I Climbed a Mountain, and Other Things.

Ya’hearrrrd me. I climbed a 14,110ft mountain this weekend with pals M&M and B. The adventure started with a drunken plan hatched by M&M and I about a week ago, and B decided to drive down from the bustling metropolis of Denver to join in on the fun. After watching our Hawks dominate, hatching a devious plan to make Pikes Peak our bitch, and playing a lively game of Naked Photo Hunt, we got after it. We planned on taking off around sunrise, which is about 7am. Right.

Awful morning person that I am (as in, don’t talk to me if you’d like to keep your fingers), I got myself out of bed after five or fewer hours of sleep and started getting ready. I went to the nearest 24-hour Wal-mart after work the night before to get a new backpack and some super-attractive men’s hiking boots. I looked gooood, if you’re the Brawny Man. I received a text from B the next morning saying that she hadn’t gotten to sleep until 3am (silly girls stayed up watching Something Borrowed—of course they couldn’t sleep! Nightmare!) and she was having second thoughts about climbing a fourteener (that’s a 14,000+ foot mountain, for those of you less rugged and outdoorsy than we are) after so little rest. So we agreed we’d all go back to bed until 8am, and they’d be at my place around 9am.

So, the girls got to my place around 10am. We didn’t start the hike until 11am. Not a brilliant idea. We started off pretty awesome actually—hiking two miles up a mountain in less than an hour. After lunch, though, we got into the more scenic areas of the rock, and of course had to stop and take a picture or hundreds. It was pretty amazing trekking on and looking back to see how far we’d come… unfortunately, when we got above the ridgeline, it was easier to see how far we had left to go. By the way, B had NEVER been on a real hike before in her life—grrrl’s either crazy or BA. Or both. (:

The stretch right before Devil’s Playground was pretty tough. The steep incline was intense and there were no rocks or any other form of traction. There was also a stretch of trail that literally dropped off within two feet—one misstep and you meet your rocky death in a 127 hour-style bloodbath. I’m just saying. Anywho, after Devil’s Playground it got all boulder-y and stuff and we ran into a nice young couple (I don’t know if the two dudes were actually a couple, but they are for this story) that began commiserating with B, who had started second-guessing her life choices. Conversation:

1^st half of Cute Asian Couple: How are you guys in such good shape? This sucks.
B: I’m literally contemplating suicide!
Bai: Well, I feel like that’s maybe a little dramatic.
B: No it’s not! I’M SERIOUS!

In her defense, we had hit another patch of incline that made our quads burn worse than a scenario in a bad romance novel, and the Peak looked pretty far away. As we continued our journey to the top, B continued to mutter hilarious one-liners about how this was the worst idea she ever had, she was going to die on the mountain, vultures were circling, etc. But haters be damed! Homegirl made it all the way to the top without becoming vulture-food—I did not have to climb back down and get her and she even beat the cute Asian man-couple who had supposedly climbed 11 fourteeners. Mmmhmmm. I should mention that 2^nd half thought there were mountains in Iowa. So….. grain of salt.

After climbing through rocks with no trail and nothing to guide us but stacked rocks called “cairns,” I finally saw a guard rail. We made it! M asked if I was close enough to hit it with a snowball. I said if I was Brian Wilson, I could. When the rocks ended, I was so excited I scurried up the mud-sand Exorcist-style and collapsed to the ground when I realized we still had a ways to go. Sometimes I’m a little too optimistic for my own good. But, tired and covered in mud, we indeed conquered the Peak. We were all pretty proud of ourselves for defeating our first fourteener on a very warm October Sunday. I mean, we climbed a mother-effing mountain!! Warning: it’s actually super-duper addictive. I cannot wait to do it again, but since it’s already snowy, thunderstorm-y, and freezing cold on top of most of the mountains, that will have to wait until another year.

In other news… that isn’t the only awesome thing about life lately. I found a j-o-b! I start working at the kiddie-hospital next week, and I think it’s going to feel pretty good to do something that’s actually directly helping someone for once. The only school option I’ve considered other than law school has been getting my masters in international health, so perhaps this will help me make my decision. Pretty effing stoked, y’all.

So that was numero uno on my get-your-shit together list. I’ve been working—and running—towards number two and I signed up for my first 5k Halloween weekend! Of course, remembering that Halloween is my favorite holiday EVAH and that weekend will likely be an epic boozefest, I wouldn’t expect records, but IT STILL COUNTS. I also bought some CrossFit classes on Living Social because they were super cheap and I apparently enjoy extreme physical pain and public humiliation. I’ll keep you posted.

I also de-cluttered and deep-cleaned my apartment and hosted my first party (during which we drank spiked slushies and watched the disappointing shit-show that was the Glee premiere)—I even got rid of my ancient mattress! I recycled it! It was only supposed to cost $10, but a funny thing happened: I put it on my porch and made an appointment for the dude to pick it up and collect the cash from me, but I woke up in the morning and it had magically disappeared! Translation: dude felt so bad that I’d been sleeping on a pile of springs like a homeless person that he decided to trash it fo’ free.

Also, I removed “move to Denver” from my list for now. I love my apartment—it’s cheap and it’s perfect for me, plus I’d miss the mountains and hiking in the mornings and finding bears in my trees. Instead, I’ve added the goal to give up soda! Okay, cut back on soda. But I’m keeping my morning coffee. If I quit that shit cold-turkey AND gave up caffeine altogether, I would kill everyone. Annnd I am working with a couple of friends to start a new young-professionals group (round two) and make Colorado Springs a little more fun for those of us who aren’t all Bible-thumpy.

In short, I’ve already got my list about half-way done and it’s only been a week! I mean, I’m getting back into shape, I’ve stopped being a twitchy, caffeine-addicted hoarder, and I climbed a fucking MOUNTAIN. October’s such a busy month that I may just lose my shit all over again, but for the time being I’ve got it together and I’m one of those assholes that loves her life and can’t stop smiling about it. Suck it, Mr. Krabs!

Now please excuse me while I drink Bailey’s and coffee and watch Tangled at an obscene volume. I’m trying to vindicate my neighbors’ suspicions that I’m crazy. PEACE.

Get Your Shit Together!

“It’s never too late–in fiction or in life–to revise.” -Nancy Thayer

Ok, I get it. I suck. I admit I suck. The first step is admitting the problem right? It’s been, like, four months since my last confession. A lot has happened since then, hence my lack of posts. I’m busy!

I have officially been in the CO for a year now, and aside from the purpose of this post, I couldn’t be happier. I got a couple of pretty good jobs in my area of study right after graduation, and I should probably have been more grateful for that since I know a lot of friends and classmates who weren’t so lucky. Alas, the ever restless nomad that I am left the second big-kid job (the reasons for which will get their own post soon enough) and came to a startling realization: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE!! (Help?)

I didn’t want to rush into things, so in true Bailey fashion, I spent my entire summer dicking around and enjoying myself instead of, oh, I don’t know, applying for jobs or schools. Among other things, I traveled all over the state of Colorado, road-tripped home to Iowa, jetted off to Chicago for Lollapalooza (uh-friggin-mazing BTW) and took camping and festival trips. I went white-water rafting and entertained visitors. I felt an earthquake. I saw a wild bear—in person. I checked 30 Seconds to Mars, Incubus at Red Rocks, Coldplay, Foo Fighters, Bright Eyes, and a handful of others off my musical bucket list. I conquered the Manitou Incline and stood at Pikes Peak.

And you know what? I wouldn’t trade all the road trips I took, amazing experiences I had, or friends I made for any job in the world (I should add that I DO have a serving job that easily pays the bills—I’m not THAT irresponsible!). But, when summer ended, again, in true Bailey fashion, I maybe panicked a little. Or maybe I freaked the fuck out.

Why didn’t I look for a job? I know everyone jokes about what a hippie I am, but when did I get so irresponsible? Should I go to law school? I’d love it, I’d do well, but what if I don’t like being a lawyer? Should I still join the Peace Corps? Should I try something completely different and get a job in PR or communications? Study social justice? Should I finally just buckle and sell my soul to Wells Fargo for good benefits and clinical depression? I know it sounds like I’m on crack, but try being inside my head for five minutes. You’ll be crying and rocking back and forth in the shower in two.

One of my best friends, who shall remain nameless (you know who you are… JJ), was talking to me about it over the phone, and he said something like “Jesus, Bai, get your shit together already!” I retorted something like “Dude, I love you, but fuck you!” Actually, he’s sorta right. But, as with all arguments, there is another side to be considered. Many—and I mean MANY—of my friends are having the same problem. A couple of us frequently joke about our lives being in shambles, particularly when we’re hungover at 8:00 on a Sunday night and none of us have showered.

I’m 23. We’re all in our early twenties. We have no kids, no mortgage, no credit card debt—I don’t even have a car payment, yet. What better time is there for us to NOT have our shit together? In fact, you know what? Maybe it’s THEIR fault. Maybe they send us to college too early (or, as Matthew Inman/The Oatmeal would say, they start by teaching us the wrong things in high school). For Christ’s sake, I started undergrad thinking I was going to be a rock writer. Like, for Revolver or Rolling Stone. REALLY?!?

I changed my major 346 times. I graduated with 30-odd extra credits. I should have known I still had some thinking to do. And we’re all struggling with that—we’re out of college, some of us found good jobs, some of us didn’t. But we’ve all stopped and looked around and discovered… older, wiser, and a little worse for wear, we still don’t know what to do next. Some of us are working for The Man against our better judgment, some of us are working for very little pay, and at least half of us are considering hitting the books for one more round. In this economy, beggars can’t be choosers, but the nice thing about The Man is that he doesn’t give a shit about you—so it’s okay to use him for financial security until you find something you really want to do.

My point is, I’ll bet most of you reading this are in the same boat. Either you’re treading water with no idea which way to look for shore, or, like me, you thought you landed your dream first job and found it wasn’t what you hoped it would be. My point is, you’re not alone. My point is, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone talks about finding themselves during their college years, but as liberating as college can be, there are still a lot of restrictions. If you want to have x major, you have to take x, y, and z classes. At the same time, when everyone’s telling you the sky is the limit, there are too many options to narrow it down, and let’s be honest, you were just as worried about extracurriculars and, ahem, social activities as you were about finding your calling. Not to mention all the small-town bullshit you were dealing with if you went to a school as small as mine.

This is me not worried about it.

Maybe NOW is the time to figure it all out. Maybe you can’t actually find the right answer until you’ve tried enough wrong ones. I may have been treating the past year as the spring break I never had, but I’ve still learned a lot. I’ve learned it’s really disappointing when you think you’ve got it all figured out but you don’t, but it opens your eyes to a lot of opportunities you didn’t know existed. That it doesn’t serve anyone to be a Debbie Downer, even when life throws you shitballz. That women are taught by society to compete against each other, and they need to knock that shit off. That we are not still in college, and our bodies know it. That your friends were right about your ex. That you really do find out who your friends are, and there are plenty more to be made. That life goes on, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s been pretty good to me. That “shit” is my favorite word. I could go on for days, but let’s cut to the chase.

I do so enjoy being young, learning life lessons and throwing caution to the wind, and I refuse to switch to full-on adult mode. But I’ll concede, it may be time to consider growing up, so I’m going to start being a leeetle more responsible. I hereby resolve to:

1.)   Actively apply for jobs in a variety of fields of interest. And land one.
2.)   Run at least two 5k’s. (And get back in shape so I don’t embarrass myself )
3.)   Finish my reading list. (I’d add the AFI’s top 100, but it’s Oscar season…)
4.)   Move to Denver!
5.)   Study for the LSAT, but research other programs I might be good at.
6.)   Write more (and using the blog to update you on these goals will allow you all to hold me accountable by yelling swear words at me via the comments section. Or you could try nice, motivational things. Whatever.)
7.)   Be nicer to myself. I.e. forget the past and the people in it; Relax more; etc. : )
8.)   Find a husband. Just kidding. How about de-cluttering my life? Yes.
9.)   Join more clubs of some sort and branch out my social circle.
10.) Stop taking JJ’s advice.

What about you, fellow non-shit-together-havers? Any advice? Words of wisdom? Goals of your own? Get at me. We’re in this shit together. Pun intended.

And if you need motivation from people who think you should get it together right meow, read this lovely post from Thought Catalog: Ten Reasons Why You Should Get Your Shit Together

“You can grow up anytime you want. You can do it at 20, 25, or 40. It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with age. Growing up just means deleting things and people who are bad for you. It means taking care of business, taking care of yourself, and not repeating the same mistakes. Everyone has their own growing up to do. It does not mean you have to drink Earl Grey every night, get a cat and be in bed by 11. Jesus, that would suck.”

Relationshits: On Being Single

There is love, of course. And then there’s life, its enemy. ~ Jean Anouilh

All my single ladies: Listen up. Yeah, you. With the Disney movies, and the comfort food, and the self-loathing. Your Sally-Sad-Sac Facebook statuses are depressing me, and I’m tired of you selling yourself short. Turn off The Bachelor, put down—scratch that, burn—that well-worn copy of He’s Just not that Into You and take heed: It is more than okay to be single, you will not die of loneliness, and there is nothing wrong with you. (I mean, I’m not a psychiatrist, there might be something wrong with you, but most likely there isn’t.)

I know it’s easy to get down on yourself these days. Maybe it’s a Midwest thing, but while national statistics show that couples are waiting longer to get married, reality shows us that our friends are dropping like flies. We not only know people who are engaged, married or pregnant, but we know LOTS of people who are engaged, married, or pregnant, and we’re still in our early 20’s. And we’re happy for them, we really are. It’s just starting to seem like maybe you got skipped during that last game of pass-the-Kool-Aid, or maybe you just don’t listen to enough Beyonce.

It also doesn’t help that while I’m telling you it’s okay to be single, people like Tracy McMillan are telling women everywhere that if they’re single, it’s because they’re one of six things: A bitch, a shallow bitch, a slut, a liar, a selfish bitch, or a bitch who’s wallowing in self-pity. [I would just like to nonchalantly mention that Ms. McMillan has been divorced three times and thinks one of the fundamental aspects of marriage is the ability to fart in front of your significant other.] McMillan is not only making herself sound like a desperate moron, she’s also perpetuating a sentiment that is both categorically untrue and so fucking stupid it makes me want to punch kittens in the face: If you’re still single, there is clearly something wrong with you.

As a girl who is happily single and not sure she ever wants to get married, I think I’m entitled to say “Fuck you, McMillan. My un-married, un-divorced ass says you’re missing something.” So let me reiterate: there is nothing wrong with you. You’re not single because you aren’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or good enough. Sure, some asshole with small-man syndrome and mommy issues may have dumped you for those reasons, but that is not why you’re single. In fact, it may be quite the opposite. I think the biggest mistake we make is entertaining that stereotypical idea that perfect, beautiful women can have whatever they want. Wrong. We could all be gorgeous, smart, independent, driven, funny, strong, and sexy—hell, we could even love to drink beer and watch sports—and still be single.

Contrary to popular belief, all of those qualities don’t make one a boy’s biggest fantasy, but rather his worst nightmare. Show me one amazing woman, and I’ll show you one hundred silly little boys sprinting in the other direction; from what I can tell, nothing scares a boy more than a woman who doesn’t need him. (Note: I said “boy” and not “man.”) I mean, hello? Jennifer Aniston? Homegirl’s had more breakups than Joan Rivers has had surgeries, and she’s one of the hottest, smartest, and, most importantly, happiest bitches in Hollywood. I’m just saying, it’s harder for Angie to run away when she’s already produced or purchased 35 of Brad’s kids.

So now that the myth has been debunked, I know what you’re thinking. “Ok, genius, then why the fuck am I single?” And you know what? I have no idea. Maybe it’s because you’re so concerned about being single that you’re not living your life. Maybe it’s because you’re surrounding yourself with assholes. Maybe it’s because you’re an asshole. Or maybe it’s because you just haven’t met the right person yet. Like this CNN blogger points out in her response to McMillan, life has a funny way of ruining your plans. So in the grand scheme of things, the real question is, “Who the hell cares?”

Again, I’m no psychiatrist, but I firmly believe that the only reason the women around me are so fucking miserable about not finding their soul mate is because people tell them they should be. But think about your life, and I’m sure you’ll find plenty of reasons to love it. I mean, I’m thinking about mine. I love my job, I live in a beautiful place, and I can do whatever I want without feeling guilty or worrying about someone else’s plans. I have friends to go to movies with, run with, or shop with, and I don’t have to explain or worry about someone’s feelings when I just need some time to myself.

Writing this on a Friday night. Who you callin' slutty?

It’s easy to say that girls who like being single are bitter or slutty, but I’m not. I’ve been single most of my life, and it wasn’t for lack of opportunity, that’s for damn sure (and not all of the “opportunities” were douche-canoes). I look back on the happiest times of my life—my trip to Africa, my dream internship in DC, the year I turned 21 and destroyed my GPA, the present—and they all have one thing in common: I was single. And I wasn’t worried that I was single. I mean, isn’t that amazing? I haven’t met the man of my dreams and I can still be happy? Shut the front door!!

So, are you with me? Are you willing to quit holding yourself back and accept that sometime’s you’re single and that’s okay? Then take one last longing look at your friends’ engagement photos and give yourself a good, mental bitch slap. Realize that you are good enough to wait for the dude who really gets you. Who doesn’t cheat or lie or make you feel like you’re settling. Go have fun. Sleep with that pretty guy with his own name tattooed on his arm because he’s too dumb to spell it. Chase your dream career. Value your friends, family, and yourself, and live your life! Someone who really digs you for you will be drawn to it. Just promise you’ll stop with the self-loathing, and enjoy being young and carefree–don’t apologize, just own it. Let yourself be happy, and I promise you, you will be.

Hey, I’ll even start: I’m a messy, sarcastic, chick-flick-hating bachelorette who swears like a sailor and drinks wine straight from the bottle. You can call me a selfish, shallow, slutty, lying bitch but I’ll be damned if you catch me wallowing in self pity. I have goals, and I plan to reach them. I’m sorry I’m not sorry. If you don’t like it, you are more than welcome to go fuck yourself.

And seriously, enough with the Facebook statuses…

Far too many people are looking for the right person, instead of trying to be the right person. ~ Gloria Steinem

23 Lessons | In 23 Years

I’ve seen this done a few times, and with my birthday coming up in the year of “me,” I decided to jump on the bandwagon. Where I used to fear getting older, I now have feelings of gratitude and accomplishment for surviving another year. Yeah, that means I AM getting old. But, I’m rather giddy where I am today, and so I’ve decided to impart a few lessons I’ve learned (probably the hard way) that helped me get here over the past 23 years (or, you know, however long it’s been since I could talk and pee in a toilet).

23.) Force yourself out of your comfort zone. You’ll be amazed how much you learn.

22.) Money is a necessary evil, but there are more important things. Save a little for a rainy day, and spend the rest on experiences instead of possessions. I promise you’ll remember your impromptu road trip more than that unreasonably priced dress you wore on your birthday three years ago.

21.) Never let anyone take you for granted. If they don’t appreciate you, they don’t deserve to be in your life.

20.) You should, in fact, give a shit what’s going on around you. Read the news, and volunteer once in a while. It’s not going to kill you, but it may just save someone else.

19.) If you mean it, say it.

18.) Winning and losing are often simply matters of perspective. Actually, a lot of things are.

17.) You will never learn more about yourself and what you want than when you have to walk alone for a little while. Never let anyone else define who you are—and never let them make you forget it.

16.) “No one is irreplaceable” = bullshit. Some bridges are worth rebuilding. You’ll know when the other person is willing to meet you halfway.

15.) It’s all right to remain a “kid at heart”—in fact, I encourage it. But you have to learn to be a grown-up when it really counts.

14.) Beer and pizza with a great friend is the best therapy there is.

13.) Music—tangible evidence that someone, somewhere, sometime felt exactly as you’re feeling, and lived to tell the tale—can be as comforting as any religion.

12.) The most important, loveable, and inspirational things about the people who surround us are the things that make them different. Respect that. Appreciate that.

11.) Look on the bright side, and laugh at yourself. No matter what happens or how low you get—never lose your sense of humor.

10.) Everyone deserves another chance. Forgiveness is difficult, but liberating—the mark of a strong person. Grudges are easy, but heavy—they’ll only leave you cold.

9.) There are so many things about life over which we have no control. The past can’t be changed, nor the future certain. Only when you recognize and accept this can you actually live your life for all it’s worth.

8.) There isn’t just one person on this earth who is meant for you; be happy there are many. Love is not what Disney says it is, and often it isn’t enough. The white picket fence isn’t worth the torture of staying in a toxic relationship.

7.) Nobody’s indestructible. Be there for other people, but don’t forget to let them be there for you.

6.) Never regret anything. Make as many mistakes as possible, learn from them, let go, move on, repeat.

5.) Trust your instincts and don’t fear spontaneity. Some of my craziest decisions were the best I’ve ever made.

4.) There are no inherently bad people; only bad choices and bad circumstances. Everyone in this world does the best they can with the cards they’re dealt, and we all lose our way once in a while. Don’t be so quick to judge.

3.) You can’t please everyone—caring about what other people think of you is a horrible waste of time. Be good, but be yourself—and own it. If they don’t like it, fuck ‘em.

2.) There is a difference between compromise and sacrifice.  Never.  Ever.  Settle.

1.) Life really is short. Live accordingly. When we lose someone we love, we realize how much we allow ourselves to worry about trivial things. Always remind yourself what’s truly important and what won’t really matter in the end.

Well? Agree, disagree? Anything to add?

So This is the New Year?

“So this is the New Year… and I have no resolutions. No self-assigned penance… for problems with easy solutions.” -Death Cab for Cutie

I love that line. I realize that a new year is the epitome of a fresh start—a chance to get your ass in gear and turn things around. But why is it that we wait until January to make ridiculous once-a-year resolutions that were made for breaking? Why don’t we just look our shortcomings in the face as soon as we realize them and do something about it?

So 2010 sucked. I mean really blew. I’ll be the first one to tell you that. I don’t have to tell you why—you can read my previous posts and find out for yourself. But it wasn’t just me. I had plenty of family members, friends, and even minor acquaintances coming to me for help or advice because they, too, had one of the shittiest years of their lives, and I was almost at a loss to help them because I wanted it to end just as much as they did! Not to mention it was the year of the homo-hating tea party, natural disasters, celebrity deaths, the return of Jersey Shore, economic failure, and the craziest “politicians” since Palin herself (saying the craziest shit that’s ever been uttered in public).

I could go on forever, but I think you get the idea. On a scale of one to ten, 2010 was a 25 on the shitstorm spectrum. And just imagine how much worse it would have been if we’d all waited until the first of the year to “resolve” to fix it. But I didn’t, and so 2010 had its good moments, too, however delayed or outnumbered. I did, after all, escape the Midwest and find a job I love with a lovely title in a place I thoroughly enjoy. I also made some important cuts in my entourage (see: bitches n’ assho’s). People have healthcare, including the 9/11 first responders that most deserve it. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was finally slaughtered. Babies were born. I’m sure Snooki took a few punches. My point is, it wasn’t a total loss. My other point is, you shouldn’t be waiting for a landmark like the New Year to make changes; you should make them as you go along, but that doesn’t mean it’s not as good a time as any to start reevaluating your goals and priorities.

(If you thought your year was bad, read this post, feel better, and learn to fucking laugh about it :: FUCK YOU, 2010)

So let’s just talk about the whole resolution thing for a second. The reason I think it’s so silly is because people often resolve to reach the most futile, self-deprecating, and narrow-minded goals. For example “I wanna look like Natalie Portman, so I resolve to pick up a spinning class and an eating disorder,” or “People don’t seem to like me, I’m going to find a new crowd and be more of an ass-kissing fake.” The most popular resolutions are to lose weight or make/save more money, and there’s nothing wrong with that in theory, but so many people do it for the wrong reasons in the wrong ways—if they actually stick with it at all.

How about something less superficial and more logical, like, “If I die of a heart attack because I’ve clogged all major arteries with mounds of salt, my children won’t have a mother.”? Or, “I’m kind of a huge dick. I should probably knock it the fuck off.” I’m just saying, I think we’d all be more successful if we made these goals for better reasons—like being better people—rather than trying to convince the world you can totally shed fifty pounds and buy sweet rims for the Honda this year, just because it’s what they expect.

In one of my yoga classes this week, the instructor was doing her usual touchy-feely psycho babble bullshit: blah, blah, lightness within, ponies and rainbows (I know, I’m the worst yogi ever), but she did say one thing that hit home. She said that she, in agreement with me and this post, didn’t necessarily think narrow resolutions were the best way to start the year. Instead, she said, she’s chosen a word to carve her year with—a word that will remind her every day to pinpoint what she’s missing and go after it. She chose the cheesy word “delight,” to encourage herself to do more things that make her happy, but I agree with her overarching theme. Choosing my word was easy… “ME.”

It may make me sound selfish, but I don’t care. I don’t want to make any resolutions to get in better shape or save more money. Yeah, I could stand to get up earlier, relax more, and maybe date guys that can spell, but I should be doing those things anyway. All of the time. Not just when everyone else is making their goals for the year. Besides, if I do it right, all those things become extensions of my “word.” I’m resolving to take the year as it comes, like I usually do, with the recognition that there’s only so much I can control about life and all that comes with it, but to remind myself that I matter, too, dammit. I don’t mind being the helpful one, the “bleeding heart” as my family and friends call it, but it’s about time I realize I can’t please everyone and focus on myself for awhile. Selfish or not, it’s a necessary endeavor, and therefore, I have declared 2011 the year of ME. My year. My only resolution is to do whatever the fuck I want for once in my life.

Though I’m not the most organized person and I hate making long-term plans, I often worry too much about money, or where I’m going to go when I inevitably become bored with where I am now. Too often, some of us put other people’s problems ahead of our own. I’m sure to not make decisions without considering how they’ll affect other people. Not this year. As long as I still behave like a somewhat responsible adult and ensure the bills are paid, the rest is fair game. Every month, I’ll do something I’ve never done. If I want to go to a film or music festival, I’ll buy tickets. If I want to take off for Vegas, or Malawi, I’ll go. If I want to jump out of an airplane, you bet your ass I’m going to jump. If I want to date three guys at once, of course I will. I’ll wear what I want, sleep where I want, act how I want, and enjoy my life without fear of consequence. And anyone wearing judging eyes right now can kiss my ass.

I’m not saying I won’t still be here when my friends and family need help or advice, and I still want to spend time with all of them. But I am saying I’m going to stop letting all of it consume my life. It’s great to be the person who’s there for other people, but when you let other people’s problems become yours, you no longer have the objective outsider’s perspective and advice they were looking for in the first place. I’m saying that this overachieving booknerd is going to throw caution to the wind and be a careless, self-involved asshole while she still can—before she has too much responsibility. And I don’t care who knows it. For the next year, it’s all about me, ME, meeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! And I. Can’t. Fucking. Wait. Oh, that’s right. I don’t have to. It starts right now and ends when I say it does. I look forward to telling you all about it. Happy New Year, bitches.

NOTE: If you’re coming up with excuses about how you don’t have the time or energy to try some new things this year, read these posts and reconsider (they don’t just apply to writing)::

Copywriting 101: What’s Your Excuse for Not Achieving Your Goals?

RedHead Writing: Going Mobile: On Movement

So… What’s your word? What will you do that might actually make this year better than the last?

 

Soundtrack to a New Start

Wake up, kids… we’ve got the dreamer’s disease.                                                                  -The New Radicals

So before I write my post on why 2010 sucked annnd why 2011 is going to rock, I thought I’d share some muzaq that will serve as the soundtrack for the transition from shit to “the shit.”  Enjoy.

 

The Eels: Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues

The Frames: Falling Slowly

Oasis: Don’t Look Back in Anger

Bob Dylan: Shelter from the Storm (Fuck YouTube for not having at least a shitty version of the original song. This links to an okay cover–download the original.)

Wolfmother: Vagabond

The Avett Brothers: I And Love And You (♥)

Incubus: Warning (Best. Incubus. Song. Ever)

Jimmy Eat World: Futures

Matchbox 20: Hand Me Down (More Than You Think You Are = A favorite album from my high school dayz. Get it.)

Snow Patrol: Open Your Eyes

The New Radicals: Get What You Give

Ben Folds: Landed

Smashing Pumpkins: Today

Florence + The Machine: Dog Days Are Over

R.E.M.: Everybody Hurts

George Harrison/The Beatles: Here Comes the Sun

Natasha Bedingfield: Strip Me

Billy Joel: Vienna

Coldplay: Life in Technicolor ii

Disclaimer: I take zero responsibility for the stupidity and/or shitty quality of any of the videos–homemade or otherwise.  Happy New Year.

Peace, homies.

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time, raise your hopeful voice
You had the choice, you’ve made it now
-The Frames

Moment of Sincerity: Spread the Love

Nearly half a century has passed since President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act, and our nation has made great progress toward equality since then. It would be easy to think that, in the 21st Century, discrimination is a thing of the past. Unfortunately, that’s just not true. According to a recent FBI report, more than 6,600 hate crimes were reported in the United States in 2009, 90% of which were related to race, religion, or sexual orientation. Hate crimes here in Colorado have increased by 25% since 2008.

Sarah Silverman: They Learned it From You

The epidemic of suicides among gay teens as a result of bullying is all the harrowing proof one needs that hate is still alive and well in today’s society. But many believe that bullying in schools isn’t the only thing to blame for the pressure that drove nearly half a dozen teens to take their own lives this fall. Considering the recent failure of a Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell repeal, the verbal abuse toward LGBT communities by religious groups and public officials, and the failure by those in power to protect the citizens of this country from discrimination, it’s easy to see where those bullies may have learned to hate homosexuals.

In Iowa, the National Organization for Marriage funneled nearly one million dollars into a campaign to oust three justices up for a retention vote, because they were part of the unanimous landmark Varnum v. Brien decision which legalized gay marriage in the state. In North Carolina, members of the Westboro Baptist church protested at the funeral of Elizabeth Edwards, holding signs that said things like “God Hates Fags,” and “Thank God for Breast Cancer.”

In Washington, a defense bill that would end the military’s discriminatory “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy was killed by Republicans before it even made it to the floor. This is the second time Senate Republicans have blocked the bill, despite an extensive Pentagon study which showed that an end to the policy would not harm the military, a call from the President and the military’s joint chiefs of staff to repeal it, and the fact that 67% of Americans support the repeal.

In addition, a recent study by Yale University showed that gay and lesbian youth are more frequently and more harshly punished in school and legal systems than their straight counterparts. What are we telling our young people when we allow our own children, educators, public defenders, and elected officials to send hateful messages of discrimination and unequal treatment on a regular basis? We cannot continue treating our LGBT neighbors as second-class citizens. This type of behavior is not only immoral and unconstitutional, but it is also putting all of our youth in grave danger by teaching them that it is okay to hate or mistreat those who are different from them.

It’s a terrifying travesty of justice that such inequality and ill-treatment of American citizens is allowed to continue in the 21st Century. But it isn’t all bad news: there is hope. NOM chose the wrong battle, and though they took away those justices’ jobs, gay marriage is still legal in the state of Iowa. At the Edwards funeral, as with most Westboro protests, the picketers were overwhelmingly outnumbered by counter-protesters with messages of hope and love. The American attitude toward LGBT issues is rapidly shifting toward acceptance and understanding. It’s up to us to continue this positive change.

After all we’ve been through to get to the 21st Century as a fair and civilized society, it should be a given that all men (and women) truly are created equal, and that there is no place in our educational or legal systems for this kind of hatred and discrimination. I call on each of you to remember people like Tyler Clementi, Seth Walsh, Raymond Chase, Asher Brown, Billy Lucas, and other gay teens who may feel so afraid and alone that they’ve considered taking their own lives. I encourage you to stand with gay soldiers and thank them for their service by contacting public officials to show support for a DADT repeal. There are things that you can do to ensure that gay teens and adults alike find help, support, and love this holiday season.

Support equality-based organizations in your community, and help educate others on these types of issues. Tell your school board how important it is to make our schools safe for all of our children. Call your Senators and Congressmen, and ask that those who risk their lives for our safety be allowed to serve openly. Share your understanding with fellow community members. Most importantly, let the children of the world know that they are the future; that they are loved and supported no matter who they are; and that there is hope for a safer, better world for them, if they only stick around long enough to find it.

Soundtrack to A Busy Week

Suit up, boys, let’s ride, it’s the weekend. Get down, girls, and dance with your best friend. Show yourselves, and take what you ask for. Let it go, no fights on the dance floor. -AVA

Oh, I almost forgot, here’s the soundrack for the week, since I had time on my hands today. This weekend, while fun, has totally exacerbated the cold I was already fighting, and I’ve been sicker than a dog and unable to talk all day. Holy cabin fever, batman. I even watched the Bounty Hunter, and all I can say is… RUN AWAY. Awful movie. Anywhoo, the point is, the sickness is going to make this already insanely busy week that much more difficult to push through, so the following are some catchy and up-beat tunes to get us allll through the week. Enjoy.

1.) The Temper Trap: Sweet Disposition (I found this song two summers ago, and I’m still not sick of it)

2.)The Postal Service: Nothing Better

3.) Kate Nash: Foundations

4.) Duffy: Well, Well, Well

5.) Cee Lo Green: Fuck You

6.) Weezer: Pork and Beans

7.) Anberlin: Impossible

8.) Jukebox the Ghost: Empire (FREE on their site; their other new stuff is great, too)

9.) Angels & Airwaves: Young London

10.) Jimmy Eat World: Heart is Hard to Find

11.) Fiona Apple: Criminal

12.) Beck: Girl

13.) Sublime: Santeria

14.) Guster: Satellite

15.) The Starting Line: Bedroom Talk

Don’t you feed me lines about some idealistic future. Your heart won’t heal right, if you keep tearing out the sutures.  -The Postal Service

My Cabbie’s A Drug Mule, & Other Stories

So, this weekend was Halloween. Also known as: my favorite holiday. E and I managed to stir up a little trouble yet again this weekend. I took on the persona of the Mad Hatter the first night, and recycled my flapper costume from college fraternity parties the second night. I won’t give you all the gory details, but we did have some adventures once again. The first night went down pretty smoothly, taking advantage of a $10 all-you-can-drink deal and hitting a couple of other places downtown. It was wicked fun, but not markedly eventful, apart from my decision to pour ALL of my drinks into my teacup rather than using the proper bar glass. And teach the Thriller dance to people I don’t know. The second night was a little crazier.

We went to a house party that a friend of E’s friend was throwing and met some interesting new people—the first of which we set eyes on just as he fell off the porch and into the bushes in front of us. He was fine, but his beer didn’t make it. Everyone was getting excited for this super-big-deal Halloween party everyone was planning on attending at a cool venue I’d heard of before. So, after a few drinks and an overwhelming amount of people yelling “CABS AH HEEEEAAH” even if they weren’t dressed like guidos, we jumped into a caravan of taxi’s and headed that way.

Already a few drinks in, E and I were talking about how exciting things have been: making new friends, going to Sundance Film Festival (we bought tickets this week!!!), and getting tickets held for us at some fancy Halloween party. I believe we may have even said “We are so COOL!” while we were in line to pick up our party tickets. Funny that this is the conversation we were having, since we found out two seconds later that the tickets cost twice what we expected. Hey, we have to save up for plane tickets to Utah and fancy dresses to wear for the film screenings. So… we jetted. Without telling any of our new friends where we were going, we literally chased down a cab in our heels, and I slapped the trunk to get the driver’s attention. I know it doesn’t sound like the best idea, but that’s before you meet the cab driver.

Our cabbie is a Columbian immigrant who is here perfectly legally. Naturally, the first thing I tell him is that I speak Spanish, when what I mean is that I successfully obtained a Spanish minor without ever really learning shit. Anyway, I’m one of those people who likes to get to know strangers, and E and I didn’t hesitate in our state of inebriated excitement to engage this hombre in conversation. He proceeds to tell us about the drug trade in Columbia, and how white people look to an immigrant.

“They make the drugs in Columbia, they take them through Mexico, and they sell them to the white people in America!” (Laughs reaaalll insane-like) “So technically, the rich white people who buy the coke bring the immigrants here!”

I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I did start my spiel about how totally right he is and why. We also asked him about his personal life, because that’s clearly appropriate, and he told us the best part of the story. You know how you hear about foreigners marrying Americans for their green cards, but they’re only true in movies? False. Turns out, this guy met an American woman and followed her back to the States to marry her.

“Then,” he said, “I divorced that crazy bitch after a few months; I only married her for the green card!” Word to all cab drivers: This is how you win my friendship.

We met up with some other friends at a cute little bar where someone they knew had a DJ gig, then ended up at the Coyote Ugly. It is indeed a real place. Again, I know what you’re thinking, and yes, there may or may not have been some dancing on the bar. Put those judging eyes away. How do you not? It’s Coyote Ugly! It was very tasteful. This may have also been the point that I picked up the little trick I’d used the previous night and adopted a British accent for no apparent reason. Why? Well, it seems I want to be completely sure that all my new friends think I’m crazy.

Finally, after making besties with some boys dressed like Beyonce’s backup dancers, we headed back home. Anyone who knows me understands the likelihood of me losing at least one item per trip, particularly my keys, ID, or phone, and that’s when I haven’t had a few whiskey and cokes. So, we get home, and I declare that I’ve lost my phone, and proceed to rant tearfully about how much that Blackberry means to me, and the ridiculous amount it would cost to replace it. Any guess where it was? Yeah, on the night stand right next to the place I’d thrown my entire costume on the floor. Whatevs, we’d taken so many cab rides (I believe the total came to at least four), odds of my phone being in one of them were pretty substantial.

At any rate, I slid it under my pillow in its proper place, passed out, and woke up the next morning to NINE missed calls from E’s cell phone, and this priceless text message:

“If you find me – please give me back 😦 I’m a good person! And just want muh phone back…” The mark of a good pal. Pretending that a phone has a personality and a brain so that people will feel sorry for it and return it to its rightful owner. Sweet. Jesus. Needless to say, the next morning we slept until noon, ate cookie dough ice cream for breakfast, and didn’t get around to moving her into her new place until 7 or 8pm.

And that’s the story of how I became best friends with a Columbian cab driver (who was also quite possibly an ex-drug mule), danced on a bar at Coyote Ugly, planned my first trip to Sundance, and made several new friends who are now convinced I’m nuts. Oh, I also gave a speech to something like 2,000 people at the Denver Rally for Sanity, and didn’t puke. I’d say I can cross a few more things off my list, and that this Halloween made for a pretty solid weekend.

Peace, friends.

-B

To Be Who You Might Have Been

Where do I begin? I keep saying I’m too busy to keep up with this, but really I just suck at carving out time for it. Although I have been crazy busy. In the last few weeks, I’ve helped put on two election forum/candidate debates, submitted my first grant proposal, done a few big mailings, sorted through the  returned hate mail from pissed-off churches, attended my first gala, made new friends, annnnd received my first speeding ticket. Also, season two of Glee has started, so… not much time to write.

The point is, I began this blog with the intention of sharing the harsh realities of growing up in today’s version of the so-called “real-world,” and thus far, I’ve done a piss poor job of it—I’ll admit it. I’ve vowed to set aside at least a few scheduled hours per week to do a better job of documenting my exploits. You should know that today’s issue was a tough one for me to write… and exponentially tougher for me to share. You might say that talking feelings with anyone makes me more than a little uncomfortable. You know those ice breaker things that force you to share intimate details about yourself with strangers? That’s how I feel when getting emotional with anyone. I’m the one making awkward jokes to avoid serious conversation. And breaking out in hives. But it’s something I need to work on, and, hey, it’s my fucking blog, so if you don’t want to read it: don’t.

This is the story of how and why I ended up making my “rash” decision to relocate. Though I’m a hopeless optimist in most aspects of life, I’ve met some people who are so idealistic that they’re more accurately described as naïve, and/or a thorn in my side. Now I’m not saying I’m perfect—you’ll never hear those words leave my mouth, I can barely accept a compliment. I’m not even close to perfect, and I have plenty of evidence. I guess this is sort of about how imperfect I am, and my brush with naïveté. It’s clearly not something I’m proud of, but that’s what life is about, right? Fucking up incessantly and trying to use your experiences to discover what it’s all about? Even when sometimes things suck so badly you’re not sure there could ever be a point to all of it? But it’s true, “The greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions rather than our circumstances…”

Take me for example. There I was, sitting in Des Moines, Iowa, the very place I’d dreamed of escaping since adolescence, maybe even before. And I was in a serious funk. I’d had a 17-year-old who can’t drive total my car, slacked off my last semester (or rather, focused more on making money/memories and getting the hell outta dodge than I was on classes), spent too much money, taken a job I hated for all the wrong reasons (albeit well-intentioned ones), survived my first messy “break-up,” said goodbye to my brother again, and done the one thing I swore I would never do: I settled. The truth is, the funk started long before any of this other shit ever happened. When I think back, I can’t really pinpoint anything specific, apart from having a taste of the great big outside world, spending a summer doing my dream internship in DC, then being yanked unwillingly back into my boring actual life.

In reality, as you’ll probably see in my continued posts, my life is absolutely anything but boring (and my college years were no different, if not more exciting). Sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes it’s bad. Sometimes it even gets me into trouble. But you’ll also learn that I’m perpetually restless and a nearly impossible person to satisfy. I’m always ready for the next step. So when I started this new life, two states and a handful of severed connections away from my old one, I sat back and really thought about why that is and what it means. And then, more importantly, I started thinking instead about why it took me so damn long to break free, and why I’m not completely healed and happy already.

All four years at Simpson, except for part of Junior year and my first semester I suppose, I wished I’d been somewhere else. But I could have been. I got good grades in high school and did well on the ACT (yes, I have always been a nerd), and I was this close to applying to a good private school in another state. But I didn’t. I chickened out. Don’t get me wrong, the education I received from some amazing faculty members, the lessons I learned, the irreplaceable friends I made, and the experiences I had were well worth the four years in Iowa. I’ve no doubt that in the end, that’s where I was supposed to be. But that’s not the point. The point is that I was scared. ME. Scared. The girl that breaks rules whenever possible, pisses people off left and right, will do anything to avoid boredom, loves dangerous things like snakes and alcohol, can’t wait to scale mountains and jump from a plane, and harbors nomadic tendencies was too scared to fill out some silly little application.

I suppose you could say that’s what happened around graduation. I mean, yeah, I was working around 35 hours per week on top of classes, Student Government, the newspaper, and my overactive social life (though in my defense, it was often the only thing keeping me sane), so I really was busy. But I used that as an excuse. All my life, I wanted out, and now I finally had the chance! So what did I do? I submitted my resume to a handful of positions at best, and I did a shitty job of following up with them. I even got an email from a human rights organization in New York saying I’d been short listed, but I never got the interview. Why? Because I never called to follow up with them. It wasn’t that I was scared to leave Iowa, it was just that I’d gotten comfortable there. I had tons of friends around me, a loathsome but respectable job within my field of study, and something to do no matter what day or hour it was. But I wasn’t happy. I was comfortable. I was safe. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the aforementioned asshole of a job, alone in the office and cursing the day I was born, that I realized this. And had a nervous breakdown.

I remember calling my mom in hysterics, freaking out on myself about all the things I knew I was capable of doing, but wasn’t. I mean, no offense, I’ll be the first to tell you that campaign work is hard, important work, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to call a shit ton of people and give ‘em a well-practiced spiel. Thick skin, yes, but not a rocket scientist. I have mad respect for people who do it, but sitting in an office in solitude was never something I aspired to. Any way… at that point, cowering in a corner in all my humiliating glory, all of the bad things that had happened to me in that year sort of washed over me like some sick flood of regret, and I realized that it wasn’t those things that were holding me back. I was holding myself back. I was being a whiny little self-deprecating bitch.

Yes, it was a rough year. Yeah, I went through some shit. Ok, a lot of shit. But who doesn’t, every now and then? If anything, that stuff should have inspired me to say “enough!” and take off without looking back. I LIVE for a good challenge, and I almost backed away from the most important one I’ll ever face: the future. I almost became the people I felt sorry for and succumbed to my own disappointment, deciding to take the path of least resistance for once in my life. For a few short months, I gave up on myself.

I remember reciting all of the awful setbacks of senior year, and hearing my mom get real with me for a minute. She told me that I had to stop being that whiny little bitch and dwelling on the things that happened in the past. Okay, she put it a bit more delicately than that. She reminded me that I wasn’t this person—the person that wallows in self pity instead of staring a problem in the face and doing something about it. And I knew she was right. How many times had I tried to shake other people out of that way of thinking? And along the way I almost became one of them. I’d survived an overwhelming number of funerals for loved ones, losing friends, growing up too fast, and a whole mess of chaos—far worse things than bills, minor car accidents, and a silly little failed “relationship.” God damn it, I was stronger than sitting in an office, crying to my mother, and feeling sorry for myself. Jesus, just recounting the episode makes me want to puke.

All at once, I felt like the biggest idiot and the most inspired visionary in the world. I started to remember who I was before I’d allowed my problems and the toxic people in my life drag me down with them. I remembered the girl who wanted to get her hands dirty fighting for social justice, and maybe even run for office one day. The girl who swore she’d never, ever settle or depend on anyone else to make her happy. That girl had more important things to worry about than “feelings,” or other people’s expectations or some minor setbacks and regrets. In fact, that girl didn’t have regrets. But she would have been ashamed of that girl slumping in the corner.

I quit my job the next day. (Thanks, Mom). Did I have another job lined up to replace it? Nope. I had applied for a few and received some interview opportunities, but I had no plans whatsoever, except that I was moving to Colorado. I didn’t know where I was going to live or how I was going to get my shit there once I figured it out. I didn’t know what I was going to do for money, or how I was going to tell my friends I was leaving them with a couple weeks notice. All I knew was that the simple act of believing in myself again, and making the choice to risk being happy had caused a complete 180 in my temperament in a matter of minutes. The very second I made that decision, I felt like a new person. Actually, I felt like me again.

And that’s how I ended up here. It might have taken me a hell of a lot longer than it should have, but I finally did what I always said I would do: I jumped. I started over in a new place, with new people, where I could truly grow and be my own person. I guess this whole blog is just as much about finding myself as it is about finding my way in life—in the real world. The truth is, the real world is whatever you make it. And I’m going to make it my bitch. Now, let’s be clear, I’m not condescending to you from some completely stable place where I’ve finally got it all figured out and everything’s perfect. I’d have to punch myself in the face. In fact, that’s why I’m writing it now. Because moving on isn’t that simple. Nothing will ever be perfect, and I’ve still got a lot of growing up and fucking up to do. I suppose this blog would be pointless if I didn’t. All I’m saying is don’t give up. There’s a great big world out there, just waiting for you to make a mess of it. Life wouldn’t be worth living if it didn’t leave room for a few mistakes here and there.

I’ve always said I could never be famous, because, to me, one of the best things about life is the ability to pick yourself up and start over where nobody knows you. George Eliot said it better: “It is never too late to be who you might have been.” I think my inspiration for writing this was my realization that this wasn’t enough. You can’t just start over somewhere else and expect a clean slate. Those skeletons are still in your closet. I think I did half expect leaving to fix everything, or at least numb me to whatever I’d left behind. I thought maybe the excitement of finally starting to live my dream would be enough to make me forget my past. And though I already feel like a new, happier, and more purposeful human being, I’ve realized that it’s okay to feel down sometimes. It’s all right to be a little weak, or even vulnerable once in a while (though that part’s easier said than done), and to need time to bounce back.

I guess the point is, I’ve always known that starting over is not about running away from your problems, but I’ve realized that it’s also not about pretending you don’t have any. It’s about facing those problems and telling them to fuck off because they can’t beat you. It’s about looking yourself in the eye and learning to accept everything about who you are. It’s about living your life instead of letting it live you. I’m remembering things I used to be sure of, all because I took a chance. You can’t run away from your past, and you shouldn’t—but you do have to accept it for what it was, and let it go. You have to live in the moment. I’ve embraced not only my misfortunes, but also the mistakes I’ve made this past year; and I’m learning, bit by bit, to let go of all of it. I’m happier, stronger, and more myself than I’ve been in a long time. And that makes it worth every pitfall.

Oof-da. If you know me, you probably already know that I almost didn’t post this. It’s a little too touchy-feely for my personality. I promise to drop the heavy and return to my dry sarcastic humor in my next post. Some might say this is because I have trust issues or that I’m emotionally unavailable. You can all shove it (that means you, DC). I like to think of it as “socially extroverted, emotionally introverted.” But, as someone who has often found herself judged and misunderstood, I think it’s important to note that coming to terms with weakness and disappointment is one of the most important aspects of facing reality—for EVERYONE. Nobody’s perfect, nobody’s fearless, and nobody’s always tough. And nobody has to be. Think about that the next time you envy someone, or pity someone, or maybe just feel like you’re alone. You’re not.

Mad love.

-B