Day Thanksgiving: my favorite season begins

Virtual Me - because cyberspace is the only place
I'll ever wear skinny jeans

I love Christmas. I love the carols, the decorations, the parties - I even love the cold and snow. Granted, being from California, I mostly have loved the cold and snow from afar. But I'm convinced it will be wonderful. So now that Thanksgiving is here and the Christmas season has officially begun, I couldn't be happier. I can't wait to go shopping to the sounds of "Jingle Bells" and "White Christmas," bake sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, and curl up on the couch with hot chocolate and watch "Love, Actually" for the millionth time.

Which sort of segues nicely into the Boy Update.
Boy 1:
You may remember from last week's post that this boy was my assassin. Well, last week at the law school ice-skating trip (Short aside: ice skating in Central Park is so much fun! I was a bit disappointed though because forecasted snow never materialized. Oh well.) who should I run into but Boy#1. Had a lot of fun ice skating with him and my friend- let's call her Boy Crazy. Then we all hopped into a cab and went to this law/business/journalism school mixer. Yay! We talked for a while, sparks weren't exactly flying but I think it went well. (Another aside: I also made friends with a cute boy from the business school and an educational rap producer. Neither of whom ever called me.)
And this is the part where it truly gets Junior High School: a couple of days later, I talk to Boy Crazy, and turns out she's been trading messages back and forth with Boy 1!! Now, to be fair, I didn't ever come out and say. "I like this one, hands off!" But I thought it was obvious. It's ok though, frankly I'm cuter.

Boy 2:
Boy 2 is from California (as is Boy 1, actually,) and I invited him to our NYE party. Lest you think this sounds romatic/exciting, let me recreate our conversation:

Me: So what are you doing over break?
Boy 2: You know, relaxing, reading. I was thinking of going off into the Sierras.
Me: Like, Into the Wild style?
Boy 2: Sort of. And maybe to Tahoe. Are you going back to the Bay Area?
Me: Yeah. My friends and I are having a New Year's party. We're getting a hotel room. I gotta figure out what to wear.
Boy 2: Oh, so I'm not invited?
Me: But I thought you just said you'd be be up in the wilderness? Otherwise I would have invited you. You should come.

Yeah.

Meditation for Yuppies
In my attempt to stay sane and relatively stress-free, I've been trying to find a weekly meditation group. I had started going to the Zen Center when I was in San Francisco, and meditating somewhat regularly, and especially with all the high-strung Type As running around the law school, I thought I could really use it here. Except that the first place I went to turned out to have cancelled their service. And the second place I went to had a service, but it was in Amharic. Awkward.

Well, I finally found an ashram down in Chelsea that had a service, in English, and hadn't closed down. The branch of buddhism they pratice, Shambala, sounded really interesting- it's all about trying to pratice Buddhist principles while living out in the world.

I knew something was wrong though when I saw the teacher's bio, and it said he currently worked on Wall Street. Now, most Buddhist teachers are monks or people who have at least devoted some portion of their lives to intensive study. It'd be like having a priest who practiced corporate law on the side. And most of the people there were clearly yuppie Wall Street types - who the fuck wears Dolce and Gabbana to meditation? And they were all very Type A, asking lots of questions and even taking notes. People, it's meditation, not business school, you can't ace an exam to reach Enlightenment. Although I did really enjoy it, up until the question and answer period. And as much as I hate meditating with yuppies, i did see some cute boys in suits. And I love boys in suits.

Special Edition Post for Men: Are you a douchebag?

PLEASE HELP US WITH OUR STUDY

We are in the process of conducting a highly scientific study to determine the National Percentile of American Male Douchebags.

If you are not a douchebag, this is also your opportunity to enter your information into the National Registry of Datable Men.

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=2zam_2biDjeg_2fl2D4CoIEF8A_3d_3d

Thank you for your help.

Day 49: This continues to be just like high school

So I've got a crush on a boy. Two boys, actually.

Boy #1
The first boy asked me to have coffee with him so he could kill me. Ok not really, it was for a game we're playing called Assassins. I'm a little bitter. But he's cute. We've been exchanging messages via Facebook. Maybe he'll aske me to coffee again. But pay this time. I'd have sex with him then.








Boy #2
Boy #2 is my former Law School Crush, who I got over because I realized he's a douchebag, but then I had another moment of clarity wherein I realized he's actually just sensitive and slightly (ok maybe more than slightly) screwed up. And me being me, I am of course totally attracted to this. Also I think we'd have the craziest-looking kids ever. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Because if threre's anything I've learned in the past couple of months, it's that I should never, ever trust my instincts with men. Because I like the screwed-up ones. The ones who will ignore me and tell me they can't handle a relationship, but let's just keep having sex anyway.


Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right? Got that down. Now I've just got to work on Step 2: Not Doing The Stupid Thing.

Speaking of problems, the other day I meant to study, but walked thirty blocks in search of a Starbucks that a)had space and b) didn't look sad and/or shady only to end up in front of Filene's Basement. So I bought a pair of jeans instead. Oops. The week before, I bought a winter coat at Uniqlo. That doesn't count though because it was on sale and only cost $80 - I had expected to spend at least twice that! As a reward for my bargain-hunting skills I bought myself a really warm sweater [dress]. (I put "dress" in brackets because I think it's just supposed to be a really long sweater, but it totally works as a dress.) It's not my fault though, it's the economy - every week some store seems to be having an amazing sale to try and entice poor susceptible souls like myself to buy something. It ought to be illegal. Oooh, maybe it is illegal. I wonder if I can sue...

DAY 48: I'm ready to commit

Dear San Francisco,

I know things have been rough between us lately and it's all my fault; I haven't been around much. I haven't been spending enough time with you, or giving you the attention you need.

But I want you to know, darling, that you're all I think about when I'm away. When I'm in another city, all I can do is compare that city to you, and tell everyone about how much better you are. You don't know how much I've missed you these past three weeks.

So, if I know you're the one for me, why do I keep leaving? I can't explain it. I'm like a rolling stone- but I want you to know that I'm trying to change my ways. I'm sorry that I've been unfaithful, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. And always remember: you're my home; you're the one I come back to; you're the one I want. None of those other cities meant anything to me.

For the forseeable future, my weekends will be all about you: museums, concerts, movies, dance clubs, shooting ranges, happy hours, Circa creme brulee; whatever you have planned, that's what we'll do. You make me feel so good, I can't imagine what life would be like without you.

I promise you, the next time a super-hot male stripper hits on me, it won't be in an airport terminal in Charlotte, North Carolina. It will be in a bar in San Francisco.

San Francisco, I love you.

xoxo

*MJ*

Day 47: Strange Encounters of the Human Kind

Ask a Scientist is completely responsible for making me swoon over the POWER of Osmosis, specifically the forward kind, and for making both S and I remember that although we ogle cute furry animals,shop,dance, and _insert girl activity here___ we still have functioning brains.

Unfortunately while we were getting giddy over the possibly of harnessing the natural elements in urine to block radiation for future life on the moon, while simultaneously filtering it creating a natural power source we moved next to a young scientist named Leaf (names have not been changed to protect the innocent). Although Leaf was not the man of my dreams he did grow up on a goat farm, is inventing a bike would propel you forward using the wind biking creates and oh yeah he's a scientist. So when he asked me for my number I gave it to him - blinded by science/goat farming (I love cheese).

I wish I could say we meet for coffee like he proposed or that I'd called him like a texted I would...butttttt I flaked. Lesson I have already learned, relearned. Just say no initially and don't be a bitch.

Although the scientist, with justification, probably thinks I'm mean a guy named Thomas (*real name) had no justification thinking this about me and successfully engaged me in the strangest conversation(s) I've ever had with a non-homeless person. Thomas approached me an excellent,fun, dancing included hat-themed house party on Saturday after the tall, dark and handsome guy I was talking to left for the bathroom.

A word of word recollection of the conversation is completely impossible thanks to the generosity of the hosts of the party, but I defiantly recall his approach. As I'm standing around waiting contemplating finding my friends curly haired, kind of geeky Thomas rolls up and states that if he were as tall and handsome as the guy I'd been talking to I'd be talking to him instead. However, since he wasn't I wouldn't talk to him even though he was a nice guy. Whooaaaa.

I was insulted but found it assuming and told him he was probably correct and I commended him for his honesty. It's hard to damped your mood after you've been given a rose and hand out the petals to confused party goers. Anyway, he chats away about his inferiority's, tells me he's never actually dated anyone and then calls me out of looking over my shoulder for the mystery man. This "nice guy" tells me I'd probably rather be hanging out with other guy and I leave.

Downstairs I find my friends, more booze and the mystery man. Excellent until Thomas comes up to me, interrupts my conversation and starts asking me if I'm happier now that I'm talking to the handsome guy again, what's so wrong with him etc and gives me his business card. He does this while I'm politely telling him he's crossed the line, our conversation is over and he needs to leave. Lesson learned, eloquently put by a friend, "Guys that say they're nice guys are always ass-holes."

The rest of the night was spent flirting, dancing, and lip locking with tall, dark and handsome and breaking my roommates plumed, roman helmet (it's back in the fireplace and you can't tell). Before leaving, t.d.h. asked me if I'd like to go home with him tonight or have him call me later. Drummmmm Rollllll Pleaseeeeee, I said I'd prefer to have him call me later (aka refused a boy I would have actually liked to hang out with). This is officially the nicest way anyone has ever asked me to leave with them, but apparently it's niceness makes it ineffective? Lesson learned: refusing the offer does not equal a phone call, but that means I probably won't have gotten one if I'd accepted. (Please note: I smelt this no call karma coming from a mile away.)

I have switched from being proud of myself to thinking opportunity for fun lost and convincing myself that if I'd gone home with him I'd have gotten mugged, unknowingly filmed, an std or something of that nature. It's still progress on the being responsible front.

DAY 44: I'm ready to jump

Thanks Maddona!!! This song always lights a fire under my tush!!!

Your 20s are definitely hard. Its the time when you have to grow up, have responsibilities and figure shit out. That's a lot to handle. Back in college everything was already laid out for you. Things were somewhat, for the most part, figured out. Go to class, eat, sleep, party, homework, graduate, apply to grad school. The trip was pretty much googled mapped for you. Then you graduate college, then grad school (law school for me) then you step out into the real world. You realize: "Fuck I am gonna have to do what I just learned for the rest of my life." Then you get sad because you really don't wanna do it. If you're like me, you took the sensible route and opted for degrees that would for sure make money, but would not necessarily make you happy. So you grow some ballz and say "you know what, I am not going to be a lawyer." Then your students loans come in and you start freaking out and realize that if you don't become a lawyer you might be fucked financially for a long time. That's no fun either. You're 20 something you are suppose to be having fun. So for about 2 years I bumbled around, scared to jump from the sensible to what I love. Having always taken the sensible route I didn't really take time to discover what I love. I didn't really have a passion. Something I would do anything for, move anywhere for. Don't fret my pets, there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

So the company I worked for laid off shit tons of people. I was one of the lucky few. Very thankful at this moment to still have a job. I am sure my school loan companies are too. At the time of the layoffs I was really sad for my friends that left, happy to still be there, but sad that others in my department were moving on to something bigger, better and that they wanted to do; something they might even have a passion for. I was still stuck tagging shit. Still there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

First came Science, thank you W for taking me to Science cafe. You reminded me that my brain is not mush, there is a reason why I passed the bar the first time and didn't do too shabby in law school; I still have a brain!!!! That was like my little flashlight.

Then came the news that there might possibly be a TV show related to Fashion/ Style at some point, or an opportunity to be some sort of community liaison for style, and my co-worker - who we will call T who really stuck up for me and pushed me and told me if I want it go for it, and prove it!! Um this would most definitely be the really great lighting in the bathroom at ____ movie theater (to be filled in when I can remember the name).

Next came Yves Saint Laurent cocktail party at the de Young museum. At first it was a snooty crowd - really rich wearing diamond badly dressed but wearing really expensive clothes - and I wanted to go home. Then the tour of the exhibit, and I knew I was home. I didn't care if some of the stuff I would never wear, but I loved it all. I could appreciate it all. The hard work, the artistry, the visions. Seeing how fashion repeated it self, the quality of work. YSL = AWESOME!! The only bad part was that I couldn't touch everything / anything. Definitely an exhibit I want to go see again. Then I met a stylist. Which really in and of itself is not that "woo hoo ish." However, because she does what she loves here in SF and she was willing / is willing to talk to me and connect me with others, it is "woo hoo." "So like you mean I could totally like do fashion and TV together, and I totally might could do them both or fashion by itself here ? Like um saweet!!"

So I'm ready jump. It's gonna be a big jump though. I found my passion. Now I have to go for it. Figure out how to get to where I want to be. Also realize that it might take awhile - it took me 2 years alone to figure it out. I have kinda accepted the fact that I am a bit of a late bloomer. The first big step - I am not renewing my license this year - yep going inactive. I don't need a fall back, I am going to succeed and save $400 (for not paying my license dues) cuz I am gonna need it!! I would move anywhere, go anywhere for the opportunity, just for the chance to see what I could really do. They say 27 is gonna be a big year - well my roommate does at least. 27 - 33 your life apparently changes. I hope so, and for the better.

xoxo * S

Day 43: The secret to inner peace

I realized today that, for the first time possibly since I was 13 or so, I'm truly and completely single. Not single in a "I'm not dating anyone but there's this guy I hook up with" kind of way. No "It's complicated" on my Facebook page. I don't even really have a crush on anyone. And, you know, it's pretty darn cool. Boys take up so much time. And even when they're not physically taking up your time, they're making you so sad/angry/anxious that they haven't called that you can't really get anything done.

Now though, the possibilities are endless. I can study really hard, get good grades, and get an amazing government job after graduation (because now that Obama's in office, I'm actually considering working for the goverment!) Or I can not study and go out instead - and since I'm not worried about trying to flirt with/impress anyone, I can flirt with anyone I want! Or not and just dance and have a good time. Of course what I've actually been doing is planning vacations I probably won't end up taking, and shopping. And sipping wine. (For some reason I thought I'd save money by buying a giant magnum-sized bottle of wine instead of a regular one. At the time I must've been contemplating becoming an alcoholic because that is a lot of fucking wine. Not to mention my juice-box wine...)

(These aren't my feet. But they could be. Except for the fugly shoes. And my feet are like four shades darker. Point is, my feet = BIG)

Oh, on the non-boy-related front, I have a new nephew!! I am a reeally bad aunt though because I forgot my sister-in-law was scheduled to have him, and only found out he had been born when I called to apologize to my sister for the birthday card that got returned for lack of postage. Hopefully she won't share this with the family. That brings the grand total to 4: 2 nephews, 2 nieces. And still another sister who's dying to start popping out babies. Which means I can live out my life's dream of being a godless, childless whore who lives a fabulous life in the big city. Because really the only thing stopping me is that I actually really like children, but now I can have them around without ruining my figure or feet. (You know about the feet-growing-during pregnancy thing, right? For someone who's already got size 10.5 - 11 feet, this is a serious concern.)