Happy

December 25 – Photo – a present to yourself Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and [...]

I had a couple photos that would work for this but I chose this one because

1. I'm incredibly happy in it.
2. I'm eating ice cream
3. And yet look skinny

This photo was taken on my last night in Paris. I had spent the late afternoon reading by the Louvre but wanted to go back to the Eiffel Tower to watch the lights turn on. I was delighted to find the place packed with people, and it didn't even seem like it was all tourists. I watched a group of French young people, two of them parents to an adorable little girl who was playing with all their friends. Everyone around was having fun, drinking wine and just enjoying the warm summer night. To prove I was actually there, I asked a group of girls to take my picture. I'm sure they thought I was crazy when I made that face, but it is my signature move in photos.

But back to item one. I am very happy in the photo. I was proud of myself for going to Paris alone. Proud that I didn't let being lonely ruin my good time. Proud that I could sit there and remember that I took photos in that very spot with my parents a few years earlier with happiness instead of complete sadness. Proud that I made that trip to London happen period.

Also here is a video of the magic moment. (I can't figure out how to flip it)

Oh Brooklyn...

December 14 – Appreciate What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?

Let's call appreciating friends and family square. I appreciate them both more and more each year, this one especially, for keeping me sane.

So what have I come to appreciate this year? There's lots but the one that comes to mind right now is how grateful I am for the home I've created in Brooklyn. I never thought I'd be one of those Brooklyn-obsessed that the media (Gawker) derides at every opportunity. But I love living here. I still love our apartment, despite our truly crazy neighbor. It's large and cozy and has hosted some great nights. Watching AFV monkey clips, learning to play blackjack, Fall into Mexico, Pie Party—it's been a busy year at 228 7th Ave.

I'm grateful that I am able to live in this neighborhood. Despite the stereotypes—babies, rich people, strollers, which are all true—walking to and from the train everyday is not a chore, it's a joy. I love that the man that runs the coffee shop downstairs knows us and lets us know he's sad when he hasn't seen us in awhile. He voluntarily helped carry a dresser that I bought up the stairs for me. Plus, he gives Alison a discount on her coffee.

There's a little girl who belongs to the woman who owns the laundromat. She is there every time I go in. She is so confident and eager to talk to everyone. It seems so weird to me that she spends nearly every night of her childhood hanging out with strangers, but she couldn't be happier about it. As soon as I sit down she skips over to chat. Yes, she digs through my purse and can be a menace when all I want to do is read and wait for my laundry. But the other night I was there and she wanted me to read her books to her. At first I was annoyed by the interruption, but looking back, I could appreciate that this little girl is learning from this neighborhood and its residents. She talks to almost everyone that comes into the laundromat. So who am I to be annoyed by what she's come to expect, and deserve, from her community. I read her the books about numbers, asking her to count them for me. It was nice.

Up until a few months ago, we had friends within walking distance. This led to nights of Wii bowling and baseball that were as much fun as any night in a bar. Plus, nights of dancing and drinking at bars where I can walk home after. It was fantastic. Now they've moved to Manhattan, but that period made me love our neighborhood even more.

I appreciate the park, the Brooklyn Flea—my favorite place ever—the rows of streets with beautiful brownstones that have windows I can peek into and admire bookshelves, the restaurants I haven't tried, the shops waiting to be explored. Because as much as I've learned about Brooklyn this past year, there are still many things to be discovered. And that's something to appreciate too.

Wise Up

December 10 – Wisdom Wisdom. What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

I can't really nail down what I'd consider the "wisest" decision I made this year. It ranges from seeking out some help to deal with dad-related stuff to forcing myself to limit my Five Guys consumption.Other "wise" decisions I made this year include, but are not limited to, the decision to go home for my Grandma's 90th birthday, the decision to put myself out there more, the decision to keep trying to quit drinking so much Coke, the decision to take a limo to Atlantic City, the decision to take mom and Lesley along to Florida and many more. All my decisions have played out in different ways—I had Five Guys tonight—but I am more concerned with the decisions I'm currently making or attempting to. Some I am not comfortable sharing in this "public" forum but the important thing is I'm making them. I am not trying to shirk them. I am trying to face them, while battling my incredibly lazy nature, which has been detailed in earlier posts. And i think the conscience effort to not shy away from decisions has my wisest decision of all.

Beaky and Beautiful

December 8 – Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.

I have a nose that some have said resembles Sam the Eagle. I've also been called birdie, bird brain, ducky and other assorted fowl by certain people. Apparently it came from my Grandpa John. Thanks Gramps.

I've tried to make it cute with a rabbit-like wiggle. It may have worked a time or two. It's not my favorite feature but it definitely makes me different. And so i guess by this post's logic, makes me beautiful. Thank you Gramps indeed.

Community

December 7 – Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?

I missed a day. I'll blame KU Basketball. Especially in light of the fact that my discussion of community will center around KU basketball and to a lesser degree (for me) football.

In a city this large it's tough to make new friends. I will admit that the majority of my close friends are still people who I knew from high school and college. However, the new friends I have made (mostly) have one thing in common: KU. Now, yes, it can be frustrating to just keep meeting people who already know people you know. That's why I've made a concentrated effort to meet people completely outside my social circle (to varied results) but there is still something comforting about the community of KU people in this city.

Ironically, I really fell into this group of people through Nebraska folks, but I've met some very cool people through going to watch KU games at really terrible bars. Admittedly, some are considered actual friends and some are not people I converse with at any other time than at a KU game, but that's OK too.

Last night I was part of this community, but multiplied by a thousand. I went to Madison Square Garden for the KU-Memphis game. The famed arena was filled with KU fans and everyone felt fine to talk to each other as if they'd known them for years. We blatantly eavesdropped on the people behind us, and then inserted ourselves into the conversation. I gave a complete stranger a high five. And yes we did spy celebrity KU fan, Jason Sudekis in the crowd, gladly taking photos and shaking hands with his brethren. It was fantastic. There is this sense of community in those places that makes everyone feel they belong. And they do—all united by a common purpose and passion. Which, when you think about it, is really what a community is all about.

Je me sens vivant!

December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

The sun was filling the little square with the kind of golden light usually reserved for romantic comedies. I should have been annoyed with all the people who surrounded me, but their chatter, incessant photo taking, foreign tongues and giggling children had no effect on me for I was one of them today, as much as I'd like to deny it. I snagged a seat and took in the scene around me. A scene that brought back many memories—a church service, a steak, a missing aunt—but I was still able to simply enjoy the exact moment I was in. I took a bite of a perfectly flaky pain au chocolat that none in New York can even compare to and heaved a sigh. I had made it back to Paris.

I had woken up at 3 a.m., caught two buses, a cramped plane, the stupid RER and a dank metro and when I finally arrived, unwashed and bleary eyed, I had never felt less tired. I quickly dropped off my luggage and headed out, turned a corner and there she was, bathing in the bluish-gray morning light.

Years of dreaming and scheming to get back there had finally paid off. I breathed in the smell of French bread, early fall and garbage—it is just a city after all—and you could have punched me and nothing could the smile from my face. I made the short walk along the Seine toward the Île Saint-Louis and I was practically skipping. I made my way down the narrow cobblestone streets where Paris began and stumbled into a brightly lit bakery, pastries gleaming in the still-early morning light. I made my request and my french flowed out as if I had never once forgotten how to say "Merci" and I quickly made my way to the square in front of Notre Dame. I hadn't planned it to be my first stop but it was like a magnet; pulling me to the true center of the city in order to welcome me back. It is where the above moment took place, me on a bench breathing in the beauty of the scene, enjoying my pastry and feeling satisfied, giddy, content and more alive than I'd felt in months.

Writing for a living...

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

There is so much that contributes to my inability to write for myself. The easy answer is exhaustion. I write and edit all day. Yes, this is what I always wanted to do. I did everything in my power to make sure that I was able to write for a living. But writing in my current job exhausts me instead of exalts me. Not that it is difficult—I write the same four stories over and over again—a foodservice operation got renovated, is going green, is raising prices or increasing menu/grab-and-go options. The idea is that since I write about these things all day, it should make me want to take the time to write about things I enjoy even more. Doesn't happen. I get home and the last thing in the world I want to do is write.

Instead I turn on my old friend TV—another large impediment to my writing. Man, I love TV. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Some say we are in a Golden Age of television and I agree in many regards and do my part to support it. I should take my love of TV and take it to this blog. I want to start writing recaps of my shows, like the ones I enjoy reading so much. So why haven't I? Pure laziness? Absolutely. But there’s something else . . .

There is the worry that no one will read it. Terrified that people will and not like it. My pal talked about her fear of writing in her post today and I can completely relate. I fear writing for myself because I care so much. I hate when I write something on my own time that doesn't make me proud, unlike the writing I currently do for a paycheck. I accept that my creative license at work is limited by my publication's voice. My boss constantly tells me to be less "cute/clever/funny/ alliterative" in my writing. It squashes all the pleasure out of writing at work that now I fear my creativity has been stamped out of me at home too. I read stuff I wrote awhile ago and can feel proud that I was able to get a little of myself in there. Now it's tougher to remember what "my" voice is.

How can I remedy this? Well the TV one is easy—I will write during commercials. You thought I'd say I'd turn it off...never! The laziness I'm working on by participating in this blogging-once-a-day business. I’m hoping it makes writing into a habit, like checking my Google Reader. As for the fear, I'm not quite sure I want it to go away. It makes me try . . . try to be better . . . try to be consistent . . . and try harder to write in a way that makes me proud.

One word

A post a day to reflect on the year by answering daily prompts from here. I failed miserably at this last year. But I want to write every day so badly! My laziness always seems to get the better of me. So I'll give it a go again. I won't do as well as her but in the immortal words of The Joker, here...we...go!

December 1
One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

Way to start this off with an impossible task. Encapsulate your entire year in one measly word. Especially this year. It's been a tough one. But choosing the word "tough" would make me seem like a negative Nancy.

So what do you do when things get tough? You rebound. But that makes it seem like I've been taking a lot of meaningless steps toward something. So what's a happier version of rebound?

...(checks thesaurus)...

heal
rejuvenate
boomerang
no...

RALLY
1. to muster for a common purpose
2. to recall to order
3. recover, rebound
4. to come together again

I like it. It fits in many ways.

I watched friends get married and engaged. I rallied (see last provided definition) for those events and loved every second of them.

I traveled to London and Paris on my own. It wasn't a smart financial move. But it felt absolutely necessary to my recovery. To my ability to rally for all the rest.

And elephant in the room of this year—I lost my dad.
One year ago last month. I haven't recovered. I haven't forgotten. But I rallied. And I made it.

My iPod reads my mind

I've had a bad week. I won't divulge all the details but needless to say, I've shed some tears, most of which have fallen on the subway (safely hidden behind some sunglasses) while listening to my iPod. Anything and everything from Neutral Milk Hotel to the Once soundtrack to LCD Soundsystem can set me off. And then my iPod delivered the coup de grâce in the surprising form of Matchbox Twenty. In case you've forgotten, and I had, they had some good songs, "Leave" being one of them. And this song's relevance was not lost on my tear ducts. Some choice lines

It's amazing.
How you make your face just like a wall
How you take your heart and turn it off
How I turn my head and lose it all

It's unnerving
How just one move puts me by myself
There you go just trusting someone else
Now I know I put us both through hell

I'm not saying there wasn't nothing wrong
I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me
I'm not saying we ever had the right to hold on
I just didn't wanna let it get away from me

But if that's how it’s gonna leave
Straight out from underneath
Then we’ll see who’s sorry now
If that’s how it’s gonna stand, when
You know you’ve been depending on
The one you’re leaving now
The one you’re leaving out

--

Oh, Rob Thomas. You get me. Cue tears.

Sex and the City

Ok, I've been working on this one because I wanted to make sure I did it justice. So I actually saw the movie twice to make sure I didn't miss anything and that my first impressions were correct. They were.

Let me preface this with the admission that I adore Sex and the City. Yes, it often induces eye-rolling with its writing/computer-generated butterfly, but on the whole it is funny and touching and . . . er . . . fabulous. I also happened across the filming of the movie last September, while my parents and sister was in town. They were filming a scene with Sarah Jessica Parker—that I would later find out was cut from the film, but included in all the trailers—outside of Pastis in the Meatpacking District. So it was with no small amount of excitement that Autumn and I went to an 11:30 showing on opening day. (See below for funny observations of the throngs of women we observed at the theater)

So the film . . . SPOILERS FOLLOW

First things first, the plot catches up with our four main ladies four years after the finale where Mr. Big finally told Carrie she was the one, Charlotte got news of the successful adoption of a Chinese daughter, Miranda learned to love and live in Brooklyn and Samantha and Smith had sex.

Not much has changed except Samantha has followed Smith to L.A. to manage his career/have sex. Big and Carrie are happy and moving in together, Steve and Miranda are having marriage trouble and Charlotte and Harry are the picture of pure happiness. As I'm sure you've all heard, if not seen, Big freaks out over the wedding and leaves Carrie pretty much at the altar. What follows is a surprisingly raw look at what happens when an adult gets her heart broken. No changing of her relationship status on Facebook, Carrie is a true grown up. She breaks down and completely disappears from Big's periphery.

There is one a scene that really sums it up. When the girls go on Carrie's honeymoon with her, she manages to escape to the bathroom for some solitude. In the scene, she takes off her overlarge sunglasses, washes her face and just looks at herself in the mirror. What we see is a woman completely destroyed, wearing no make-up, no designers, no armor. Moments like that are when the film is at it's most affecting. When all the fluff is on mute and we just get to see these characters be human. Another one comes right after Big has told Carrie he just left the wedding. The pass each other on the street and Carrie jumps out of the car to hit him with her bouquet (Ridiculous? Cliché? Yes.) Big starts to give her a swan song of he just freaked out for a minute and he's ready now and Charlotte bursts in with an outraged and teary "No!" as she whisks Carrie away from him.

There are other moments like this but really these are just illustrative of a simple fact: My friends would do that for me and I would that for my friends. That is why women love this show, and I'm guessing why most loved the movie, although I'll admit now, that I'm not in that category.

One thing that didn't do it for me was the sheer amount of attention paid to consumerism. The whole Vogue photo shoot was unnecessary, especially considering the voice over that cooed the names of the designers. Yes, the show did it's share of lusting after designer clothes/shoes, but perhaps because it was confined to a mention or two in a half hour of television, it never bothered me much. This was overt and ridiculous.

Otherwise the entire plot felt forced to me. Sure, a comment on what happens after you find love is refreshing for a romantic comedy. If the film had actually explored that notion via Carrie, it may have been more successful. What happens after Carrie finds love? She loses it for the majority of the movie only to forgive it the moment her eyes meet her beloved. I understand the importance of forgiveness and I'm by no means suggesting that she shouldn't have forgiven Big, but come on, how about keeping up the adult veneer of this movie and have an actual conversation about what happened? Speaking of, what did happen? We're expected to believe that Miranda's one throwaway comment was enough to push Big over the edge? Maybe I give him too much credit but he had made Carrie happy for four years since the end of the show. Big had changed at the end of the series. I think he's probably learned what not to do in regards to her. I didn't buy the whole leaving and then "what am i doing? moment" It felt lazy.

As for the rest of the girls, anyone who watched the show shouldn't believe that the character of Steve would cheat on Miranda. After everything she's put him through up to now, he cheats? Without ever trying the counseling thing beforehand, hell talking about it. I thought we were all adults here? But I see why it happened, Carrie and Miranda needed to learn to forgive together. Oh happy day, lets make out on the Brooklyn bridge. (Note, I did tear up at this part. I can be a cynic and a romantic all in one. I'm complex.)

I liked the story of Charlotte having everything she ever wanted and wondering why it happened to her and not her friends. I think the scene where she freaks out about running was really good. Of course she's scared something bad is going to happen! But you can't live life scared of actual life happening Charlotte, so keep on running. Also, didn't anyone else want the baby to be named Shayla? Don't know what I mean? Re-watch season 1.

As for Samantha, she was the most lazily written. I understand the "life revolving around the man" part and that was a good way to start, but turning Smith into an over-tanned, smarmy asshole is something that no one who watched the show should accept. This man shaved his head for her in one of the most romantic gestures I've seen on T.V. He would never act like he does in the movie, no matter how many "pounds" Samantha put on. But one of our couples had to suffer for this film being made, and Samantha made the ultimate sacrifice and went back to being a stereotype of a sex-obsessed character. All her character's growth from the series was unnecessary, I guess.

So I've been pretty negative. But let's reiterate that I've already seen it twice. So with any of my squabbles, did I still enjoy myself? Yes, of course. But I can't help feel that they may have tampered too much with an already fabulous thing. (However, I totally fell for the proposal with the shoe. I am ashamed.)

Notes on the movie-going crowd.
•I didn't witness this exchange but the way it was told to me coupled with the fact that I did sit next to these girls still makes it valid.

Autumn and I arrived semi-early to get in line so we didn't have to sit in the front row. There was a line formed already so we took a seat. I went to the bathroom and missed this exchange. There was a group of three or four girls behind us who apparently didn't really like one of the girls they were with. Autumn heard them complain about her when she left to get a drink. I don't blame them because she seemed obnoxious when I saw her and she was wearing a weird Sgt. Pepper band jacket completely unironically. So Autumn was eavesdropping and heard them talking about the fact that every girl there was really dressed up. Dresses, heels, nails done, the works. (Autumn and I noted this too, as we were in jeans, T-shirts and flip flops). Keep in mind, we were waiting for the 11:30 p.m. show.

Sgt. Pepper: Why is everyone so dressed up?
Friend #1: They probably are going out after the movie or they went to dinner before.
Sgt. Pepper: (Disgusted tone) What? There is no way they went to dinner before. No New Yorker goes to dinner before 10:30 p.m.
Friend #1: Uh, I go to dinner at like 8:00 sometimes.
Sgt. Pepper: Ew
Friend #2: Yeah, sometimes I go to dinner at like 6:30.
Sgt. Pepper: Ew.

First of all, "Ew" is not a proper response to anything, let alone a claim that purports you are really cool and don't eat until 10:30. Anyway, the way Autumn said "Ew" in the retelling made me laugh for days.

•I've been to a lot of movies on opening nights. People always get there early, wait/sit in a long line, usually on the floor, and wait for the theater doors to open. Then they usually stay in said line and enter the theater in a civilized way.

Not here. Here, grown women start entering the theater in a civilized way and then decide "oh no, that bitch did not cut in front of me!" And then kick off their heels, disregard all manner of social decorum and run into the theater. We were in awe and scared for our lives.

•Last note: When we got our seats, which were just fine and we didn't even run or push anyone over, we heard a huge pop come from somewhere near us. "Did someone shoot someone?" Autumn logically asked. Then the guy next to me said, in a way-too-excited tone "No, we brought champagne!"

-Fin-

On me being a sucker

I'm a sucker. Acceptance is the first step toward healing, or so they say. So I've accepted my suckerdom for the time being.

I am a sucker for what the industry calls romantic comedy. Or "chick flick." This is why I will never be Anthony Lane or Lisa Schwarzbaum and I've accepted that it is one of the roadblocks on my path to film writing greatness. I hold my opinion of film to a very high standard, but I do buy into the "guilty pleasure" film—it's mediocre at best and you know it's mediocre but you still can't help wanting to watch it over and over again. In the romantic film genre, there is genius (Before Sunset, Shakespeare in Love), completely ridiculous (View From the Top, Heartbreakers) and then there is "guilty pleasure" (Chasing Liberty, The Holiday).

Tonight I was invited to a free screening of Definitely, Maybe. I had seen the trailer and dismissed it as fluff, especially considering my serious dislike of Ryan Reynolds. But I couldn't turn down a free flick when Carolyn invited me. So with some reservations I watched the romance unfold.

It was predictable (the boy finds a used book with an important inscription in order to woo girl, hello! We've seen that, it's called Serendipity and it stars a much more charming actor[freaking Lloyd Dobler himself!] then you, Mr. Reynolds). But did I tear up at the end? Yes! I smiled, I giggled, I swooned. What can I say? Give me New York, indie love songs and a sweet kiss on a bench and I'm sold.

On celebrating my emergence from the womb

I was of two minds about my birthday this year. In the scheme of things 24 is relatively unimpressive, and considering how much has changed since my last birthday in this city, part of me felt like not celebrating at all. A few weeks ago Time Out New York had run a cover story on party bars. My roommates and I had vowed to try some of these out, so I thought there was no better occasion then my birth to get our dance on.

To compound the pressure of fun, we had a house full of visiting boys. Cichelli's boyfriend Nick and Aggen's boyfriend Jared were both staying with us, so I was determined for everyone to have good New York night. What is more New York then taxidermy decor? My thoughts exactly. So the restaurant and bar choice followed this theme. We dined at Old Devil Moon, a tiny southern find in the Lower East Village, which had plenty of delights to please all the vegetarians in my life. We danced at Home Sweet Home, a subterranean dive bar with cement floors, grandma's chandeliers, amazing dance tracks and the requisite stuffed lion.

All in all a good night, especially considering some of us (myself included) were exhausted from cheering on the Jayhawks the night before. But we danced it up real nice and made it home in one piece. I got the feeling that most of my entourage (and those who sent e-mails, texts and facebook wishes) were happy that I was born, which is really what celebrating a birthday is all about. So I guess this was really about saying thank you to all who wished me well on Jan. 4.

Best dressed: Aggen and Jared in complimenting Garfield and Odie sweaters
Best dancer: Jared (what a machine)
Most fun 30-year olds: Naomi and Dustin
Most embarrassed: Dave (only when I made him put on the Garfield sweater)