So, since the other day I talked quite a bit about why football/Fantasy Football is stupid, I figured I would follow up with a little explanation, so maybe some of you won't hate me as much.
Where I went to college (and I think, oh, about 40 thousand other students would agree,) we weren't very good at football. I don't mean that in a hating-on-my-alma-mater kind of way. I don't mean that in a we-didn't-have-Tim-Tebow kind of way. What I mean is, we kind of suck at football. I've never been to game for a different college football team, but in my comparison of a group of guys watching NFL and a group of guys watching UCF games, here's my observation:
When guys (or anyone) is watching their team on NFL (and my assumption is, any other "good" college team), they clap and cheer when the team scores or makes and awesome play. (Don't misjudge me here, I have no idea what an "awesome play" is, but I'm imagining like, the wide receiver catching the ball with his feet and cartwheeling into the end zone.) When fans watch the Knights play football, we clap whenever we don't screw up. No, seriously, it's like "wohooooo! Yeahhhhh!" *applause* *cheering* "Yeah we didn't fumble!!!" You think I'm joking? I spent a few hours this weekend at an alumni event to watch the game against OSU, trust me on this one, I'm right. Still don't believe me? The next UCF game or watch-party you're at, take a gander.
Like, we're so not-great at football, our school has a saying, "win or lose, we still booze!" Which brings me to my next point. I went to a college that had tailgating season, not football season. Sure, to some die-hard Forever Knights, it was football season. Of course the fraternity houses set up huge projector-screen TVs for away games. Of course we had a beautiful stadium and game-time rituals and songs and chants. But we also had tailgating, and it was epic and incredible and, in my eyes, is a sport way more deserving of an entire season.
What could be better than wearing your team's colors, running around campus, shotgunning beers (extra points if you do this on a fraternity-guy's shoulders with your roommate,) eating cheeseburgers freshly grilled on a Coleman, chanting Zombie Nation with random strangers, and, did I mention, getting drunk in the middle of the day?
I honestly don't know if the noon or 7pm games were my favorite throughout undergrad. For games at noon, we would be up at 6am drinking mimosas, but for the 7pm games, we had the entire day to prance around Memory Mall and consume beer to our little hearts' content. Now do you see why it's called tailgating season?
Like I said, I've never been to a football game for any other schools, so maybe everyone does this... but just like those Florida Gators are holding on to their beloved "we have the best football team ever" even after Tim Tebow is long gone, I'm standing by my team: UCF definitely wins at tailgating.
Love,
N
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The 11th Anniversary of 9/11
So, I really had a completely other post topic planned for today, but I realized this morning that it is the anniversary of September 11th, 2001. Which is now called Patriot Day. So I feel like writing a snarky post about something else was slightly inappropriate.
Which brings me to the dilemma of not being offensive if I am slightly snarky about September 11th.
I completely understand how serious and tragic that day was. I can still vividly see video clips replaying in my mind, smoke billowing from two buildings. I remember exactly what happened that morning on September 11th, 2001.
I was in 6th grade that year. Every morning, I walked to the bus stop, which happened to be not very close to my house. Middle school started late in my county. I would stand at the bus stop by myself, since my sister was still in 5th grade. A blonde girl, named Sarah or Emily or something plain that I don't remember, was also at my bus stop, and her grandmother would sit in the mini van at the bus stop and watch us all, making sure a kidnapper didn't pull over on the side of the road, toss all of us children into the back of a van, and speed off to sell us into slavery.
That morning, Sarah/Emily/Jane's grandmother repeated what she had heard on the radio. A plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. Us kids, we all marveled at how tragic that plane crash was, wondering if a pilot had been drunk or sick. None of us even knew what terrorism was. I had never heard of Afghanistan. That morning, at the bus stop, I can't remember if we heard about the second plane or not. Sarah/Jane/Emily's grandmother let us all on to the bus. No one really knew what was going on. Like I said, no one had heard of Afghanistan or terrorism... we all thought it was an accident.
Fast forward to school, and all I remember was sitting in my math class. I've always been a nerd, and I was in a magnet program at my middle school with accelerated math and sciences. Which meant I had two periods of math class that year. I also think, being my first class, that was also considered my "homeroom." I don't remember if I went to other classes that day. All I remember is sitting in my desk and staring at the TV, which had been wheeled around on the AV cart, as the news replayed the video footage, over and over. Staring at the TV. Staring. For hours. Every student in Mrs. Higgings-Miller's classroom stared at that TV.
We heard about Afghanistan. Osama Bin Laden. Al Qaeda. Terrorists. We had no idea what any of that meant. Surely, no one would fly a perfectly good airplane directly into a perfectly good building on purpose. But, how could the same accident happen twice? And then again in the Pentagon? What was going on?
I think the entire world was confused that day. I think, in addition to the enormous amount of lives lost that day, the second most tragic part of that event wsa how confused America was. No one knew what was going on, or why. Sure, the news attempted to explain it to us, but it was like someone was explaining brain surgery to me. I was clueless.
I don't remember if I went to any other classes that day. I don't remember if our school had a "lock down," as if thousands of terrorists themselves were going to storm little John F. Kennedy Middle School in the middle of the ghetto. I don't think any of the teachers taught. There really was no point. Everyone was distracted. Once everything started to process, parents started pulling students out of school left and right. My parents didn't take me out of school. I got home that day and asked what had happened, and I'm sure my mom tried to explain it to me, but she had no idea.
The next few years of my life were peppered with commercials for commemorate plates, coins, figurines, posters, photos, books for 9/11. Every English class I had for the next few years assigned a paper to write about your experience that Tuesday morning. Every house suddenly had a flag hanging outside. The American camraderie was incredible. Quite possibly, the post card I have of the Twin Towers will be a relic in a few decades. Everyone learned where Afghanistan was on a map. And all the other "-stan" countries.
September 11th is probably the most eye-opening tragedies of my generation. Maybe it was party my 6th-grade naivety and ignorance, but I feel like a lot more of America realized there were countries in-between Germany and China. The entire scope and war as we know it changed. I can't say I knew anyone who lost their life in the towers or the Pentagon. I didn't know any of the rescue heroes. I didn't have any connection to New York City. I'm not Muslim, I don't deal with prejudiced repercussions of extremist hate. I didn't suffer from September 11, but that event and America after will remain an incredible and powerful influence on the life I lead.
Love,
N
Which brings me to the dilemma of not being offensive if I am slightly snarky about September 11th.
I completely understand how serious and tragic that day was. I can still vividly see video clips replaying in my mind, smoke billowing from two buildings. I remember exactly what happened that morning on September 11th, 2001.
I was in 6th grade that year. Every morning, I walked to the bus stop, which happened to be not very close to my house. Middle school started late in my county. I would stand at the bus stop by myself, since my sister was still in 5th grade. A blonde girl, named Sarah or Emily or something plain that I don't remember, was also at my bus stop, and her grandmother would sit in the mini van at the bus stop and watch us all, making sure a kidnapper didn't pull over on the side of the road, toss all of us children into the back of a van, and speed off to sell us into slavery.
That morning, Sarah/Emily/Jane's grandmother repeated what she had heard on the radio. A plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. Us kids, we all marveled at how tragic that plane crash was, wondering if a pilot had been drunk or sick. None of us even knew what terrorism was. I had never heard of Afghanistan. That morning, at the bus stop, I can't remember if we heard about the second plane or not. Sarah/Jane/Emily's grandmother let us all on to the bus. No one really knew what was going on. Like I said, no one had heard of Afghanistan or terrorism... we all thought it was an accident.
Fast forward to school, and all I remember was sitting in my math class. I've always been a nerd, and I was in a magnet program at my middle school with accelerated math and sciences. Which meant I had two periods of math class that year. I also think, being my first class, that was also considered my "homeroom." I don't remember if I went to other classes that day. All I remember is sitting in my desk and staring at the TV, which had been wheeled around on the AV cart, as the news replayed the video footage, over and over. Staring at the TV. Staring. For hours. Every student in Mrs. Higgings-Miller's classroom stared at that TV.
We heard about Afghanistan. Osama Bin Laden. Al Qaeda. Terrorists. We had no idea what any of that meant. Surely, no one would fly a perfectly good airplane directly into a perfectly good building on purpose. But, how could the same accident happen twice? And then again in the Pentagon? What was going on?
I think the entire world was confused that day. I think, in addition to the enormous amount of lives lost that day, the second most tragic part of that event wsa how confused America was. No one knew what was going on, or why. Sure, the news attempted to explain it to us, but it was like someone was explaining brain surgery to me. I was clueless.
I don't remember if I went to any other classes that day. I don't remember if our school had a "lock down," as if thousands of terrorists themselves were going to storm little John F. Kennedy Middle School in the middle of the ghetto. I don't think any of the teachers taught. There really was no point. Everyone was distracted. Once everything started to process, parents started pulling students out of school left and right. My parents didn't take me out of school. I got home that day and asked what had happened, and I'm sure my mom tried to explain it to me, but she had no idea.
The next few years of my life were peppered with commercials for commemorate plates, coins, figurines, posters, photos, books for 9/11. Every English class I had for the next few years assigned a paper to write about your experience that Tuesday morning. Every house suddenly had a flag hanging outside. The American camraderie was incredible. Quite possibly, the post card I have of the Twin Towers will be a relic in a few decades. Everyone learned where Afghanistan was on a map. And all the other "-stan" countries.
September 11th is probably the most eye-opening tragedies of my generation. Maybe it was party my 6th-grade naivety and ignorance, but I feel like a lot more of America realized there were countries in-between Germany and China. The entire scope and war as we know it changed. I can't say I knew anyone who lost their life in the towers or the Pentagon. I didn't know any of the rescue heroes. I didn't have any connection to New York City. I'm not Muslim, I don't deal with prejudiced repercussions of extremist hate. I didn't suffer from September 11, but that event and America after will remain an incredible and powerful influence on the life I lead.
Love,
N
Monday, September 10, 2012
Fantasy Football is Stupid.
Good morning ladies and gents! Why the hell am I so cheery on a Monday? Have you SEEN the weather outside? I'm going to be probably the six thousandth person to comment on how beautiful and fall-like it is!
Regardless, I'm wearing a very "springy" blouse to work today. I don't really have the closet space or cash to invest in an entire wardrobe for each season. I think it matches my mood.
ANYWAYS, I'm not here to talk about girly things like clothing. I'm here to talk about the sport of the season. The only sound that perfectly harmonizes with throwing the windows open on a fresh Fall afternoon. The perfect excuse to eat buffalo wings.
Football!!!
And, more specifically, my lack of ability/interest/obsession with it. Don't get me wrong, I love going to football games. I don't mind watching the Patriots play on a breezy afternoon. But I'm far from a super-fan.
My roommate and my boyfriend (and practically everyone I know) does Fantasy Football. In case you live under a rock, that's where you pick players to make your own team, except your players come from all different teams. And then there's some mystical points system for every play or do-dad that happens on the field. Whatever. Point is, I don't get it. It's like, the average game of football is too boring with the teams that have been carefully selected by coaches and draftsmen (I may have made that title up) and the teams... so let's have everyone make up their own imaginary teams. I really think it's just an excuse for guys to sit around all day on Sunday (and Monday night... and Thursday... and Saturday sometimes) and drink beer and yell at the TV. That's fine, you want to act like a barbarian for the 4-hour game where your team is playing their rival? Cool, go do that. But you're telling me you're going to spend twelve hours yelling at an inanimate object because some running back for the Jaguars didn't get you enough points for your imaginary, non-real, pretend game?
Am I the only one who thinks this sounds completely insane? Maybe I'm just bitter because I have to hear about how many points Wes Welker didn't earn anyone yesterday... but then again, how long could you listen to complaints about a completely made-up and pretend game? Thought so... looks like I'm not alone.
I'm not going to lie, when I originally heard of Fantasy Football, I thought it was women playing the sport in lingerie. Which, apparently, is also a sport in it's own league, also (confusingly) named "Fantasy Football," but at least that one makes sense for guys to be glued to the TV for hours on end. Oh, no, instead of gawking at beautiful and toned women in lacy thongs, our men are hooked on watching sweaty, 400-pound, dreadlocked men run around in tight spandex pants and grunt at each other. I know when I put it in that perspective, you're thinking the only thing gayer would be if the half-time show was a chip-n-dale pole dance. In which case, I might start watching more football...
Alright, since you think I'm a huge hater of everyone's favorite fall activity, I'm going to go now.
Love,
N
Regardless, I'm wearing a very "springy" blouse to work today. I don't really have the closet space or cash to invest in an entire wardrobe for each season. I think it matches my mood.
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| Excuse the mirror shot. |
Football!!!
And, more specifically, my lack of ability/interest/obsession with it. Don't get me wrong, I love going to football games. I don't mind watching the Patriots play on a breezy afternoon. But I'm far from a super-fan.
My roommate and my boyfriend (and practically everyone I know) does Fantasy Football. In case you live under a rock, that's where you pick players to make your own team, except your players come from all different teams. And then there's some mystical points system for every play or do-dad that happens on the field. Whatever. Point is, I don't get it. It's like, the average game of football is too boring with the teams that have been carefully selected by coaches and draftsmen (I may have made that title up) and the teams... so let's have everyone make up their own imaginary teams. I really think it's just an excuse for guys to sit around all day on Sunday (and Monday night... and Thursday... and Saturday sometimes) and drink beer and yell at the TV. That's fine, you want to act like a barbarian for the 4-hour game where your team is playing their rival? Cool, go do that. But you're telling me you're going to spend twelve hours yelling at an inanimate object because some running back for the Jaguars didn't get you enough points for your imaginary, non-real, pretend game?
Am I the only one who thinks this sounds completely insane? Maybe I'm just bitter because I have to hear about how many points Wes Welker didn't earn anyone yesterday... but then again, how long could you listen to complaints about a completely made-up and pretend game? Thought so... looks like I'm not alone.
I'm not going to lie, when I originally heard of Fantasy Football, I thought it was women playing the sport in lingerie. Which, apparently, is also a sport in it's own league, also (confusingly) named "Fantasy Football," but at least that one makes sense for guys to be glued to the TV for hours on end. Oh, no, instead of gawking at beautiful and toned women in lacy thongs, our men are hooked on watching sweaty, 400-pound, dreadlocked men run around in tight spandex pants and grunt at each other. I know when I put it in that perspective, you're thinking the only thing gayer would be if the half-time show was a chip-n-dale pole dance. In which case, I might start watching more football...
Alright, since you think I'm a huge hater of everyone's favorite fall activity, I'm going to go now.
Love,
N
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Rejected, but Inspired.
So, I was a little unsure if I even wanted to write about this today, but, you know, why the heck not. It's my blog. I didn't want this to come off as tooting my own horn or rubbing my selflessness in everyone's face, to show off how great of a person I am. If anything, I was selfish.
On my drive to the super market each week, I often pass a man who sits on the median with a shopping cart of his belongings, reading books. He doesn't beg for money, or hold a sign. He just reads books, in his grungy clothing, next to a shopping cart of his belongings. I normally drive past thinking how hot he must be out in the sun all day. Today, I decided I wanted to do something nice for him. I bought a sandwich and a box of granola bars and a bottle of water from the grocery store, and on my way home I put it all in a grocery bag and at the stoplight, I rolled down my window and offered him lunch.
He turned me down. He said no.
I was shocked. And embarrassed. And confused. This man is homeless. His survival relies a lot on the graciousness of others. Yet he was turning down a cold bottle of water, a turkey and cheese Boar's Head sub, and a box of nonperishable trail mix granola bars. I didn't understand why he would say no.
I think that doing nice or helpful things for others isn't just to benefit the other person. After today, I realized that it is just as much for us as it is for them. I needed to feel like I helped someone, and when I couldn't, it hurt my feelings. As silly as it sounds, doing things for others is kind of selfish. Then again, it's probably the best kind of selfish we can be.
It doesn't happen often, but those few days where the Starbucks barrista gave me my drink for free, or a random person complimented my outfit on campus one day, or someone offered to take a photo of my boyfriend and I instead of us having to ask, those moments make my day a little brighter, and renew my faith in the people around me. I would like to be the reason someone else's day is a little better. It might not happen all the time. I may not be able to afford to make a huge difference, and solve large problems, but I do want to try harder to be a better person to others, just because. Because I shouldn't be upset when someone doesn't receive a favor as well as I would hope. You never know what battles someone is fighting each day... the least we can do is try and be kinder.
Love,
N
On my drive to the super market each week, I often pass a man who sits on the median with a shopping cart of his belongings, reading books. He doesn't beg for money, or hold a sign. He just reads books, in his grungy clothing, next to a shopping cart of his belongings. I normally drive past thinking how hot he must be out in the sun all day. Today, I decided I wanted to do something nice for him. I bought a sandwich and a box of granola bars and a bottle of water from the grocery store, and on my way home I put it all in a grocery bag and at the stoplight, I rolled down my window and offered him lunch.
He turned me down. He said no.
I was shocked. And embarrassed. And confused. This man is homeless. His survival relies a lot on the graciousness of others. Yet he was turning down a cold bottle of water, a turkey and cheese Boar's Head sub, and a box of nonperishable trail mix granola bars. I didn't understand why he would say no.
I think that doing nice or helpful things for others isn't just to benefit the other person. After today, I realized that it is just as much for us as it is for them. I needed to feel like I helped someone, and when I couldn't, it hurt my feelings. As silly as it sounds, doing things for others is kind of selfish. Then again, it's probably the best kind of selfish we can be.
It doesn't happen often, but those few days where the Starbucks barrista gave me my drink for free, or a random person complimented my outfit on campus one day, or someone offered to take a photo of my boyfriend and I instead of us having to ask, those moments make my day a little brighter, and renew my faith in the people around me. I would like to be the reason someone else's day is a little better. It might not happen all the time. I may not be able to afford to make a huge difference, and solve large problems, but I do want to try harder to be a better person to others, just because. Because I shouldn't be upset when someone doesn't receive a favor as well as I would hope. You never know what battles someone is fighting each day... the least we can do is try and be kinder.
Love,
N
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Why Americans Suck: Weight Loss Edition
So, I know I've written a little bit about why I hate diets, and I'm not the only person in the world to admit that they are completely asinine (see Jenna Marbles' video about diets here.) But it's about time I expand on this rant. Welcome to part one of why current American culture is screwed up in the head when it comes to being a healthy, normal human being.
First of all, I'd like to take a good look at this whole "clean eating" nonsense. "Eat real food!" captions every other Pinterest photo of a vegetable these days. Oh, excuse me, what were you eating before? The plastic sandwich from a Fisher Price play kitchen? What is "un-real" food?
I know like, all of you have your hands raised, butt bouncing out of the seat to answer my question. "Real food isn't processed like McDonalds and Lean Cuisine and cookies!" Very good, young grasshopper. I am in full support of the concept of eating real food. Or clean food. (Trust me, anyone who has ever thought the 5-second-rule was okay for something and then ended up with a piece of lint in their mouth knows that un-clean food is not the way to go). My issue is with the fact that Americans have to be told things that should just be common sense. Eating an apple wasn't popular until it became a fad diet. That's like if I started bottling air and selling it, and everyone started breathing expensive bottled air, and one day someone said "HEY GUYS, THE AIR IS FOR FREE IN THE ATMOSPHERE!". The stupidity of my generation really just astounds me.
I get asked quite often how I stay thin, and healthy, and beautiful, and gorgeous, blah blah blah. People make money off of the secrets to being thin (Betheny's entire Skinny Girl empire). I have definitely thought about marketing my "secrets to being thin and healthy." Except... they're not secrets. It makes me so infuriated whenever I see people pinning on Pinterested "OMG amazing weight loss secret!" The "secret" is to get your lazy ass of Pinterest, run around the block, and don't make that crock-pot recipe that uses six cans of cream of mushroom soup... the "secret" is to use your brain. It's not that difficult, people...
At least, I didn't think it was. I guess I live in a culture who didn't grow up with a diabetic mother who is probably one of the last people with diabetes on the earth who isn't overweight. I guess it's close-minded of me to assume that everyone was taught that vegetables have nutrients in them and eating carbs isn't a bad thing and that it's really not that hard to cook anything that comes in a Healthy Choice frozen meal...
So, here's my wight-loss-skinny-healthy-secret: stop being a dumb-ass, eat some carrots, and get your ass off social media sites once in a while. You don't need that sixth cookie. Buy ice cream in those small single-serving containers. Or just use a little self discipline and don't eat the entire carton. Stop starving yourself. Eat breakfast. Stop drinking soda. And, finally, Pinterest-ing photos of Victoria's Secret models and eggplants are not going to help you achieve your goal weight or a healthy lifestyle. Actually. Go. Do. It.
Love,
N
First of all, I'd like to take a good look at this whole "clean eating" nonsense. "Eat real food!" captions every other Pinterest photo of a vegetable these days. Oh, excuse me, what were you eating before? The plastic sandwich from a Fisher Price play kitchen? What is "un-real" food?
I know like, all of you have your hands raised, butt bouncing out of the seat to answer my question. "Real food isn't processed like McDonalds and Lean Cuisine and cookies!" Very good, young grasshopper. I am in full support of the concept of eating real food. Or clean food. (Trust me, anyone who has ever thought the 5-second-rule was okay for something and then ended up with a piece of lint in their mouth knows that un-clean food is not the way to go). My issue is with the fact that Americans have to be told things that should just be common sense. Eating an apple wasn't popular until it became a fad diet. That's like if I started bottling air and selling it, and everyone started breathing expensive bottled air, and one day someone said "HEY GUYS, THE AIR IS FOR FREE IN THE ATMOSPHERE!". The stupidity of my generation really just astounds me.
I get asked quite often how I stay thin, and healthy, and beautiful, and gorgeous, blah blah blah. People make money off of the secrets to being thin (Betheny's entire Skinny Girl empire). I have definitely thought about marketing my "secrets to being thin and healthy." Except... they're not secrets. It makes me so infuriated whenever I see people pinning on Pinterested "OMG amazing weight loss secret!" The "secret" is to get your lazy ass of Pinterest, run around the block, and don't make that crock-pot recipe that uses six cans of cream of mushroom soup... the "secret" is to use your brain. It's not that difficult, people...
At least, I didn't think it was. I guess I live in a culture who didn't grow up with a diabetic mother who is probably one of the last people with diabetes on the earth who isn't overweight. I guess it's close-minded of me to assume that everyone was taught that vegetables have nutrients in them and eating carbs isn't a bad thing and that it's really not that hard to cook anything that comes in a Healthy Choice frozen meal...
So, here's my wight-loss-skinny-healthy-secret: stop being a dumb-ass, eat some carrots, and get your ass off social media sites once in a while. You don't need that sixth cookie. Buy ice cream in those small single-serving containers. Or just use a little self discipline and don't eat the entire carton. Stop starving yourself. Eat breakfast. Stop drinking soda. And, finally, Pinterest-ing photos of Victoria's Secret models and eggplants are not going to help you achieve your goal weight or a healthy lifestyle. Actually. Go. Do. It.
Love,
N
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Hot Dogs, Arabic, and Anxiety
Well, I said I'd tryyyyyy to be better at posting! But I finally have a few silent moments to share my life with you. Well, silent except for the lady bug flying all over my room. Excuse me, ladybug, but why are you flying so much? They are just not aerodynamic creatures.
Two weeks ago, my boyfriend was back in town! He was able to come in Thursday night, so we had plenty of time to play in the city. We rode the Capital BikeShare around the monuments one day, and went to the American History Smithsonian and did some other typical touristy stuff, including getting hot dogs from the street carts, which is my favorite thing to do when I'm traipsing around sight seeing! I love living in a city where I can "vacation" in my own "backyard." (In reality, if I were to vacation in my legitimate backyard, I'd get eaten by mosquitoes and bored.)
The weekend ended with he and I "grabbing lunch and drinks" at a local gay bar called Freddie's Beach Bar. Yes, we were the only straight people in there. No, my boyfriend did not mind. No, he isn't homosexual. Yes, there were rainbows. And I put our plans in quotations because they were just that... plans. The actual series of events went more like this: I eat practically nothing because I'm strangely not hungry, then drink 10 beers, then four hours later we stumble home and I wake up at 1am still in my clothes and still very drunk. Let's just say that while that afternoon was a blasty-blast, getting up to take him to the airport and go to work Monday morning had me very unhappy. Woof. It was not a pretty sight.
Two weeks ago, my boyfriend was back in town! He was able to come in Thursday night, so we had plenty of time to play in the city. We rode the Capital BikeShare around the monuments one day, and went to the American History Smithsonian and did some other typical touristy stuff, including getting hot dogs from the street carts, which is my favorite thing to do when I'm traipsing around sight seeing! I love living in a city where I can "vacation" in my own "backyard." (In reality, if I were to vacation in my legitimate backyard, I'd get eaten by mosquitoes and bored.)
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| Look at that stud! |
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| And here I am, just practicing being Lance Armstrong |
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| The most delicious burger shack in DC! |
Since then, it's been the typical stuff. Going out on weekends, working all week, blah blah blah. I've gotten really overwhelmed with anxiety lately, and now that it's finally caught up with me I'm going to work hard this week to kick it. It's just been one thing after another popping up and demanding priority in my life.
I'm also trying to learn Arabic. And when I say that, I mean, I did four lessons of Rosetta Stone and I have no freaking clue what they're saying. At least with Spanish, I can use word stems and context clues and conjugation endings to figure it out. Oh, yeah, and the letters look "normal." What is Arabic even written in? Well, Arabic, obviously, but... okay, I'm just going to stop right there. It looks like doodles. That's it.
Alright, well, I'm in the mood for a really hot shower and a cold glass of ice water and some sleep. (Warning, I may be morphing into a grandma).
Love,
N
Monday, August 6, 2012
Hello There, It's Been a While!
Hi lovely readers! Well, those of you that are still left!! I'm back! I know, you were getting worried, weren't you? Well, I have a lot to update you on!
It's been a hectic couple of months, but things are finally settling down... I guess... in actuality, I think things are getting even busier, but I have some peace of mind so it's way more bearable. It's crazy how much of an emotional impact not having your own "space" and "home" can be. It was such a test of my patience and my character, but I think I'm a better and more enlightened person from the experience, even if only slightly.
But... we have a house! After a month straight of disappointing searches, we finally found the PERFECT humble abode for the next couple of years.
Now that we're getting settled in, though, I've been able to concentrate on the more enjoyable parts of life. And update you on the fun times that happened pre-move that I just never got around to posting about. I have a 15 minute door-to-door commute to work, instead of the 45+ drive before we moved. Thank you, Pentagon City.
Anyways, I didn't get around to posting the America-themed shorts I made for the 4th of July, but considering it's over a month later, you can just look at photos of them on me. That's a good compromise.
Oh, that last photo is from our one-year-anniversary dinner. We went to an adorable Italian bistro in DuPont Circle and I discovered my love for Stella beers. It was cute and romantic and precious and perfect.
He's actually coming back this upcoming weekend, so clearly I'm late on posting. I'm looking forward to a more relaxing time with him, and being able to make him dinner in our kitchen and whatnot. I'll wait while you go vomit at how cute we are.
Okay, back? Perfect. I guess my only other noteworthy tidbit was my first-paycheck-present. I decided that since I have a real job, I could treat myself to something I would normally never buy for myself. I actually slacked and waiting until my third paycheck, but this shiny new Michael Kors purse was my splurge to myself. And yes, this photo was taken in my office.
It's been a hectic couple of months, but things are finally settling down... I guess... in actuality, I think things are getting even busier, but I have some peace of mind so it's way more bearable. It's crazy how much of an emotional impact not having your own "space" and "home" can be. It was such a test of my patience and my character, but I think I'm a better and more enlightened person from the experience, even if only slightly.
But... we have a house! After a month straight of disappointing searches, we finally found the PERFECT humble abode for the next couple of years.
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| It's so cute! I just uploaded the back yard, because I don't know how to blur out the address. |
Of course, new house meant new furniture, and that meant IKEA, and that meant having to read these horrendous "directions." Woof. It took my roommate and I six whole hours to put together a bed and a dresser. Obnoxious.
Anyways, I didn't get around to posting the America-themed shorts I made for the 4th of July, but considering it's over a month later, you can just look at photos of them on me. That's a good compromise.
The boyfriend came up to see me the weekend after that. We did all the typical touristy things, like seeing the monuments (in 78435-degree weather, woof) and eating hot dogs from the street carts and visiting the Smithsonian museums. He thought the Smithsonian was just one museum. He was incredibly surprised when I told him there were actually like, 20 different ones. We saw like, every single inch of Air and Space (except the planets, which I really wanted to see, but this was his weekend) and the new Propaganda exhibit at the Holocaust museum.
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| Gettysburg Address |
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| I love hot dogs from street carts. Guilty pleasure. |
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| My favorite monument! |
He's actually coming back this upcoming weekend, so clearly I'm late on posting. I'm looking forward to a more relaxing time with him, and being able to make him dinner in our kitchen and whatnot. I'll wait while you go vomit at how cute we are.
Okay, back? Perfect. I guess my only other noteworthy tidbit was my first-paycheck-present. I decided that since I have a real job, I could treat myself to something I would normally never buy for myself. I actually slacked and waiting until my third paycheck, but this shiny new Michael Kors purse was my splurge to myself. And yes, this photo was taken in my office.
And, my job is going great, thanks for asking! (Oh, you didn't? Well, my blog, my topics...) Classes start in a month and so things are starting to pick up and be crazy busy. I would rather it be busy than not, though. Today flew by and I had to make myself leave when I realized I had stayed an hour late and just about everyone else had left. I'm starting to feel more and more like I "belong" there... and fewer people think I'm an intern, so that's a plus. No, seriously... it's been an issue.
Alright, there, now you're caught up to speed on my life. No more complaining. I'll try and be better, I promise. Happy Monday!
Love,
N
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