On the road I wish I hadn't traveled....

There are very few places I've been in my life that I wouldn't want to go to again. I've basically fallen in love with just about every place I've ever lived or traveled to. With the exception of one place.

Minnesota.

I have never hated being in a place so intensely. There are a lot of reasons why, but I really didn't like living there. Not one bit. It's funny because I wanted to go to school there so badly and wound up hating nearly every second of my experience there. What's even more funny is that the year before, I lived in Canada and I didn't want to go there AT ALL yet fell all kinds of in love with that place and didn't want to leave. I remember sobbing when I drove back across the border to the States.

But beyond places I never want to return to, there are feelings and times that I have no interest in revisiting either. You know that feeling of invisibility you have in junior high? Unless you're a very (and I mean VERY) lucky child, you probably spent the majority of those years either trying to be seen or hoping to be invisible...maybe both at once. I know I did. No one wants to feel like people are staring past them.

Or the feeling of letting someone down for the first time? Really letting someone down. For me, I'm sure it was my parents that I let down. I wasn't the best kid. I gave my parents a hard time. I rebeled a little in high school and then went bonkers when I came home from Minnesota. I know it's not ME that's a let-down...it's some of my choices and actions. And it sucks when you finally realize what kind of a crappy kid you were for so many years. If only we could know at 15 what most of us come to know in our mid-20s.

Maybe one of the more gut-wrenching feelings is breaking someone's heart and, in an almost karmaic fashion, having yours broken in return. Ugh. I wonder if that's part of why my parents never really encouraged my siblings or me to date flippantly. It hurts when hearts get broken. The recovery takes longer than any other broken body part I can think of (granted, I've never broken anything more than a fingernail, so what do I know?) and it's a break that often sticks around for a long time. Maybe even forever. We try desperately to mask that pain, but it's a scar that will stick around and there's no telling how long.

So while I love to travel and visit new places and, more often than not, go back to many of those spots, there are certain places and feelings that are better left in the past, never to be visited again. Like Minnesota. Except that my best friend and her family just moved there. Crap.

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On the lonliest number....

but even still

the dark is not the gift

nor even the light that seeps

into it

but the knowing it

cannot stay dark

forever

though a cloud may

ever hang

Life, unfortunately, is not all sunshine and rainbows. Darkness creeps in and overwhelms probably more often than any of us would like. It's hard to feel okay with wallowing in despair and, essentially, self-pity when there are so many other much darker, but more awful things that people are dealing with. I look at my own best friend, author of the words above, and think, "Who am I to whine? She is going through something so painful, I don't even know what to say, let alone think."

But we're all allowed our own pains and secrets and darkness.

I think what hurts the most, though, is the feeling of abandonment. It's what makes the dark seem all the darker. And feeling my way through the dark alone just makes it worse. I was told recently, and it's probably good advice, to feel whatever it is I need to feel, wholly and completely, until it's out of me. I'm stuck, most frequently, in a mess of sadness, confusion, and anger. I never know which I'm feeling or when so it's hard to get it all out. And then to add the feelings of abandonment, disappointment, guilt, and overwhelming judgement? It's almost too much to bear at any given moment.

I've been blowing people off, preferring instead to sit at home and watch endless 30Rock and MadMen. Maybe that's okay...sometimes. But not all the time. I think I'm looking for escapism most of the time, a release from my current state of being. I find myself doing and wanting to do things that I haven't done in YEARS, things that aren't wise or healthy. But it makes me feel better, even if momentarily.

I just want things to be how they should be and not how they are.

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On information overload....

I'm one of those people that has a really hard time shutting down, going off the grid, disconnecting...specifically from technology. More often than not, you can find me texting or talking on my iPhone, watching movies on my iPad, and emailing/Facebooking on my MacBook. So, not only am I a slave to consumer electronics, it would appear that I am fully Apple Assimilated.

It's just that I love having information at my fingertips. I love that I can look up any recipe for anything in a matter of seconds; or find out what's going on in other parts of the world with a single click; or hear music I might never have heard had it not been for the ol' interwebs. This sort of harkens to my previous post regarding reading: I really enjoying learning and, for me, that involves quite a bit of reading.

So do I think there's too much information out there?

Certainly.

But maybe not in the ways you might think.

Sure, I get exhausted by all the bad news in the world. I can only handle so much Kardashian nonsense. And, frankly, I'm not sure I could care less about the NBA lockouts or the Occupy Whatevers.

The information that really gets to be too much for me? Facebook crap. Specifically, the updates regarding my friends' childrens' bowel movements and/or digestive pyrotechnics.

Honestly. When did it become normal to broadcast how ill you or your children are? And I'm not talking the posts like, "My kid is in the hospital with pneumonia; please pray." Those I get. What I really don't care about, what really IS too much information, is advising the status of children's potty training adventures or diaper expolosions or the like.

THAT is where I think the Age of Information has become a monster we are unable to tame.

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On people I don't understand....

If there's one type of person I absolutely cannot relate to, it's a Republican.

Oh, calm down...I'm KIDDING. Most of my family is Republican. In fact, it's safe to wager that I'm the most liberal person in my family, most days.

No, really though. The person I'll never be able to relate to is the person that says, "I just don't read."

WHAT?!

I really can't understand a statement like that. Maybe it's because I'm the polar opposite...I can't get enough things to read. I read an entire book (albeit a lovely children's book) in about 20 minutes the other night and am itching to read the follow up (it was called LOVE THAT DOG, if you're interested...what a brilliant book). I'm currently carrying two paperbacks in my bag along with 36 digital books on the ol' iPad, not to mention the countless New Yorker's and Vanity Fair's loaded on the thing. Oh and The New York Times. How could I forget that one? There's no shortage of things I'll be willing to read. Right now, I'm in the middle of a philosophy book (Consolations of Philosophy), The Life of Pi, Abraham Lincoln - Vampire Hunter, Bossypants, and a David Sedaris collection.

So yes, I love books to an almost disturbing degree. I understand there are people that don't like to read nearly as much as I do, but to just not read? I can't get behind that. Is there really nothing they want to learn about? Nothing that seems like good, old-fashioned escapism?

There's something really relaxing in reading. I love just lying on my bed, snuggled under the covers, with a great book, knowing that the end result is probably going to be the best nap of my life! Or sitting on the couch, all cozied up under a warm blanket with a cup of tea, with only a table lamp on, reading a book I've read a hundred times. Or finding a funny or interesting article in a magazine and reading it to someone else, putting my own spin on the author's voice and narrations.

There's so much happiness to be found in reading a good book, whether it's chic-lit or non-fiction, comedy, fantasy, or a classic, even a children's story. There's a sense of completion...of accomplishment when I finish a good book. It's another notch in my literary lipstick case, I suppose.

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On trigger points....

It's no secret that I'm a huge ball of stress most of the time. I've lived a significant portion of my life under quite a lot of stress, so the feeling is somewhat normal to me. Which kind of suck, when I really think about it. Who wants to live life in a constant state of stress...and subsequently, fear?

I've started to try eliminating stress where I can. I use yoga and general breathing techniques a lot and, thanks to the gorgeous gym at my office, I can run and do yoga/pilates every day for an hour if I want to. I've done that a lot lately.

Maybe the better idea, however, is to be proactive about my stress, rather than reactive. I find myself getting stressed and rather than try to identify what's making me crazy, I just try to make the symptom go away. It's like how I react to getting a cold. I treat the cold, but not the cause (which, frankly, is usually a lack of sleep). If I got more (and better) sleep, I probably wouldn't get sick in the first place.

So what causes all this stress in my life? I have no idea. A lot of it is probably because I'm very Type A. When my inbox at work has more than about 15 items in it, I start freaking out. This morning, it had nearly 30 and I about came unglued. Fortunately, I can hide the crazy from my co-workers pretty well, but having that much crap to handle really starts to get to me. It's like there's never enough time in one day to get done what needs to get done.

The fact of that matter is, stress is always going to exist in my life, no matter what I do. I try to eliminate it where I can, but it crops up around the next bend. That's just the way my life goes.

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On alternate career choices....

My very first college major choice was secondary education. For the life of me, I can't figure out why. Well, that's not entirely true. I wanted to teach English. The problem is that when I made that choice, I had just come off a summer internship wherein I discovered that I kind of can't handle kids, of any age. That opinion has changed markedly in the 10+ years since my internship, but I still can't figure out why I thought teaching would be a good idea.

I'm sure it has everything to do with my passion for the English language. I just want people to understand it, to speak and write it well, to generally sound intelligent when speaking their native language. Is that too much to ask?!

Probably not. In fact, since graduating last year, I have often flirted with the idea of going back to school to get my Master's in, you guess it, English. More specifically, English Writing & Rhetoric. Even more specifically, I'd get my teaching license in conjunction with my Master's. Maybe I'd never use a teaching license, but I think it's something that might be good to have in my back pocket. Who knows? If I'm really honest about it, I'd only ever get my teaching license in the hopes of moving somewhere far away and exotic to teach English...like Kyoto or Paris or anywhere really.

Not so long ago, when I was looking for a new job, I even thought about teaching at my (now-defunct) high school. I would have loved to teach middle school English...that age just sounds fun to me. Young enough to be maleable, yet old enough to have some semblance of an opinion. I now understand why my sister loves working with that age group so much. I could definitely get behind teaching junior highers.

So while I'm not sure I'll ever go the teacher route, I'm reasonably certain that I could love teaching English.

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On the fear of money....

I'm easily scared. There's no denying it. I jump when people sneak up behind me. I start shaking in line for a roller coaster when I know I'm on the next train (despite how much I love riding the things). I can never really predict when the bad guy is going to pop onto the screen during a scary movie. Things that go bump in the night make me lose sleep. The idea of jumping into the ocean gives me anxiety attacks.

I feel like all of those things are pretty normal. But the one thing that scares me more than just about anything else? Buyers remorse. It doesn't matter if it's a $50 jacket or a $15,000 car...I'll go back and forth and back and forth for WEEKS trying to make sure I made the right choice. I recently bought a new computer and while many people told me it was a good idea and it would change my life, I had to really question whether or not I needed a) a new computer or b) to spend the money. I mean, my current laptop is shiny and fancy (and pink, to boot) and I'm sure it would have lasted a really long time. But it doesn't work nearly as quickly as I do and sometimes it just pisses me off.

Jackets are a different animal entirely. I love jackets. I have far more than any reasonable person should. I have suit jackets and casual jackets; spring jackets and fall jackets; winter coats; statement jackets and comfy coats; even jackets that I use only for costuming (demin jackets. Blech!). So why is it, when I see a new jacket I MUST HAVE IT IMMEDIATELY?! It makes no sense. And every time I buy a new one (like my awesome black Calvin Klein), I get it home and instantly question why I bought it.

For sobbing out loud, I have buyer's remorse (it's anxiety, really) over things as simple as this amazing sugar scrub from Bath & Body Works...I'm stopping myself right now, but I really want it! I had anxiety over buying pretzel chips for my Nutella the other day. Seriously. It was like $3.

So yes, I have fears over things like heights and depths and the dark and, you know, being murdered. But the thing I fear the most is spending money. Sigh.  

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On becoming a monster....

It's no secret that I like cookies. In fact, I probably love them. My default cookie is a classic Oreo. None of this Double Stuff or backwards or even mint Oreo nonsense. Just plain old Oreos. I love them. I could eat an entire sleeve and probably wouldn't feel all that bad about it (I have a similar physical reaction toward pizza).

But there's just nothing quite like a homemade cookie, is there? I spent about four years of my life trying to recreate a grocery store sugar cookie. You know...the super soft ones with way too much frosting? They're so delicious, it hurts. And I needed to be able to make them. So several years and many discarded batches of dough later, I was able to figure it out (and it's my little secret).

My favorite cookie to make is chocolate chip...I'm still working through some issues with that one. I can't seem to get the consistency right, though the flavor - admittedly - is amazing. That's due, in large part, to replacing one ingredient with a slightly different one (another of my little secrets).

Gingerbread, shortbread, and oatmeal-raisin are among several others that I love making.

But if I had to choose a favorite cookie, it wouldn't be a cookie at all. You see, my life essentially revolves around Christmas baking and this comes from my dad's love of holiday baking. He's a master in the kitchen when it comes to just about any kind of cooking or baking. He taught me how to make my first sugar cookie, so I have a special place in my heart for that one. But he makes the most incredible fruitcake you'll ever have the joy of tasting.

Put aside all your bullsh*t notions of fruitcakes you can build homes with or using them as gag gifts. My dad's fruitcake (which is a recipe that's been passed down for at least three generations) is the baked good that I most look forward to. It only happens once a year (though once I did request it for my birthday cake...and got it...in May) so the anticipation really starts building right about....now.

If only it could be Christmas season tomorrow....or always....!

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