Time {Recyclers}

I started some serious reflecting when I moved to Chicago about 5 months ago. Mostly that reflecting just depressed me. But it also inspired a few neat life additions:

1. I started taking classes at The Second City. 

I'm done with that list. The rest is crap.

My first class was a story telling course that I thought would give me some good professional training for client presentations and what-not. Although I'm probably less composed and professional than I was before I took the class, I'm now a bit more aware of my chronic tardiness and starting to piece together reasons for it.

Mostly, I waste a lotta time. But since I don't think it's wasted {unless alcohol is involved -- in which case -- shots or water? shots!}, I'm calling it recycled time. I'm making seriously good use out of the time most people just consider a sunk cost. Necessary evil or whatever.

The time I'm talking about is that sort of deep in-between time ... you're not where you're going to yet, nor are you where you came from, nor are you exactly or only en route. I mean, you're kind of always en route, but it's the smaller moments, you know? Not just the time you spend begrudgingly succumbing to the smells of public transit and avoiding eye contact with strangers -- but the moments even more in-between when you're secretly wishing you could magically remove the person in that comfortable-looking seat in front of you, but then you get lost in your own creative energy and start wondering if a game like that would be possible or cool or something, and then you start brainstorming a pitch for a campaign that this CTA-Tetris-esque game could really work for, and then you wonder about this person's life... this person who just 30 seconds ago was just a barrier to your comfort, but because you glimpsed down and saw the text he sent to someone named "Suzie Cuzie" in his phone, you can't stop wondering who this S.Cuzie might be ... cute name for his daughter? Weird name for his mistress? Pet name for his wife? Yep, he has a ring. Hmm. Probably two kids. He's the dad type. Man, it's early, but I bet his kids are already halfway done with their first period in school. Ugh, school starts so early. I'm glad I'm done with that. I'm much more productive after 12+ hours of sleep. Gives me more time to dream. Speaking of dreams, last night's dreams were nuuuuuuts. . . . 

See what I mean about deep in-between time? Or is that just me? 

The thing is, I love these deep in-between times more than any other time in the world! My  STORY TELLING prof thinks it's because I'm young and indecisive and wishing life was still just a bunch of potential instead of a bunch of responsibility. He's probably right. Then another girl in my class told me she thinks I'm in love with the concept of liminality - which she describes {much better than Wikipedia} as this transitional time between transitional times ... time in which all energy, all potential lies. Her explanation is good, too. My roommate thinks I need to get  job as a flight attendant so that I'm always in-transition. Her take on the matter is also helpful. But, hell no, I'd be a terrible flight attendant. I'm usually ok with flights, but when I convince myself that the plane is broken, and the stranger sitting next to me is my last chance for true love, dear gawd am I a nutcase. 

Anyway, I dunno exactly what it is about these deep transition times that I love, but I'm pretty sure I'm just looking for impressive excuse for always being late or ways to make myself feel better about my un-diagnosed A.D.H.D. While I find more ways to distract myself, you watch this vid. It's me talking a bit about this part of me. Later I'll make a list of the things I find myself RECYCLING time with. Step 1 is admitting I have a problem, though, right?

Amtrak Station {3:45 a.m. - 4:00 a.m.}

I'm usually running too late to observe much of anything at these stations. Then as soon as I board the train or bus I'm taking, I tend to spread my things out across two seats & pretend to fall asleep right away so that no one tries to sit next to me. So I suppose that means that unless I'm either forced to interact with people or running too late to pay attention to my surroundings, I'm silently judging everyone around me. Awesome. I just reminded myself how terrible of a person I am.

I'm wide awake, orange Crush soda in hand, and acutely aware of two scenarios happening around me. I'll share some of my observations and judgments, but not all of them. You won't like me if you read what I'm really thinking about these weirdos. And more importantly, these weirdos might see what I've written about them once my blog becomes the most popular thing on the internet. They'll be upset and try to avenge me, and it'll just be a mess. So for now - the somewhat nicer version will have to do.

There is an Amish man sitting next to his quietly submissive wife and reading a newspaper. For some reason {probably tv show & movie stereotypes}, I didn't think Amish people read newspapers or watched the news or paid any attention at all to 'culture' ... I thought the whole ideas was to be "not of this world" or something? Well, it was an interesting sight to see. I tried taking a picture with my phone. Here's what I ended up with:

Ok, ok, I'm lying. I didn't even try to take a picture with my phone. I just thought, several minutes after boarding the train, that it would have been a good idea. A neat shot. A nice photo to have. Too late, though. The Amish people already left. Maybe they're on my train now. Maybe they're reading a newspaper again. If so, I promise I'll really try to take a pic. 

Another interesting thing {to me} I saw while at the station was an Asian teenager, or maybe Asian young adult. . . college age? Well, I saw him trying to play a bunch of games without paying. That was strange. 

First he tried to play the racing game for free. He just sat on the racing seat and turned the wheel a bit for a while. Never once motioned towards his wallet and even thought about paying. Just kept fake driving the fake driving machine as if the game would give up and just give him a free round or something in hopes that he'd pay for the second round if he liked the first round enough. Well, it didn't work out that way.

After some time, this kid walks over to that game where you use a claw to try to pick up toys that I don't believe anyone would voluntarily pay 50-cents for. Yet, for some reason, people pay 50-cents ... and then another 50-cents .... and then another to try to win. Strange. I guess it's the fun of the game, not the desire for the prize that inspires participation. Those same kids who love that game as children are the kids who grow up to be -- well, young adults like me -- who justify their crappy lives and failed attempts at success by reminding themselves that it's the journey, not the destination. 

Well, I don't know which school of thought this Asian kid belonged to. But he kept trying the same shenangians from the race car game on this game. Kept trying to play for free. He gave up more quickly on this one. I would have too.

By his third attempt at a third game, I wasn't quite sure how to react. Part of me was impressed by his persistence and sat there silently rooting for him to make the game work for the small cost of will power instead of a few quarters. I thought that if he could successfully pay this game without paying with money, but instead with hard work and sweat -- that'd be a great testament to the Amurican dream and true hope.

Another part of me was pissed that he was trying to cheat the system. An entitled millenial or snotty hipster or something. That part of me hated him and wanted nothing more than for him to get what was coming to him. For some Amtrak station game security guy to come taser him and give him an emotionally-charged speech about pulling yourself up by your footsteps and fairness and stuff.

Yeah, I realize part one and part two of me both reflect sort of contradicting views of American values. Just wait, there's more, the third part of me ... the kind part of me that goes, "awwwww" when I see something cute or heart-warming or sad or whatever. That part of me wanted to give him some change and help him pay for a few minutes of fun game time. 

I'm sure more parts of me {feel free to diagnose me with schizophrenia based on these three 'parts' of myself to which I'm referring and from which I'm deriving feelings} would have manifest themselves if I had stayed at the station longer. But some lady with a muffled voice and terrible grammar announced that we could board the train. 

Ugh, I really wish I had taken a pic of the Amish people. Or that I had tried to strike up a conversation with them. I now realize that I have a lot of questions I'd like to ask an Amish person.

Breakfast Time & Election Day | {Behind the Scenes} WETness

This morning, I made breakfast ... Why?

a. I was hungry. 

b. The food was available to be made.

c. It was breakfast time.

Then took a photo of my breakfast ...

... Why?

a. I spent a lot of time {too much time} moving around all the food to make it look pretty {playing with my food} on the plate. At first this was just for my own strange sense of enjoyment {like, it'd taste better if it looked better? you know, making the book cover easy-on-the-eyes so that people judge my book by the cover...}. I realized this masterpiece {relative to the kind of crap I usually create} deserved to be remembered, and I had a camera phone, so why not!?

b. To send a pic to my boyfriend.

...So, uh, then I sent the pic to my boyfriend ... Why?

a. To make him jealous.

b. Bc I was thinking ... that I really like "sharing" my food, but mostly because I'm selfish and "sharing" means I get to try everyone else's food. I mean, I'm ok "sharing" my leftovers. But usually I claim to love "sharing" food to cover up my true intentions of eating as much food in as vast variety as possible in one sitting. 

As I was eating breakfast alone this morning, I started thinking about how many meals I have eaten with Željko ... most of which have involved some sort of "sharing" - both the part of "sharing" I like and the part I hate. That thought got me weighing the PROs & CONs of "sharing" vs. eating alone. I didn't debate with myself for long, but instead fairly quickly {because aforementioned breakfast was getting cold} decided that I preferred "sharing" over eating alone. {Also, just realized it's probably annoying to my reader(s) for me to enclose the word "sharing" with quotation marks every time I write it. So, that was the last time. I Promise. Well, I'll try to remember.}

Anyway, so I decide that sharing meals > eating alone. And thought I'd share that. You know, to be a sweet girlfriend or whatever. 

That effort to communicate sweetness quickly turned into a strangely emotional internal discussion in which I concluded that all things in life are better shared, I think, although I  kind of like having my own space & stuff, so maybe I'm an introvert? Nah, no way I'm an introvert.  But maybe just a tiny part of me every few months or something is introverted. And, wait, if a bigger part of me was introverted more often, then wouldn't I prefer eating alone to sharing meals? And what would my views on sharing be? Would I be more or less selfish? Slash, wait, I'm sort of being selfish -- ok, really selfish, in  sharing meals. Because it's mostly for my pleasure anyway. You know, because of the sharing stuff I wrote about up there, & because I gotta get my people-fix, you know, because I'm an  extrovert. Or am I? Aaaaaah.

...Then I stopped the schizophrenic? bipolar? normal? debate going on in my head & tweeted a different pic & a question about breakfast time & election day ...

... Why?

a. To test my fb & tweet buds' bullshitabilities.

b. To see if I could ask a question in the form of a riddle & get a brilliant answer, even with no riddle answer in mind. I assume this is how riddles are supposed to be created? 

c. I wanted an excuse to tweet a food pic. People are obsessed with food pics. Granted, I realize the pic I tweeted was less of food than it was a table, laptop, bike & other table. But it's a start, right? The beginning of my food blogging? 

Here's the thing about food stuff & me & makin' food & kitchens & whatever  ... I, uh, don't, uh, create . . . many meals. I'm actually a tiny bit terrified of the kitchen & everything my being there both entails & implies. The actual cooking stuff part is less terrifying than the deep dark fear I have of all my "barefoot & pregnant" / "woman, you belong in the kitchen" joke references coming to life. More specifically, coming to my life. I should really get over all of that. Or maybe write about it some time. You know, as therapy. 

d. 'Cuz I was seriously curious. Ok, this is the only real answer. I was, I promise, curious about what these two times had in common. My initial answer to my quasi-riddle-in-the-making-slash-cry-for-attention was something along the lines of me:

Connecting how little work/time/effort I put into voting & how little work/time/effort I put into breakfast ...  r e l a t i v e  to everyone truly involved in the process. 

So you think that formatting gave that poorly-written sentence a cool effect? Doesn't it seem kinda like I'm quoting myself or some famously profound person? Do you think I consider myself a famously profound person? Errrk, as usual, not the point.

More about that italicized, centered & uniquely spaced thing I wrote above {Yessss, more fun formatting! Bullets this time!}

• Back in my day when I was running for, ahem, political office, {yeah, student government is TOTALLY political and DEFINITELY comparable to what Mitt & Barack are going through!}, I put in so much work/time/effort {here on out, I'll call this W.T.E.} -- not just in getting elected -- but in deciding whether or not to run, in convincing people to (a.) vote and (b.) vote for me & my people & ideas, in following through with the campaign promises we made {when I won}, in responding well to the issues {yes! issues!} I didn't have the foresight to put in my platform, etc. I cared so deeply & sincerely about an unbelievable breadth of issues & knew an exceptional amount of detail about each of those issues. I was a bit obsessed. So obsessed that I don't think I realized, until years later as I quasi-quietly observe the current SLUnanigans happening at my alma mater, how relatively little W.T.E. a majority of students put into Student Government. 
• This isn't me calling these non-obsessively W.T.E'd students lazy or apathetic or anything along those lines. Oh! Just realized I want to switch the acronym to W.E.T., & I wanna remove the periods so I can just write WET. Yesssss. Wait, is "work" too similar to / synonymous with "effort"? Hmm. I mean, I guess not. Although, good work involves a lot of effort. Whatever, I'm not changing it now. I'm also deleting this bullet. No, I'm not. Transparency!! Phew, this is a stressful post.
• So non-WET students aren't less ... of anything than WET students like myself. {Holy cow ... so ... many ... inappropriate ... jokes ... to ... make ...}. Non-WET students just had other things to get them WET. 
• This is getting weird. I'll stop with the WET stuff.
• I think the point is -- maybe no point at all -- just that it's interesting how relatively little WET I put into election time. And this morning's breakfast has helped me decide that although I'm fairly comfortable with how much WET I put into national elections, I think it's important for me to put more WET into local elections. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I did all of my research on local issues last night & this morning {yes, that is BeyondNovember {thanks Nine Network, Saint Louis Beacon & Saint Louis Public Radio} on my laptop screen in that picture above. I'm particularly embarrassed because I know better, dammit! I discovered first-hand how that quote about small groups of people changing the world {Margaret Mead, right? Or Mama T?} is true! I was a part of & in charge of some really exciting changes in my world {my high school & college in these instances}, & I saw all the WET pay off. I was brain-washed trained at Missouri Girls State to believe in local government. I live in a digital age where I have no excuse {no, not even moving to a new city} not to stay connected to & involved with my local issues. I have no excuse. So what's my deal? Bah! Well, instead of making a ton of excuses about how I don't have time or don't like dealing with the political bologna or whatever, I'm just using this bullet point to commit to myself & whoever wants to be my accountabilabuddy to get more involved in my local government. 

Oh yeah ... and breakfast time ...

• The relatively little amount of WET I put into election time is about the same relatively little amount of WET I put into breakfast time. Someone raised that chicken {cage free!} so that someone else could process {or maybe not, bc these are technically organic. Although, I dunno if I even understand what 'organic' really means. Eff this, I'm going to watch Portlandia} the eggs from that chicken so that someone else could sell {at a subsidize rate?} them to, what?, grocery distributors? I haven't even mentioned all the machines & packaging & branding & shipping & storing & cooling & shelving & holllly cow, there's so much involved, so many jobs, so many people, so much money involved in the three eggs I ate for breakfast this morning! And that's just the eggs! Think about the baby tomatoes & cucumber & mushrooms & mini oranges {are these called tangerines?} & milk & water & coffee & utensils & napkins & drinking glasses & serving plate involved! And oh, man, then the phone with which I took a picture & the networks I used to post the pics & phone companies & internet providers & device manufacturers & operating system people & creepy marketers watching my every move so they can sell me their brands of  baby tomatoes & cucumber & mushrooms & mini oranges & milk & water & coffee & utensils & napkins & drinking glasses & serving plates!! Ah! I didn't even really do justice to the entire supply chain, & I certainly over-simplified the whole farmers / govt subsidies / etc relationships ... yet, I'm still overwhelmed just thinking about EVERYTHING involved in the most simple and universally encouraged time of day -- breakfast time. 

So both breakfast time & election day provide fairly simple opportunities for participation for most people. But a lot, A LOT, of WET goes on behind the scenes. I don't think it's humanly possible {at least not for this human} to drench myself in everything involved with either election day or breakfast time, but in both cases, I could give a little more WET. And if everyone gave a little more WET to both breakfast time & election day, maybe we'd complicate things even more, & I'd regret recommending something like this {I know, I know, this post will likely not 'count' as a real recommendation for many reasons -- mostly, though, because very few people have the endurance to read this much of a silly blog post. Oh! ENDURANCE! That could replace the "energy" part of "WET" ...hmmm...} ...

Or maybe, just maybe, if everyone gave a little more WET than what they're giving now ... maybe the small % of people who are giving all the WET they've got can take a tiny break, & maybe all the WET we're giving -- as a society -- will lead us in a better direction. Maybe?

... Then I decided {just now, actually} to write a blog post about all of this! ... Why? ...

a. No, not because any of my previous breakfast story is a deeply transcending metaphor for elections or for the politicians & propositions & amendments beneath which my chads-are-uh-hangin' {I don't care how old hanging chads references are; I just used one.} ... although, in hindsight, I realize I coulda allegorized the heck outta that story above. Shoutout to Captain Hindsight, btw. 

b. Because I haven't blogged in a while, and part of my purpose-o-blogging is to instill some sort of discipline and consistency in myself. Also to get better at writing. Also to eliminate all insecurities I may have about writing to a public audience. Also to smack myself in the face / humble myself every time I check the Google Analytics stats on how many readers I have and realize that 95% of my "viewership" is just me refreshing my browser to make myself feel better. Also because there's a small chance {by "there's a small chance", I actually mean "with 100% certainty}, I am a bit narcissistic {by "a bit narcissistic", I mean, I bet you one-hundred dollars that if I went to a psychiatrist, he/she would diagnose me with NPD} {she writes as she looks in the mirror, winks at herself & pretends an audience of thousands are winking back} ... 

Ok, this isn't about why I'm an infrequent blogger! It's about why I blogged about this particular topic today .... uh ... so moving on to letter C. <<<Ohhhh snap, insert Mitt-Romney-fires-Big-Bird-&-Sesame-Street-is-brought-to-you-by-the-letter-C reference here.>>>

c. Because I'm always so dang tempted to blog & tweet & fb & quora & stumbleupon ... all sorts of super relevant cultural references, particularly those political in nature, but truth is -- I'm a huge indecisive pansy! I play it too safe with making my opinions public bc my opinions change basically every other second. Wait, no they don't, every other minute, maybe. See! Changing opinions on frequency of opinion changing! Ah, madness! Anyway, I feel a bit left out, you know? For the last however many annoying months, some chicks have been defriending their sorority sisters whose political views align with someone who differentiates between a legitimate and an illegitimate rape, while some bros have been fist-pumping each others' funny inside jokes about Paul Ryan's widow's peak, while moms have been sending chain emails about the top ten reasons Obama will drive this country into a brick wall or hand-deliver our country "to hell in a hand basket", while dads have been emailing kids about fiscal responsibility and their newfound respect for Joseph Smith's people ... and .... well, you get it. Just a lot of chit chat about these here elections. And I've just been kind of listening quietly {Save your jokes; I'm not that loud}, hoarding articles and personal chicken scratch notes, watching debates {mostly to see how spot-on SNL impersonations are}, yada yada. But no epic / public posts from me -- at least one taking a strong stance in any one direction or another. No, this blog post isn't going to be that either. I told you! I'm indecisive! Or am I undecided? Or indecided? Or undecisive? Hokay, that was just to exaggerate the point. I am indecisive, and I was technically undecided until I actually voted. At which point, I became a decided voter. Whoah. That's grown-up feeling. Adulthood, here I come! Crap, I'm tangenterizing my post again!

It doesn't matter; I'm done w reasons for doing things. Now, I just feel like responding {in David Letterman Top Ten Format, for you, dad} {I didn't say these would be as funny as DL's ... just that the format is similar} to my morning Tweet... 

dave the {megaman} bus driver

My dad sent this to me. Told me it made him think of my megabus experiences.  Said I can use this joke and don't have to give him credit.

I haven't blogged in quite a while.  So I'm going to paste his joke along with this fancy megabus image as a blog post. 

*Note, I am giving my dad all the credit for the joke, and I am giving Google Images all the credit for the image.

Dave the Bus Driver

An inebriated man got on Dave's double-decker bus and sat in the bottom deck close to Dave.  Dave is not to allow drunks on his bus, but Dave had a good heart and let the man stay on.

The drunk man started rambling on and on, so Dave suggested the drunk man should sit upstairs. 

"The air is cleaner up there, and you'll get a much better view."

The man agreed, but returned a few minutes later. 

"What's wrong?" Dave asked, "Don't you like it better up there?"

"It's fine," the drunk said, "But it's too dangerous: There's no driver."

Sample Size: 1

At first glance, I thought I read "annoying survey" instead of "anonymous survey" in the text I pasted below. Had that been the actual text, I think I would have commended the Consumer Survey Group for admitting these surveys can be a bit annoying. Probably would have 'Liked' them on Facebook, followed them on Twitter, somehow engaged with them on Quora. May have even signed up to be one of the "smart, wired members of the online community" they say they're looking for.

But, nope, instead I'm just sacrificing my anonymity for the sake of my shortest ever {so far} blog post. Also to comment that I think "wired" and "members of online community" are too similar for them both to be worth including in your homepage target audience nutshell.

PublicTransit {TOP TEN}

I hail from the best city in the world. I don't even need to include the city's name now that I've qualified it, but to avoid confusion, I'll just go ahead and show you a picture, courtesy of one of my favorite places in the city, owned by two of my favorite people in the city, Jeff and Randy Vines.


Yep, Saint Louis. My home. In a later post maybe I'll focus more on Saint Louis. But today's post is about public transportation. Not an academic study I spent months writing for my Master's Thesis ... not even a passionate citizen's perspective about how Saint Louis needs to invest more in public transportation ... not even a list of jokes about the shape the neighborhoods of Saint Louis make ... no, my friends, this post is simply a TOP TEN list of the things I love about public transportation. Granted, now that I work in a city where I take the L to work every morning and evening, I'm mostly referring to my experience in Chicago. But, no, this isn't a Saint Louis vs. Chicago article either. Although, Saint Louis wins. Anyhow, TOP TEN, here they are:

1. VITAMIN D
From my apartment to where I step onto the train, I average a 7 minute walk {sample size ~40 mornings}. From my train's stop to my office, I've actually never timed. Yes, I've timed the other one. Well, I assume the second walk is like 30 seconds. So I'll exclude that one. The combined 14 minutes [to work / home from work] I spend walking most every day not only counts as my daily exercise, but has this ginger only 6 minutes away from my personal doctor's recommended daily dose of sun. Jenna [aforementioned personal doctor who also happens to be my best friend and Facebook wife] knows how strange I can be about taking medicine, so she tries to MAKE HEALTH FUN and give me ways I don't have to take a pill to stay / get healthy. She's really the greatest. But that's a blog post for another time ;).


2. NOTE ART

Yes, I'm calling this art. I'm a daily reader of my weekly subscription to Advertising Age, and I'm also an avid note-taker. One guy I dated called me writing pack rat. Or something more creative probably. Point is, I take notes in the margin of almost everything I read. At first I just tried to tolerate the bumpy rides that make it difficult to take notes. Then I decided I could learn to work WITH the bumps. Finally, though, I've given up and just embrace the sloppy marginal notes I may someday read through as ART. 


3. EAVESDROPPING

When I'm not using the best literature of our day as my muse for artistic masterpieces, I'm creepily observing everything that goes on around me. Mostly, I'm trying to read the texts post-one-night-standers hesitate to send to that guy / girl from last night in hopes to reassure them that, "I never do anything like this" ... but when those bed heads aren't around, I just love observing every person around me. Often this uncomfortable staring leads to forced conversation, but when they don't notice me, I find myself creating life stories of these people during the two or three stops we share each morning. Sometimes these stories are so believable that I wonder how I'd react if I actually got to know some of these people and found out I had them all wrong. I think I'd probably just continue believing the story I created for them. 

4. COMPETITION
As soon as I get to my stop, the very people my mind writes these biographies about quickly take on new character plots as ... my competition. Although I'm not in New York, that piano staircase thing - part of the Volkswagon Fun Theory {great idea, btw} - has me wishing I were there, as I race up the stairs every morning. In my mind, I am both making sweet sweet music AND basically setting Olympic running records every morning. Mostly, I just try to beat everyone else off the L so I don't have to hurdle over them. I haven't been training for that event. Badum ching?

Oh - funny thing about this competition thing ... I also make fun of everyone I see running to catch a train. People running in business clothes just look so silly, don't they? Well, I feel like running up the stairs helps bring me good karma in some way, as I assume there's some mid-twenties-professional-wanna-be making fun of me for my awkward business lady run somewhere.


5. HOT LAVA
Another sort of game I've created for myself is this sort of public transit-version of HOT LAVA {remember when you were a kid? Couch cushions are your only savior against the floor that has become hot lava!} where everything everyone else has touched is the hot lava that will kill me. Basically, I try to think of creative ways to avoid ever touching anything on the L. And I'm not even a germaphobe. I eat off the floor all.the.time. Good for my immune system. But I've seen too many hand-coughers here to feel ok touching anything these Chicagoans touch. And besides, HOT LAVA is a great morning pick-me-up to prepare me for my stair race.
6. fRiENdLS
I just made this up. They don't know I call them this. But I think of some of the people I notice every day as my sort of .... friends on the L, or fRiENdLs. The super passionate worker at my first stop, who reminds everyone every 20 seconds that the train is on its way makes some of my most miserable mornings {last week, for example, when I spilled coffee on myself / left my keys on my table / forgot an umbrella and walked in the rain} worth pushing through. Then there was this other lady who started talking to me and this fancy business man one afternoon. She didn't stop chatting on about godknowswhat from the moment we stepped onto the train with her until the business man and I exited. He didn't know her either. We both got a kick out of her ability to share 50 years of information in a 15 minute time slot.

7. OUTTA-TOWN-MOMS / CAMP COUNSELORS
They.love.doing.headcounts. One of these days I am going to hide one of the kids whose head needs-uh-counting. Right, that's the same day I'll be asked to leave and never come back. At least not within 50 feet. 




8. CTA MAP
One time I saw a torn CTA MAP fall down. I picked it up. I worried it was a federal offense to keep it. So I asked this cute little man wearing a CTA uniform of some sort if I could keep it. At first he said I wasn't allowed to. Then I begged him. Then he let me have it. Now I have a torn CTA MAP that I plan to hang in my apartment. Woot woooooot! 




9. ADS

I know this puts me in the minority, but I don't care -- I.love.ads. Correction, I love well-done ads. Both in creation and placement. Commercials, billboards, digital banner ads, especially paid search ads ;) ... I love 'em all. The joy I feel when a dress I shopped for yesterday follows me around on the internet for the next 30 days is unparalleled. When I buy that dress, I feel like I was fulfilling my destiny in some way. I can't wait for the day that even my commute to work feels like a custom ad experience created just for me. 
{Note - so far, I actually HATE Facebook ads. Too flashy and tricky. Don't trick me to improve your click through rates. I will never buy your crap that way.} 


10. DIRECTIONS
Ha! So I grew up in the same small-ish town my whole life. Yet, I still get lost one out of every five trips I take in that area. I wish there was something on my face that made it obvious to others that I usually have no idea where I am going, much less any concept of where they're going. Yet, when people ask me for directions, something just clicks. I get so pumped at the possibility that I will know something that will help someone else that every visual snapshot I've ever taken aligns perfectly in those moments, and I confidently give strangers clear and flawless directions. I finally understand the loop!

...Ok, most of number ten was an exaggeration. 

Or, rather, a complete lie. 

But I am getting better.

"I'm The Big Sister"

At some point in my childhood, I acquired a pink t-shirt that reads, "I'm The Big Sister" in a very outrageous font and color scheme. Kind of looked like graffiti. But, no, I know what you're thinking -- not THAT much like graffiti. Not like the kind of graffiti shirts you'd get at Six Flags. Although, if I know my family well enough, I'm going to assume this shirt was purchased during a vacation to Branson, Missouri. . . there was this gift shop at the entrance / exit [it took me years how brilliantly I was being marketed to with that shop's location]  [and similarly, it's taking years for Branson to realize that - these days - "location, location, location" still matters . . . just ALSO includes web real estate . . . but I digress] at one of the Six Flags-esque themed parks we'd always go to. The store reminded me of a mix between what I assume LEGO LAND feels like and what I know Crate & Barrel feels like. So maybe that helps explain the shirt?


But the shirt design isn't really the point. The point, I guess, is that I remember being very proud to wear that shirt. Later it became a shirt I wore just to annoy my brother, Donnie, when he started his freshman year of high school at Saint Charles West . . .  the year I was a SENIOR and used every ounce of power I had as Student Council President [which wasn't much] to embarrass him. Ha. I think the first assembly he attended may have been the worst. Back then, he wasn't the kind of kid who loved being introduced to a crowd of 400+ peers. He's since moved past that quasi-shyness and is far better in front of a crowd than I could ever be. 


Aw, sheesh, now that I've mentioned Donnie . . . and since the point of this post is about Neal . . . I've got to write about Steven. But in effort to keep this short - how 'bout I just promise Steven a full blog post to himself at some point, aye? I'm sure he won't mind. 


The whole motivation for writing this morning is to recall that same pride. Not the "hey, let's embarrass my lil' bro pride," but the "hey, I'm proud of you and proud to be  associated with you" pride. And that's how I felt when my dad emailed me these pictures / messages over the past month . . . 

"Neal's going to the State Finals brick-laying competition. Representing the whole area!" 

"Guess who was just awarded the Lewis & Clark Technical College Student of the Year for his class!?"

"Neal's shirt design sales & sponsorships raised $5,000* for Speed the Light, and he's going to speak to other churches about recommendations on how to fundraise."

So here's the thing, these awards and somewhat tangible "successes" are neat . . . but they don't even start to describe the great man I think my little brother is becoming. He's one of the most energizing, creative, fun people I know . . . and although he spends far too much time looking in the mirror / working out / and oh.my.god.TANNING. . . he's a super cool friend who I am so lucky to have as a brother. His mad skills will take him somewhere in life, but I think it's his truly deep care for others and radiating personality [usually] that will keep him growing. Way to go, Neal! I'm very proud of you, little brother :).

*I actually can't remember / find how much he raised. Dad, correct me when you get a chance to look at this? 

Fun LinkŽ

Željko | Brief Bio ::

Full-time job:  Mechanical Engineer at CroMaxx*

Part-time job:  E-Newsletter Content Provider for Me.

Željko consumes a lot of information every day. On MY lucky days, I get an e-newsletter from him with the hottest linkŽ on the web. Custom to my taste in humor and fully packaged with commentary by Željko. 

Today is YOUR lucky day ... because you get  a hand-pickin' of those same linkŽ AND a picture of this handsome handsome man sittin' poolside.

Happy Memorial Day!

Enjoy the linkŽ:

1. He called labeled this image "genetics." I thought he was passive aggressively making fun of my family's tradition to match for every major holiday. Either way, neat pic.

2. When I can't  figure out how to pronounce a Croatian word, this is a good reminder that I'm lucky I'm not dating  someone who speaks .... what is this, Mandarin? Kate?  Jonas?

3. I've employed a similar phone convo technique. Not nearly as funny, but I'll share nonetheless ... 

I grew up in an old kinda scary haunted-looking house. Before we, or at least I, had cell phones.  I was given way too much responsibility at way too young of an age or maturity level. My logic in this story is indicative of that. Any time I was walking into my home alone and/or with any or all of my three younger brothers, I'd start a fake conversation with my  dad. I'd say things like:

- "Wow, dad, it's so cool that you just won that fight. You're so strong." or

-  "Aw, dad can I see your fully loaded gun!?" or

-  I can't believe you'e killed 10  bad guys with your bare hands."

All of this  was, of course, supposed to scare any 'bad guys' away before they made a move on little 'ole me. Lucky for me, no break-ins. Probably because of my plan.

4.  Teammates. Bros. Watch closely. 

5.  Ronlosophy ...  Swansonethics ...

6.  Our Song.

7.  Redecorating.

8.  Surreal.

9.   The bug that died for the sins of all bugs.

10. Kids These Days.

11.  Virgin Oil.

12.  Neighbors.

P.S.

*CroMaxx is a company that manufactures, services, sells, assembles pumps, gears, custom cylinders, replacement cylinders, PTOs {power & takeoff} and a bunch of other super neat mechanical engineering-esque things.

My understanding of the biz is obviously limited. I just wish they'd embrace their Inner-Queens and sing about how they sell hydraulics & pneumatics PRESSURE.

Wanting {and} Trying

{WANTING}

Season 2 / Episode 9 of Louis CK's show, "Louie" ... Louis/Louie* runs into an old comedian friend of his. Eddie. Eddie and Louie started out in comedy kinda together, but Louie's path has just been a bit more successful. 

A lot of this show's writing is a bit dark, most of the plot is depressing, and it's uncomfortably honest at times. I think that's what I like about it so much. It's funny, but never cheesy. The show is just ... raw. Very bold, very real, very raw.

This conversation between Eddie and Louie really stuck out to me:

L:  So what do you need?   

E:  I don't need anything. I just wanna talk to yuh. I wanna tell you somethin'. 

L:  Ok. 

E:  Ok. ok. 

L:  Yeah, I'm listening. Go ahead. 

E:  Look man, I'm cashin' in. I'm done. I'm 40-shit years old. I got nothing. I got nobody. I don't want anything. I don't want anybody. And that's the worst part. When you, when the want goes. That's bad. I mean, like suffering, that's one thing. Or not having is one thing. But when you just don't care any more...

They go on for a bit. Naturally, there's a reference to a soft penis... what would comedy be without those references? 


{TRYING}

Similarly, in a recent episode of MADMEN, Roger Sterling talks about the moment it's appropriate to ever stop trying. He seems to conclude that it never is, thanks to his recent LSD trip. 


Roger, of course, thinks that to "never stop trying" in this particular instance, is to get a BJ from a married woman. NOT my point.


WANTING {and} TRYING

Point being ... you're lucky if you have any want. 
And it takes courage to turn that want into something you try.


The desire to do matters long before whatever you end up doing. It all matters, but without the motivation, without the impetus, the inspiration, the drive -- well, what is anybody doing without that? More pointedly, why is anybody doing without that? 


So I'm impressed. Impressed with all of the people in the world who are not only lucky enough to be overflowing with want, but who take the risk of occasionally trying. And then, you people who DO things that really rock. Well, you're the greatest. Don't even get me started on the people who go on step further and reflect ... follow-up ... constantly improve. Way to go.


Well, I'm off to a kickball game. You keep wanting and trying. It'll make whatever you do so much more meaningful.

P.S.

*He always goes by "Louie", right? But sometimes he spells it "Louis" ... is it because he's subliminally telling us all that SAINT LOUIS is the greatest place in the nation?

{Creamy} Bitter Sweet Like ...

{Me}lissa

My mom drinks a lot of coffee. At least a full pot before she’s able to function each day. She zombies her way downstairs every morning and then transforms into this Energizer® Bunny®-meets-Wonder Woman-meets that crazy Target lady* [not to be confused with this awesome "Target Lady" played by {new} SNL-alum and one of my idols, Kristin Wiig] ...

To my mom, coffee is a necessary day-starting ritual. Her coffee facts:

• Her brand-of-choice:  Folgers®.
• Brand she hates:  Starbucks® [cool new website though].
• Cream:  Spoonful of the powdery stuff. Any brand.
• Sugar:  None that I know of.
• Cups per day:  At least 2 pots.
• Mug of choice:  Anything she can stumble-upon half-asleep.

{Me}

It's been 25 years since aforementioned mother gave birth to her first child. Now I, too, drink a lot of coffee. Well, if you can still consider it coffee after what I do to doctor it up. My reasons for drinking coffee are both relational and tastetational.  In a later post, I'll go more into my barista background and future dreams of starting / owning a community cafe in honor of my grandmother. But for now, I'll just share my coffee facts:

• My cafes-of-choice [I have no idea which brands they serve]:  Kaldi's, The Crooked Tree, Meshuggah, most any local shop with people I like ... and, mostly for convenience, I heart the 'bucks too. Occasionally, especially during roadtrips, I'm a fan of QuikTrip's latte/cappucino-maker. Coffee snobs everywhere are judging that sentence. Errrr.
• Brands I hate:  N/A.
• Cream:  At least 4 Coffee-Mate liquid creamers per cup, or preferably just a few pours of their French Vanilla or Hazelnut-flavored cream. Nice and cold, so my coffee is perfect temperature for drinking. I'm also a frequent purchaser of White Chocolate Mochas or Vanilla Lattes with Soy Milk in them ... NEVER hold the whip. Especially at The Crooked Tree, where the whipped cream is homemade and so so so so good.
• Sugar:  At least 4 packs, any brand.
• Cups per day:  Around 3.
• Mugs of choice:  At my old office at Mindshare in Saint Louis, I loved the process of choosing a random mug from our kitchen's collection. My top three ended up being:  1. The "Coffee with the Experts" mug I stole from Brian Getz, 2. This "News Channel 5" mug I would often drink from when I felt like pretending I was a news anchor like my two faves Casey Nolen or Ashley Yarchin, 3. Some cheesy mug with some state name I can't remember. It was a black mug with some faded neon print and images. Something you'd get your grandma from a place you vacationed. Or something she'd get you, rather.

So that's how I like my coffee:  Creamy {or milky}, bitter [just because it's inevitable; otherwise I'm not really a fan of bitter tastes] and sweet [so so so sweet]. . . and while I wish I'm tempted to say, "I like my coffee black, just like my men," the intended metaphor here is in regards to my recent move to Chicago...

I was born and raised in Saint Louis, Missouri. Well Saint Charles, technically, but Saint Louis is where I went to college and is the city I fell in love both in and with. About a month ago, though, I accepted a job in Chicago. And just a week ago, I started that job. My feelings about the transition can be summed up in the way I like my coffee:):

Creamy / Milky:  I'm not lactose intolerant, but I do experience a little stomach-weirdness when I drink too much milk or coffee filled with milky stuff. And that unsettled stomach feeling has certainly presented itself through this moving process. I feel so close to so many people, memories and places in Saint Louis; so I felt a bit unsettled with the idea of a permanent move like this. 

Bitter:  One of my best friends, Katie Campana, is having a baby soon. Things like weddings and bridal showers and graduations and birthday parties, I can plan a bit ahead for. I can make during the weekends without too much hassle. But things like this -- like a child being born to someone I've been friends with since elementary school! This, I can't plan on a well. I may not make it home to be there in the hospital with Katie when her little bundle of joy arrives. And those are the kinds of things that make me bitter about leaving. Big life events like these that I'll miss now. 

...Plus, those miscellaneous epic nights I'll no longer have with so many of my close friends. We'll still have epic nights, just now with a little more planning and traveling involved. And I'm bitter about that. I don't want to miss out on the Fridays after work when we all meet up at whoever's place seems most convenient [usually the "wang cave" - home of Josh Saleska, Adam Sommer and Adam Truesdell] ... then we slowly but surely decide what to do / who else to meet up with and end up dancing the night away or meeting some hilarious new friends or with any sort of story that we end up bonding over the next morning while we shove our face with greasy breakfast food. If we're motivated enough, that's often followed by some outdoor adventure like bike-riding or walking to some local festival or running errands for some upcoming event. Or maybe we just watch mindless television all day. Either way, we're together, and it's spontaneous and wonderful. And I'm so bitter that I won't have that any more.

Then there's this city! The concerts/festivals/local meetings want to attend, the progress I want to help make, the groups I want to stay apart of, the gym I want to still pretend to exercise at, the history I want to keep embracing, the news I want to keep up with. . . .Saint Louis is such a great city, and it's only getting better. I'm bitter to be leaving that. I also feel a bit guilty for leaving it. Like I'm selling out or something. 

Lastly, of course I'm bitter about the sharp decrease in time I'll get to spend with my boyfriend. From seeing him every single day in person to now only on weekends will be an adjustment I don't love the idea of getting used to. It feels like I'll miss him a lot, which sucks, right? But even worse, what if I don't miss him as much as I expect to? Well, I'm bitter either way. 

Sweet:  Obviously, this new job is the sweetest incentive of all to move. I'm working for Digitas - one of the biggest and best agencies in the world. My new client, Whirlpool®,  uses Digitas as their "agency of record", which means I'm surrounded by not only a team of people who do exactly what I do [search engine marketing], but I'm a part of a huge and talented team of people who do it all for the same client! I get to keep improving on my specific skills in SEM while also growing my knowledge of and experience with the rest of the media our client uses. I get to brainstorm ways to share the gospel of these high-quality kitchen appliances, and I get to be right there in the thick of the evolution of digital media as I do it! My office is just a few blocks away from so many of the vendors I'll work with, including Google and DoubleClick Search, who I already got to meet with in-person my first week. My new agency offers the full package to great clients, and I get to learn about the whole process - for example - our agency went through to create these super sweet Miller Lite Punch Top Can videos. I get to learn about all of the features that make my mom swear that KichenAid® mixers are the greatest piece of kitchen technology she's ever used [and she's a professional caterer/ cook / chef / baker, so she know this stuff], and I get to teach her how to shop online for the appliances she already loves! The job -- undeniably - very very sweet.

I'm lucky enough to already have a handful of friends who live in Chicago, so those special life events and epic weekends will still be possible... just with different people than I've been used to the past few years. And I'll make new friends. Like Frank, my new Blue Line buddy or the guy who owns the sweet art store downstairs or my roommate's good friend Julio who I've already been lucky enough to enjoy a few beers with. So making new friends, re-acquainting with old friends and making memories with 'em all ... some more sweetness to look forward to.

The city I'm leaving ... sure, I don't get to be a part of Saint Louis in the way I wanted to be. But, I get to experience a whole new city and observe it first-hand as a resident. So I can keep the great things in mind for the day I do move back to my hometown. I can learn what makes Chicago so great, and go back to Saint Louis eventually to recommend those things to my city's leaders. I get to really try making it 'on my own' in a city that is ranked one of the best cities for young professionals time and  time again. I get to experience some of the best restaurants, bars, theaters and stadiums in the world. ..and I get to tell everyone in Chicago how great Saint Louis is and thus secretly convince them all to move to Saint Louis when I do. ... ;)

Lastly, regarding the boyfriend... this one was tough to figure out any 'sweetness' to... but is anyone really eager to segue into a long distance relationship after a great 5-minutes-away relationship? Meh, not us. But some of the sweet things we've discussed seem to be more than just ways to get through the bitterness. We really are excited to sort of see what we're made of and kick ass at communication and planning and all of the things that could make us a better team than we were before. We're pumped to get to explore two cities at once, together. He'll keep me posted on Saint Louis news, and I'll fill him in on my Chicago fun. We'll have a couple weekends every month to try out new things in each of these cities together. We'll become much more familiar with Skype and Google Hang-Outs and make much more use of the unlimited texting / calling we're already paying for. We'll finally make a dent in our "Books2Read", as the travel between our two cities is cheapest via train or bus, and both mediums are great for reading. We'll have something new to try in our relationship that we'll look back on if it works out as one of the phases that made us the couple we've become. It'll be sweet.


This move ... maybe it's also a bit like the way my mom likes her coffee. Maybe it's a necessary life-starting ritual. Maybe this experience will make me the Wonder Woman my mom believes I can be and is to me. Maybe this is really growing up, and I'll look back on this blog post some day with three more pages full of "sweet" reason I moved to Chicago. And the "bitter' stuff won't be so bad.  Maybe I won't need as much cream or sugar in my coffee when Chicago's done with me. Coffee will be sweet without it? 


P.S.

*Why can't I find the Crazy Target Lady commercial on Target's YouTube Brand Channel!? MarketingFail.

*