Year Twenty Three

Let me start by apologizing to all my readers for being unfashionably absent from the blogosphere for the past two months. My life has been turned upside down on itself, leaving me a little out of my element and with so many thoughts, I don’t know if anyone out there could make any sense of it.

But with a recently past birthday, I thought what better time for new beginnings.

Twenty three is not one of those years that you hear people say, “That’s a great year.” In fact, after twenty one, you hardly hear that. But twenty three was a good year for me, and because much of the goodness happened away from my blog, I’ve decided to share some of the highlights:

May-June 2008: This is a little before my birthday … but I’m counting it. I officially graduated from undergrad. I had actually finished classes the previous December but couldn’t walk with my fellow graduates (Who schedules graduation 4 days before Christmas … UNLV). Had a huge party at Mat’s parent’s house. This was the first meeting of our families. And the first time I was tipsy in front of my family … yes that is a highlight!

July 2008: Mat and I traveled to Indiana to attend the two-day Dave Matthews Band festival with many of his back-home friends. We camped, got inebriated and watched and listened to great music.

September 2008: I met my new bff Liz.

October 2008: Pumpkin carving party at the house. Many of our friends came. We ate pizza, drank spiked apple cider, and carved some amazing pumpkins. I love my friends. Some of them have moved away, and I miss them!

November 2008: Mat and I went to New York together. I went for work; Mat tagged along. Maybe the greatest three days of my life. It was a much needed trip for our relationship. I loved New York. It was the first time I had ever been to the city, and I hope not my last.

November 2008: I started my blog: JustMeInMyTwenties

December 2008: I truly feared for my job.

February 2008: Mat and I both got acute pneumonia. Quite possibly the most pathetic days of our lives.

February – May 2009: Mat and I decide to look for a house to buy together. This was a long, frustrating, tearful process, but is soon to end with a very positive outcome – we hope.

April 2009: Mat and I celebrated our 4th anniversary. We lived it up at the Stratosphere!

April 2009: I traveled to Montreal, Canada and Dusseldorf, Germany for work. Had a great time. Experienced new places. And even though I had to leave Mat and my animals at home, I got to see them every night, thanks to Skype.

May 2009: Mat and I go from an almost 2,000 square-foot house to a 10x10 room. We moved out of our subleased rental house that we spent the last year in together and into his parent’s house. Things are not bad. But I miss my animals so much and all my stuff and space.

June 2009: Mat and I find a house. Closing date is July 20th. Cross your fingers that everything works out.

June 2009: I start training for a half marathon with my sisters. I have run over 50 miles this month. That is probably more than all the miles I have run/walked, up till this point, in my life combined.

June 25th 2009: I turned 24. Looking forward to another great year!

I know there are so many other events that happened in my twenty-third year, but these are main ones that come to mind. I feel really lucky that this past year was full of good friends, good music, good goals and good times in general.

I don’t want to jinx anything but I feel like the years keep getting better and better. I make better and closer friends who have become my family. I learn from my mistakes and try to be a more complete Katie. One of the most important goals for me is to constantly evolve. To have a good idea what my likes are; dislikes are; what my style is and what makes me happy. It doesn’t matter if the list is cohesive or not. I just want to be content, strong and secure, emotional, physically and mentally. I would be lying if I said that aging does not scare me a little. It does. But the solace in aging is that I like what I see.

Here's to a great twenty-fourth year.

A table only a mother could love

Two days ago I sold this table to a couple that responded to my craigslist ad. I had it listed for a few weeks. First at $100, then after a week of no interested buyers $75. So, when I finally got a call I was a bit relieved. But more than relieved, I was sad.

This table was a special piece of furniture. It was the first piece of furniture I acquired while on my own. A classmate my second semester of school gave it to me. Her name was Shelia - a cute little lady probably in her late 50s early 60s. Shelia and I became pretty good girlfriends. She told me all about her life and I told her all about my roommate's and my wild and crazy apartment adventures. I told her about our fine furnishing, which consisted of a cardboard box and a tent in our front room in order to use up some of our space. After hearing all my stories I think she was torn between three distinct feelings toward me (1) I think I reminded her of her youth (2) I'm sure she felt sorry for my lack of well everything and (3) I'm fairly certain she thought I was crazy. The feeling sorry for me part won. She offered to give me, for free, a dining set that her sister and husband were getting rid of. I promptly went over to her house to see the table. And it was truly a treasure.

What stood before me was a 1970s brown-tinted glass-top table with four beige leather chairs. And the fixtures were light-stained wood and brass tubing. The glass was cut in an octagon, giving any room a little geometric flair!

I loved this table. This table moved with me to all of my apartments thereafter - my studio; the boyfriend's and my loft and then the house. It wasn't always being used; it was often in storage. But I could never get rid of it. We moved it from the garage into the house for our Halloween pumpkin carving party last year. And we never moved it back. Instead we gave it a semi-permanent home in the kitchen even though we already had a nice kitchen table. And when anyone came over instead of sitting at our nice table, everyone congregated around the 1970s table.

Well, I decided to sell my little vintage table. The boyfriend and I are moving soon, and most likely we will be moving into storage. So we don't want to have to move, store and then move again anything we aren't going to end up using. But I was determined to find the perfect owner for this table. I wanted to find some cute person who loves vintage items. And who would find this table just as special as I found it. Is that too much to ask? I just wanted this table - that has really accompanied me through my adult life - to have a good home and good owner that would appreciate all its 1970s flair!

Said person was not found. I'm sure the table has a good home and fine owners now, but I'm sad that the perfect person didn't come-a-callin'. I'm sad that I totally sold out and sold my table for a measly 65 bucks. But the good news is that I sold the table, and I think I sold the table to a couple that needs a table. Maybe the love and appreciation for that fine piece of furniture will come in time.

A drunken mess

Based on not just one, not just a couple, but quite a few bad drunken experiences, I have come to the conclusion that I am not the best drunk.

I have been known to wander off, pick fights with the boyfriend and black out. If you couldn't gather, making sound decisions is another struggle while under the influence. Luckily for me, I have someone who is there to take care of me. Unluckily for him, he is there to take care of me. I imagine babysitting his drunk, crazy girlfriend is not the recipe for the best night of his life. He has to keep track of me, to make sure that I don't walk into the the men's restroom or try to drive home. He has to hold my hair while I'm bent over the sidewalk, trash can or toilet. And he has had to deal with many unnecessary full-blown fights, which only escalate due to the fact that I am so drunk I would walk in the men's restroom, drive home, puke, black out and believe that fighting while drunk is an excellent idea.

Just a few weeks ago we decided to go out to the clubs (not a normal activity for us) and it resulted in many of the things mentioned above. I got trashed. I kept ordering drinks. I couldn't add. Resulting in $42 bills with $10 tips that totaled $75. How does that work? I have no clue. Thankfully, the boyfriend caught my excellent adding skills and promptly took away my debit card. This drunken night resulted in me wandering off more than a couple times, where no one in our group knew where I was. And to be quite honest, I can't remember where I was. This also resulted in puke in my front yard, my hair, all over my clothes and bathroom. Now that was a classy night! The one positive thing I can say about that night is that the boyfriend and I did not fight (as mentioned above, a common occurrence while drinking). The sad part was that when I woke up the next morning, I was afraid to ask how the the night ended up, for fear that we had fought and I was just too drunk to remember.

So this coming Saturday, to celebrate the boyfriend's 26th birthday, we are going to Studio 54 with some friends. This will no doubt result in a drunken night. And I have been prepping myself for a better night.

My goal is to limit myself, take it slow and still have a good time. I am hoping that I will accomplish this by making this night about the boyfriend. For once, he shouldn't have to be the one keeping track of me. He shouldn't be the one calling a cab for me and holding my hair. I'm hoping that I can keep reminding myself that this night is for HIM. And maybe if it turns out to be a successful, still fun night, it won't be so hard for me to have some self control next time.

The Word on Weight Loss: Month 1

I know I said that I wanted to get serious back in December, but come on. It was December, right before Christmas and all that food - that deliciously bad food! So, I think we all knew how that was actually going to go.

But the news in not all bleak. The 1st of the the year came, and I decided, once again, to be serious. The difference this time was that Christmas was over, one; two, I had a friend who also wanted to get serious; and three, the first of the year is always a good time to make a change.

On January 12th, I put my close to 25lb. overweight butt back into the Weight Watchers program, where I hope it will stay this time around!

I have found myself reverting back to some of the old ways. Measuring out my cottage cheese in the morning. Counting my crackers. And keeping my handy little food tracker open and next to me daily. This might sound like work. And I'm not going to lie. It is. It is irritating and can be embarrassing depending on the situation, but I know the results are worth it. And once I do it, and incorporate it into my routine, I know it's not that bad. And honestly, as lame as it sounds, I am addicted to routine, so doing all this on a daily basis makes me feel good.

Although the food part is not too difficult and I'm embracing it, the exercise part is quite a different story. I cannot seem to do it. I'm not even trying. I think to myself, "Ok, today I'm going to make it to the gym." One thought,that's it. It doesn't enter my mind - in any positive, proactive way - again. Well, until the next day when I have the same conversation with myself. It's very simple: I just don't want to. And convincing myself otherwise has, so far, been impossible.

As much as I want this, and I will do what I need to, to get back to the weight I want (at least 150) I recently had a revelation about my character. A few days after I joined Weight Watchers, I met up with a friend that I've had since high school. She has been having some family issues, familiar ground for me, and we were swapping tricks of the trade. She was very nervous that characteristics that she hates about her dad are unfortunately coming to the surface in her own personality.

I then relayed my experience with bad characteristics rubbing off on me. My step-dad is someone who needs constant praise. I mean the man needs a congratulations for simply breathing. I definitely do not take it this far, but I do need constant praise in my life.

I didn't ever think that this stretched so far into my life. But after this conversation, I was reminded of another conversation I had back in August 2007 with the boyfriend. I was telling him how nervous I was about hitting my lifetime weight at Weight Watchers. Sounds crazy, I know. But I was nervous because I felt like after I hit my weight I wouldn't have anything left to work toward. Well that was half of it, but I think the bigger half was that without the weekly praise from the boyfriend, my mom, my sister, his family, etc. I wouldn't have the motivation to continue. After a while, no one would think/hopefully say, "Oh wow, look how much weight you lost ... you look so great ... you worked so hard." It would eventually just be commonplace - what I accomplished would eventually just be commonplace.

Maybe that sounds vain. I'm sure it does. But, it's the truth. The truth for me anyway. And I'm glad that I know this now. That I can vocalize it and acknowledge that this perspective, this personality trait can be dangerous. But it can also be managed now that I'm aware of it. So I figure that I can either work hard at curbing this feeling - this motivation. Or I can make the boyfriend sign a contract to tell me how must weight I've lost and how great I look. Either way, I think it's a win-win situation. (That is if I lose the weight!)

Oh and by the way, this month I lost 5.2 lbs!

We are so messed up

A good friend of mine recently sent me a few links. They both are so sad and give such a vivid picture of everything that is so fucked up in this world, especially the United States.

This one, The Story of Stuff with Annie Leonard, details all problems with American consumption. It is so crazy.

Leonard basically takes the viewer through the process of production through disposal and describes what is wrong with each step. Although every single thing she says made total sense and made me question my consumption and disposal of stuff, it also - because of all the problems with the system - made me completely sick and discouraged that this will never change.

Leonard mentions this toward the end. But she says the people who don't believe the system can change are the people who don't want it to change. They are happy with how the system currently operates and don't understand, don't believe or don't care about the consequences.

I am not this person. I promise I am not this person. I try to have hope that the system can change. I would do as much as possible to assist in this change. However, I feel that for a 23-year-old female, I am fairly average - possibly even above. I mean I work in a field that revolves around green practices. So I hear about a lot of green behaviors. I have reusable grocery bags. I buy remanufactured cartridges. I don't use paper plates and I try to conserve my use of paper towels. I use both sides of my paper and I just requested recycle bins for my home.

But when I look at some of these things individually, I am really not that green. I mean I forget my reusable grocery bags probably 60 percent of the time. I print on both sides of my paper, yes, but then I simply throw away that paper. Sometimes I tear off three paper towels, proceed to dry my hands and then realize that I just used three paper towels to dry my hands. And I just barely requested recycle bins, bins that won't arrive for another six more weeks because there is a waiting list. And although I know I'll feel better about using them once they are here, I also know that that system is flawed. A couple examples of the defects in the system: Recycling paper often results in bleaching, which just pollutes the air more. Even though we are asked to separate our plastics, paper and glass, there have been many reports that our trash men simply dump it in the same trash container. Pen and Teller do a whole Bull Shit episode on this (A preview of "Recycling" can be found here).

One of the fundamental reasons I have a hard time believing this system can change is not because I don't have faith in the people. I simply don't have faith in the government. Again, maybe this makes me a pessimist, in fact I'm sure I am a pessimist, but even with a new president who has a lot of hope, I don't believe much will change. I wish I believed that. I wish things would be different. And honestly, I believe that Obama wishes things would be different and that he could change things, but the truth, or what I believe to be the truth, is that Obama is not in charge of this country. Special interest groups, or corporations, rule this country. And they are so fucking greedy that nothing will change. Everything will remain exactly the same.

Now I will continue to do my part. And I will strive to remember my grocery bags more often. And I will continue to have hope because I know its the right thing to do. And I know that even a small change is a change.

One of Pen and Teller's main points in their episode is that recycling, as ineffective as the system may be, still makes people feel good. It makes them feel like contributing, active citizens and sometimes, just sometimes, that attitude alone triggers change in and of itself. So I guess that, most of all, is what I will hope for!

As a side note, the other link my fine friend sent me is a preview of the documentary Flow. The two-plus minute trailer is enough to scare the shit out of anyone, so I'm sure the full-length film is unbelievable. I have requested it on Netflix and will probably have much to say and blog about then. Until then ... get green and stop buying and throwing away stuff!

A good example

Over the past year, I have become friends with a lady who has become one of greatest examples in my life. She has become my sage, my mentor, my friend and my boss. I have learned a lot from this woman. I have listened to her talk about her children, husband, siblings, parents and friends. I have watched her interact with people personally and professionally.

I find myself turning to this person a lot. Her opinion and perspective means so much to me. We are completely different. She is older; I am younger. She is black; I am white. She is in advertising; I am in editorial. The list goes on. But although there are so many differences, we are friends. And as corny as it sounds, I can’t imagine not seeing her five days of the week, confiding in each other, swapping stories and getting each others’ feedback and advice.

In fifteen days, we might not be around each other very much as both of our jobs are in question. I’m not going into detail, but due to the economy and our industry, things where I am standing are on shaky ground.

Things are OK, and we will both be fine. Thankfully, neither one of us are the kind of women who sit around and wait. We are the kind of women to make things happen. And that’s what we will do. Unfortunately, we probably won't be working together for very much longer.

Part of me hopes that we are able to sustain this friendship after whatever happens, and the other part reminds me of my personality - my horrible trait of giving up on things/people when it’s not convenient (although this is something I am really working on!). But even if we do stay in touch, I know it won’t be the same. But regardless of what happens, I wish this lady the best. And I hope she knows what an impact she has made on me, the way I live my life and the person I am and want to become.