Being a Genuine Blogger-Person.

I read Jen's post recently about why she blogs, and Janssens's post about being authentic in the blogging/social networking world, and I relate to much of what was said. And so today, I am thinking about my own purpose in writing this blog. What is it about for me?

Did any of you read Eat, Pray, Love? I read half of it a couple of years ago, and got too fed up to finish it. Pretty much everyone I know who has read it LOVED it, and that is okay. I think sometimes we have a strong dislike for things that remind us of our own insecurities or faults.

My problem with the book, if I am 100% honest with myself, is partly because I resented the fact that Ms. Gilbert was paid in advance to travel to Europe. To "find herself." It just doesn't seem fair. I have cool ieas and I'm good at writing and I want somebody to pay me to go somewhere! I think that is called jealousy. With a capital J.

Okay, but the real problem I have is with the whole premise of the book. The idea that all of the experiences she had were part of an authentic journey to find herself is ludicrous to me because, let's face it, she was seeking out book material. She had been contracted to write a book. So, the book is more like reality TV than a memoir about spontaneous experience. On reality TV  everything you see on camera is "real" in the sense that it's really happening, but it's not very genuine because people know they're being filmed. I love memoirs about real life--and this book most definitely does not fit into that category for me. You can tell I'm bothered. And if you loved the book, I apologize.

I think I react so strongly in part because I relate to the urge to produce interesting stories. I LOVE having something interesting to share on my blog. It makes me feel cool. I figure people like it. And so, when I am in "blogging mode," I sometimes feel the urge to create, to experience, to live--with the end goal of sharing it. That feels disingenuous to me. I recognize it, and I don't like it. I don't feel like I can be present in an experience--truly present--if I am imagining how I will write something up, or what photos I should make sure I get for the post later. Does that make sense? Also, I feel the urge to be an exhibitionist of sorts, writing  for attention or praise or acceptance or admiration (this is the insecurity/fault part I mentioned above). And writing for those reasons always leaves me feeling empty.

Anyway, I have been avoiding the blog lately for those reasons, and it feels good. But I also miss sharing. There is something great for me about writing, about forming solid sentences with all the right words, and about posting my thoughts with a stamp of ownership. I have a voice, and sometimes I care too much about what people think to share it genuinely. This is true for my real life as well as on my blog.

So here's to sharing real thoughts, and being real. Not just on the blog, but it general. Here's to being less guided by what others think. Here's to living real experiences, and continuing to document them because of the joy I find in keeping a record. Here's to prioritizing memory-making over memory-documenting, because I want to be spending more time "doing" than "talking about doing." (Maybe here's to less proof-reading/editing?) Here's to continuing to live life to the fullest, regardless of whether I've got time to post about it and whether or not anyone's actually going to read it.

Is Anyone Still Watching The Office?

I am. Even though I will be the first to admit it went downhill after Michael Scott left, I just haven't been able to quite let go. And I LOVE Jim and Pam. I feel like the character/relationship development on that show has been amazing. I cried--nay, wept--at the closing scene from Thursday's episode.

Not sure if it's because I'm so dang sentimental, or a therapist, or married, or what--but it just got me right in my little corazoncito. Is it sick that I love watching people make up? I mean, nobody likes fighting (or at least, nobody should), but I think I can stomach any amount of bickering & distancing if it ends with a beautiful make up like this one. Sigh. (Watch the whole episode if you can--this clip is pretty crummy)

I dunno, this just seems real to me. Anyone who says there's nothing real about TV is so, so wrong. So there.

First Dairy Kastle of the Season

I absolutely love Dairy Kastle. If you ever come visit me in Louisville, I will take you down the block and around the corner to Dairy Kastle. (well, if you visit me in the next 50 days--we just got 60 days' notice from our landlady that she is moving back into her house! but that's another story.)

The Health Challenge ended on Sunday (also, another story. winners to be announced!), and we've been excited to go back to our neighborhood ice cream stop.

Dairy Kastle is this magical place that is only open from March to October. There are always hoards of college students milling around, lined up for their ice cream or sitting around eating. This time, Chad got the Fat Elvis (his favorite!), which is a peanut butter/banana/ice cream shake. I usually get a dipped cone or an oreo flurry, but I got a hot fudge cake sundae--devil's food cake with hot fudge and vanilla soft serve. Yum! It was a very, very happy night.

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Schooled by the Workplace, v.1

Hello, and welcome to my new blog series, "Schooled by the Workplace: Lessons your formal education COULD NOT teach you." A few weeks ago, I asked for suggestions for the blog, and this one came from my bff Maggie.

image stolen from facebook.

Her idea: talk about things you learned from a job that you could not have learned in a formal educational setting. If you are like me, you may have stories from countless dead-end jobs. Or, maybe you have a career-type job and you've been shocked to piece together things you're pretty sure no professor ever mentioned in class. OR, maybe you're proving to the world that you can make it professionally in a field other than the one you studied in school or without a college education altogether. Whatever the case, I am looking for your contributions! Maggie's already promised to share some educational stories from her days at the illustrious sandwich shop, Gandolfo's.

I will be the first to share.

Rewind: It's summer of 2004, and I've just finished my freshman year of college. I'm looking a little chunky (hello, freshman 15 20!), and so my summer revolves around working two jobs and going to the gym. Without further ado, here some of the poignant lessons I learned during my summer as a Pizza Hut Delivery person.

1. Sometimes it takes a village to deliver a pizza. This is true. The worst day of work I can remember (and this is 8 years later) happened while working at Pizza Hut. Bear in mind, I had this job before I had a cell phone and before I knew what a GPS was. I had a phone book in the passenger seat and I would flip open to the maps when I didn't know where something was. So one day, somebody mis-entered an address for a delivery. Nowadays, you would hop in your car, punch the address into your GPS, and realize that you had been given an incorrect address. But back then, I just hopped in my car and headed off to find this nonexistent place. I ended up in a parking lot between Two Rivers' Convention Center and a pawn shop. Ummmm...

So I meandered into the giant convention center first. There happened to be a couple of people in there (I think there was a boat show going on later that day). "Oh, hi," I say, noting their helpful but blank faces. "Did you order a pizza?"

"No. . ." they say. "Did someone from the Convention Center order it?"

"No," I say. "I just have this address. . ." and I show them the address. They aren't sure what to tell me. So I head back out to the parking lot. Suddenly, a sinking feeling hits me as I realize I have locked my keys in the car. In addition to the keys, I have locked two other orders of pizza in the car as well. I'm really not sure what to do at this point, with no phone, no car, a phony address, and a couple of pizzas slung over my shoulder. So I head towards the pawn shop, feeling like a dork because at this point I'm doubtful the pawn shop ordered a pizza.

"Hey. . .did you order a pizza?" I say.

"No, what address do you have?" The guy offers to let me use his phone, and I call my parents to tell them I'm locked out of the car. Just as I'm asking them to come rescue me with the spare key, the pawn shop owner overhears me and says, "I've got some locksmith equipment--let me see if I can get your car unlocked for you." (A little shady, but okay! I feel relieved! I tell my parents not to come.)

Alas, twenty minutes later, pawn shop guy is still tinkering around with my car (NOT the time to be trying out your new locksmith tricks, pal!). My anxiety has risen to an all-time high. My dad stops by on his way back to work from lunch, on a whim, just to make sure I'm okay. "Oh hey, Dad. Yeah, looks like he can't get the car open after all. Do you have the key?"

The spare key is lost. No one at the house can find it. Cruuuuuuud. But there is a stroke of luck, and a few minutes later my mom calls to say she found the key. She leaves the house to bring the key (15 minutes away). Meanwhile, I call my boss. At this point, two of the three orders have called in. One has canceled, and the other has asked for a refund or discount. My boss gives me the correct address (a few blocks away from the convention center) and kindly tells me she's just relieved I'm not in an accident or something.

So my Dad and I decide he will drive me to deliver the pizzas in my hand to the correct address, since we are waiting for my mom to arrive with the spare key to my car. I am an emotional basket-case. All this waiting, calling, walking around feeling dumb and helpless--it's really gotten to me. And now, to add to my pathetic-ness, I am a passenger in my dad's car, with the pile of pizzas in my lap, sweaty from too much time out in the sun by the pawn shop. We drive to the first house, and some sort of meeting is being disbanded just as pathetic little, tear-stained me walks towards the house with the pizza. One woman waves me off, saying, "Oh, we just called to cancel the order. Our meeting's over." I hang my head in shame and walk back to the car.

We drive the few blocks back to the convention center and meet my mom there. I've got the key to the car, and one more order to deliver, but I am completely beaten down and I look terrible. I drive over to the other address, a good 10 or 15 minutes away, and walk into a little shop whose owner has ordered a pizza. Without looking at me, she snaps, "Do you realize how late you are? I cannot believe you guys aren't giving me a discount!" (Which, looking back--why weren't we? Wow.) Then, she looked up and we made eye contact. I knew I looked pathetic. She softened. Then she said, sympathetically, "It must be hard." I nodded, and sniffled, humiliated and avoiding all speech as I knew it would induce more crying. As soon as she handed me the check I ducked out of there as fast as I could.

As I was pulling out, a small boy (presumably the woman's son) came running out to the car, yelling for me to wait. When I rolled down the window he said, "We've got more monies for you!" I realized they were trying to give me a tip, probably because they felt bad for me. Drowning in self-pity and martyrdom, I shook my head and waved him away. "I can't take it," I said. Which sums up Lesson #2, Crying is a Good Way to Get What You Want. (Too bad I didn't just take the money. Come on.)

Stay tuned for Lesson 3 (Communication: Just Do It) and Lesson 4 (Watch Out for Policemen on Bikes).

Send your submissions here! I am just dying to hear what pearls of wisdom you've got.

Thunder Over Louisville

What a fun weekend. My brother Taylor, his awesome wife Jenny, and my adorable nephew Carson came up for a visit and we went to Thunder Over Louisville. If you're from here, it's just called "Thunder." So fun! There were air shows all day, and tons of street vendors, and an amazing fireworks show from the bridges over the Ohio River.

Thunder kicks of Derby season, and I've been hearing about it from clients for weeks. After a national championship in basketball and a day at Thunder, I am feeling very connected to my community. It is a good time to be a Louisvillian! :)

just snackin.

set up for a day full of. . .sitting. 

a buckeye ice cream parfait...yum. 

fried green tomatoes! Jenny's first time.

hanging out in the sun. 

pretty!

oooh, it got a little chilly. but we were brave! Carson is such a trooper, too!

Chad had to study most of the day (ick), but joined us for fireworks. Yay!

The Emmanator

How have I never thought of that nickname until just now?! The Emmanator. She emanates fun and awesomeness. Here's a scripture thought she sent a while back, but I'm a slacker. I'm going to miss posting these now that her semester is coming to an end!

"The book of Ether is awesome to read. It is interesting though because Ether (the prophet at the time) seemed to think that he was not good at writing. In Ether 12: 23 and 25 it says, “And I said unto him: Lord, the Gentiles will mock at these things, because of our weakness in writing; for Lord thou hast made us mighty in word by faith, but thou hast not made us mighty in writing…and I fear lest the Gentiles shall mock at our words.” This shows how distressed Ether is about his writing being weak and how afraid he is about people making fun of his writing. From my viewpoint, this is strange to read because the book of Ether has a lot of gems in it (like Ether 12:27, which is so good that it is a scripture that seminary students are encouraged to memorize). I think this relates to me and all of us because we all have those little things that we feel insecure about. Fortunately, the book of Ether is evidence that the Lord can make up for any weakness that we have when we trust and follow in Him. This is incredibly comforting as a missionary. I’m probably going to make a ton of grammatical and other errors when I am trying to preach the gospel in Spanish. However, I know that the Lord will allow his Spirit to be with me to help convey the gospel message, making up for any of my inadequacy in communicating in Spanish. I believe this is true for all of us as we try to do God’s work. The saying “whom the Lord calls, He qualifies” is really true."

Boston.