Stories From The Cabbage Patch

 This morning while getting ready for the day, one of my favorite episodes of  “Sex and the City” was one. It was the episode where after taking a break Carrie and Berger get together. Burger comes to the realization that Carrie was the one for him. That was until the next morning when he sneaks out and all he leaves is Carrie a post it on the table that says:

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me -“

Naturally, post post-it break up, Carrie enters a complete and utter downward spiral which includes stomping around enraged throughout the streets of Manhattan and flipping out at brunch. “Hi, it’s me, you’re a dick!” It really got me thinking about rejection, break ups, and essentially situations where shit hits the fan. I know, a pleasant topic to mull over especially near the holiday weekend.

 I give this persona of being a tough cookie. I have been called fearless and have been known to never back down from anyone or anything. One of my closest friends calls me a lion, “because you’re loyal and you step up to anyone”. When it comes to matters of the heart, I’m a mouse.

My way of dealing with rejection is similar to Carrie, initially I become angry as all hell. I stomp around in a rage and have an extremely short fuse. Once the initial spike wears down a bit, I can go one of two ways -  I will engulf myself in my own emotions and become extremely distant with everyone OR I will kick back SoCo and Lime shots like I’m 21 again and turn into a raging asshole. Both scenarios I end up spending the majority of time sick to my stomach and greatly saddened.

However, this week I came to realization that whether or not I act like it, I have grown up. The past few months I’ve had an internal conflict with someone close to me. It’s the classic scenario: girl and boy are friends, girl and boy make stupid decisions, girl falls for boy, girl is left completely and utterly confused. In situations like this, I’ve always been the type of person to let things ride out and just avoid it at all costs. Note to the viewers – that’s a terrible idea.

 Instead of constantly mulling over it, I took the issue head on. I put everything on the table and demanded answers, after a couple courage beers. Despite the fact that the conversation didn’t go in the direction I ultimately hoped and mutual feelings weren’t there, it was a fairly good conversation. Although I realized that certain emotions weren’t there, it was good to find how much my friendship means to him and come to the realization that push come to shove, we’ll always be by each other’s side.

I woke up this morning anticipating the worse. I for sure thought that I would feel beaten down and defeated. That wasn’t the case. I woke up this morning feeling like a large weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I have a new positive outlook on things and am happy to not have to have that cloud of confusion looming over me 24/7. In the end I found that I have a lifelong friend who cares deeply about me and who I may depend on. I suppose that’s not all that bad, right?

Morale of the story -  there’s not point in avoiding the inevitable. Regardless of whether or not things will end up going your way, it’s important to take the challenge head on. It becomes more painful as you let things build and before you know it, your thoughts will consume your life. You will become your own enemy. So take the plunge, be a lion, and go for it. You might be surprised at what comes your way.

In other news, have a Happy Thanksgiving loyal viewers. I’m looking forward to getting together with a number of old friends, relaxing with family, and stuffing my face to the point I explode. Thursday is my cheat day so I’m going all out. You will find me Friday laying in my bed in a total food hangover.

Have you ever had one of those moments that absolutely humble you? A moment in time where you look at yourself and all your concerns and think that there is something bigger. You realize that in the great scheme of things, you become some self-absorbed in your own bullshit that you don’t look at the big picture. That happened to me this morning.

 Let’s start a little further back. It’s been quite some time since I have written anything down. Those near and dear to me know that the last few weeks have been extremely hectic for me and that my schedule has made it near impossible to get me in one place for more than 10 minutes. Not only have I been balancing work, but I have started coaching high school basketball, have joined a few volunteer projects, and with any spare time left I have tried extremely hard to maintain my fitness routine. It’s been zero to sixty all the way baby.

 What others don’t realize is that a big part of throwing myself into the chaos is that it provides a distraction from my own emotions and feelings. I’ve felt extremely lost. Lost in my career, lost in my personal life, lost to what the future has instore for me. Instead of dealing with these insecurities and emotions, I’ve held them inside and have done everything in my power to distract myself. You know, out of sight out of mind.

 This morning I had practice and a later start time at the office. I noticed that one of my closest friends was in town and asked if he would be willing to get coffee. I know that he had been dealing with an illness in the family and offered to take him out for breakfast to take his mind off of things and to lend my hand in support. Over coffee in our favorite local space he told me the details of what he had been facing the last two weeks. For the first time in our friendship I saw a more vulnerable side to him. Although the hardest part of the journey is over, he and his family have a long road of recovery, uncertainty, and faith to go. 

 After breakfast I returned to my office. I sat down to my laptop, became working on a few pieces, and suddenly began to cry. Not a cute, dainty tears peacefully falling cry. More like a big, ugly, bawling cry.  All my pint up emotions and feelings had finally broke the force field that I have been hiding them behind. I got to thinking about how terrible I felt for my friend and what his family is going through and how pathetic it is that I’m getting so bent out of shape about such minor things. Upset over the fact that instead of taking my problems on head on, I used work and other activities as an excuse to hide from. What am I running from?

 You never know what life will bring you. In a blink of an eye, everything can chance. Then you are left sitting and wondering “what if”. What if I went for that job, what if I told that person how I feel about them, what if I went on that spontaneous trip, what if. If there was a club for victims to the “what if”, I would be president. No longer.

 Today I was humbled.  In addition to dealing with a complete mess or running make up, I learned that there is more to life than the petty bullshit that I have been fretting over. Although there are some aspects of existence that are out of my control, there is no excuse for me to complain about the outcome of those things I can control. From here on out I’m going to control my destiny.

 Fitness update –

In more positive news, I’m in the best shape that I have been in years. Lately I have been jumping into practice with my girls. Running sprints, joining in drills, and running the floor with them when we scrimmage. My old high school coach watched me with the girls and told me that I never ran the floor back in the day like I was now. He’s right. I have not felt this light on my feet and agile since before high school. Is it sad that it took me to 27 to perfect my game?

 Lately I have gotten a lot of positive feedback from family and friends on the work that I’ve been putting in. There is no greater sense of validation than that that is given by your peers. Although I have accomplished some of my goals, I want to push on and really get to work. I’ve reached out to a number of friends for guidance and encouragement and hope that within a few weeks my changes will be a little more drastic.

Monday marked what should be considered a national holiday – my birthday

My birthday is a clear reminder of two things: 1) the wonderful people I have in my life, and 2) what I have learned since the last year. This past year has been a true testament of my character and has had a huge impact on my life. As I sit in my office at the beginning of the day, with my coffee and the Rolling Stones playing, I want to reflect on what I’ve learned in the last year. 

First, I learned that things don’t always go as they are planned. Meaning, you can have this vision in your head on how things are going to go and think that nothing is going to make you stray away from that path, and all of a sudden the rug is ripped out from under you. I have had some bumps in the road this year both in my personal and professional life. There were times that I just threw my hands up in the air and asked why?

As time progressed I learned to go with the flow of things. To not sweat the small stuff. Even though I didn’t envision that I would be where I am right now, that’s okay. I have my eyes set on certain prizes and in due time I’ll get there. It’s about the journey, right?

Second, I learned the importance and overall value of friendship. I’ve always been the kind of person who had a decent amount of friends; childhood friends, college friends, law school friends, friends of friends, bros, whatever. There’s a difference between having friends and being friends. Having friends is calling someone when you’re in town to get a beer or someone to share a Buzzfeed video with because it made you think of them. Being friends is beyond that. It’s about being there when the shit storms of life come pouring down. It’s sitting at that bar stool listening to you bitch and coddling you with whiskey. It’s about being on the phone for hours, listening to you pour your heart out while gushing with tears and offering any form of condolences. It’s about being there, when the whole world seems to be turned upside down, and helping you as you learn  to pick yourself up when you fall.

I had a harsh reality with this concept over the past year. I learned that it’s the ones that you least expect that are there for you most, and that sometimes the ones that you have held near and dear to you are the ones that will fall short when it really matters. It caused me to seriously evaluate the inventory of people in my life and made me realize that even though I consider myself to be loyal and a very dependable person, that’s not a characteristic that everyone possesses, and that’s okay. I just know how to pick and choose my battles.

 Third, I learned that you can try to run and hide from your past, but when you least expect it it’ll come barging right at you like a MAC Truck. There are those people in your life that have a strong hold over you. It’s unexplainable, but for some reason your whole world gets rocked every time they’re in the picture. Sometimes it pans out fairly well, and sometimes you’re left with this gut retching feeling and you find yourself staring into the distance wondering, “what the fuck dude?”

 I had this happen in the past year, and I got burned. I can sit here and tell you about how stupid I was, how upset I got about it, and how mad as hell and jaded I became after the fact. That’s not my style. Yeah, I got played. It happens to the best of us. In a sick way, it was actually a positive. As a result I realized that regardless of my feelings clouding my judgment, it wasn’t a good thing for me. That despite the fact that things didn’t pan out, it doesn’t make me any less awesome. Maybe our paths will cross again, maybe they wont, I guess that’s what the next year will tell me.

Lastly, I realized my self worth. Ever since I was a child I’ve always had a boatload of insecurities. What girl doesn’t? But it wasn’t until this past year that I truly began to embrace myself as a person. I’ve made a lot of changes in many aspects in my life and even though there is still room for improvement, I’m pretty happy. My buddy told me the other day that it’s the first time in a long time that he’s seen me enter a room with confidence and work it. It’s true. For the first time in a long time I feel like I can take on the world and that there is nothing in my path that’s going to stop me. I guess I got my swagger back.

 It’s been a trying and challenging year, but I came out of it stronger than ever. Now I’m a year older and I’m embracing what life has got to throw me. As a good friend would say, “Come at me bro.”

Fitness update –

It’s been a particularly busy week this past week. With my birthday and having to travel for various reasons, I have found it difficult to stay consistent with my work out plan. Not to mention my consumption as of late has been troubling – too many birthday drinkski’s. I have seen progress as I stepped on the scale and was happy to see a smaller number (yay). Not to mention the fact that my work pants from the spring are no longer staying up without the assistance of a belt and in some cases safety pins (double yay).

My name is Michelle, and I’m not as young as I used to be.

When we last left off I was preparing myself for a whirlwind of a weekend. Which is exactly what I got. Friday, after a shortened work day, I made my way to Chicago. All those who are near and dear to me know that I love Chicago. I have had a deep love for the city every since I was in high school. The hustle and bustle of the crazy city streets, mesh of different cultures and people, and just the overall urban feel have always attracted me.

Some of my closest friends live in Chicago and it’s always a treat to me to come into the city and see them. The occasion this weekend was a special one. One of my good friends from back home is in a number of bands. He’s a phenomenal drummer and my ultimate partner in crime. One of the bands that he’s in decided to break up. The guys are moving on in their lives and are setting forth in different directions. I’m a huge fan of the guys and have had the pleasure of seeing them both on and off the stage. The show was like a big reunion. A group of friends and acquaintances coming from near and far, joining in to send the guys off, and causing a little chaos along the way.  

It was evident that there was a little bit too much chaos as I woke up the next morning feeling like I had been run over by a whiskey trust. Note to my avid readers – when someone offers you Malort, no matter the circumstances, don’t take it. The majority of Saturday was spent laying on my best friend’s couch, staring at the television, hoping the room stops spinning. After a massive Gatorade and some French fries, I was on my way to my second leg of my journey.

Next I headed down to Indianapolis to see a friend of mine from law school. Our friendship is one for the books. I rarely come across people in my life that I can spend hours on hours giggling with. Not laughing, giggling. I remember pregaming at his apartment when we were in law school, listening to Beyonce, eating popcorn, and just laughing our asses off.  He’s one of those people where my mood is completely lifted by merely being around him. And for a brief second it made me really miss law school. Sick, I know.

On the way back from Indianapolis I stopped along the way to meet an old friend from college. We met at a bar and played catch up over wings and dollar drafts. In the middle of our catch up he looked at me and told me that there was something different about me. I, being the sarcastic ass that I am, responded by saying, “Well yeah, I dyed my hair.” And he, in typical bro fashion goes, “No that’s not it dipshit.” Can you feel the love? He went on to say that there was something different about the way I presented myself. That the overall vibe that I was setting off was different. Not different in a way that made it seem like I wanted to be on him (ewww), but that I had this confidence about me. The way I entered the room, the way I looked, the way I was interacting with people, it was all different. But in a good way. He’s right.

In his eyes I’m college Michelle. College Michelle never wore make up, wore sweatpants to class everyday with the high bun and head band, was a total goober, and really didn’t care what anyone said. The Michelle that came into the bar, in his words, “Is put together and looks like she could take on that fuckin’ world.” I have changed in many ways, particularly in the last few months. And it’s interesting to see the reaction of others. It’s not merely just on my looks and the fact that it looks like I brush my hair once in a while, but that my overall presence has changed. However, as my friend noted, I’ve still stayed true to myself. “But no worries, you’re still a total goober.” Guilty.

Something else came out of the conversation. My buddy asked me how the work out plan was going. When he and I last left off last spring, I told him that I was going to really kick up the workouts. I told him that things were going well and that I was starting to see changes in the right area, but that I felt like I had plateaued. He, in typical bro fashion responds, “Well….why don’t you actually push yourself for once?” I could have punched him in the face.

After seeing my displeased expression and some explanation, I totally get it. He told me instead of doing the same old thing each day, which my body gets accustomed to, why don’t I try to step outside of the box a little bit. So he challenged me to go balls to the wall for a year. Get out of my comfort zone, really push myself, and see how far my progress will go. Not only to show him that I have guts, but to also prove to myself that I can accomplish things I never thought I was capable of. So for one year, I’m going balls to the wall.

I just hope my body will able to handle it better than my antics last Friday night. Woof.

I have this friend from college. A ridiculously talented and successful bro who I adore more than words can describe. We’re similar in many ways; both of us have foreign parents who are straight off the boat, we’re both quirky, both enjoy Childish Gambino, and can easily carry on a meaningful conversation by strictly using “Seinfeld” references.  A match made in friendship heaven. If you’re reading this bro: sweater weather.

One of the things that we tend to discuss in length is the opposite sex. We listen to each other’s horror stories, we vent, and we try to figure out why men and women act the way they do. Lately we have both found ourselves in similar situations. He brought my attention to this article by Mark Manson entitled “Fuck Yes or No”. In the middle of the night, half awake and slightly under the influence of whiskey, I began to read the article. At the end I shot up and just went, “holy shit!”

Here’s the skinny of the article. Basically, he addresses the grey area in dating. You know what I’m talking about, that point where you start to get to know someone and you’re completely clouded with questions and insecurities. Does he like me, how come he doesn’t call me anymore, why was he suddenly into me and now he’s acting like a complete and total asshole? He basically states that if you even begin to ask these questions, then you’re already behind the eight ball. So he comes up with this concept – The law of “Fuck yes or Fuck no”.

 The law of Fuck yes or Fuck no goes like this:

The Law of “Fuck Yes or No” states that when you want to get involved with someone new, in whatever capacity, they must inspire you to say “Fuck Yes” in order for you to proceed with them.

 The Law of “Fuck Yes or No” also states that when you want to get involved with someone new, in whatever capacity, THEY must respond with a “Fuck Yes” in order for you to proceed with them.

For a more detailed look at the law of Fuck Yes or Fuck No, check it here http://markmanson.net/fuck-yes/.

I feel like I want to high five this man. Not merely because he likes to throw around my favorite profanity (my name is Michelle, and I say “Fuck” more than an average person should), but because this concept is so simple, so perfect, that it’s a damn shame that I didn’t come up with it on my own.

 The law applies to many aspects of life. Let’s follow Mr. Manson’s lead and go with dating. I am notorious for being the person that allows insecurities cloud my judgment. I tend not to notice whether or not a situation is a fuck yes or fuck no and am the master of excuses. “No he hasn’t text or called lately, but I’m sure he’s busy.” or “Oh he’s talking to someone else? Well, we’re not really exclusive yet”. Yeah, fuck that. 

Here are some commons Fuck Yes and Fuck No scenarios compiled from a group of my girlfriends: 

He blows up your phone 24/7 and then pretends like you don't exist - fuck no 

He shows an interest in what you're into  - fuck yes 

He makes an effort to get to know and or impress your closest friends - fuck yes 

He acts like  a total douchelord when he brings you around his buddies - fuck no 

He forgets an important occasion or blows off your birthday - fuck no 

He brings you coffee and or flowers for no reason - fuck yes 

He calls you lovely, beautiful, or gorgeous - fuck yes 

He comments on on great you boobs look, out loud, in front of a crowd of strangers - fuck no

I think you get the gist. I get the concept of the whole thing; why would you even begin to waste your time with someone if there are any doubts? But at the same time, how do you know? Relationships are hard and the beginning stages of getting to know someone is difficult. You’re trying to figure each other out, you’re trying to give the other person space even though all you want to do is be around them, you’re trying to see what makes you all vibe. But at the same time there are certain things that happen that make the scenario a fuck no, and you know it’s a fuck no, but you don’t want to let go. You have to dig deep and ask yourself, is this a fuck yes, or a fuck no?

The law of fuck yes or fuck no also applies to other relationships you have. With your friends, your co-workers, your mailman, or whoever. Same concept – does the relationship aspire you to say “fuck yes”. You’re having troubles with your friend and they don’t care to understand you or bring you down – seems like a fuck no. Maybe you’ve decided to enter into a business venture with someone and they have different aspirations for the future or they aren’t pulling their weight – probably a fuck no. You go to the same coffee shop and the barista continues time in and time out to mess up your latte – a definite fuck no.  Simple as that.

It’s also about self-improvement. Looking at yourself and asking what makes you more fuck yesable. I’ve really been working to improve myself these last few weeks; my health, my appearance, how I present myself overall. There’s always room for improvement. I talked to one of my closet buddy’s and told him all about this and asked him what he would recommend I improve about myself. In typical bro fashion he goes, “learn to lighten the fuck up”. This is what happens when you ask for honesty. 

I’m willing to admit my flaws and acknowledge what I need to work on in order to become more fuck yesable. I need to learn to let go of ill feelings and not sweat the small stuff. I need to learn to be more spontaneous and not be so strictly by the books.  I need to learn the balance between being there for someone and allowing them to walk all over me. And most importantly, I need to realize my own self worth and realize that I aspire others to say “fuck yes”. And maybe cut back on the swearing, just a little bit.

In other news, the past week has been filled with accomplishments both on the professional and personal levels. For the first time in weeks I feel like I’m finally on the right path and that things are going to shape up. I’ve got a few networking meetings this week and am very optimistic of the possibilities that may come from them. Stay tuned.

I’ve also made great strides in my fitness plan. This week I had myself measured and found that I have been loosing inches in some of my troubled areas.  With the help of a fitness guru I have been able to intensify my workouts and challenge myself more than I have in years. This morning I woke up with skin splints. The last time I got skin splints was my sophomore year of high school basketball. I’ve got a ways to go still and have decided that I want to run a half marathon this spring. I’m going to rely on my dear ones and avid readers to hold me accountable to push me to accomplish this goal. So if you see me out and about, make sure to ask how the half-marathon training is going. I’ll probably want to punch you in the mouth, but I’ll get over it.

William Faulkner once wrote, ““The saddest thing about love is that not only the love cannot last forever, but even the heartbreak is soon forgotten.” The man must have never felt heartbreak in his life.

This weekend one of my close girl friends broke up with her boyfriend. They met nearly two years ago and were one of those couples that made you want to vomit being around because they were so in love. However, long-distance separation due to change in careers and turbulence over the last few weeks brought an end to their relationship. All hands are on deck, we have a storm to deal with.

  I’ve been called the “break-up guru” by my buddies. Not because of the fact that I dump dudes left and right, but because I tend to be the master of chaos when a breakup ensues. I’m the type of friend that will spend hours on the phone with you listening to you cry. I’m the type of friend that will bring over ice cream and vodka and hold your hair back as your vomit from the terrible combination. I’m the type of friend that will go out with you, play wing woman, and watch you act a total fool while picking up that broad that would never stand a chance on a good day. There’s pretty much no lengths I wont go to ensure my friends get through a tough time. But when it comes to my own heartbreak, I’m a total mess.

I remember the first time I felt the pains of heartbreak. I was in seventh grade and had been totally crushing on his boy in my school. He was perfect; a grade older, dark hair, liked Dave Matthews, and was really nice. Unfortunately, he didn’t see me for more than his fellow soccer co-captain and started dating one of my friends. It’s hard to explain the feelings I had. It’s a mixture of hives and getting head butted in the stomach.  Although it totally blew, I wish I only had to deal with that feeling now.

I feel as I have gotten older dealing with rejection and heartbreak has become much more difficult and there are a number of contributing factors to that. First off, I’m the type of person that stays friends with former flames. I’m the idiot that goes for the guy that’s in my circle of friends or an outsider who has a reoccurring role with my close friends. Clearly it’s a terrible idea for the obvious reason: if shit hits the fan you will make things awkward for everyone. So instead of telling the bozo to kick rocks, I am forced to bite the bullet and pretend that the shenanigans that went down are a figment of my imagination. I can’t bitch and complain about how I’m feeling because that may force others to take sides. I just have to smile and pretend that I don’t want to slash his tires.  Initially it’s a nightmare but over time I learn to deal, because in the end it’s not worth causing a permanent riff in the ranks.

 Second, I’m a whore for social media and insist on staying connected with men of my past. I know I’m not the only person that does this, but it doesn’t make any more right. Nothing makes you feel better than seeing someone you used to hang out with meet all these milestones in their lives. “So and so are in a relationship”, “So and so are engaged”, “So and so are married”, “So and so have given birth to the most adorable baby to grace the earth with its presence”. Before you know it you’re sitting at your desk slamming a bottle of wine and scrolling through their wedding photos. On the flip side, social media may also bring you reassurance that even though the ship went down you’re doing okay. Hey, you got the picture perfect family, that’s cool, but you’re working retail because you dropped out of college and have six mouths to feed. Point Miche.

Lastly, despite my abuse of social media, I’m very private of what is going on in my personal life. I have a problem with keeping things bottled in and not really talking things out or really embracing the shit storm that’s occurring. So I’ll kick back shots like I’m 21 again, try to essentially kill myself on the treadmill, or listen to whiney punk music instead of working out my true feelings. This eventually leads to a break down and before I know it I’m driving in my car sobbing to Nicki Minaj’s “Right by my side”. I’m obsessed with exhibiting strength and wanting to prove to the other party that they didn’t break me. I’ve learned that sometimes it’s good to be broken. It’s the only way to build a better me.

I’ll be the first person to admit that I’m an over emotional person and I fall hard. I’m a sucker for romance and get extremely wrapped up in the current scenario. Sometimes I get so caught up in things that I become completely blindsided when things eventually hit the wall. I tell myself time and time again that I’m going to do things differently and curse myself for putting myself in these situations. However, at the end of the day I wouldn’t trade any of those moments for anything. Even though things went south, and it hurt like hell, I survived, I learned, I got over it. Life goes on.

One of my buddy’s, and the only avid reader of my blog, called me out this week. It went somewhere along the lines of, “Hey, can we go back to when you talked about funny stuff and not that serious shit”. Touché brohan. Let’s try to switch things up a bit. 

This weekend marked two very important holidays, Labor Day and Mother Poland’s birthday. Mother Poland, the matriarch of our little family, a lady who rules with a wooden spoon, turned 57 this weekend. My mom’s quite a character. She’s all of 5’5 and can easily intimidate anyone in a room with her former communista demeanor. But once you get to know her you learn a few things; 1. She’s the sweetest woman you’ll ever meet, 2. She’ll take the shirt off her own back in order to help others, 3. She has absolutely NO filter, 4. She has no problem telling anyone how it is (in English and Polish).

Kidding aside, my mother is truly an amazing person. She left everything she had in Poland, risked getting apprehended by Soviet Officers, and smuggled herself and my brother out of the country to reunite with my father in the States. When we were younger she was predominately a housewife, always there for us. However, my father fell extremely ill and was left permanently paralyzed. There she was, a housewife who spoke no English, left to find a way to care for not only a sick husband but three children. She did what she knows what to do best, survive. She got a driver’s license, got a job, became the sole proprietor of our little family, and still managed to be very involved in all of our sports and other activities. I’m forever grateful for everything my mother has done for us and I hope that one day I will be able to exhibit such strength and perseverance.

The rest of the holiday weekend was filled with some work, reminiscing with old friends, and more whiskey than one should have. Things started off Friday evening with a group of my guy friends making their yearly bro trip up north. They were sweet enough to make a pit stop in my hometown for a visit on their way. Translation: they were looking to run the tables at the local casino and decided to kill two birds with one stone. Regardless, it was good to see them, especially since they graciously decided to buy rounds with their winnings. We drank, we talked about the good ole days, we discussed life issues, we mixed pumpkin beer with whiskey. All in all, a pretty solid day.

 Saturday morning I woke up for work feeling like I had been ran over by a MAC truck. It’s not as easy as it used to be to bounce back from an evening raging. However as the day progressed, I realized that I wasn’t that far from my prime time years. It was time to rally and hit up round two. Saturday was spent reminiscing with childhood friends and pretending we were tourist by hitting up the local taverns. It’s funny sitting back and looking at where everyone has gone with their lives and compare it to what we were like when we were younger.  It’s good to go down memory lane and remind yourself of your roots. Time is an interesting thing.

The rest of the weekend was filled with veging and recuperating. I think I got a head of myself on Saturday thinking that it was the easy to rally and go in for round two. After binging hardcore on the last season of Grey’s Anatomy (And can I interrupt by saying OMG!!!!) Tuesday was upon us before I knew it. It was back to the everyday hustle. By 10:00 a.m. I was already asking whether or not it was Friday yet.

 Last week also presented me with a great opportunity. I was beckoned to my old high school by the administration. Now, when this kind of thing happens when you’re a kid there’s some concern. When it happens when you’re an adult, it’s just down right confusing. I felt like I was a freshman in high school, getting called down to the principal’s office for wandering the halls again. I met with the athletic director and was offered with a coaching position, “So, how do you feel about coming out of retirement?” Although things haven’t been completely finalized, I think it’s safe to say that yo girl is going to try her hands at coaching JV basketball.

Now I know that some of you may be reading this and rolling your eyes, especially that one person who complained that the blogski hasn’t been all that lively as of late. Granted, coaching JV girls’ basketball at a small Midwest school doesn’t seem like the most exciting venture, but to me it’s kind of a big deal.

I used to coach basketball in my former life and absolutely loved it. Basketball used to be such a large part of my life and there are many times that I miss it. After meeting with the athletic director I walked through the gym, onto the gym floor, and all these memories started rushing through my head; countless suicides where I thought I was going to vomit everywhere during hell week, laughing and clowning with coaches and teammates, and seeing whether or not that mark was still on the floor from my concussion. I’m looking forward to getting back into the gym. Stay tuned.

The past week I was fortunately enough to be able to see a number of old friends. First, I packed my bags and ventured off to see my college roommate/best friend. Now the story behind our friendship is pretty hilarious. We were randomly selected as freshman roommates and could not have looked more opposite on the surface; she had a my little pony body pillow and knitted, I filled our room with sports memorabilia and was a little rowdy. The first six months we barely spoke to each other. As time passed we became inseparable during school and our friendship is still as strong even with hundreds of miles between us.

The trip was a much needed getaway from the Midwest. I don’t know what it was, but I just needed to get away. Get away from work, get away from home, get away from the same routine. It was an eventful trip; art festivals, beer walk, wine tasting, kayaking, boating, and consuming more Yuengling than one person should. I returned home to Michigan on Wednesday, went back to work for a few days, and took some time to visit friends in Chicago. A birthday was celebrated, I danced like a maniac, and took down  far too many margaritas for Sunday funday. Needless to say the last week was pretty solid.

The traveling was more than just getting away and partying. Lately I have found myself in a strange place. It’s even hard for me to explain as I put it to words. I have really been thinking about where I am in my life right now both on the career and personal level. A lot of questions have been running through my head; is this what I want to be doing, is this where I want to live, have I outgrown this area, am I happy? The last question being particularly concerning. I have always been thankful for where I am and everything that I have, but for some reason lately I have been questioning whether it’s enough. Have I settled?

Saturday night I was sitting in the kitchen of one of my best friend’s apartment celebrating his birthday. He and I sat down with a mutual friend and began to talk about life. I aired some of my concerns with them when one of them looks at me and says, “I don’t understand the problem. You’re the type of person that gets after it. So do that. Go get it.”  That’s what I’m going to do, I’m going to go get it, as soon as I figure out what that this.

One thing is for sure, I’m done being meek and sitting back and watching to see if  things come my way. I have a tendency of not acting on things in the hopes that chips will fall into place and have had this mentality that matters are the way they are because that’s how they happen without any influence. That’s bullshit. I have lost out on a number of opportunities because I was either scared to take the plunge or thought to myself that if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen on its own. When in reality I’ve been acting like a total boob.

So this past week I stepped outside my comfort zone and took action. Granted, it was not in the most conventional way, but I still did it. I’m still uncertain what the consequences of my actions are going to be and the uncertainty makes me slightly nervous. But at the same time it’s given me the confidence to know that I took the steps to put it out there and didn’t sit back like a bump on a pickle. Yes, I said bump on a pickle. Although I would prefer for things to turn in the positive direction, if it doesn’t pan out the way I want it to, no bigs. I need to stop fearing rejection and take chances. At the end of the day I can say, hey, I went there. Until then, I’ll just try to get through this quarter-life crisis and try to fucking figure it out.

The other day I went out to dinner with a friend from law school. In typical girl talk fashion, the topic of conversation switched over to boys and dating. We went into this long two hour rant discussing different matters of dating, the pros and cons, and swamping nightmares. Towards the end she just looked at me and said, “I hate dating”. Considering she’s always a ray of sunshine, this was quite the revelation. Let’s be real, dating in your mid to late 20’s is quite the experience. Let me break it down a little bit for you.

I have the perfect person for you

The battle starts on the front lines; finding someone. Dating isn’t as easy as it used to be. Remember college, when you were given a number of avenues to come across a man peach. You talked to the cute kid in your Theo class, you got to know your buddy’s friend one night at the local watering hole, or you stalk the catcher on the baseball team. There were options.

When you leave college and enter the real world those same avenues aren’t necessarily as kosher as they were when you were 22.You go to the bar now and instead of stumbling around drunk macking it up with the cutie in the Yankees hat, you’re fending off guys that are either close to your father’s age or the local bar fly who’s been up on that stool the minute he punched out. So yeah, that sweetens the deal.

What about romance in the work place? It’s not really an option for me as I’m at least 20 years younger then everyone I interact with, however I’ve been through it in the past and it’s a terrible idea. You hear those stories about couples meeting at work. They lock eyes over the water cooler, fall madly in love, get married, and live happily ever after in the suburbs. Groovy. For the other 95% of work romances it doesn’t work that way. It’s more like meet at work, make poor life choices, end up hating each other, and forced to be in the same environment with them for what seems like an eternity. Suddenly the town drunk doesn’t look that bad.

I read some where that the one of the best places to meet someone is in the gym. In theory this should work by the two of you sharing a common interest. Now I enjoy working out and enjoy going to the gym on the regular. However, the last thing that is on my mind when I go to the gym is scoping out man peaches. First, I got to the gym at 6:30 in the morning and the only men that are typically in there are those over the age of 50 or the high school football team. Second, my typical gym outfit umbro soccer shorts, high school basketball shirt, and crooked messy bun hardly make me irresistible. Third, nothing is sexy about me gunning it on the treadmill or hurling weights around. Until I learn to doll myself up and work out without dripping a single drop of sweat, I think the gym may be out.

How about online dating? It’s the new trend and I know a number of my friends that have had great success with it, but I can’t get into it. It may be the fact that I have seen a ridiculous amount of Lifetime movies, like the “Craiglist Killer”, where young girl finds love online and gets brutally murdered. Or maybe it’s the fact that I like the traditional approach. Meeting someone for the first time and having that spark between you. The butterflies in the stomach, the stupid grin, the fact that you laugh at everything they do even though it’s stupid. That’s the kind of stuff that you can’t find behind a computer screen.

 I’ve finally entered into the stage in my life where everyone and their mother is trying to set me up with someone. My mother, my close friends, my boss, the older women at the gym, everyone. It’s the same thing over and over against, “oh I know this guy, he would be perfect for you”, as if they’re a used cars salesmen trying to sell me on a Honda. I appreciate the gesture, and I get that the fact that I’m single is apparently unheard of, but setting me up with your nephew or the guy with his MBA that lives next door may not be the best route. Unless you know Mark Wahlberg, then I’m totally down to clown.

 The Miranda Hobbs Syndrome

Once the man peach has been obtained, the roles of each partner become an issue. I call this the “Miranda Hobbs Syndrome”. 

In today’s day and age women have made huge strides. We’ve surpassed the times where women were expected to stay home with the kids, doing house work in her pearls, and making sure dinner was on the table when her husband came home from work.  Women can be scholars, doctors, lawyers, professional athletes, and rock stars. But in the eyes of the dating world, we might as well be back in the 1950’s.

 Like every woman, “Sex and the City” is my jam. Naturally, I relate mostly to Miranda. Miranda embodies many of the characteristics that I have; strong, independent, stubborn, and some fembot tendencies. She prides herself on being able to take care of herself and to pay her own way in life. This causes men to conclude that she’s jaded, a man hater, or just bitter. Really? 

 I’m an independent woman, I always have been. Since a young age my mother has always taught me not to depend on others and to be able to take care of myself. This mindset has kicked me in the rear when it comes to dating. There have been a number of times where boys have told me that they were turned off by the fact that I unwilling to let them take care of me and was unable to put my wall down. I even had a boy that I had been seeing for a few weeks completely flip his lid when I paid for dinner when he went to the bathroom. What’s a girl to do? Do I play the damsel in distress card and allow my significant other to take care of me like my knight in shining armor? Or do I continue to slay the dragons and save myself?

My career is also a huge factor when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. One of my favorite scenes in the series is when Miranda goes speed dating. She goes through these guys, they hit it off, and as soon as she tells them she’s an attorney they get completely turned off. It’s not until she lies and says that she’s a flight attendant that she finally reels one in. Suddenly handing out pretzels on an airline is more sexy than being a professional. My personal life is one big speed dating venture and sometimes it would be easier to be a flight attendant.

My career is a huge factor when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. I get the Miranda response, things are great and we’re hitting it off and when I tell them I went to law school and work in the legal field BAM, see ya later sweet checks. When people here about my education and what I do they automatically have this perception about me. It’s either they’re extremely intimidated or they think I’m a total pretentious bitch. It gets to the point where I don’t feel comfortable talking about what I do. But that’s bullshit. I worked hard my whole life, focused on getting a great education and have been blessed with the opportunities presented to me. There’s no reason I should hide my accomplishments just because some bro has Napoleon complex. I’m no flight attendant, but what I do isn’t too shabby.

The Wild Card

Everyone at one time or another, has that one person that they always find themselves with. Someone that you were involved in your former life that you thought, once things ended, would be out of sight out of mind. But for some reason you continue to cross paths. You know that they’re not good for you and you know that things are doomed to end terribly, yet you can’t stop yourself. You forget about all the ill feelings towards them and how angry they make you and get caught up in the good memories you share and for a brief moment you become lost in how much you truly like being with them. Then the hammer falls and like that you find yourself going your separate paths again. When you part ways, it hurts a little more each time. It’s a vicious cycle.

 I’ll admit I’m a glutton for punishment when it comes to this. Why? Is it love? It is lust? Is it because I’m bored? I don’t know. Sometimes things aren’t black and white and there isn’t a definite answer to everything. I think it has to do with growing up. Your relationships with people evolve as you get older and at some point you find yourself at a cross road where you need to make a decision on which direction you want to go. Maybe I keep hoping that we’ll both turn the same direction. Maybe I’m just an idiot and need to get a fucking clue. Maybe deep down I believe that we’re both meant for each other and just waiting for the right time to come. Either way, I don’t have a definite answer. I’m still ironing out this one.

The Verdict

In the end, I don’t ask for much. I don’t need to be showered with gifts all the time and have the ground I walk on be worshipped (wouldn’t be terrible though). I like to be accepted for who I am; an ambitious, educated woman, who has a mild addiction to coffee, who is quirky and may be a hot head at times. One day I hope to find that person who makes me laugh to the point my gut hurts, brings me flowers from the grocery store because he thought of me when while he was shopping, and will be there to pick me up when I fall. In short, someone who isn’t an asshole.

I  know, it’s been a minute. I’ll admit right up front that this week I have no entertainment value to my post. Rather, I’m using this forum to air a grievance. So if you’re looking for the usual quirky antidotes, we’ll see ya next time. If you’re into reading something a little more real, come on in, the water’s fine.

Lately I have really been thinking about the concept of friendship. I wasn’t blessed with a large extensive family. I didn’t have grandparents’ houses to go to in the summer time, I didn’t have all these cousins that I grew up with, all I had were the essentials; Mother Poland, Pop, and two sibs. I’m not saying that I’m not grateful for them, they’re everything to me. But I was always envious of the kids I grew up with who had these big, extensive families.

I think that lack of a widespread family is why I value friendship so much. Friendship to me is one of the most important aspects of life. The connection you make with someone over that “What? You too?!” moment, the bonds you share as you watch each other grow, and those terrible life choices that you sit back and just laugh about. It’s a special thing. However, lately it’s been a battle. 

I find that in times where I’m really struggling with something or have something weighing heavy on my mind, I get moved by a song. Not moved so much in the way where an outbreak of emotion occurs, more like it just fits perfectly with my mindset. This morning was one of those moments. I was running through my home town, trying to not look like an idiot, and doing everything in my power not to vomit on the curb. As I started running down the hill towards the beach TLC’s “What about your friends” came on my shuffle (duh, it was throwback Thursday). I stopped in the middle of the road and just said out loud, “this is fuckin’ perfect”. The song encompasses exactly what I’m going through.

 The song is one of their first hits from the 90’s. Basically, it was written around the time they their fame really began to take off. One of the biggest struggles the girls had was maintaining their relationships with everyone in their lives as they started to climb in the music industry. T-Boz’s second verse just nails it for me:  

“Every now and then I get alittle easy
 I let a lot of people depend on me
 I never though they would ever deceive me
 Don't you know when times got rough I was standing on my own
 I'll never let another get that close to me
 You see I've grown a lot smarter now Sometimes you have to choose and then you'll see
 If your friends is true they'll be there with you
 Through the thick and thin”

One of my biggest down falls is that I’m too loyal. I know you’re probably reading this and have your head cocked to the side thinking, “And that’s a bad thing?” It is. I’ve always pride myself in being the person that everyone comes to. In my circle of friends I’m always the one that has their door open, the one who does anything to help others muster through their problems, and become the one who everyone depends on. That’s groovy. When the table turns, it seems like I’m looking into an empty corner.

The last year has truly been a test of my patients and perseverance. During the most challenging of times you not only find what you are capable of as a person, but you also find what you mean to others. I have been fortunate in that I have had a number of people rally around me, supporting me along the way. But it also has opened my eyes to how I can be so overlooked by those that are closest to me.

The thing that hurts me most is being taken for granted. The worst feeling is putting yourself out there for someone and not getting anything back. I extend my hand to others and do everything in my power to be there, and then when times get rough for me I’m on my own. It’s terrible. But because of my sick sense of loyalty I just take it. I make myself an easy target to get taken advantage of and get walked all over.

So how do you fix this? Do you cut ties with those that have been in your life for so long, or that you have shared so many memories with? Do you kindly tell them they’re being an asshole and hope that they don’t take it the wrong way? Or do you just continue on as you have, allow them to depend on you, and just leave you in your time of need? I don’t know.

I’m not really one to pat myself on the back too much (insert laugh from my close friends reading this). But in all honesty, I’m not one to boast about myself in any way. In a joking way, yeah I’m the first one to tell everyone that I’m the bomb. However, when it comes down to it I’m a truly humble person. Today, I’m going to take some time and holla at myself.

My best friend got married in December. It was a gorgeous ceremony and she looked absolutely beautiful, per usual. In March the wedding photos came out and despite the elegant atmosphere and the special occasion, I was pretty unhappy how I looked. I’ve always been a thicker girl and have really learned to accept it over the years. But there was something about the pictures that really sparked something inside me. It was time for a change.

With the assistance of a couple of my meathead bros, I started to make some life changes. Working out more, working out differently, and switching things up in my diet. In the beginning it was fairly difficult. I found myself waking up on a daily basis feeling like my body was going to give out. Getting up from my chair became a chore and going up the stairs at my office were my worst nightmare. As the days went by, things got easier, and now I haven’t felt this great in a long time.

My confidence has really improved in the last few months. I always present myself as being a very secure woman, but in actuality I have difficulties feeling comfortable in my own skin. I’ve always been a tomboy, that has hid behind sweatpants and hoodies, rolls out of my house with my hair up in a messy bun with no make up on. I never really felt comfortable exhibiting my feminine self.

Things have changed recently. I’ve become more self-aware of myself and have made a number of changes. I have revamped the wardrobe and make myself presentable whenever I leave the house. I never wear sweat pants out in public (well, besides going to the gym). I’ve taken more pride in my appearance; hair done, nails, everything did.

 I feel like it’s starting to have a positive turn. For instance, I went out to dinner this weekend with one of my guy friends from college. Now, we have always had a really close relationship, but never in all of our years of friendship has he ever made a comment about my appearance. Which is good, because the boy is blunt. At dinner he kept looking at me strangely until I finally just asked him what the hell his problem was. He just looks at me and says, “Damn G, you look good” and pounded my knuckles. Trust me, it spoke volumes, the boy doesn’t compliment anyone besides his mother. Vindication served over margaritas.

I know I have a long way to go. Best way to get there, set some serious goals. In a month I’m going to New York to see my college roommate and her family and naturally I want to look my best.  I consulted an old basketball teammate who has become a nutrition guru who suggested a number of dietary plans and new work out routine I should try. I really want to see how far I can go in a couple months and considering my next few weeks are going to be chaotically busy, it’ll be a real test of my dedication and discipline.

 In addition to that, I did something totally cheesy. The other day I was feeling a bit blue and naturally did what all women do when they feel shitty; retail therapy. Looking through the racks I came across the PERFECT little black dress. Sexy, classy, flattering, and on sale. As always in instances of love at first sight, the selection was picked over with only a few sizes available. I stead of parting with it, I said fuck it, I’m going to get it. So I did. My goal is that by the time my birthday comes around, I’m going to fit into this dress that’s a few sizes smaller, and dress to the nines to celebrate. Now if I only could find the perfect heals…..

We’ll see how far I go. I have a lot of plans for the next few months. I started running again and have signed up for couple 5K’s. I’ve flirted with the idea of joining a yoga studio. It’s got to be better than me doing yoga from my NIKE app in my living room and getting mocked by my older brother. In addition, I’ve been presented with a possible opportunity to utilize my love of competitive sports. All in all, good things.

The might point of summer is finally here – the 4th of July. Fireworks, BBQ’s, three day weekend, and overall debauchery ensues. Essentially it’s the perfect excuse to get completely shnockered and celebrate America.

Yesterday I got together with an old childhood friend. We haven’t seen each other in nearly 10 years and were successfully able to get caught up over about 3 hours and countless beers. She and I are cut from the same cloth in many ways. We’re both the children of immigrants from Eastern Europe, our parents all left everything to escape communism,  we both speak the language of the mother land, and we even have similar eastern block features. When we get together we always talk about the immigrant children problems; having extremely blunt mothers, being forced to grow up eating the most bizarre dishes, and many more quirks that come with the territory. Yesterday we touched base on the 4th of July and we both came to realize that the holiday has a completely different meaning to us.

My parents came here in the late 80’s and I was born shortly thereafter their arrival. Since my birth I was completely submerged into the culture. I grew up speaking Polish, eating Polish food, having Polish friends, watching Polish programming. You would have thought I was brought up outside of Warsaw and not in Southwest Michigan. I was so submerged into the culture that when I went to kindergarten I didn’t speak English. Imagine being five-years-old and just blankly staring at your classmates as they try to ask you to pass the crayons. 

Ever since I was a young kid I always struggled with my identity. The question, “What nationality are you?” was always the most challenging I faced. Yes, I would consider myself American because I was born in the states. At the same time I would consider myself Polish because that’s how I was brought up. I was always different than all the American kids; different traditions, different interests, different character, and an overall different mindset. I essentially lived life as an immigrant while being born here. There were many times where I didn’t feel like an American.

My parents kept our cultural traditions alive, but at the same time they exposed us to American culture. They celebrated American holidays that were foreign to them, accepted American customs and traditions, and Mother Poland even mastered a number of American dishes. Most importantly, they taught us the importance of the American dream. When they left Poland they felt like they had lost a part of themselves. Not only because they left everything they knew, but because under Soviet occupation they were forced to lose their identity as Poles. When they came to America they were able to be themselves for the first time in decades. We, as their children, have been fortunate to have countless opportunities and have ultimately lived better lives than they could have dreamed of.

So this year’s Independence Day is more than BBQ’s  and vodka watermelons. To me, it’s about celebrating the country that gave my family a place to go when they felt they had nothing. A country that has allowed me to take advantage of numerous opportunities and has allowed me to live out the American dream. For once I feel at home.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a total whore for social media. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Pinterest, Tumblr, I got it all. I totally have an addiction to social media. I post to twitter on the reg and check my Facebook and Instagram a ridiculous amount of times throughout the day. Sometimes I can’t even tell that I’m doing. If I’m stopped at a red light, I’ll check twitter. I’m waiting in line for coffee, I’ll check my Instagram. The first thing I do when I wake up, before I get out of bed, is check Facebook. In short, my name is Michelle and I have a problem.

I was looking back at the evolution of social media in my own life. Started off tying up the phone for all hours in middle school, then it went to MSN messenger and Myspace in high school, college it was Facebook, AIM, Twitter and text messaging, then in law school it was Instagram, and now I’m dealing with more social apps that I can handle. But does making me connected in all these apps really make me more social?

 The last few weeks I’ve really come to realize the issues of social media. For starters, it makes people more socially awkward. Have you ever noticed that the people who are the most active on their social media accounts are the most sheltered and quiet people in real life? Social media allows users to be more outgoing by giving them the ability to hide behind a screen. But when it comes to actually interacting with someone, in real life, hold on to your seats because it’s about to be a bumpy ride.

I have the prime example of social awkwardness as a result of social media. There was this kid in law school that would only strike up conversations with people via Facebook Messenger. He talked to one of my good friends online on the regular. Now, she’s too nice for her own good, and would entertain his efforts and engaged in said conversations. However, whenever she saw him in the halls of the school he would act like he didn’t even know her. Oh, so you have told her everything in your life from your favorite flavor of ice cream to your family issues, and yet when you see her in real life you duck your head and run in the other direction. Oh. Okay.  

If you’re connected to numerous social media accounts, forget about privacy. Oh sure, you can set your settings a certain way and only allow certain people to look at your stuff. Let me tell you something, that’s not going to help you. Because you’re going to be tagged in certain posts, or your pictures are going to be posted on someone’s Facebook and one of their friends is going to tell another person about this and before you know it it’s a snow ball effect. It’s to the point where my mother, a middle-aged Polish woman who barely can use her flip phone, is able to tell me what is on going on on my Facebook. The other day she was asking me about a certain post I put up, I asked her how she knew about it. She told me that her friend told her, because he daughter is my Facebook friend and shared it with her. So if you think anything you post is sacred, think again.

 If the six degrees of indirect stalking wasn’t enough to worry about, they’re now coming out with these apps that are encouraging strangers to interact with each other because of some bullshit they put on their profile. Picture it, you go into a place and check in, your face shows up on a list of people in that place at that moment, and then anyone who has this app can see that you are in that place currently and they know what you look like. So let’s say I’m out with the girls to a bar and I check in. Johnny sees that I checked in and that we’re both into college football and French bulldogs. The app doesn’t tell whether or not Johnny is a serial killer and will club me over the head and mug me as he follows me home. But he knows what I look like and that I really like Michigan football. Apparently as a society we have gotten to the point where we can’t interact with each other, we need some app to show us generic information to break the ice.

Social media has also made dating and activities similar to it a total nightmare. Recently I had coffee with an old friend from high school. Per usual the conversation turned toward boys and she started talking about how she was seeing this guy and she didn’t think things were going well. I asked her why she thought that and she said, “Well, he doesn’t really like that much stuff on my Facebook or Instagram anymore.” It’s just like in “He’s Just Not That Into You” where Drew Berrymore was talking about how this guy she had been seeing just seemed to disappear. In reference to modern technology and dating she goes:

“I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work so I called him at home and then he e-mailed me to my Blackberry and so I texted to his cell and then he e-mailed me to my home account and the whole thing just got out of control. And I miss the days when you had one phone number and one answering machine and that one answering machine has one cassette tape and that one cassette tape either had a message from a guy or it didn't. And now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It's exhausting.”

Drew, that was 2009. We got a boat load of more outlets to be dumped by. As ridiculous as it sounds, I totally get it.  When you like someone, you find yourself liking their Facebook statuses, pictures on Instagram, sending them Snapchats, and so forth. It’s like a form of flirting or vindication. When they stop reciprocating, then you sit back and begin to question, “Hmmm, maybe he’s just not that into me”. Which of course sets you off into a conniption and you end up wasting time trolling numerous social media outlets to try to find the answer. It’s crazy, but we all do it. The topic of dating and social media could go on forever, we’ll save that for another jaded blog post.

Now there is some good that can come from social media. Connecting with old friends and staying in touch with distant family matter is something I have really learned to utilize it for. I have a cousin in Germany that I knew very little about until a couple of years ago when she found me on Facebook. Now we try to write each other regularly and share pictures of family. Professionally, it’s given me an outlet of information from others in my field and I’m able to explore certain areas of law more deeply. As stated in a prior post, it’s also given me a creative outlet to sharpen my writing skills. I just feel like their should be a balance between the good and the bad.

I’m a really big Batman dork and absolutely love all the movies. The originals tend to be my favorite. Except for “Batman and Robin”, where Arnold plays Mr. Freeze. The movie was too cheesy for my liking. One of my favorite quotes comes from “Batman Begins”, where young Bruce Wayne is being carried inside by his father who asks, “Why do we fall, Bruce?”. After a slight pause, the father answers, “So we can learn to pick ourselves up”. Damn that’s deep for an action hero movie.

The last year has been very trying on so many different levels. I can’t tell you how many times I have gotten to the point where I just wanted to throw my hands up in the air and say, “That’s enough.” Nor can I really begin to count how many times I have just broken down. A person can only bend so much until they start to break.  

As of late I have been feeling particularly down. I didn’t really envision my life being where it is now. Not that what I’ve got going on is a bad thing, trust me I know things could be a hell of a lot worse, but I can’t help but feel disappointed in myself. I feel like a car set upon blocks, engine on and wheels spinning, but I just stay in the same spot. Not exactly the best feeling.

I’ve done some serious reflecting the last few days and came to number of conclusions. First, things could be a lot worse. I have been very fortunate in my life to be given the opportunities I have been given.  I have a clean bill of health, a roof over my head, a loving family, and a great group of friends. I have a couple of degrees under my belt and a job where I’m able to use my degree. Although things may be shitty, when you put it on the scale it seems to balance out.

Second, I have some really strong people to look up to. My parents are prime examples of overcoming adversity. They have been hit with so many obstacles; living in a country being taken over by Soviet Occupation, leaving everything they know to come to a new country and start a new life, life threatening illnesses, and all the other everyday struggles everyone else faces. Things were not easy for us growing up. Thinking back on those times I couldn’t even imagine making it through it. But my parents did. They didn’t sit back and feel sorry for themselves, they fought back and didn’t let the struggles they faced defeat them. There’s no reason why I can’t get past this as well.

Lastly, I’m really fortunate to have the support of some stellar people around me. My family of course has been there for me through everything; whining, break downs, and freak outs. I can’t count my blessings enough for the friends that I have. Friends that will send me care packages filled with the silliest of things that I love (including Mark Wahlberg movies). Friends that take time out of their day to bring me coffee to just say, “Hey, I’m here”. Friends that will post up at the bar with me, line up whiskey, and talk about the bullshit that’s going on. And friends that just listen to me bitch, a lot. I don’t know where I would be without my family and friends.

Today marks the start of the greatest sporting event of all time: The World Cup.

Being the child of immigrants, I have been exposed to soccer my whole life. It has always been something my father and I have bonded over. My dad loves the game. He’s one of those guys that will sit in front of the television on Saturday afternoons watching random Euro league games, no interest in either team, just watching it for sport. Between the ages of 3 and 16 I played on a number of soccer teams and leagues and there was no greater joy for my father to come out to the pitch and watch me play.

The World Cup is a special event in our household. My dad and I are usually glued to the television watching the matches live, regardless of what time they are. I remember in 2002 when the World Cup was held in South Korea, I would come home from working all day at the ice cream shop, take a quick power nap, and then spend all night sitting up with my dad watching the games live.

Others can’t really seem to get why I get so excited every four years when the World Cup comes around. I get a lot of “who cares about soccer?” or “what’s the big deal?” Well, soccer is a big deal. Let’s take the atmosphere for instance. There is nothing like going to a professional soccer game. I have been fortunate enough to attend a number of Chicago Fire games and a few international friendly’s (Poland being one of the teams playing, obviously). The energy is high and people are decked out head to toe in their team’s colors. In the parking lot people are tailgating and sharing drinks and food. Sitting in the fan sections everyone is bouncing up and down to the beat of the drum, singing and cheering on their boys together, and for those 90 minutes you all act as a single unit. Soccer gives people a sense of camaraderie. It’s unlike any other sporting event I have ever been to.

Soccer gives people a sense of pride in their home country. Monday I read this article in the Chicago Tribune that referenced the recent friendly between Mexico and Bosnia-Herzegovina in Chicago. The article talked about how the different ethnic neighborhoods in Chicago take part in the World Cup festivities by demonstrating nationalism to their home countries. It made an interesting point that these people who are separated from their mother land are able to feel a sense of home by cheering along side their fellow countrymen. My parents feel the same way. Unfortunately Poland was unable to qualify for this World Cup, but when they hosted UEFA Euro 2012, they had such a great sense of pride every time Poland took the pitch and felt like a part of them was in that stadium.

Although there are a few things this World Cup that I’m disappointed in. One of course being Poland not qualifying and another being that Landon Donovan was cut from the national team and I now have a jersey that is useless, but we wont put salt in the wound. I’m still excited. Excited to crowd around the television with my father, driving my mother crazy as we yell and monopolize the living room. Excited to watch teams from different continents, nationalities, backgrounds, take the field against each other. Excited to see the packed stadiums of people, cheering and jumping, dressed in their colors, living in the moment. Excited to see the world come together for the game.

Yo girl. 

I’m obsessed with the show “Girls”. As cheesey as it may sound, I totally relate to Lena Dunham’s character. Not so much in the way that I enjoy wearing frumpy jumpers and walking around naked all the time. More so in the fact that I’m a female, I’m in my mid 20’s, and I’m just trying to fucking figure it out.

My favorite scene in the series comes in the first season. In short, Hannah gets HPV and goes to her college ex-boyfriend to confront him with it. Unbeknownst to Hannah (and apparently only Hannah), Elijah is gay and her world comes crashing down. Two years together in college and it was all based on a lie. Prior to her confrontation with her ex, she learns that Jessa has HPV too because “all adventurous women do”. The episode ends with Hannah sitting on twitter, rocked by reality, trying to come up with a tweet that perfectly embodies her existence at that moment. With Robyn’s “Dancing on my own” playing in the background, she puts it perfectly into words; all adventurous women do.

This ties in perfectly to my thoughts this week. Monday I was in an extremely foul mood. No reasoning behind it, just one of those woke up on the wrong side of the bed days. One of my old friends saw that I was in a salty mood (thank you Twitter rant), and invited to take me out for a little happy hour pick me up.  He and I got to talking about life and he served me some realness, “Why don’t you relax and live a little?” He’s totally right.

I’ve been told that I’m a pretty ballsy person. It’s true I am ballsy in that I’ll tell you how it is and I’m not easily intimidated by anyone. But when it comes to taking chances and living a little, I can be a total wimp. I’ve always done things by the books and did what I was suppose to.  Sometimes I focus so hard on staying on the straight and narrow that I lose myself in the everyday hustle and flow of things. It wears on you after a while.

There are so many things I want to do in my life and so many places I want to go.  I want to go wonder around Europe and take in the history and culture. I want to go cliff diving in Hawaii. I want to learn to surf, run a half marathon, be front row at a Jay-Z concert, and fall in love with a Mark Wahlberg look-a-like in the heart of Boston. Only kidding on the last one, but you know what I mean.

Here, sitting in my office on a sunny Friday morning, I vow to do what my buddy suggested and live a little. To step out of my comfort zone and focus on myself a little more. To allow myself to be silly and to go out and have fun (responsible fun, of course). To take a trip when I want to and not get too wrapped into the every day grind. To be more ballsy.