Stress - All Time High

Ugh...after spending nearly $500 of my own money, which I didn't have to give away, on the new business pitch trip to Pittsburgh, we find out today we didn't win.  Seriously?  How do we go from leading the pack to not winning?  It's all sssooo confusing.

I will admit that recently I've been feeling as if my young looks are going against me.  God bless my parents and the awesome genetics they handed down to their offspring, but I'm beginning to feel that gaining another 20 pounds, cutting my hair, dying it a blah brown and dressing in old woman suits would make me seem more credible in the eyes of prospective clients. I'm not kidding.  I just don't get it.

Over the years I've realized that I actually have to be a different person, professionally, with each one of my clients.  Mostly it's with men.  The women are great and love to bond on a level beyond professional, it's the men who make me feel like Cybil.

There are the men who:

• are passive aggressive and like having a strong, bitchy woman push them around, telling them how it's going to be.
• ignore me until I've been in the board room yapping long enough that they actually begin to listen to what I have to say.  Then they totally respect me. 
• look at me in disbelief that I have 15 years experience, knowledge and creative ideas that will benefit them.  Mostly I feel they think I can't get it done.
• are cool and want me to be cool like "one of the guys", so I talk to them like one of the guys, never touching on anything too personal
• and those who want to totally and completely be "all up in my biznez", literally.  Of course I don't make it a practice to date my clients, especially when they're near dead, ask me out for drinks and then attempt to make out with me.  Eeeewww!

I'm telling you, it SUCKS!  Unfortunately, once again, I feel that this is potentially what might have occurred in this instance.  It's not the first time I've been on a pitch with this company and actually had feedback to this point.  They totally question my capabilities.  Oddly enough, when I search online later to see how things are going for them, I see nothing.  NOTHING!

The worst part is that I needed a return on my investment...I did NOT have that $500 to spend and my stress is now at an all time high.

Am I off spiritually?  Am I disconnected?  Have I been so deep in la-la land with Steven that I've simply not focused where I should?  A friend told me today that I needed the break.  I needed to mentally and spiritually get away from it all, but now I'm just left feeling like I may not accomplish what it is I want to...that the opportunities in front of me are all for not.  Certainly God wouldn't have given me more than I can handle - I do believe everything happens for a reason, but this is nuts!

How is it after everything good that's happened that I am here....once again?


xoxo

A Snowy Night

Tonight I spent the evening with a good gay bf - Ben*.  I picked a place just off the "El" for us to meet.  A straight bar with 50% off the entire menu.  He is, in some ways, like my brother.  I've always had a special feeling for him.  He's just a special, kind-hearted, thoughtful guy.  This is the first time we've actually said we were going to get together and made it happen.  Although there was an impending blizzard we still made it happen.  And of course, with the blizzard everyone goes immediately home, so the place was dead.  We ordered a buffet of Korean tacos, tempura shrimp (which wasn't actually tempura but fried - still yummy), tomato bisuq soup (eh, it was so-so) and some cocktails.  It was so dead that the cook brought us a complimentary dish of bacon-wrapped dates in a vodka sauce that was to dah fer!

Ben is the kind of person who is the voice of reason.  He's the one you can talk about anything to and he totally gets it.  He's self-aware, and aware of the world around him, and tries to live a life that makes a difference, as most of us do or aspire to do.  Ben is my sounding board.  Someone I trust deeply and I know will never judge me but ask questions that provoke my thought (yes, I know he's reading this!).  So, it was an awesome evening of sharing, asking and telling. Ben is the kind of guy who, when you're leaving says "You know, I'm going to tip the waiter/bartender more because it was half off night."  For me, who worked her way through college as a waitress and bartender, I feel terrible I didn't think of it.  But Ben did. And to top it off, he walked me the few blocks to the bus stop, across from the "El" cuz he's a gentleman like that.

Tonight feels like December or the beginning of January.  This storm is late, in a our terms.  However, it feels like Old Man Winter is saying You haven't seen the last of me and this is my last chance.   Indeed, we're never sorry to see him go, but if it weren't for the winter, summer just wouldn't be so great in Chicago.  People around the world wouldn't talk about how amazing this city is in the summer.  While we rarely let bad weather keep us down, summer is when we are all at our best.  We'd take it for granted, like they do in the South and Southwest.  People wouldn't live every day to the fullest, caring less about sleep and more about being out, about and present in the warmth still radiating from the city sidewalks.  No, it just wouldn't be the same.

As we walked down the street, we are bombarded with small snow bits (not even big enough to be flakes) that dance in the wind and chill our faces.  Both of us covered from head to tail in winter gear and snow.  As always, I give him a kiss on the cheek and we agree to do this again....soon.  two and half hours and we still didn't cover everything.

Once off the bus, I begin the trek down my block.  I've written about it before, but tonight it actually happened - one of the things I love about the city - a snow covered street.  I wish I could take a picture so you could see it in it's beauty.  The block is silent and I have a spiritual moment (shutup! it is!).  It's spiritual because of its beauty - pure - and no matter how many times I experience it, I'm still filled with wonder at it.  I do not take it for granted.  The sounds of nearby city vehicles muted.  It's as if a blanket has been laid down over everything quashing the sounds of the city.  The street lights bounce off the snow and it's suddenly brighter, not to mention a wee bit safer.  The snow continues to blow into my face and only momentarily blocked by a house or four.  I. Feel. So. ALIVE.  I slow my pace, knowing it's just a few blocks to my house and I want to enjoy it; savor this feeling.  It's a high.  I want to enjoy it because I'm blessed to have a warm coat, hat and gloves on.  I want to enjoy it because I have a warm, dry house awaiting me.  I am blessed.  If there's ever a time to realize what you have, it's now.  I can only imagine what it would be like to be out there now, waiting for the several inches to fall into place, and no where to go.  No warm home.  Only a crowded shelter.  (Now, those of you who know me, know that I've worked with the homeless for 20 years.  There are those who choose, those who don't and those who don't know the difference.  I reflect and pray for the latter two.)  And, I'm super blessed to have no where to go but my home office and out to shovel in the morning (my back!  hahaha).

Even now, as I write, my face continues to sing from the chill and life that was soft burned into it walking.  I already have a rosy color - thanks to my heritage, and one I've spent a lifetime trying to cover.  It's only been recently that I've embraced my naturally rouged hue and now feel the life within those cheeks.  You just don't get this same feeling when you go from garage to car to parking lot to building.  You just don't. You can only feel it when you spend real time outside, walking, playing with the dog or kids.  You have to enjoy it.  It's not a burden but a reminder that while the sun makes us feel alive with its warmth, that the snow, it's beauty and chill, can do the same.

To those of you in the path of the storm, be safe, stay in and go out when you must.  You know who you are.

xoxo

The Ring

I've been meaning to write this post for a long time, but it seemed like there was always something more pressing to explore.

What you should know is that I am like Jack Handy.  The bulletin board above my desk in my office looks like a book of inspirational quotes threw up on it.  In my bedroom I have my intentions "board" - more like several pieces of scrapbook paper with things I want in life glued to it.  I even have a post-it in by bathroom cabinet with "Excellence" written on it.  The idea is that if you look at all of this and put what you want into the world that it will come back to you.  Listen, I've tried it all and I've yet to afford the SUV, $200 dress I adore, take a vacation to the South of France...I was also never one of those girls who had a shoe box filled with ideas for their wedding or kids names.  Cough...now I do.  

I do find inspiration in all of this, I do, but I felt like I needed something more tangible to be a constant reminder of what I am working for everyday for myself - to define my successes.  What I found was a ring - faux of course! - that I found at TJ Max on sale.  It is the ring I would love someone to give me and it represents everything I want as successes and financial security in my life.  The ring is vintage inspired (anyone who knows me understands my live for vintage anything), is silver with a large round cubic zirconia surrounded by smaller stones, and still smaller ones set on the ring itself leading around my finger.  And yes, I tend to wear it mostly on my left ring finger, but it goes everywhere with me at which point it shifts to the other hand.

Now, you may ask "you bought yourself a promise ring?"  Yep!  I sure did.  Much like I registered for gifts and sent emails to family and friends for my 32 birthday and Christmas - because I needed stuff and wasn't getting married any time soon (no prospects) - yes, I bought myself a promise ring, or something that represents a promise to myself.  This promise is to work hard everyday, to not stop doing what I'm doing until I find my happiness, to not give up, to find my partner and to know that I deserve all of these blessings.

I find myself looking at it often and it really does drive me to keep moving forward.  Hey, I could easily sit on my ass three days a week watching TV and only working the hours I get paid for the other days, but it's not like that.  No matter where I may be spiritually, financially and emotionally, I still get up everyday and do what I have to in order to market myself and my business, fulfill other commitments I've created or made.  I am still dedicated, and this ring represents my faith and dedication to getting my relatively stress-free happy ending.

I take tremendous care of this ring and often feel naked without it.  Even now, as I type it's on, under my gloves (told you earlier, it's still freakin' cold here!).  A few times, I've misplaced it and totally freaked out unmaking my bed, tossing pillows and digging in couch cushions and dumping every purse I own.  Maybe this connection is bordering on co-dependent, but it brings me comfort during a time when I am, really, alone.  

So promise ring to myself?  Yes.  Representative of  my dedication to work and life to achieve what it is I want? Yes. A dream?  Possibly.  Am I hopeful, faithful?  You betcha! It was the best $25 I could have spent on myself and it really has come to represent everything I need to do to reach my Epiphany and rise out of the ashes of my past. 

What do you have or do to represent or remind you of what you want in life?

Ham in My Pants

Well, no surprise.  Somehow those 10 L.B.S. I was supposed to concentrate on losing over the summer turned in to 10 L.B.S. EARNED!  Really, it's my fault.  I wasn't motivated or just a little lazy this year.  (Trust me, if you need an excuse to not work out I've got about 1000 of them).  So, with one of my best friend's wedding encroaching in just a mere few days, I decided it was time to do something.  Nothing like waiting until the last possible hour of desperation to drop some weight. 

I recently purchased a pair of those Champion Stride 'n Tones from one of my secret places to buy shoes.  No, don't ask me where.  I won't tell you.  If I told you it WOULDN'T be a SECRET, now would it?  Bribe me all you want...well, depends on how good the bribe is...but...I digress.  I got the shoes for a steal, really a steal, because who wants to spend $75+ on a pair of shoes that may or may not give me the rockin' ass and legs I see on the TV model, who clearly hasn't worked to be fit her entire life.  Seriously, a trial is needed before serious investment.

Monday I took them for a stroll.  I was kind of stressed (don't act surprised) and decided to close up biz at 4:30 and go for a four+ mile walk to the lakefront, down and back.  At first I thought that two hams were fighting for possession of my ass with each step.  Then I realized, sigh, that it was really the fact that I had a full ham attached to each ass cheek and they bumped up and down as I walked - it's even worse when you're a fast walker like myself.  Still, I kept the faith that these shoes would indeed do what the marketing ploy says they will (Damn marketers!  Wait that's me)  So, I turned up the mp3 and just kept going hoping that no one would catch site of the delicatessen I was packing in my pants.  If only they were spiral hams and just fell apart as I walked....yeah, this is what I was thinking as I walked.

Believe it or not, after a while I started to feel the muscles in my quads and butt tighten a bit.  Even think my sad pathetic excuse for a core was positively effected as well.  I also noticed that the hams on my ass felt tighter as well - less flagrant bouncing up and down and more like they'd finally managed to be tamed.  OMG, my shoes are the ASS WHISPERER!

Since then I've attempted to make sure they're on my feet at all times, sans professional meetings downtown.  Slip on, slip off.  While like all things in life, there is no magic bullet to getting in shape, it takes, ugh, work, I am feeling rather good about my odds in the next couple of months.  If I don't take this off it's going to suddenly double over the winter months when all you can do in Chicago is eat and watch movies.  Baby, it's cold outside!

Maybe the BFF is right.  I should have just Lip Slutted my way to the flu and not eaten for a week!

xo

Perspective: I Am Truly Blessed

After a cold shower this morning I called the gas company to see what was going on with the hot water heater, as I cook breakfast just fine.  They said they'd send someone out.  And she arrived in a jiffy.  Impressive for the gas company!  I never got her name, but she gave me a dose of perspective that I needed, and you do too, probably.  She reminded me how truly blessed I am and that a woman is strong enough to do it all on her own.


My dad is a talker and I don't mean he just likes to talk, he will trap you, if you're not careful, unless you can come up with a creative way to depart without hurting his feelings.  This morning, Gas Gal, well, I think she just needed someone to listen.  So, after my near death experience with Angry Smelly Homeless Man, I felt God was reminding me....

Gas Gal hasn't had an easy life in her 60+ years (yes, she spilled her entire story to me).  She isn't a pretty woman but I could see in her powder blue eyes the years of hard work, suffering and yet, still, hope. 

After cheating on her, for what she thinks was years, her husband left her with a four and eight year old.  This was nearly 30 years ago, because she mentioned her daughter is now 37.  Her douche bag husband canceled insurance for her and her children and she came to work for the gas company - hey, utilities pay well and have great bennies plus pension (although State of Illinois owes millions and millions to people).  Smart gal - she raised her children on her own, one with autism and now in assisted living, and later met a man who would be her boyfriend for 21 years.  He passed away four years ago.

Since his passing she was rear-ended in a car accident leaving her with a back injury.  The gas company put her on painting duties - meaning she paints gas meters, and such.  Turns out Gas Gal was allergic to the fumes but after several months of exposure  the damage was done and she now suffers from a major respiratory problem.  The steroids leave her bloated and she was no doubt winded climbing to my attic to look at the water heater.  If that wasn't enough, the poor gal had four, count them FOUR abscessed teeth in the next year (I've had ONE and that was enough for me), leaving her with a few holes in her sweet smile.  Still, she laughed through the recount of her personal trials.  It was a cacophony of tragedy.  Every time I felt it couldn't get worse, it did. 

By the time we were in the attic, she announced that she has nine cats - six she found on the streets while working for the gas company and three she's been helping care for since a friend had to move in with her mother and the landlord won't allow them to stay.  She's had them for two years.  So, of course, because of Meow Mix we bonded.  As she slowly bent to her knees on the floor to look at the water heater, she starts talking about Dewey Readmore Books - the famous Iowa library cat for which their is a need-a-box-of-kleenex-to-read-book about.  It's fabulous.  Trust me.  Sniffle, sniffle (thanks to my cat-loving friend and namesake of Meow Mix*).

At that point, Gas Gal just started talking, and talking and talking.

As we made our way back down from the attic, I was somewhat annoyed and thinking I have so much to do today, and then I sensed that she just needed someone to listen.  I praised her for being such a strong woman, for taking a man's job, earning her way, fighting for equal pay, working hard and taking care of her children.  She told me her daughter married a buffoon but had his baby, anyway, at 37 and that there's more than enough years and opportunity for me (love her!).  Apparently this buffoon, aka beloved douche bag, with a British accent (how many times have woman been swayed by less?) had a criminal record for which he never told his wife and mother of his child.  He's apparently stuck in England because Canada rejected his visa after learning of drugs and the small incident of chasing his sister out a window while high as a kite and, after dangling for a moment by her legs, left her to fall two stories below.  Gas Gal, of course, took her in for convalescence.  Douche bag then threatened Gas Gal with her life if his sister wasn't returned to his family.  Wow!

From there it was an ever flowing cascade of children, grandchildren, great nieces and nephews, and cats, for which Gas Gal recounted each place she found them, their names (courtesy of her autistic, but brilliant son who managed to come up with first and middle names that roll off your tongue with a smooth perfection; like a song) and how she nursed them all back to health.  Her loss and hopes for retirement.  Fear of moving and having to release some of her beloved cats to rescue organizations and somberness thinking about her many trials. 

At one point, as she told me that she lost her boyfriend of over two decades four years ago, I felt tears and emotion rising in her.  She told me that she's been lost in mourning and a little depressed since the loss.  Oh, how I related to her in feeling lost!  Mine seems quite trivial after meeting Gas Gal.  Those who know me know that I was compelled to give her a hug, but I didn't.  Instead I told her that good things and many more blessings would be on their way, and that she is in my prayers.  I felt bad inching away from her to end the conversation, so I did and then stayed and listened a little bit longer to her story. What I heard was a woman, whose life has been full of so many, unexpected tragedies, find joy and happiness in her children, family and cats (like children).  We all have to find those things, those reasons to pull through.

Finally, she wished me well and apologized for taking up my time.  I said "You're not taking up any one's time.  It's been such a pleasure to meet you.  Have a wonderful day and enjoy this beautiful weather!"  With that, we parted.  I back into my apartment (which I now know has a load of violations against it!  Another reason to leave), and she into her gas van.

As a journalist, and a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve-kind-of-gal, I've long believed that every single person alive or passed has a story.  One that will make you laugh; one to make you get up and sing; one that will make you pause and think; one that will cause you take action and one that will break your heart.  No matter the story they are all interesting and important.  They are our stories and lives, and they are all valuable.

So, Gas Gal, I saw you today.  I heard you and your story today and I will pray that you receive all the blessings that God, the universe, whatever you want to call it, so rightly wants to bring to you.  For me, you reminded me that my compassion isn't maybe as compassionate as I'd like to think.  That I, too, am guilty of not wanting to be bothered by anything that doesn't effect me directly or take the time to really hear someone.  You've reminded me that aside of my personal struggles and worries, that my life is all too blessed.  That the little things are what matter, next to family, and that through it all we have to keep on truckin' through life to get to that place of peace and grace of which we're being led. 

More importantly, you reminded me that it's important that we all take a moment to stop, look and listen to someone.  My father always says that one smile, one hello can change the outcome of someone's day.  Go do it, be it, and pass it on.

xo

Quote(s) of the Day

"A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind. This one a long time have I watched. All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph. Adventure. Heh. Excitement. Heh. A Jedi craves not these things. You are reckless!" - Yoda

Yes, I quoted Yoda.  Shut up!!  Got hooked into the Star Wars marathon this weekend - damn it!  Gosh, I love those movies.  So many deep meanings and undertones.  Anyhoo! 

Since making the decision to move, which makes me so happy, I'm starting to not live for today but for tomorrow, what's to come.  It's so easy.  It's so easy to begin fantasizing about what will and could become even when it's months down the road.  At least I realize where I'm at, what I'm doing and can consciously stop myself from losing everything; dropping the ball on the responsibilities I have in this moment - the here and now.  And I've been guilty of doing this for as long as I can remember - always dreaming of what I want.  One of my favorite things as a child.  But, if you spend too much time dreaming you'll never get the things done that will get you to that place.  

I've waited for this epiphany to happen for so long, it's hard not to get excited.  I'm telling close friends slowly, and told my parents this morning.  How can you not get excited about redefining your life; starting over and knowing what you want this time around?  It's really fucking hard!  Besides, it's exciting now, but it will lose it's shiny newness at some point.  And then, something else fun will happen.  So, I'll help you if you help me to continue living in the moment; the here and now, and we'll all get to where we're meant to.

"For some strange reason, no matter where I go, the place is always called 'here'".- Ashleigh Brilliant

and for a some other sage words of advice and kickass quotes on happiness and faith, you've got to check out And This Is What She Said .

I'm Moving

The last two weeks have been enlightening and frightening here.  Just when I thought I was going crazy, something happened that forced my eyes open and question what it is that I really want in this life, and it's not in Chicago.

That's right boys and girls, Epiphany has made some big decisions and one of them is to move back to Kansas City, closer to family, give up my business, if necessary, and start fresh.  After all, I'm not a young pup, like I was when I picked up, moved to Chicago and didn't look back, but I'm not dead yet either.  The pull to be closer to family has really been quite strong over the last few years and, so far, none of my friends are that surprised, though there are a few more to tell.

Maybe the pull is a result of not being happy for some time here.  Maybe it's just time.  There are things that I want for my life that I am not getting here, most importantly a quality of life.

I love Chicago.  In fact, I've been having a love affair with this city since I moved here.  It doesn't leave much room to have a decent love affair with anyone else.  Problem #1.

I love having a business in the city where I can work from home because I can walk out my door and be in the thick of things.  Never a dull moment.  I'd like to find this vibe in my future new home, but who knows.

One of my gf's moved here from the South and told me that as much as she loves Chicago it's not the end all be all for her.  She just came because of a job and "poof" she found everything she's been looking for.  I can't say the same.  Aside of amazing friends, life just feels a little....empty.

We're so conditioned to have an "exciting life" in the big city, going out all the time, lip slutting around and that makes us fabulous.  Really, it's just kind of lonely.  It's definitely time for a fresh start.  The timeline: within one year.  And, I feel really, really good about this.  It's scary to think about starting all over again, but I need an adventure and have conquered my other fears about change.  This is going to be a great thing.  In the meantime, I'm still moving forward:

• Application for faculty position sent in - check
• Landed opportunity to teach a workshop for a local business organization - check
• Proactively contacted a recruiter in KC to begin looking for opportunities - check
• Still lip slutting around Chicago (why not share the love before I go) - check
• Sister1 has offered to let me stay at her house with hubby until I land something and get a job - check
• Official target date: Late June 2011, but could happen before that

With all of this said, I think I'm giving myself plenty of time to love the city one last time and prepare for the break up.  However, it might be best to rip myself apart from this place like a band-aid. Get it over with.



(Watch, I'll make all the plans to move and everything will fall in place here.  That would be my luck. Nah, this desire to go back is too strong.)

The Killing Field(s)

I've lived in my apartment for a long time - almost a decade - and I have never ever before experienced the amount of disgusting bugs that have found their way into my place.  It has been a hot summer here in Chicago and apparently even they are trying to escape the heat.

Yesterday I went to take the trash out.  The door was open for a few seconds both out and back in.  Before I knew it there was a massive swarm of flies in my apartment.  Sure, I was nice and gave the few smart ones a chance to exit, and they did.  Then it was smack down time for the rest of them.  I mean it was WAR!

I folded up a magazine and started swatting the shit out these fuckers.  They were in my blinds - bad move, kids.  You trapped yourselves.  Swat, swat.  Their blood was on my hands now and I was hungry for more.  Swat, swat. They were in my curtains - my curtains are white.  I'm not about to stain them with fucking fly guts.  I swatted for what seemed like eternity and counted only about 10 dead on the battlefield, also known as my living room.  Much to my surprise, it seems they multiplied during the battle.  What the...?  I could feel the anger boiling and my cheeks flush from the heat.  World War III was about to break out in my apartment!!

I left and went to the store for a big ass bottle of wine  some conditioner and stopped in the insecticide aisle.  Yep, flying bug spray killer.  PERFECT!  You fuckers are out of luck.  I came home and sprayed my curtains - what a lovely scent this stuff has.  It didn't smell like death at all!  Next thing I know those little shits are dropping like, cough, flies.  They either dropped immediately or fell to the floor where they spun around in the throws of death.  Yes!  Satisfaction!

In the midst of the battle, Meow Mix decided to walk over and sit right in a place I had just sprayed several fly fuckers to death.  Great!  My determination diverted for a moment, I picked kitty up and washed her paws.  That shit's killing those fuckers for a reason.  Don't need Meow Mix to meet that same fate.  I'd be heartbroken.  With that said, she's usually a very good fly huntress.  In fact, I think she rather enjoyed their invasion.  As she laid on the couch, every now and again her paw would slip out and bat at a fly or three.  Clearly, Meow Mix has proven that she isn't willing to work for her kibble anymore, but rather prefers to be waited on hand and paw my yours truly.  (She's so cute though, you'd do it too!)

When I finished with kitty I looked at the battlefield and started sweeping up the remains.  I counted 30.  Yes, I said THIRTY flies tried to invade the peaceful land of Epiphany.  Gross!  That deserved a LARGE glass of wine.

Four survived the attack.  Two decided to escape this morning as soon as I opened the door.  Can't blame them. I wouldn't want to stay in my place either with the scent of death, aka Raid "now with a fresh scent" lingering in the air.  The remaining two I've given immunity.....for now.  We'll see how long they last, buzzing around and pissing me off. 

I've washed every sprayed surface and, now, burning incense to remove the stink of death that is on my hands and continues to linger in my cute apartment.  Just hoping God, the universe and/or karma don't punish me for the death and destruction I've imparted.  I have fears of "Tales from the Crypt", especially the guy who was so obsessed with being clean and then was attacked and eaten by roaches.  Sssshhhivveerrssss.

I've also learned that this spray, while specifically branded for flying bugs, also works on the big nasty ass spiders on my back deck.  I hate spiders.  I mean I really, really hate those ugly, creepy, nasty looking fuckers.  DIE!

The sign on my door now reads:  Bugs beware.  Enter at your own peril.  This is not a safe haven but death row.

Crisis Diverted

Sigh.  Crisis diverted.  What craziness!!  The good thing is that it forced me to start considering my worst-case scenarios and you know what I found out?  I'm going to be just fine.  Fear is pointless.  There's always a back up plan - or five - and I'm quite happy with all of them.  In fact, some of these "back ups" are things I've seriously considered for a few years, so, if this was going to be the final straw for me it would have forced me into an interesting situation, or three, but nothing I hated.

You know, it's hard living your truth and putting it out here for people, including some good friends to see/read.  It really is hard.  I mean, first I have to admit this shit to myself and then put it out in the world.  The reason it's so hard?  Because as much as I say "I don't give a DAMN what people think", I actually do.  We all do whether we realize it or not. No one wants to look like a pathetic loser; a failure; a "I just couldn't cut it".  No one wants others to feel sssooo sorry for them.  No one.  We just want to be loved and supported as we go through this crazy thing called life, which is so different for everyone.  We all have different paths.  Mine has been filled with ego and stubbornness.

Yes, big, HUGE surprise, I'm stubborn.  I've sat here and made a thousand excuses as to why I can't go do something else, take a job, have the life I want thanks to a bunch of Franklins in the bank.  It's not a bad thing.  It can, in theory, buy happiness.  Who are we fooling?  I've worked so hard with this determination; an almost sick determination that I can't quit my business until I've tried and done everything possible.  The reality is:  after 10 years, FUCK IT!  And if anyone thinks less of me they were never my friend.

I have this feeling that this "test", of sorts, was meant to make me face my fears of failure and just say fuck it.  I did and I said it.  You know what they say about holding on to things too tightly.....You'll lose it all.  Now that I've relinquished myself there's a sense of freedom that's been missing.  Yes, this is what I've needed to stop living my life based on others' expectations on me and my life.  It just doesn't matter.  All that matters is that I'm happy.  For too long I've valued my business and work over life and I've lost.  Lost out having fun and traveling with friends and loved ones.  I can't get that time back. 

Now, I'm not going to say it's easy.  I mean that pride popped back up in me today, but as long as I realize it and say "NO", I'm good.  The alternatives are just as good, if not a ton better, than where I'm at now.

Today: an old client has returned and I think I might have a gig teaching some workshops.  Keep your fingers crossed.

Road Rash..I'm on the IR

Damn it!  I was so excited to finish work early and got on a two-hour rollerblade work out, with a 30-minute stop lakeside.  I mean I was really ready to put in 10 miles.  And now, I'm on the IR.

Everything was going great.  I felt great.  Had my cute workout outfit on, it's cloudy and about 75 degrees.  Perfect!  I was taking my regular route (note to the City of Chicago: exactly how long does it take you to fucking tear up a street and repave it?  Apparently more than three weeks) and I inched myself carefully across a half torn up street and cruised downhill towards the lakefront.  Now, I don't normally take the South side of the street all the way down but the North side, near Lake Shore Drive, gets a little dicey - Hey Chicago!  Fix the fucking sidewalks! Nothing ever gets done around here!  Where exactly is my tax money going?  Oh, that's right, apparently every city worker is skimming off the top cuz they think they deserve it.  Foolish me.  Of course you  DON'T.  Fuckers!

Anyhoo...I took the South side and there's a small part of the sidewalk that intersects with a gravel running path. Apparently, they can't fucking clean up the sidewalk.  I saw it; I knew it and knowing I've been through it before foolishly thought "no problem".   Let's just say that gravel and rollerblades don't mix.  It's like rollerblading and grass.  You stop.  Almost immediately.

So, with rush hour traffic piling up off Lake Shore Drive, I fearlessly approach the gravel and suddenly realize it's worse than usual.  It's everywhere, and...it's deep.  Too late...I plow into the gravel, stop within inches and take a dive forward as if I'm on a Slip 'n Slide, except there was no water and I....just....stopped. Next thing I know, water bottle flies out of my mini backpack, mp3 goes for a dive in the gravel and I'm spread eagle in shitload of gravel.  I looked like fucking Superman trying to fly across a gravel pit that Lex Luther set out as a trap.  Fucker! 

The nicest older couple EVER were approaching and saw the entire thing.  Can you believe, that as many people were on that sidewalk, and so-called-running-path, that they were clearly the only decent human beings to stop and ask me if I was okay?  I'm beginning to think that Chicagoans aren't nearly as friendly as we like to believe- not to mention the fact I have neighbors who are dicks and never say "Hi" in return.  We've truly become a city of non-Midwestern imports who don't give a fuck about anyone else.

Anyhoo...lovely couple conversation:

Woman: Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?
Me: Yeah, I know gravel and rollerblading don't mix but I've made it through before.  I should have known better and taken it slow.
Man: Look, what a shame that you ruined a good pair of pants (referring to the destroyed left-knee of my pants)
Me: Oh, it's okay, I've had them forever, but they are my favorite.
Man: Well, at least you can replace them.  Can I help you up? 
Me: Thank you so much, you know most people wouldn't do anything
Man: That's because this city has lost its Midwestern-ness.  All these people come in from all over the world and don't know how to be, well, human like we do
Me: I agree.  I was born and raised in the plains and that's why I chose to move here.  I'm constantly surprised on how little anyone ever thinks of anyone here.
Man: It's a shame.  Wasn't like this since recently and we've been here for 45 years.
Me: Yeah
Woman: Are you okay to get home?  Do you have a car nearby or live nearby?
Me: Thank you but no.  I'm a little over a mile away.
Woman: Well, are you okay to get home?
Me: I bet this will feel like nothing until I get home.
Man: Well, pop a pill and few shots of something warm and you'll be set.
Me:  LOL  You're brilliant!
Man: Well, it looks like nothing is injured but your pride.
Me: Eh, pride, schmide!
Man/Woman:  LOL
Me:  Thanks again, have a great weekend.

It's true, you know.  I've never been one of those people who falls down, takes a nose dive, or whatever and gets embarrassed about it.  Really, I don't.  Seriously?  All those people in your cars sitting at the light watching the scene unfold wish you could rollerblade because it's such a good work out.  And by the way, no one's perfect!  Besides, the athlete in me kind of likes the big ass strawberry on my knee.  Call it a war wound.  There's pride in it.  I'm trying to do something others see as extreme, even though it really isn't.  I love it.  Ouch!  Maybe not at the moment, but yeah....it's pretty cool.  Damn, no skirts or dresses for weeks!

After checking to make sure all the body parts worked and the wounds were mostly superficial (I may have to pick gravel out of my hands later), I turned around and headed back home.  The knee hurt at first and then felt great.  I almost thought, for a moment, that I should turn around and take my battle-wounded ass up the lakefront to complete the mission I'd started.  Eh, go home.

Now, I am sitting with wounds washed and bandaged, having a glass, or five, or wine hoping the drugs will kick in soon.  It's really like road rash, but worse.  Gravel actually gets under your skin! Just as planned I will spend my Friday night catching up with Mad Men On Demand (don't judge! Everyone likes to stay in on weekend nights sometimes.  Shutup!).  What I really need is a boy toy, a nurse's aid to cook me dinner, make sure my wine glass is always full, kisses my boo-boos and helps me relax. 

Unfortunately, now, I'm on the injured reserve with no prospect of getting back in the game for the next five days.  Man, I was going to kick some major calories rollerblading this week.  As everyone else does in this town, I blame it all on the City of Chicago.  Hey, you think I gotta case?

The White Dress Lifted the Fog

It's amazing how the right dress can put you in the mood to feel beautiful and successful.

It's been awhile since I've had a real business meeting, and today was one of those days.  Seriously, why do you think I needed to get pretty on Sunday?  It's been awhile.  I work from home - currently in army green shorts and my orange UT shirt (my BFF, Dawn*, and I had a, well, memorable trip to Austin...Bugtussle!).

It was fucking hot and muggy here!  The kind of day when you walk out of the house and wonder why you even bothered showering.  The right clothing is crucial in this weather. So, today I braved wearing my favorite white linen, brocade, sleeveless roped empire waist, white dress with black slings with white flower on the toe to a new business meeting with two new male clients.  I say braved because I'm one of those people who wears something white and even though I'm nowhere near an Italizn restaurant, somehow I still end up getting something bright red dribbled down the front.  This is the same with white shirts, skirts, pants and shorts.  I can be standing, not touching anything and will still get a mark or stain the size of Texas on my white clothes.

I guess you could say I needed a little, for lack of a better reference, Sex & The City mojo today.  After all, I'm in my mid-30's, I'm not dead, fairly attractive and nothing says confident, successful business woman like a great outfit. It worked!  It totally lifted me out of my fog.

It's times like this when I love walking around the busseling streets of downtown Chicago.  In fact, I was right down by the set of Transformers.  Interesting to see how they do what they do to make a city looked demolished. 

So, it's interesting, however, that I've discovered over the years that there's real psychology behind the way you dress.  For instance, with woman, depending on the business, I either dress nice casual or pump up the accessories with an all black or blue outfit.  With men, I typically wear pants and heels, always.  It sort of says "don't think of me as a fragile woman, but one of the guys".  Yes, I did wear a dress (I said it was hot and gross here), but the right dress can say exactly what you need it to in any occasion.  It's all in how accessorize.

Yes, I've officially won the business (the second in a month), and, more importantly, I'm not worrying about whether more business will come or not.  I'm just open to receiving everything that is meant to be given me.  Ten points for Epiphany! It's pretty freeing.  The dress too...from the stifling humidity.

Bad Man Joo-Joo

In starting this blog, I promised that I was going to live my truth.  It's a harsh one.  One that I've been slowly realizing more and more over the last few years.  And, there is one thing that must be known about me and what has made me, well, me.  It's hard to put out into the world but my parents' marriage has had a huge impact on my life. 

When my parents got married, it was a different time.  I have no doubt of my father's love for my mother, but my mom, growing up not really knowing what love is and verbal abuse, I can't say she feels the same.  I've always known deep down that theirs was a marriage of necessity.  My mom was 28 and considered an Old Maid.  After having her engagement cut off by another man, she did what she was supposed to, and my grandmother was not happy.  She never liked my father, and, in turn, her grandchildren, us, we got the brunt. 

When you grow up with this as your model, it's hard to determine what a relationship is really supposed to be like.  My father, the typical man of the 50's and 60's worked hard to provide for his family, came home, threw back a couple of Coors Lights, and went to bed.  He is a difficult and challenging man, no doubt out of necessity from the way he grew up - his father left when he was a year old.  He was a stone cold wall.  The only emotions I ever saw from him were laughter or anger.  For a long time growing up, I thought men didn't have emotions like women.  That they couldn't feel hurt.  I was stunned to learn that when I broke up with one boyfriend (quite carelessly looking back) that he was really hurt and crying on the phone.  It hit me then that men could actually feel something.  I've always regretted that one.

When I was 17, my mother picked me up from school and told me she was divorcing my father.  I talked her out of it.  They went to counseling, actually she went a lot and my dad went once.  Although I'm happy they stayed together, I carried around regret for talking my mom out of it for a long time.  It wasn't until recently when I came clean to her about my feelings and she told me it was her choice.

Today, I see my parents and understand that they are roommates who take care of one another, and maybe that's what ends up happening when you get older.

The biggest issue for me, and Sister1, is my father.  A hard man, arrogant, egotistical and introverted.  All he does is talk about himself and he throws tantrums when you talk back to him, correct him or even sometimes joke with him.  He's never a listener, unless you really need serious advice, and he talks....incessantly.  It's all about him, all of the time, and whether that was what he became after a tough childhood, hasn't been fully confirmed. With that said, he is a very generous and thoughtful man.  He was, and is still, good to us.  He's just very challenging to love. And I don't even know if I do love him that way.  He's just there. The older he gets, the worse he feels and the more he resembles a very grumpy old man.  This is what I know.

As a young girl, I, like my sisters, were raised to be strong, well-educated, independent women who could take care of themselves should we end up divorced.  We would have good jobs, not take anyone's crap and live life with confidence.  They certainly instilled that, but the marks he's left on us are deeper than those lessons learned.  It is ever-present in more than just DNA.  Because of the way we were raised, I was always strong-willed.  I wanted to do what I wanted to do because they told me things were possible.  Boy, did Pop and I go to blows....a lot.  And the one thing you feared the most was his disappointment.  In fact, it still lingers in me today.  It's something I've tried to let go of, meditate to rid my energy of, yet it continues to work its way back in.  It suppresses me, my creativity, the freedom to have my own life.  It's every decision I make, everything I do must be something I think he'd approve of.  It's a totally fucked up way of living.  I know!  But, at least I'm aware.  Today, at least I can say that I'm practicing ignoring him and controlling how I react to him.  That's all I can do.


It's not like I don't have positive relationship models today.  I do. However, the fear inside me that I will meet someone like him, settle for someone who I don't want to be with long-term...it's real.  And, it's a lasting impression of what I see regularly.  It took me a long time to understand that this is part of the reason I choose men who are or become unavailable.  The other is thanks to a really bad choice of men when I was 18 who can't seem to get the hint nearly 20 years later that I want nothing to do with him.

I guess I got bad man joo-joo.  And no matter how many times I try to exorcise it, it finds its way back.  

I also think that I have "I don't trust you", "I don't believe you" or "I am not emotionally healthy" written in neon lights on my forehead.  Part of my Finding Epiphany is to once and for all let go of how I feel others think of me; to trust and believe in love - cuz I see it happen for so many everyday - and know that I deserve to be loved and adored by someone.  Believe it or not, I'm not sold 100% on marriage for me, but that's probably because I haven't met anyone, or dated someone long enough, with that potential.  I don't want to be ashamed of bringing someone home to meet my father anymore - he doesn't define me.  I don't want to be afraid that someone will leave me because of my father.  I don't want to push away men anymore because it's safe.  I want to be happy again and leave all of this behind me.

One Who Got Away

It's hard to believe it's been nearly two years since the last time I spoke to Joe*.  I remember distinctly having this overwhelming urge to call him and we talked for a couple of hours.  He died suddenly three days later.

Three years ago I was nagging a very old, close guy friend, Tim* about introducing me to his eligible single friends and he did just that.  He and Joe were best friends, went to college and med school together, and were both in Chicago for exams, so we met up for dinner and an evening out.

Word to the wise, don't have the lobster bisque soup at Mike Ditka's.  I did and found myself, just minutes later, hovering over porcelain convulsing and sweating as my body fully relieved itself of the fucking disaster Ditka's called "viable restaurant food".  Thankfully, Joe didn't show up until later.  Can you believe management of the restaurant still made me pay despite my green coloration, testimony from the bathroom attendant and my friends' debate?  Yeah, won't ever be spending a dime there again.

All I can say is nothing can perk you up like some fresh air, a brisk walk and a martini - dangerous on an empty stomach.  Joe showed up about 30 minutes into our nighttime bender and the rehashing of details of my very memorable dining experience. The second Tim introduced me, Joe was on me like flies on stink.  He immediately squeezed himself onto the banquet next to me, threw an arm around the back and started conversation as if no one else was in the bar.  We danced, talked and later made out like bandits.  Hey, few of us are strong enough to resist the words "you're beautiful" and deep eye gaze even if you think the guy's a player. The next morning, as I stumbled out of his hotel room, before I could be spotted as an official "walk of shame" in the lobby (note: always, ALWAYS pack sunglasses and a rubber band), I recounted the night's fun and festivities, thinking that was fun but he's not quite geographically desirable - East Coast.

Geography, schmeography.  Turns out this one didn't care.  We talked on the phone, sometimes for hours, and he visited a few times (read: he stayed in hotel) and offered invitations to me as well, over the next year.  There is no doubt I really liked Joe and it turns out that he was far more into me than he led on.  I found that out later....

It was early October, a Sunday and I just had this urge to get in contact with him.  We hadn't spoken in a few weeks because he was working crazy shifts at one hospital and moonlighting at another to make extra money (the boy had  to pay for his Porsche!).  I just couldn't believe how overwhelming the desire to get him on the phone was.  I left a message and kept my cell nearby until he got off work and called (he always called during his long drive home to keep him company).  We spoke for nearly two hours.  We would laugh so much.  I remember that he was desperately trying to get me to come out for a big sports event and I just couldn't commit.  I suppose that part of me was afraid to get involved with someone long distance, again.  Before we said goodbye, he said he was going to do whatever it took to get me out there.

On a crisp Saturday morning, Ilena* and I (who recently moved out west) decided to do some serious shopping at H&M and Forever 21 in the burbs - cuz the stores are bigger, duh!  On the way out, I received a text message saying that if you have any photos to share in the memorial for Joe to email them.  My heart stopped.  What the???  I immediately called Tim.  He got the text a few minutes later.

Joe died three days after I talked to him.  He had been out running and suffered an inexplicable embolism and fell in his neighbors yard.  He was alone.  Tim said he's pretty sure that Joe knew exactly what was happening.  He was 32 and in amazing shape.    

Joe was one of those super amazing, and I mean SUPER amazing human beings.  One of the best people I've ever known in this life.  I regret now not allowing myself to take that relationship farther.  Tim and I had a lot of conversations afterwards when I found out how much Joe liked and cared for me, and that he knew I wouldn't move from Chicago.  Based on this he never encouraged a relationship beyond what we did have.  I have such regrets.  

This week Tim was in town for business.  I haven't seen him in more than a year.  I have been close to he and his family for a long time.  Almost immediately he mentions Joe and I told him I couldn't talk about it with him.  Well, I might feel that way but clearly Tim needed to talk about it, so I let him.  Later that evening I came home and cried.  After he passed, I'd call Joe's cell phone for several months just to hear his voicemail message.

I was SO blind.  There's no doubt that I have been stubborn and set limitations for myself (insert a LMAO from anyone who knows me), mostly as defense mechanisms and safety precautions, but no more.  If anything Joe showed me that it doesn't matter where love resides.  If it's alive than you have to go to it and know that everything else will work itself out.

I still miss your laugh and spirit, and hear your voice in my head often.  Rest in peace, friend.  You will never be forgotten by anyone who knew you.

Shadows of Ghosts

Last night I went to see the B52's at Ravinia on the North Shore of Chicago. It was Gay BF's office party and a total blast.  I was confused how many people came and then left before the concert even began.  What, like you have to work today?  We stayed until the end and it was a late, late night, which is why I'm pounding a Red Bull this morning (yawn).

Ravinia is one of those places where you can either buy seats or sit on the lawn.  We were on the lawn and his company had a mad spread of food and wine and beer.  Naturally, I immediately parked myself in front of the gal serving wine.  It's really a beautiful place, and a romantic one, at that.

Somewhere I've forgotten about love and how to have it.  As I people stalked, I saw couples everywhere talking, laughing, kissing, being...in love.  It kind of sucked.  The loneliness must be setting in.  I so want what they're sharing, but for some reason it alludes me.  Whether its my past, which includes a pyscho ex, the screwed up fact that I thought men had no emotions because I never had a role model in my father or that I'm afraid of settling for an unhappy marriage like someone I love dearly.  Whatever it is, I look around me and people are achieving love daily, except me.  I just meet flirts who ask me out and after figuring out I'm not going to sleep with them decide never to call again; or they cheat and lie.  Seriously?

This morning when I was working myself out of my groggy state, cursing myself for being so disciplined to actually get up and work, I thought about this all again.  I feel like I am now one of those single 30-somethings that people look at and feel sorry for.  I do see it in their eyes and I hate it.

To make matters worse, I have a reunion coming up next year.  I am hoping to have my status, and life, change by then, but I'm losing faith that it will. I may just be alone, struggling for the rest of my life and that makes me sad.  I don't want to go through life alone.  I want a companion to share life with, to laugh, argue and have rough times that result in reaffirming love.  Or, I suppose I can just stick to one of two plans, one of which is to end everything here, pick up and move far away, start over with something new and accept that I will be alone. (Btw - the itch to quite, move and start over is pretty palpable, but I'd like a door or two to open before just doing it)

Now, I'm very well aware that I'm not actually alone.  I have amazing friends, family and some super cool new blogger friends who j'adore!  However, there's a whole in my heart that those relationships can't fulfill (yes, male parts in all of the beauty are quite essential as well).  I'm tired of searching, waiting, wanting and wondering why this was the path chosen for me.

Maybe...maybe I should just be a big 'ol hooker and get it on with all the flirts I encounter and say "to HELL with it!"

In an eerie way, I feel that I am living the life of a great aunt who never married, really never wanted a companion and died alone in her 60's before I was born.  My grandmother used to mistake me for her when I'd sing or because I was fashionable like her.  She actually called me Helen* all the time.  When her dementia kicked in that's all she called me.  It's as if she believed Helen was reincarnated in me, and I've lived with that ghost for my entire life.  Where once I believed it to be a compliment, may now actually be a curse - it's funny the tricks our minds play on us. 

But is it possible?  Am I really destined to follow her same path?  Am I living (or reliving)  in the shadow of this ghost or can I still reclaim my life and get what I want without settling?

Mean People SUCK

Mean people suck, fffooorrr shizzle!  They make me crazy.  Stressed out.  My stomach goes into knots.  My shoulder and neck tighten.  I start to panic and immediately want to swim in a bottle of Shiraz.  Even now at 10 a.m....Aaarrrgghhh!

It's even worse when they're your client, and let me tell you I've had some real doozies over the years - from the guy I got more than six million TV impressions one day to being fired the next (of course I haven't seen anything on them since), to a franchise group where the good old boys just didn't like me cuz I am a chica (again, never seen anything on them since).   

This one comes way of a partnership that came to me to help with a book they wrote.  I could tell right off the bat one of the women was going to be trouble.  Snippy in conference calls, snippy on email.

Now, sometimes, I understand this behavior.  I find that people may not fully understand what I do, the process and how it all works.  I get that.  But it's their insecurity about it that turns them into crazy, five-headed monsters whirling their tongues all around making hissing noises.  With men, I just have to be a bit bitchy and tell them how it is and they completely respect me, but women.  They're different.  You know that saying how women are so hard on one another?  Well, it definitely rings true in this situation, and I think for Ms. McSnippy Pants its personal insecurity, competition, and the desire to have power over people.  This woman is truly a piece of work, riding me, asking questions....you know what BITCH?  You're only paying to work 10 hours a month for you so KISS IT!  Want to pay me $50,000 for the project?  I'll gladly bend over.  But you don't, so I won't.

I was really starting to wonder where the other partner fell in all of this until I get an email requesting a phone conversation.  "Great!" I think.  "I'm already losing business before it's started."  So Ms. Fabulous, potential-client-of-the-year, fills me in on all the details and, yep, I'm not the only one who can't stand Ms. McSnippy Pants.  Turns out that Snippy might not be as successful as she claims and Fab is the one who actually wrote the book and did all the work while Snippy was just going to cash in.  

Awesome!  Wish we could all skate through life like that.  Must be nice to have everyone else do your work for you!  

Fab then announces that she's leaving the partnership because she refuses to be treated this way any more.  Can't blame her.  It's not like I've really enjoyed it.  Then she forwards me McSnippy-turned-SuperBitch's email response where she has the gumption to attack me!  Whatever crazy-town-USA.  It seemed to me that her response was purely defensive.  As if she knows that she's been total crap, is mad at herself, but instead of changing that behavior she just projectile vomits her projection of emotions onto others.  You know, that irritates.  Take care of your own shit.  Others are not responsible or to blame.

So where does that leave me?  Well, we're still moving forward and hoping my mad skills can prove their worth in the next few weeks.  Now the duo are going to be paying me separately which means, yep, you guessed correctly, Bitchy McSnippy isn't ever going to pay me SHIT!  Again, awesome.

How do these people find me?  My business is my baby.  I love my logo (and other things. Shutup!), but do I want to deal with this shit anymore?  I think this is one of the things that I'm most tired of.  It's just wearing me down....some people suck and ruin it for everyone.

Money-Saving Tip 1: Don't Shop Again

A few years ago I was invited to an interesting afternoon party at a friend's condo. They called it a clothing swap and let me tell you it was a fucking GOLDMINE! Seriously, my friends have expensive and great taste and I have totally scored! The one I went to recently included several pairs of designer (and I mean $400) shoes. Since then, a couple of other groups have popped up and I've, fortunately, secured invitations to those as well.

I love, LOVE the clothing swap concept, especially because I can get rid of my stuff. They say, one woman's trash is another's treasure. Over the last two years, I've landed some amazing things, especially dresses with the tags still on. It's amazing what we women will buy and decide you'll never wear it after it's too late to return, so why not allow another fabulous woman the chance to have it? And, let's be honest, we all keep clothing one size smaller and bigger, for the "ups and downs", but some things you'll just never get into again. Time to say adios!

The trick about the clothing swap is not just to take anything you like, you've got to try it on, allow the other women to say "Yes! that fits you perfectly. You should definitely take that" and some of them will whimper with some jealousy that they didn't find it first. It's all about strategy.

1. Get to the party a little early
2. While you set out your stuff, scope what's already present - some times, the host will let you pick things up early since you were nice enough to come early and help set up
3. Grab a glass of wine and stay nearby to watch what other's lay out - this can include trying on shoes to see if they fit
4. Make a mental note of what you want and need most to fill out your closet
5. When they say "Go!" head directly for what you want, do not pass Go, just grab
6. The second time through begin looking through everything more carefully - is it in your size, is it your style, is it something you really need
7. Try on - make sure it fits before you walk out with two trashbags of clothing you might end up dumping off at the Salvation Army any way
8. While trying on, scope out what others are trying on. If it doesn't fit them, politely ask if you can try it on. If it fits, it's yours.
9. Be sociable and complimentary. While you're on a serious mission, it's important to connect with the other women. Besides, there's nothing better than the honest opinion of these gals. They are the LEAST likely to tell you something looks good if it doesn't and then you hand it over to them.
10. Place your treasures in your bag and go back for additional rounds until you feel you've gotten everything worthwhile. This is also a great time to think of other women in your life. Is there something here that a friend would like, a sister? Gift shopping made easy and FREE!
11. Don't leave immediately. Stay and mingle. Tell the gals how great they look in their new findings and....make some friends.
12. Help the host pack up the remaining items to be sent to a charity. We typically drop off at Dress for Success or a women's shelter. Good for you, good for the community.

In the last two years, I've scored 12 dresses, 14 tops, 10 pairs of pants/jeans, 3 skirts, five pairs of shoes, five handbags, and tons of jewelry. The only money I've spent shopping this year was at Old Navy for white T's and some tank tops. That's not even $40!

If you can't find one, start one. It's the best afternoon with your girlfriends you will ever spend. And, if there's a man in your life, often women will bring things from their guy's closet. I've also heard, gasp, that some men are getting in on the swap. Suits are expensive and who doesn't want to save some dough in this recession?

In Need of a New Adventure

This afternoon I took some time off to go help pack and say goodbye to a super sweet and amazing friend, Ilena*. She's headed out west with her longtime boyfriend and a fresh start together. She will be sadly missed.

I'm not going to lie. Part of me envies that she is picking up, moving and starting a new adventure. It seems that's what I'm in need of - adventure....in something. The something is yet undefined but it's what's causing the feeling and need of something new, exciting and fresh. I'm not yet sure what form it will take, but that's part of Finding Epiphany; finding me.

I just seem to be all over the place and the stress and overwhelm feeling coupled with a major To Do List that still needs to be tackled, make me just want to pick up and run away. But, one can't do that and be healthy in spirit, heart, body and soul. Clearly this is my time of self-evaluation; to review why I do what I do, missed opportunities, lack of passion and more. I'm tired of missing out on life. I'm tired of doing things because people expect it of me. Guess what? It really hasn't worked out that well. I've sacrificed so much - traveling, love, and....time. Unfortunately, many of the things I want to do cost money I don't have right now (Step one: stay on budget). That becomes even more frustrating.

My soon-to-be-West-Coaster girlfriend and I were talking about how life has become so complicated. Technology is great, but when did things become so complicated? It's like everyone's running around, running somewhere, in a hurry. Worse, we're all completely overstimulated - yes, I'm in marketing and completely take part of the blame. I mean, seriously, I have five, count them 1-2-3-4-FIVE Twitter accounts I manage daily, three blogs, groups galore...sigh! Who has that much and who does it well without, oh client work and everything else involved in running a business? It's a beautiful blessing, but a curse for someone in my industry. We're expected to be so plugged in when all I really want to do is unplug. Ilena and I share the desire for something slower, more peaceful and not so overwhelming. She's going from music marketing to personal trainer and she will no doubt be amazing!

Moreover, it's summer in Chicago which means there are a million and one things going on at all times of the day and night. We don't really sleep here, but as I get older I care less about those things and more about getting rest! Have I mentioned I love to sleep? Can't function with out my hard eight...and a half. This weekend is a perfect example. There were so many things on my social calendar - all things I really would not have missed for the world, but I had NO time to do what needs to get done during a weekend. Instead, I came home Sunday night and crashed at 8:00p.m. I was exhausted! Yet, I had so much fun.

So now I'm really stuck with the feeling we all experience: days flying by, there just aren't enough hours in the day. We're on a go-go mission daily and we don't just stop to enjoy. A friend once said that he thought living in a city like Chicago would wear you down. Maybe it is, just a tad. Things move faster here. Days do, in essence, go faster. I can't tell you how many times I come into my home office at 7am only to look up and be amazed that it's already 3pm! The funny thing is that I'm single, no kids, no husband, no cooking major meals, and I still don't have the time. Go figure.

I also found out in the last few days that I'm not the only one I know doing some hardcore soul searching. It seems many of my friends are now wondering if they're truly happy and exploring their passions to be happy in career and life. That's very comforting. When you sit down to do something like write this blog, it sometimes feels like you're just hanging out there for the world to read, see and judge (let them, if they need to), so it's nice to know I'm not alone. Of course, the bonus is that the blogger world is pretty accepting and supportive. It's wonderful.

In fact, my gay boyfriend announced that he, myself and one of his friends are all going to move to Key West, open a business and star in a reality show - trust me, that bitch has NO problem whining and stirring up drama! It's a nice thought. I told him to call me when it's a reality - like business plan and moving arrangements made, not the show.

We all have times we want to just runaway. Maybe that's supposed to be the value of vacations - the one's you don't come home from exhausted in need of another vacation to recover. I'm lucky though. This time of year I rollerblade to the lakefront, park myself in my favorite spot, watch the sailboats and....get away from it all, at least for a few minutes. For now, that will have to be my escape, and I must say it's not a bad one.

Unfortunately, there's not enough time in the day to spend stay out there as long as I'd like. Isn't that always the story...

A Flirt: The Neighbor

About a year ago, my neighbor and I made out. He's younger (uhm, FINE! 25. He's 25! At least I'm not going to jail for it) and adorable. He was a terrible kisser but a little instruction and we were good. Again, he's sssoooo cute and adorable.

What I love about guys in their 20's is what I love about guys in their late 30's-early 40's. In their 20's-30's you can imagine what that baby face is going to look like at 40. It may take men longer to grow into themselves, but it's highly worth it and let me tell you, The Neighbor is going to be a super hottie! For right now, he is a load of fun to flirt with and....

So, last night I was trying to be good, getting perfect and ready for a crazy day of events, and I heard all of my neighbors out front. I say,"Sure I can go hang with them for a bit and be asleep by 10:30p." HA! I went down to hang out and let my nails dry without thinking I have a big, HUGE nasty red pimple on my face that is not fit or public consumption - I had washed my face earlier to treat the little fucker with the hope that it might disappear before this morning. That, of course, wasn't the case. Once you remember something like that you start to rest your chin in your hand until you just say "Fuck it!" and keep having fun. My neighbors and I have, for the most part, seen each other at our unshowered-messy-bedhead-unshaven-worst, and while I like to try and look presentable at all times, sometimes you just forget. Oddly enough, it must have been the alcohol or the pot he was smoking, but apparently I was lookin' good to him (doesn't hurt that the sun was setting. I always look better by candle and moonlight)!

I love to watch boys flirt - with me, of course. Some make it SO obvious that it's fun to sit back and receive. The Neighbor is one of those. Sooner or later there was a "come up and check out what they did to my apartment" (make out session - MUCH improved!); "would you like some wine? come up I'll get you a glass" (make out session); and finally the "can you show me where your bathroom is" which led to full on make out session and...more fun. However, me being a stickler that I am, not too much fun was had cuz I had to get up super early. (HEY! At my age, we need our beauty sleep!) Plus, why not save something for a rainy day - in the forecast soon.

It's been some time, I will admit, since I've had this kind of attention and...fun. It's not that I haven't been looking, it's just that The Neighbor is really only fun, whereas I'm looking for a relationship. A lasting one. Someone to have fun with all the time. I'm tired of this transient-lover BS. I want one to stay. Nonetheless, it was MUCH needed fun to remind me of the simple pleasure that is a man. Stay tuned for that rainy day.

Quote of the Day

Thanks to the BFF for this one:

"Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky." ~Rabindranath Tagore

The Pursuit of Perfection

Perfection. It's an interesting word. What is perfection? Is it about being the best or just perceived as being and having the best? Is it about being the best you can be in every moment?

My good friend Webster defines it as : 1. the quality or condition of being perfect (defined as lacking nothing essential); 2.the act or process of being perfect; 3. one considered perfect. The thesaurus adds in the word virtue.

So, if you lack a lot of essentials in your life yet live with virtue, can you still be perfect?

I know it's crazy to think about perfection. No one is perfect. In fact, everyone has a different definition of perfection. You may have a perceived perfect and blessed life like my best friend Dawn*, but at the same time she is open and aware of her own imperfections. Is perfection achieving what is fed to us by the media (i.e. look like Angelina Jolie or having certain things), or how we define it individually and the pressure we put on ourselves to achieve it? Either way, the pursuit of it can make you a little crazy. I know.

In this life there are few things one can actually control like:

• presence - style, makeup and hair (although mine's been a bit out of control)
• what you eat/weight - need to work on
• clean home
• your actions/reactions towards others - who you want to be v. who you are
  
• your performance - work, etc.
• how you use your time
• how many glasses of wine I will have today (3, thanks!)
• how many times will I blog today
  
• what you do with the blessings you receive
• going out and trying/doing what you love
• who I will call on the phone
  
• and a few others
  

I like to think that I can control other certain things, but I really believe it's just that "the stars align" with the right moment and you're openness to receive. Like when I show up to the bus stop and the bus appears within just moments of my arrival. That is perfect to me. In reality, most things, you can't control and it's really frustrating. It's frustrating when you know what you can be if given more opportunities...but one can't determine or just wish them to come along. Not in this economy.

The pursuit of perfection is something I think about a lot, actually. It's easy, really. When things happen that are out of my own control, I become Mr(s). Clean and my apartment is perfection! Floors washed, everything in its place, totally organized (and let me just say I'm not very messy), no dishes in the sink and toilet....sparkling! It feels good to have order and a sense of perfection in my home, my work and even in working out. I'm not really sure where this strong desire for and absolute sense of perfection was born, but there's safety in it. Oddly enough.

My best friend Dawn* seeks perfection and order, albeit at a much, much higher level than mine! Everything has its place. Her home is beautiful and always clean. She is always dressed well and looking stunning. Everything is done....perfectly. Coasters are always used, and, as much as I love her, I'm often worried I will put something in the wrong place, or mess something up. It is, ironically, one of the many reasons I adore her. Even though I may feel this way at times, I completely appreciate where she's coming from. Perfection is order.

Dawn* and I often discuss our varying need for order, or control, and the pursuit of perfection and I've come to believe it's not because we're crazy or neurotic, but that its tough to let go. It's hard to just walk in blind faith everyday. We have to feel as if we control some things in our lives whether it's keeping dishes out of the sink, making your bed everyday, staying organized in work, writing an error-free report, or keeping a clean car. And, while we actually do have control over many things and choices we make, there are the bigger things that we just don't have any control over. Some philosophers would say these are the things that keep life interesting.

The pursuit for perceived perfection could, in some ways, be blamed for why so many Americans are in debt, living beyond their means, in homes they can't afford, buying cars and toys for their kids. They want others to believe their lives are perfect in the perfect neighborhood. This perception of perfection is wealth.

You could say that this pursuit of perfection has even led me to start and live through this blog. In some respects, I'm seeking perfection in my own life and its future. I feel as if I should have this, that and the other; that I should be this kind of person to have and be loved; that I should have a more lucrative career; sometimes, that I should be someone else. That I should be perceived as one who pursues perfection and virtue in all things. And, moreover, that I deserve it.

It's a tricky thing living life, but throw in the unknown variables and it becomes that much more. The truth is that the pursuit of perfection leads us not just to controlling certain aspects of our life, but to having and being what we feel others define as perfection. We want to be seen as having it all, being it all and living it all. It's not enough just to feel perfect in our own imperfect and fabulous lives.

So, with dishes in the sink, my bed unmade and mail spread across the dining table, today, I begin the path of defining my own perfection. It's more than a clean house, it's being me. Living fully as the unique and imperfect person in which I was created. And I promise, to never judge anyone else's perfect life.