dad.

 When Crystal wants to sit on a broad man's shoulders to see Eminem, she gets it done. 

Then it rained for over an hour, as me and my friends stood forlorn and defeated under trees that provided us no shelter.  Ryan's dri-fit shirt wouldn't even keep him dry.  That is the moment we knew to embrace the storm.

Double rainbow? What does it mean?!

Why are we planking?  Because we are at Lolla and in the middle of Jackson St. and can do whatever we want.  That's why we are planking.

 It took three days for me to feel clean again and there may still be mud behind my ear.  Worth it.

 

Then this.  David Grohl and Foo Fighters killed it.  During the most intense storm of Lolla (seriously, pelting rain hitting your face hurts) we sang "My Hero."  Just watch.

This gives me chills every time.

Movin' on Up

Today I took a big step in my career as I moved up to the 9th floor of the office.  This is ironic as I started on the 11th floor nearly three years ago.  Neither here nor there.  In celebration of my move, for lack of a better word, Emily and I held a photo shoot celebrating the realities of office space.  We even used a hipster camera app that all the cool kids are using.  No worries dear client, this is totally billable.

 How I exited my cube on a daily basis, some time around 5 p.m.

Was not a fan of geometry, but the lines and shapes of this picture trip me out all over the place.

Dreaming about big things, like an office with a river view.

Do the creep

 Yep, I caught you creeping.

Now I'm on the 9th floor and away from the floor that represented a hospital mental ward.  But after 15 months, it is fair to say I will miss it.

25 Years Later.

On Monday a co-worker asked me, "how does it feel to be 25?" after the Saturday celebration of my birthday.  Of course, it doesn't really feel like anything.  Just like 23 faded into 24, I can now rent a car at a lesser premium.  I'm not getting married, I don't have a kid, I work a pretty normal job in the most beautiful city ever; 25 looks pretty fantastic so far. Like an adult should, I decided to spend the day surrounded by friends at bars frequented by those just out of college.  The bar crawl supported the Make-A-Wish Foundation of Illinois, an organization near and dear to my heart, that I mentioned in past posts.  I won't echo my philanthropic speech but just wanted to say "thank you!" to all my friends who attended and got a little [or a lot] drunk for an amazing cause.  For anyone who sent a text, wrote on my facebook wall or whatever "thank you!" also because it means so much to have amazing people like you all in my life.

Enough of the sap. Cheers to the mid-20s!

"Let her eat cake!"

"Just play. Have fun. Enjoy the game." - M. Jordan

The beer dinner from last night aside, I am currently in some of the best athletic shape of my life.  I blame Chicago and its miles of bike and running trails, numerous park areas, and Groupon for its various deals on hot yoga.

A couple months ago I bought a bunch of attire from some little boutique called "Nike Running" then a month later acquired a fancy bike from Target.  I also bought a helmet, which gets me made fun of relentlessly, but I don't want my brains splattered!  Then I joined some sports leagues and just kept it going.  Did you know Chicago has dodgeball AND kickball AND some weird thing called 16-inch softball?  TRUTH.  First I ran a 5K then a 10K and everyone is talking to me about running something called a "half marathon" which is ridiculous because when the hell did I start to like running?  Jury is still out on the half, because that's hard.

Below are testaments to my current athletic prowess as I attempt to keep my competitive edge and not get chubby.  Coming soon: the video of me playing sand volleyball last week, where I fell backwards and landed on my ass.  However, I did hit it over the net so wapow!

I ran a 10k through a zoo in 56:20, then took a picture with a shoe. Normal Sunday morning.   

502 overall but 20 out of 103 in the F20-24 age group. I'll take it!

I channeled my catcher training last night and blocked home plate in a one-run game, bang-bang play situation.  This is the result.  I have been giving everyone, deserving or not, the thumbs up today.  Best part of the story?  We got the out and kept the lead that inning!  I would do it again if necessary.  

Not pictured: my bruised shin and cleat mark in my ankle.

In April, my gal friends and I also ran an Easter bunny themed 5K in this beautiful attire.  Awk-ward. 

Finally, some of the coolest BAMFs you may never know.

Slow Clap DILF.

Every SLU student, past and present, recalls memories around the beloved campus clock tower.  The statue of Deep-In-Thought-Doug sitting on the Northeast corner, reading a textbook or more likely tanning between classes and a the general area of congregation for all.  A large number of my college memories center around that spot and make me smile just thinking about them now.  Thanks to James Van Der Beek, one memory made me laugh out loud today.



Between 2005 and 2008, my college roommates and I sat on the steps around the clock tower and practiced the fine art of "DILF hunting."  After freshman year, it became uncomfortable to continue creeping on the prospective male high school students prowling our campus looking for their future homes.  (Although creepy was a typical word in our vocabulary.)  These unknowing fathers, donned in fine pressed khakis and J. Crew sweaters, were way better to look at then their letterman jacket clad sons.  Somewhere along the way we began the DILF clap, a slow purposeful clap brought to premonition steadily in cinema fashion, designed to bring unwarranted attention and embarrassment for the DILF in question.

Dear SLU DILF dads, I salute you.  Thanks James Van Der Beek.

DILF Khakis from James Van Der Beek

My Big Fat Ginger Friend

A fan message.

"Saw the story of your life on your blog. This shirt is the story of my life. Much more concise"

Kyle, I miss you. You soulless ginger. Your $5 check for royalties is in the mail and the envelope is addressed to "WE HIT HARD c/o THE MASTERPIECE."

Just to share a story about Kyle.  The Saturday night of Halloween, 2005, Kyle decided that "nobody dresses up like a ghost anymore" so he bought a white sheet and cut holes out for the eyes and the mouth.  Unfortunately, Kyle is stupid and bought a twin fitted sheet that poorly that fit his 6'2"-ish frame.  Later in the night, we made friends with a man on the street who told us about the love of his life and her restraining order against him.  The man attempted to maintain eye contact with the ghost the entire time.  He failed and we laughed.  Kyle probably passed out after four beers.  The end.

Love,
Theresa (Fat)

When I Grow Up...

I love to gloat about how fun my friends are, I mean like really fun.  Somewhere along the line, my life was blessed with people that listen when I need an ear, make me laugh, have wine nights and overall better my life.  This came into realization this past weekend when I packed 30 people on a trolley for a bar crawl and tour of the fabulous city I now call home.  Absolutely amazing time, absolutely fortunate to have these kind of people in my life.

However, the point of this post is not to be mushy.  It's really to post two fantastic quotes inspired by the same group of friends.  Shannon, here is your moment to shine and I promised you an entry.  A big shout out to gchat during work hours for making these possible.

Conversation 1: Discussing how weird it was that friends were doing silly things like "getting married" and "buying water softeners for new homes."  Which somehow turned to Pussycat Doll songs.

---

SWF Friend: When I grow up I want to get drunk on trolleys
Me: I just sang that message to the tune of Pussychat Dolls
SWF Friend: Boobies make more sense than groupies
Me:  Exactly, when I was growing up I just wanted some boobies
SWF Friend: Instead of mortgages and diapers I spend money on alcohol and shoes

---

 Conversation 2: Girl stuff

SWF Friend: This is not okay...I just made an appointment with my doctor

Me: Everyone is getting Mirena at the same time.  It's like those teenage girls on Lifetime that all had babies at the same time.  But not at all.  We are like the "no pregnancy pact" or something.

It's moments like this that remind you why you are so lucky.