Keyless

Sundays are laundry day and I normally take about three weeks worth of “dingies” to my sister and brother-in-law’s while we putz around watching, tv listening to music, etc.

Today they have left me for my sister’s singing gig at a granola venue for sustainable food or something. But I went over for a few today before they left with my armfuls of laundry bags and apparently no need for a coat (as it is a whopping 45 degrees today). Consequently, I opted out of taking that coat inside–the one of course holding my keys in its pocket. Doh! Now I am left to blog at my sister’s until someone rescues me. I can just picture the little jingly things right now. “Rachael you’ve done this to us far too many times! We’d tell you you’ll never get back in the car if you leave us here, but we have no mouths!” Those helpless little things. Thus, I’m awaiting the day where inanimate objects gain IQ points and vocal chords for this very reason because it’d be so much harder to lose my possessions.

Why do I always lose the things so necessary for my daily survival? I hate lint and it’s a pain in my bum when it sticks to my clothes, but lint rollers are not my staple. I could go a few days without lint rolling my pants. The lint roller is not responsible for getting me to work every day. It’s not the lifeline I need when I have a flat on Route 128. It cannot pay for my coffee when I’m desperate to wake up. Yet the lint roller is so good about finding its way back to the second shelf of my desk in my room every time. My keys and my phone and my wallet on the other hand? They are downright weasels going off to places like the couch cushion and the bathroom cupboard! That is no way to treat your master!

But since I’ve challenged myself to find the positives in every luckless situation, I am here relaxed, keyless and blogging! And it sure has been a dog’s age.

I am keyless in two literal senses. I am also keyless in the transition I’m about to head into yet again: moving. It’s kind of scary because we don’t have a place yet. I have never had a pleasurable moving experience. I’m not sure many people do anyway, but if it could be this time, I’d be forever grateful. As we do have a couple months before we need keys to a new place, I still have some anxieties that it will be loud (like where I live now), for one thing. Or we’ll have combative neighbors or $3 laundry service (I could do better at the laundramat). One thing I will make sure of when I do receive keys to a new place is that I will have 5 copies of them made: one for the car, one for my bedroom, one for my car key set (which will likely be lost) and, one for the key rack. That’s 4, but I’m sure I’ll find good use for the 5th key.

Moving should also provide a fresh start for me in some ways.

-Organization: sometimes when I live in one place for a while, I start giving my things very illogical homes. I dont have a door on my closet so things without a definitive home end up there and it becomes a disarranged miscellany of sorts: belts, hiking packs, a pile of coats suitable for any season, and of course a shoe rack that has become a jewelry, book, sock and unwanted clothing rack. This has carried over a little into my work as email organization has proven to be a bit of a struggle.

Buy some of my own things: It’s a good thing I’m moving in with my friend who apparently furnished 98% of our current apartment. I’d be lost without her. But knowing I may not live with friends forever, I should perhaps get some extra cooking utensils, invest in a sofa or a nice blender.

City living: If you asked my family where I lived, they would say, oh she is a city girl now. I beg to differ that I am. And I beg to differ that Beverly, MA is city compared to the hustle and bustle of Boston that I have become so accustomed to since working there. And I would argue there is no better time to live in the city than now. So with that said, we are and I am excited.

-With a new home I will strive to bring more order to my living quarters. Since work took the front seat, my room takes the back seat to making lunches and morning smoothies and picking out outfits/throwing outfits on the floor. Had I maybe left time to be more orderly today, I’d have put keys in a rightful spot, like a purse or my hand…not my coat pocket when I don’t wear it.

-It’s been four years since I’ve become familiar with a new town/city and if I remember correctly, there’s something very whimsical and liberating about it.

-I’ve already started plotting new running routes and restaurant hot-spots.

-Maybe I’ll have more company when I don’t live in the ghetto.

-And last but not least? It’s been a year-full of unplanned fresh starts. Why not make it two…but plan it this time?

As I await my rescuer (my very loyal roommate, Jennifer) to bring my spare set of keys, I can rest knowing I will not be locked in this small Salem apartment until my bones fall brittle and decrepit. Just like I will not be stranded on June 1st. We will find a place. It will be the launch/continuation of fresh starts, and I WILL take great care in placing important things in important places.

Solitary Refinement

I was blessed with the honor of guest writing in a blog series about journey for a good friend and respectable writer. Below is what appears on www.werewolfjesus.com. Visit for Marri’s refreshing and profound commentary on Christian culture and this post below: 

 

 

Those of you who read regularly have probably heard a lot about my soul sister, Big Guy. 

Yes, Big Guy is a girl.

No, it’s not really even a great story as to how she got that name. 

Well, the natural order of things would have it that when her little sister joined us at college, she would thenceforth be called Little Guy. It is a fitting nickname, as she is a tiny nugget of a human. She is just barely allowed on rollercoasters, borrows clothes from my American Girl Doll, runs around on toes that are the size of cous cous, etc.

But what she lacks in stature, this girl sure makes up for in heart. In college, she would climb the hill to the apartment Big Guy and I shared, ice cream in tow, and dispense advice and back rubs. Maybe growing up in the Vermont mountains conditioned her tiny legs for the climb, or maybe she’s just that kindhearted, but Little Guy never seemed to tire of trekking up the hill to see us. 

Over the years, I’ve seen Little Guy fight less tangible uphill battles and she tackles them all with the same determination and kindness that kept her coming up that hill to our apartment. She’s a scrappy little nugget and I’m proud to be a part of her corner, cheering her on. I couldn’t be more excited to give her opportunity to practice yet another one of her great gifts: her writing. 

Rachael (which is what normal people call Little Guy) blogs over athttps://icecreamforbreakfastblog.wordpress.com/ so check her out if you dig her style.

 

 

———————————————

I often hear journey and I’m holding a Nintendo game controller. I’m tactfully navigating Princess Peach (myself) to the next level while acquiring as many gold coins, evading dangerous waters and my arch nemesis, Bowser. I am also alone.

I must tell you I played copious rounds of the word (or song) association game in my head using “journey.” It started out rough, but also aided in nailing what I think journey should, in part, mean for everyone.

I’ll show you how this game went:

Shoes

Pebbles

Walking Stick

“Just a small-town girl livin’ in a…” (for obvious reasons)

Pilgrim’s Progress

Bowser        

Obstacle

Unexpected

Deliverance

Epiphany

Rejection

Alone

Epiphany

Rejection

Alone

Epiphany

Etc…

 

Alone?

 

Yup. 

 

From raw toddler status up until maybe a year ago, I thrived—no—I depended on the presence of others, namely the comfort of a simple affirming verbal exchange or even sharing in the silence, as long as someone was there. And ask my mom, I couldn’t do anything or go anywhere without begging her to pick me up.

I do still truly enjoy those things (maybe minus being carried everywhere). I still value human interaction above nearly everything and count all people in my life as a divine blessing. I still beg my roomies to forget their grocery run if it means they stay and watch Full House with me.  But anyone dealing with this same inter-dependence theme may sense a subtle curiosity to find out what true solitude is. God didn’t make me curious, he threw me into solitude without swimmies.

I graduated college last May and it was a downright parodox. One day it was all pomp and circumstance and the next, I felt if I walked across that stage, I had the keys to Disney World. So I had a choice. In lieu of my vacant future ahead, I decided I should treat graduation like the keys to Disney World—magical and boundless. I had hoped and almost assumed that after nannying my favorite little boy and taking a month long trip to New Zealand, a steady job was coming my way and I’d be surrounded by great coworkers. I’d also get to spend plenty of time with roommates.

I successfully did three of those and I’ll leave you to guess which one I did not. But when your roommates all have steady jobs, the little boy only wants to hang out with his neighbor and you navigate much of New Zealand alone, this said, Disney World could very possibly be subpar—and lonely. Then, when you miss out on a job offer while you’re away? I’m not going to start with the utter disappointment and the many that followed.

Often in the form of strangers or supportive family or old friends who reappeared or the privilege of travelling alone, God kept nudging me.

Um, hello Daughter – have I ever let you down?

I could confidently answer no. My bank account disagreed. But little by little the Lord repeatedly allowed me to share my situation to anyone dealing with anxiety. It often sounded like this: “If you told ‘year-ago Rachael’ about her current disposition, she’d be in a state of utter panic.” On top of that, I’d be the Princess Peach pansy fearfully avoiding anything with potential for loneliness and failure. But take this Bowser! Take this gospel from Mark 1:35:

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.

And in Matthew 6:6 as He’s telling us how to pray:

When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father who is unseen.

He even urges us to spend time with Him using the greatest miracles, many of which happened when Elijah and Elisha were alone with God. He tells us through John the Baptist, alone in the desert before his going forth at the command of God. Then we all know Moses who encountered a burning bush, get this, alone with God.

While I was alone, I was forced to keep busy whether it was submitting 20 consecutive applications in one day or networking with academics and veteran journalists. After a series of upsets and realizing I could very well be let down for a year, or even five, I took the tranquility around me as a gentle invitation to converse with God. I love prayer and I always have but I often treated it like the very bed lamp I read under. Once I made my requests, I’d revisit my Savior back at the same place in 24 hours, as if we were catching up over coffee.

You weirdo, Rach! If you could see God you’d talk to Him all the time!

I think that’s true for a lot of people because we were very deliberately made to be relational beings. But who is to promise that these mammals are going to save us? My most recent epiphany was a mere realization that God was my breath, my confidant and my 24/7 solace because what/who else could be? And the panic I thought would set in was victoriously trounced by the power of His presence that soon became my oxygen. Then silence turned into a resounding clarity of His voice.

I even got lost in Boston on my first day of work (yes, work. Thank you Marri!) only to rest my forehead on my steering wheel in laughter. I knew my Father was playing a little joke—maybe a sick one—but I figured He had something up His sleeve just to entertain a conversation we missed earlier. It turns out no one expected me for a half day anyways. I have dreams about getting lost in the Sahara with nothing but a donkey and I laugh. Then my foal leads me to a nearby oasis with streams and waterslides, music and dancing, Michael Jackson, and cheddar cheese tables (many of my favorites things). I digress. Needless to say, solitude has helped me wipe worry from my daily routine.

Good gravy, enough about me. I truly mean it when I say that. It is solely and unequivocally and thankfully about HIM!

The best part? It’s that he wants and longs for intimacy with his children even with our garbage stinking up wherever we are. And we can go to Him freely without shame or fear. He’ll take our loneliness and our worries. He wants to erase them both. This quiet alliance I’ve found is the sweetest morsel of Heaven on a fleeting earth.

 

Paleo: Take One

I can’t recall a time when guilt brought desired results. I am currently “dieting” (whatever that means) out of a smidge of guilt and am, for the first time, feeling accomplished and motivated by this challenge. Who knew? I suppose the same goes for guilting me into blogging because it’s good for me–which is just what my roomie of five years reminded me to do yesterday–and she knows me pretty well.

I would argue there is a distinction between guilt and motivation. Though I can’t quite identify which fire burned within me to feast on nothing but meat, veggies, fruits and nuts (and I can’t even eat nuts), other than that everyone around me was doing it. My thoughts? I don’t want to be the fatty here. So what I did was transform that guilt into a beastly challenge.

For anyone with a sweet tooth even considering something this illogical, I’ll leave you with a few pros and cons so you can draw some opinions for yourself:

Pros:

• I haven’t once felt bloated, except for last Sunday when Dad took Mom and me out for lunch and some drinks. I’m allowed three non-paleo meals a week. I don’t know if a sweet onion teriyaki burger with sweet potato fries and two Blue Moons equals one non-paleo meal, but baby steps here nonetheless. And I won’t mention the table full of “naughties” at the baby shower I attended. As Mom would say, “everything in moderation.”

Oops

• Also at the shower was an old friend who added some insight to the paleo diet as a nutritionist. Though she’s doesn’t eat with the same disciplines, she is very mindful of what goes into her body and she helped distract me from having one too many cupcakes and/or candied popcorn and/or sweet and salty Chex Mix. Check out Allie’s healthy blog.
• Helps me plan better. I like having my week planned out before me. I have never enjoyed the act of planning it, but this has been a simultaneous challenge alongside resisting my favorite foods. I’d like to say I’ve been very dedicated in packing a lunch at night so as to leave a few more minutes for sleep before work the next day.
• I feel better. I don’t know if it’s the placebo that makes me feel better or if it’s the lack of junk or if it’s because I am doing something I never thought I could. It might be all the above but who cares, bottom line: I feel good.
• I am realizing just how much junk I used to eat.
• The time I would normally use for eating, I now use reading books.
• I look forward to my dreams of eating bagels. They are very vivid.

Cons:

• I get so irritable. I don’t even want to be around myself when I’m irritable. The first week I was a nightmare.
• So expensive. I have spent more money on avocados and deli turkey in these two weeks than I ever have on Ben & Jerry’s and oreos COMBINED.

• People at work look at me weird when it’s cookie day and I don’t eat one then I get down on myself .
• You can only get so creative with three food groups.
• Two words: no sweets.
• Sometimes after a long day I just want a beer.
• I learned beer wasn’t its own food group.
• I live within walking distance of a Dunks, Burger King and about five pizza joints
• I don’t like black coffee.
• I don’t like explaining to people why I’m doing it because I don’t really know why.
• I spilled sweet potato bisque all over my purse

As I go on, I’m in no way upset about what I’m doing. I try to remind myself of the lifestyle change that’s taking place here. No time for fake changes! If I were a maniac about this, I’d be posting my favorite paleo recipes, great cross-fit exercises…they’re all great, mind you. But I kind of like my version better–strictly healthy eating over here.

Paleo part two: Stay tuned as I document the last days of project paleo and into the life where paleo will no longer exist. The hope is that it remains a “lifestyle change” and I won’t forget to get a pic–no a VIDEO–of my first bite of ice cream in 24 WHOLE DAYS. Please keep me in your prayers.

V-day afterthoughts

I love how everyone has an extremist opinion on the legitimacy of Valentine’s Day. We’ve got the romance-obsessed and we’ve got the bitter, broken former lovers. As it has passed and I’ve digested my first v-day in years as a single woman and perused every social media post–from disgusting to endearing–and came down from my chocolate high, I have plenty of things to say about it–and they’re not all bad.

•  Makes me nostalgic of my days handing out Disney themed Valentines for my friends (Crushes always got Aladdin)
• Makes me nostalgic of prepubescent v-days when I’d hope boys would surprise me with a sweetheart candy reading “be mine” and of course, chocolate, maybe even an instant message…didn’t really care who.
• From an outside-looking-in perspective, this love day is not simply devoted to romantic lovers. Why not designate a day to remember love in general? Duh.
• Kids get so pumped about it
• Good excuse to stuff my face (Ben & Jerry were the best valentines. They always deliver.)
• Seeing my friends happy with their significant others
• Despite all the rage over roses and chocolate (enough for everyone to post their VERY unique bouquet and EVEN more thoughtful Whitman’s Sampler photos all over instagram), this picture still killed me.

 

Happy Belated V-day.

Hope in Chocolate

God? Is that you? I’m not one to look for God in my Dove chocolate wrapper but my God knows chocolate is not superficial, He knows I love it, and He made sure this message appeared on my wrapper. Just saying. I never thought I’d be the cheese ball to post my Dove chocolate wrapper but in all seriousness I don’t really care right now. It’s been a great conversation piece. And since it has been a while, I will share what exactly I’ve been doing that is so “where I’m supposed to be…” and offer a little recap of the last couple weeks. Needless to say, these events are a testament to my God’s perfect timing.

-Sugarbush mountain with Amanda

-Lovin’ on my aunt’s puppies (Visit for a pick-me-up or a puppy)

-Back to MA

-Freelancing

-Working part time with a precious family

-Networking, networking…

-Losing my championship soccer game

-Car trouble

-Dad’s 60th bday celebration in VT

 

Cake design based on Dad’s hobby of constructing “Upside-Down Trees” or UDTs in our woods.

Sister bear resembling a brother bear in her hair color. (Posted with permission. All rights reserved.)

-Laundry (about darn-tootin time)

-Back to MA

-Freelancing

-Eating mostaccioli for lunch and dinner four days straight, close to five

-Getting back into Words With Friends

-Help my best friend Jenny pick out some new specs

-Watching the Bachelor (It’s everything wrong with America. It still sucks me in. Sean is downright dreamy.)

-Gym on quiet nights and sauna to follow

-Darn-tootin (For the sake of an underused expression)

Now I won’t bore you (and myself) by giving a detailed explanation of each instance and why I’d have zero time for these things if I were full-time employed. And sure you can argue that I’m just trying to conjure up justification for my unfortunate situation. But I’m also stubborn and I know there is something seriously large and undoubtedly divine in the works here. I’ll blame that on my mom. Wendy and hope have at least one thing in common: they are completely devoid of fear. I think this has helped shape my perspective on “where I’m supposed to be.”

Why these times are valuable:

Sugarbush mountain- This goes unsaid. Amanda and I had been trying to plan this trip for months. We cleared our weekend to get some fresh air. It was as cold as fresh gets, but everything we hoped for nonetheless. And we met some skeezy old men from MA (one with a sweaty upper lip) who provided us with good conversation pieces for Ken and Wendy upon our return to my house. Unemployment points: 1 (Recreation)

Aunt’s puppies- Amanda, who was with me for the weekend, loves golden retrievers. It just so happens that my aunt breeds them. Amanda, being a content marketer and myself, an aspiring one as well, were able to help give my aunt some instruction on how to best market her new website and these precious little creatures! Unemployment points: 2 (Puppy therapy)

Freelancing for Clark- This is actually providing me with some great experience, coming at a time where any experience to speak of is invaluable. He also has me cackling intermittently throughout the day with his witty remarks (and snide undertones…my favorite), and a contagious laugh of his own…more like a roar, so it simultaneously keeps things light and enriching. Unemployment points: 3 (Not actually unemployed. In fact, hourly wise, I am just a day short of working full time. Give me a medal.)

Nannying- For some reason I can’t kick this love of stranger’s children. To put it plainly I have fallen in love with them–namely the ones I’ve been watching recently. Just a month with them, and they have become my home away from home–so much that they have invited me to Paris. I know, minor detail. They don’t know when they’re going but they know want me to come along. My roomie Amanda thought taking nannies on trips was just a silly pipe dream that you only see in movies. I did too. But no, this really happens. And I pray my vaca time is available whenever they go because only four months ago I was on a plane to New Zealand and I am ITCHING to travel again. Lord, why’d you give me this bug? Maybe I should consider where I’ll be living in the next 5 months instead. But this speaks for itself. I wouldn’t have met this wonderful family if not for the extra time to babysit. Unemployment points: 2 (Meeting people, travel options)

Car troubles- These are a serious pain in my bum (preachin’ to the choir, I know). They’re inevitable. I know I wouldn’t be here now if my Wednesday afternoon wasn’t free last week to get my car checked out. I go in simply to get my heat fixed and inquire about the crying puppy noise my car made when trying to start in sub-zero temps (Not my battery, FYI). All that aside, apparently my front control arm bushings were cracked and around a month away from failing me–meaning I’d be stranded on Route 128 with my front tires on their sides resembling a kid in his first pair of hockey skates.

(See: ankles bending inward)

Glad they caught that one. Since we (sister and bro-in-law, myself) had plans to go back home for Dad’s birthday I drove my car to a wonderful mechanic who charged me a total of $400 vs. the $2500 (not exaggerating) where the Toyota dealership originally quoted me. John the mechanic took my car when I wouldn’t need it and had it fixed when I returned. My hope in mankind dropped a few points until John the mechanic assured me he would fix my car in the cheapest way possible. Unemployment points: 2 (Having time for life’s hiccups, finding hope in mankind)

Home- This was a special weekend during the “Nemo” snowstorm where I spent time with a slew of my cousins and their babies/children snowshoeing and cross-country skiing while celebrating the birthday of an incredible man. (Unemployment points: 1 (Family time)

-Helping Jenny pick out some specs- This was no ordinary trip to the optician. When I got out of work on Monday, Jennifer asked me to come along with her. The independent eye care man asked why we were there if we were from VT…we explained the college thing, yada yada, we graduated… “What are you doing now?” I told him I’ve had a hell of a time finding permanent work. He explained without us asking that he spent seven years in college without getting a degree and he owns 3 glasses stores. We talked for a good 20 minutes about this…in the eye office…and he told me not to worry. Thanks man! Unemployment points: 2 (Hope given in the form of an optician…would’ve missed it if I had been working at 3:00 on a Monday.)

-Bachelor Unemployment points: 0 (Waste of my time)

TOTAL UNEMPLOYMENT POINTS: 13 

#ProblemProne

Sometimes I hashtag things in my head. I can’t even recall the last time I used a real hashtag for the intended function of a hashtag. But today I did a little “Happy 60th birthday @Twitterlessdad! 60 years young! #Iloveyou” in my head.

This handsome photo of my father was taken a year ago on his 59th and today is his 60th. And wouldn’t ya know, the one person I practically owe my life to and wish I could be with on his 60th birthday DOESN’T HAVE A TWITTER or a Facebook where I can bombard his wall with sweet little nothings, inside jokes and photos from papa’s birthdays past? What am I supposed to make a card or something? It’s been THAT long since I’ve written on paper? I used to pride myself on handwritten notes, homemade birthday cards and party invites. Knowing that I’ll be making the trek back home to Vermont to celebrate, I thought with the little time I had, I could scrounge up some paper and markers. Alas, we have none. Then, subconsciously in response to a video I watched this morning, I did a little #firstworldproblem hashtag and silently complained about the lack of art supplies in my dingy apartment (One thing I cannot blame on my dingy apartment is the lack of art supplies. That is most obviously my fault). In lieu of the video below, you’ll see that I didn’t quite get the point.

So to top it off, I then became grumpy that because my wise father is social media-less and doesn’t care to even hear about what people are tweeting or posting, I can’t wish him a heartfelt “Happy Birthday.” Who am I? #lazy #complacent.

And after a second viewing of this video, I’ve concluded we’re all downright twisted for calling our problems problems. Or maybe we are simply making our lives more problem prone.

Take a look at this video

I’ll be honest, I hate watching videos like this. It irks my soul so much that my meager little desire to bring water to these folks seems too meager to do anything. As I drink my overrated bland skinny caffe mocha, not even parched for water, simply wishing I could snap my fingers and have all those little children in my kitchen with empty water jugs, filling them one at a time, then watching them guzzle it down till they feel refreshed, I think if only we could get them here.  We must bring it to them, however. Sometimes our collective care for these people and realization that we are undeservedly blessed is enough for us. Can’t we take that one, two, five steps further? Looking around, there is so much going on to combat water scarcity. If you have the same helpless desire as I do, do some serious research on an organization to be sure their resources are allocated how they say. Then get involved.

Here are some ideas:

-Like shoes? Here are some stylish choices. And with every purchase, you’re helping bring water wells to sub-Saharan Africa. Win. Win.

– Here you can donate to provide water and scarcity solutions to villages in the developing world.

– Competitive? Creative? These guys are welcoming creative solutions to combat water scarcity (with prizes) while connecting water innovators all over the world who do the same.

– Here, Water for People takes donations for 10 thirsty countries around the world. You can choose where your money will go. They also offer volunteer opportunities.

pump da breaks

So maybe I shouldn’t be so presumptuous, but things are looking up a little over here.

You’re probably saying, “Rachael, that’s what you said after your fifth job interview.” Yeah, you make a valid point, but I at least have some work right now to keep me busy (Where’s my medal?). Thanks to a wonderful friend who put me in touch with now another wonderful friend who is gracious to have me help out in his publishing office. (P.S. visit my wonderful friend’s blog: www.werewolfjesusbook.blogspot.com. You will not be disappointed).

After months of having about one job prospect at a time, I now potentially have five. My, when it rains, it pours! Except it’s pouring interviews…good pour! I’m trying to be more intentional about compartmentalizing my relaxed mind vs. my “job search mind.” I think it helps. So I’m going to steer from the heavier employment stuff and drive headfirst into the lighthearted talk here.

Hence, this ad I found on my favorite local ice cream shoppe‘s Facebook page.

It obviously screams my name and I simply just thought it was a little “fitting.” Not to mention the pint-sized puppy pictured who I’d be more than willing to share my ice cream with. Just to see his wittle wips lick it up. Melting right now.

So segway… I just Tweeted a dumb Tweet about TLC and the shows that tug at my heart strings just like that real life ice cream for breakfast ad (Sometimes when I cry alone about something I know is absurd, I have a strange urge to Tweet about it). I’m currently watching “Say Yes to the Dress” and just cried incessantly for five minutes about a couple who met on a blind date. They say they immediately knew they wanted to marry each other. Oh what is love? How does TLC do it?

And gosh, what made life’s milestones such tear-jerkers? Did people cry at weddings 1000 years ago? If I did EVERYTHING backwards, would everyone be just as emotional when I have babies at 50 or get married at 90? Would I? I may even go the next step and ask, why am I not in a nursing home now?

Ok the answer to all those questions would be a loud, “Rach, you’re being irrational.” There is a cultural norm we follow. To break from that, we’d all get trampled like baby simba in the midst of a wildebeest stampede. But it just goes to show how everyone is in such a rush to live.

“You best get sloshed every night of college because no one drinks after college.” Wrong. “You best eat all the food you want now because losing the weight only gets harder.” Unintelligent. So get fat now because it gets harder to lose later? Again, unintelligent. “You best figure out what you want to do now because the fate of your future depends on it.” Preposterous!

Hell, if I want to be a personal trainer, I will be a personal trainer. And if I want to get married at 90, try and stop me. But who put these invisible rules in place? At the rate we’re rushing life, college will start where high school is supposed to. Babies will come out with full beards. And my worst nightmare: next year at age 24 I’ll be sagging in places that were once just a little firm.

Who is saving us from this roller coaster we really have no choice but to ride? I have a couple answers. First off, my disclaimer stands, I am 150% happy for those who follow the stereotypical path and meet success/the love of their life and multiply babies. That is awesome. I do, however, highly respect those who are choosing their own path and resisting the force to conform to one they know wouldn’t suit them. Now to be a little narcissistic, if I had to place myself in one of those categories, it’d be the latter–or borderline because I AM conforming to the “have a job out of college or die” stereotype. Happy to report, however, that I am not yet dead.

It slipped my mind that I’ll be gone this weekend for a little Vermont getaway with my roommate Amanda. She’s a skier. I like to snowboard and my gracious mother finagled some free lift tickets to my childhood mountain, Sugarbush. We’re gonna cruise home, have some of Wendylicious’ fabulous home-cooked chicken pot pie, have a brew with my pops, and ride the mountain all day tomorrow. Long story short, I can’t make it to the ICFBD (Ice Cream for Breakfast Day) here in MA. But honestly, the whole idea DOES tug at my heartstrings–that someone shares this unconventional dream about ice cream. It belongs in our bellies whenever we please: 23, 50, or 90 years old.

I watched my first episode of South Park when I was way too young to watch my first episode of South Park, and I have since enjoyed quoting Cartman just because I wanted to spread this movement that we don’t have to be unruly rebels without a cause, but we can be free. “Whatever! I do what I want!” (The only thing worth remembering about that show in my opinion). But profound, nonetheless. Who TF cares about normal eating traditions? Marriage, baby, weight loss traditions? All I’m learning from churning this around is that we’re a little too afraid to do things the “wrong” way. So please, if you’re nearby, slow down your frontwards life and go eat some of dat ice cream for breakfast in my place. Thanks.

mismatched

I need to do laundry. Now.

That’s how my day started.

I have never matched my socks. But sometimes I at least try to get the colors right. And normally I can get a white with a white or a blue with a blue if I have clean laundry. I packed the same pair of spandex today that I wore to the gym yesterday. Aka desperate status.

I wrote a paper once in high school on how pointless it is to match socks. Oh so stupid stupid stupid! You ignorant little high school know-it-all! Now in my old age, I feel like it would slice at least five minutes off my morning routine if I took the three minutes to match them. If my punk self in high school realized how transient time would be someday, I might have known better now to do laundry this week.

Worst thing: I could turn from my old ways and match them. But since I’ve spent so many years lazily pretending grey-toed socks went with my nike ankles, and ALL socks with “KB” on the toe matched regardless of color, then moving to college, four apartments later, now God only knows where the real matches went. It evokes similar feelings of driving all the way to the gym without my sneaks. You can’t go back and if you do your workout is going to suck (this actually happened last night). I can’t go back to matching my socks BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHERE THEY ARE and I could buy some but shopping sucks. You get it.

It’s probably analogous of how I haven’t been a match for jobs yet. Or despite how much I convince myself, my country Vermont roots don’t really match where I live right now. Or how regardless of how weird and quirky I’m being, sometimes I can’t expect everyone to understand or match what I’m thinking. Or that when I blog in Starbucks, my name on my cup doesn’t match the spelling I’d prefer. Or maybe I’m just anal and actually, my life would be a downright BORE if everything matched.

Sorry about that face. I had to do it discretely in Starbucks.

That stuff’s all probably true, but not as true as the last line. I’ll come to the stalemate that, yea, my life is really fun and unpredictable because nothing matches. But for my next interview you best bet I’ll be matchin’ my socks and it’s going to look really frickin good.

pomp and circumstances

Today deserves a little celebration.

It took me about eight months to get a blog together. That, I’ll tell you though is not indicative of my lifestyle. In fact, I’ve been spending most (ok, all) of those months looking for a job.

Say it. YOU ARE ONE PATHETIC LOSER!

Maybe I am. I actually am, but I’ll argue for different reasons. In my eight-month panic of job searching and the voice in my head “Blog, Rachael. Blog,” I put it off because I freaked. Well if I don’t bang out 132 applications by noon, I won’t have a job by September! GAH!

Well, February is close at hand and I still don’t (aside from some freelance gigs and getting paid to wipe boogers and watch consecutive episodes of Phineas and Ferb). So I thought heck, I’ve gone this far without steady employment. I’ll cash in my chips and enjoy the time while I can. I’m not one to regret things. But I do regret putting it off just a little because during that whole time my head was a river flowing with undocumented ideas. Now I’m trying to resurrect them.

For the sake of making a long story short, here is my eight-month review, or just a sequence of seemingly disappointing events. And I’ll explain later why they in fact, are not.

May-

-Graduation!

Thoughts at the time: THE WORLD IS MINE. Woo! I’ll watch my 5-year-old best friend, Grady for the summer, blog about how much I love him, get $, and take incessant trips to all North Shore beaches even when he’s sick of it (Sorry G). Then with my degree in Communication Arts and a little journalism under my belt, no sweat I’ll score a big girl creative marketing job in the heart of Boston.

In the meantime, my guy:

June- Still Grady

-Move to a stinky little downtown Beverly apt.

Thoughts at the time: Missing my house on Cabot St. Now living beneath a herd of elephants. The screaming, jumping, fighting, and loud sexual activity can stop any day now. We might as well make it cute while we’re here, though. We did. And I kept watching this little guy.

July-

-Home July 4th

 

August-

-Birthday, 23

Thoughts at the time: I’m old. What will I do with my life?

My last day of 3 summers with this boy on the Friendship of Salem and his dearest friend Eliza (also my girl) 

Thoughts at the time: I will miss these children like my own (even though I have no idea what that’s like).

-Better start applying for jobs!

-Interview

Thoughts: NAILED it!

-“We’re sorry Rachael. We are pursuing other candidates at this time…”

-Thinking about a possible trip to New Zealand

September-

-Referred by a friend for a wonderful Marketing Assistant position at a bank in Salem.

-Interview

Thoughts at the time: NAILED it! I’m set. I told them I might be away for a little while. They say it shouldn’t interfere with the process.

October- Under the invaluable advice from a wise friend, Kira, I would never find a better time to travel abroad to the country of my dreams: New Zealand. I have a close friend who moved out there a year ago and I gave her my hopeless word, “I’ll visit you someday if I can!” Yea right. Well, SUCK IT HESITATION. My gracious father offered me plane tickets to New Zealand…for three weeks…by myself for a graduation present.

New Zealand-

Thoughts during the trip: I don’t deserve this! I could totally live here. Meanwhile, I’m waiting to hear about a job interview I had and REALLY wanted with very little Internet access (except for Macca’s wifi, aka what Kiwis call MacDonalds). I’m still going to enjoy myself, however.

Chuck, my pet during my stay

Hot springs!

Met some great friends.

Breakfast feast on my last day

California- On my flight back to the states, I stop in LA to meet up with two of my closest friends from two different poles of my life: college and childhood. We spend a night in a hotel with a nice pool/hottub, do a little shopping and dining out. Suddenly, voicemails pour into my phone, one from Salem, MA, two weeks old.

“Rachael, we’d like you to come in and meet a few more people here at the bank and speak further about this position.” I call immediately. In the voice of Sally Field in Mrs. Doubtfire, “We’re sorry. The position has been filled.”

Thoughts at the time: Do not resent this amazing trip for the loss of a potential job offer. But you will probably end up living in trash bins on the streets of Beverly, MA.

-Interview with a newspaper with a good reference and after much care with my application and follow-up.

-“We went with someone who has a little more experience, but we’d be happy to circulate your email for freelance opportunities.”

-Freelance

Thoughts at the time: This is hardly paying the bills.

November-

-Babysit an infant

-Freelance

-Thanksgiving with Mom, Pops, Gram and Gramps

Thoughts at the time: thankful.

December-

-Rue La La calls about an opening for a month-long product description writer

Thoughts: This place is my dream! This job is my dream and a great opportunity if only for a month.

-I start Monday.

-NYC with my precious friends for the weekend

-Rue La La. “We’re sorry temp workers, but we have all the help we need for the holidays now. Thanks for your time.

Thoughts at the time: I am defeated, Poo La La.

-But I had all the time to go home for a white Christmas! With my beautiful family.

Thoughts at the time: Keep your head up Rach, be home, love your family, and return to Beverly with vengeance!

2013!

-Whipping out the applications like boom boom boom boom.

-Couple phone calls

-Couple rejections

Thoughts at the time: Obviously they weren’t meant to be

-Two interviews last week

CURRENTLY WAITING IN FAITH

My mom is the ultimate encourager and an avid Facebooker, (sharer, liker, commenter, poster) of about three years now. As cheesy as you may perceive this (could you call it a meme?) I love it. Because it’s simply what I needed to hear when she “sent it to my wall.” And apparently the fine print reads, “The Time Warp Wife.” I can think of multiple interpretations of that right now. And whether that part was suggestive of my relationship status or not, Mumma, I’ll take the message at face value. Thank you.

Lessons and cleared misconceptions:

I am not old. At all.

The screaming, jumping, fighting, and loud sexually activity persists above my bedroom today.

I am learning the distinction between joy and happiness. Believing we are entitled to happiness is utter ignorance. Choose joy.

I am identifying more where I’d want a career path to take me.

I am learning the biggest lesson in self-sufficiency.

I am surrounded by awesome roommates who I can pick on and they pick on me.

I am learning that we must wait in faith, not fear. (Mark 4:40)

Networking has lent to meeting some amazing people.

I’m dating myself and ice cream and enjoying it (said in the most un-narcissistic way possible and I do attend a gym, for the record).

Exploration is at the root of what I do.

Self pity will eat you up.