#corianne

I just binge watched all the episodes of Normal people and it's fkin amazing. Connell and Marianne's acting is phenomenal and cinematography is world class. But the thing is that they built such a quintessential image of relationships that I've been dwelling over my past relationships, wonder if they were even half as good as Connell-Marianne. They are the benchmark now and I'm gonna weigh every one of my future relationships against them. If it's not as good as them, it's not worth it.

Those conversations, that maturity and intimacy, that chemistry, I want it all.

I Will Go Down With This Ship: Edition https://bit.ly/2XmDsNv

I Will Go Down With This Ship: #Corianne Edition

Someone in the office right now has a ringtone that makes me want to jump off a bridge. It's a cat meowing. A cat. Meowing.

Everytime it goes off, peopel around the office "aww" in unison, but I find myself stabbing the keys on my keyboard just a little bit harder.

If you're reading this and thinking "wow, Corianne, relax" then maybe I should just add that icing to the cake and tell you that it's almost as annoying to me as the sound of a crying baby.

I know, I know, babies are a precious gift... but omg, someone please... put a muzzle on those things. Or at least a mute button.

Transparent or translucent?

There's an argument for transparency. If you make it easy for people to see right through you, the thinking goes, you are easier to trust.

The market, though, often seeks out the translucent. Things that glow. We're drawn to the glow, to the illumination and warm feeling it brings. We'd like our tools and our replaceable institutions to be transparent. We want the bank and the radiologist and the tax man to be totally clear and invisible, so they can get out of the way and we can focus on what's true. But the brands and experiences and legends that lead to stories and affection and connection--it would be better if they glowed instead.

Everytime someone says this (and by someone, I mean Jessica) I am blindsided by the image of me roundhouse-kicking her trusty appointment-laden iPhone out of her hand.

What? Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. I’m not an excellent planner, and I secretly despise people that are.

Ok, I am not that bad. But I’m not a planner on the level that she is. If I tell her casually, “hey – we should go to lunch tomorrow!” it may only be a fleeting thought in my mind (I can re-access this offer tomorrow, when my day is actually laid out in front of me, right? Or better yet, tomorrow when lunchtime nears, if I don’t feel like going I just don’t text her, right?), but Jessica? Jessica adds it to her calendar within nanoseconds, and the only question in her mind is who’s driving and how many carbs she is allowed if she skips breakfast.

Everyone needs a Jessica. I’ve come to realize this more and more as time goes on, and as much as she is adjusting to my “easy breezy” nature, is as much as I am adjusting to her exceptional organization of her life… and now mine. She is black and white, and she is forcing my “many shades of gray” to become a little bit more clean cut, as well. To be honest? It feels good.

She told me I had plans on Friday. I checked my calendar (she has created a monster), and sure enough – she had put “busy” on my calendar from 7pm until 11pm. Well, alright then!

When I take a look at my ever-increasing calendar of appointments and events and begin to have a small anxiety attack, I choose to look at it like this: I kinda have a personal assistant now. I’m a big deal. That is AWESOME. My anxiety recedes.