Times They Are A'Changin'

So I have not written, really written, for awhile.  No excuses, a lot of what I have was not ready for the interwebs.  So now, here I go.  Apologies in advance for excessive use of personal pronouns.

A month ago, my life changed dramatically.  After over four years, and a lot of bumps in the road in between, my long-term relationship came to an end.  Unlike some rom-com, my life did not crash around me.  Point blank, I fell out of love with my best friend.  It was an end to some means that grew and seethed for longer than I want to share.  To say, "I'm over it" is insulting of a close friendship but I can confidently say that life is moving and moving well.  I mean sure, I listened to a ton of Adele that first week but I'm smiling and laughing and surrounded by people whom I love and I think they like me back.  I did not eat chocolate and ice cream; I ran and did yoga sculpt.  (Nobody wants to date a newly single, depressed fat chick.)  I did not sit at home and cry in a dark bedroom; I invited my girlfriends to Chicago and ended up with 2 a.m. bottle service at a swanky club.  I enjoyed the last day of summer on a boat in Lake Michigan with new friends; I shopped at Victoria's Secret and drank martinis with my mom; I went on a date to a romantic fondue restaurant in Chicago with my #1 guy (dad); I attended a wedding with one of my married, female best friends as my date. I DYED MY FREAKIN' HAIR RED.  Seriously, I really feel sorry for those girls in the rom-coms; they're so sad.

There have been a couple of exchanges here and there between myself and recent ex, which are all friendly in nature (except for the 12:30 a.m. drunk call about "The Muppet Babies.")  Below is one worth sharing, as it's an accurate depiction of how I feel.  To caveat, this is part of a larger piece of work and the beginning should not be taken as some piggish guy behavior.

                                                                  
I think it's funny what you made some choice purchases at CVS.  You are a single dude, I'm not shocked.  But that is the exact opposite of what I did.  Everyone was like, "you're single, you're hot, you're killing it in this city. Do a hot, rich dude. BLA BLA BLA."  No, that's not what I want to do.  I'm a catch and I know this.  After 25 years, I can honestly say that I am extremely comfortable in my own skin.  I love who I am and whomever wants to hang out with me should too.  I don't need to go around banging every dude that lives in a high rise to justify how I feel about myself.  They are all over Chicago and some are genuinely nice, fun guys but until I really get to know them I probably won't get too excited.  A man shouldn't be a novelty item.  That's not what I need to be happy.  We both have respect for ourselves and others, that's an incredibly admirable quality.  So maybe I'll find that guy with the head of hair and the 9-5 job and cooks (that would be money!) but really I just want someone who complements me.  That I can be a couple AND a teammate with, that's what will justify my self worth.

You deserve the same thing.  Don't screw up.
                                                                  

So sometimes life doesn't work out as planned.  There's no need to dwell on it because, at the end of the day, you are left with a wealth of memories and the excitement of an unplanned future.  This blog tone will likely change but I'm the anti-Carrie Bradshaw.  No need to hear about every man/men I date/make out with in a bar/develop a 20 second crush.  That's for me to know, experience, and ultimately end up exactly where I'm supposed to be.

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Vampires, Wizards and Wolves. Oh my.

Nerd alert: I grew up with Harry Potter.  I read Sorcerer's Stone around the age of 13.  Ryan handed me a book and simply said, "read it, it's about a wizarding school."  Thinking it sounded stupid, I opened the book anyway and immediately fell in love.  In the years following I pre-purchased the books, read Goblet of Fire in the bath tub for three hours (old bathwater turns very cool), and bawled uncontrollably when [SPOILER!] Dumbledore died.  Mom walked into the kitchen and found me, head in my hands, violently crying at this huge turning point.  She turned around and went back to bed...granted it was around 4 a.m.  I was dumbfounded as I closed the last book after reading, literally stunned by the plot twists and violence that JK Rowling conjured out of thin air.  She had guts, she killed main characters, she was scary.

Today, I feel like a dirty adulterous.  I am embarrassed to admit, although I am one of millions, that I read the Twilight series.  So sue me I wanted to find some sort of magic in fantastical characters and lacked literature of my own.  Tonight I am going to see "Eclipse" only because I am going for free with work and with old co-worker friends.  I feel like I am at rock bottom when the highlights of a movie are seeing a shirtless 18-year-old and eating free Whoppers (the milk duds, not the burgers).  The more I write this, the more I disdain it.  It blows my mind how much money a sexually frustrated Mormon made off of scribbling sexually frustrated transgressions on paper and somehow making emo vampires "cool."

So just when I was started to really hate myself I found something that saved me.  Time put it well on its twitter feed.  "Forget Twilight: Deathly Hallows trailer reminds us why Harry Potter still rules."  Yes, Harry, yes.

One $hining Moment

Senses stir up memories.  I remember the taste of grandma's mac & cheese and the touch of the smooth brick in my grade school hallway.  Parents fill photo albums with baby pictures and have VHS tapes of our first family vacations so we can relive the sense of sight. 

The most influential sense may be hearing, for better or worse.  A baby's cry, a wedded couple's first dance, that Vitamin C "Graduation" song that just won't go away.  A couple weeks ago my brother departed for college spring break in Panama City Beach, following in his sister's stumbly footsteps.  I can't help but think of the memories and smile, particularly when they're defined by my generation's greatest hit songs such as Fergie's "Glamorous" and Unk's "Walk it Out."  Key word: hit.

According to him, if he learned anything it's that he hates Kesha but only slightly more than that "Shots, Shots, Shots" song.  Sorry, Ke$ha.  But I'm not There$@ so forget that skank.  I refuse to give anyone that provided us with the lyrics, "kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger" any sort of respect.

MICK JAGGER?!  Are you SERIOUS?!

Sadly enough, it's these otherwise forgettable songs that define some of our great life moments.  Think of the song you laugh at with your friends when she threw herself at some random guy at the bar; then the Rascal Flatts song she wouldn't stop crying to when they broke up months later.  Why have a romantic song when you can rock out to Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" at a karaoke bar on vacation?  I remember sorority girls defining their life with Madonna's "Like a Prayer" at college parties.  "Oh my gawd, it's like our SONG!"  Ladies, it's everyone's song but to each their own.  I prefer to define my college experience with defined fist pumps and "Don't Stop Believin'."  Just a city booooooooy!

The NCAA gets it on the money "One Shining Moment" during March Madness.  (Although, with respect to Ms. Hudson, I want Luther Vandross back.)  Last night's Northern Iowa win over Kansas (Go Missouri Valley conference!) was one of those moments you belt out, "YOU KNEW YOU WERE ALLIIIIIIVE!"



The most magical part of it all is that the first time you hear a song you don't know it will become a memory, it just takes place.

Pla¢e?

Where did three years go?

My apologies for being inactive for the last couple weeks but I believe that I have a good excuse.  After much hoping, wishing and praying things came up Theresa.  After 16 months of impatient waiting and badgering e-mails, I was promoted.  It didn't come easily and even in the last week, it took some serious push and pull until I ended up in the place I wanted to be.  I, ladies and gentlemen, have an "official" big kid job.  (I 'kinda' did before but we will consider this an upgrade.)

 One word: diligence.  One word: assiduousness!  [noun., Latin, the quality or state of being assidious.  Assiduous, adj., Latin, marked by careful unremitting attention or persistent application.]  Thanks Thesaurus.com.  (I have never for the life of me been able to understand why the definition always requires another definition.)

My, my how things have changed.  Only a few years ago to the date I was plugging my way through worthless core classes (Chemistry & the Environment?) and, between studying, was planning spring break on hotels.com.  I made some memories with my two girlfriends that will last a lifetime and even met my current boyfriend.  Make fun of that latter mention as much as you want.  Many PCB memories will never be written down because that's way too dangerous.

This week I'll pass the Voyles kid spring break torch to baby brother whom I am hoping will meet the love of his life on the beach this week.  Seriously, JK.

A mere three year later, I'm positively giddy about the nine "flex" days I have coming up in 2010 and all the media research I will be compiling for my new client.

Even after it all I don't feel too grown up.  Over red wine last night a friend and I quizzed each other out of a J-14 magazine and talked like Disney channel characters.  So, life is good.

"Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up" - The Ataris