Things that seem like a good idea...

I used to only have to fight off the urge every once in a while to have a bacon cheeseburger. Really that was the only nearby vice that was somewhat coma-threatening.

Now it's a different story...
Endless supply of pop
Jars of mini snickers
Packets of lipton soup
Sugary juice that masquerades as healthy
And taco Wednesdays!

I'd take a picture for the blog but then corporate security would probably arrest me because I broke one of the 1,000 confidentiality guidelines that I unknowingly agreed to when signing my employment papers.

The Baby Bullet is my best friend

And no, it's not that. Dirty, Dirty [insert your name].

Changes

Lots of changes in the past month and more to come...

The Carwash

For me it’s not that bumpin’ place with 70's music and disco balls – it’s my haven…for 2 minutes.

I roll up the windows. Put the car in neutral. Press play on the CD player. And breathe. Listening to the methodical swishing of the long soapy tendrils, I close my eyes and am taken elsewhere - a quiet place where my heart aches and reality feels millions of miles away.

Repeat

Over the past year, I don't think I've figured out anything about life's big questions. They just seem to be coming up again and again. If the last 12 months flew by, then what have I been doing?

Explanation

At some point, I need a bone...a star...a foghorn...just something.

So close...

So close, I can taste it.

Glimmer

The optimism is creeping back into my life. It's the kind that makes me grin to myself and chuckle for no reason.

The hostess

Thank you for dinner - the bread, salad, pizza, wine and chocolate tarte. However, I have even more gratitude for the company - the reminder and inspiration to keep pushing through to find my "passion path."

(and yes, "passion path" is a ridiculous phrase. but, it's funny. and that's why we get along so well, because we can laugh at ourselves and at the image of me attempting to scale multiple five foot hurdles.)

Wide-eyed, sans the bushy tail

Last time I lay in bed, unable to sleep, it was because I had taken a neon pink cough suppressant that tasted like childhood. This time - I slept 14 hours the night before and then capped off the evening with three iced teas. It's the perfect combination for restless muscles and nonsensical thoughts. Oh, and instant baggy eyes in the morning.

Putting it all out there

I find it interesting that out of all the creatures at the Zoo, this one was the most impressive. They went to any enclosure desired, walked among the visitors, and displayed their grandeur for everyone to see.

Was that my inspiration today?

The Storm

I guess there was some calm before the storm. Enough quiet that I didn't see it coming. Well, maybe it was because it was all the little things so I wouldn't have seen it anyway.

Anywho - I've been hit by the storm. Don't know how long it'll last. Don't know how bad it'll be. Only know that I'm ready for it to be over.

Stagnation Frustration

How can I be working so hard, yet still be so confused?
This is exhausting.

Escape

This is what it takes to forget about life's challenges.

Jetsetting

I'm headed off on a multi-leg adventure. What better way to reflect about life choices than at a wedding with friends, on the beach with my manfriend, and in the mountains with family?

Clarity, epiphanies, and direction to come.

Settle - settling - settling down

Several friends have mentioned this article.

Evaporated time

On paper, it would appear like nothing has changed from last year.

Yet, my life has been so busy, I can't even keep the days straight. What have I been doing?

Makes me want to save the world

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/world/globalfoodcrisis/

Martha

I wouldn't say that I'm afraid of Martha. It's just a combination of dread, disgust and a guilt. As I dig in the dirt in my backyard, attempting to eradicate the weeds growing beneath my Charlie-Brown-fir tree, I feel eerily close to her. I fantasize about pink shovels, colorful flowerbeds, and organic meals cooked literally with the fruits of my labor. My thoughts venture into maternal territory as I allow myself to wonder what it would be like for my Type A personality to stay at home and care for the domestic aspects of me and my partner's life.

The sheets - ironed.
The grout in the bathroom – mildew-free.
The garden – luscious.

It sounds amazing and awful at the same time. All of these things, which sound so nice, are now fashionable. Yet they betray my education, upbringing, and promise to keep my last name. I was taught that I could do anything and that I should never settle. And at some point, "settle down" and "settle" became synonymous and I haven't been able to let go of the stigma. Facing this intersection of lifestyles, I'm appalled by the thought of following Martha, yet petrified by what I might be giving up if I don't.

The Future

My mom said I should get a career coach. I balked. I already knew what he would say.

Anyways, there’s no need because I’ve found something better – my horoscope. Yes, it’s slightly problematic that the same predictions apply to everyone born in the same month. And it’s somewhat discouraging that numerous studies have shown that people will believe their horoscope, regardless of if it’s their sign. But, in times of deep despair and turmoil, I need a north star. Every morning I cross my fingers and hope that my daily reading will spell out the answers to my inner angst. It hasn’t happened yet. But, I know it will, at least that’s what my horoscope said.

While it's not the beginning, it's close enough

Several months ago, while walking through the warehouse, I passed two Directors discussing the latest news around a pallet of cereal. They waved. I waved. They said "Hello." I said "Hello." Being a friendly organization, I offered up that I was, "Just taking my morning constitution." They both froze, an awkward look on their face. I didn't think anything of it, smiled and walked away.

You see, at some point when I was in my early adolescence, I read Pride and Prejudice. Using my adept comprehension skills (which a SAT score within the 92^nd percentile supports), I deduced that a morning constitution was a walk. With the combination of having to leave the home to go to an outhouse and being referenced as good for your health, the possibility for a different interpretation hadn't even entered my mind. I realized my error in a very public fashion – when one of the Directors offered up my comment in a roast at my one-year anniversary celebration. There, in front of everyone, I was labeled the girl that liked to talk about poo. Somehow I didn't think that was going to help my attempts to act more mature at work. I knew at that point, this transition into adulthood was not going to be graceful.

I'm a well-rounded, fairly intelligent lady. I have been driving for almost a decade. I have voted in two presidential elections. I have been drinking legally for years. Yes, technically I am an adult and sometimes I believe that. Other times I feel like the girl dressing up in her mother's heels wearing too much eye shadow. My wardrobe reflects this dissonance as I weave back and forth between jeans and gym shoes and an assemblage of business casual attire with pumps. This mismatch of apparel only repeats itself in other realms – trying to decorate my room in a house with four other roommates so that it doesn't feel like the sorority dorm room that it probably is; trying to be in a serious relationship without marriage being the next step; trying to interact with my parents on an adult level when sometimes I just want them to tell me that it will all be OK.

Most of the time, I struggle to fake it because even basic etiquette requires know-how that I just don't know how. When's the appropriate time to hand out your business card? How do I make that first comment count when schmoozing? How do I throw dinner parties for those yet-to-be-made adult friends in an apartment that doesn't have a dining or living room? And forget trying to understand what I want to do with my life, why everyone around me is talking about buying a home and why all of a sudden I throw up in the morning after a night of drinking. My wise roommate told me that I was going through my second adolescence. That would explain my outbreak of acne.

Everyone tells me they've been through the tumultuous 20s and that it's rough. That doesn't make it any easier as I go through it now. I'm a planner. My mother told me that I didn't start walking until I was much older because when I did decide to walk, I wanted to be sure that I wouldn't fall. My whole life I've successfully followed the process: anticipate, plan, execute. No one ever told me that this doesn't work when you don't know what the next step is. So, I'm left with a choice – to stand in one place, safe from the unknown or to venture out into the darkness knowing that I'm going to stumble along the way.