OT: Relationship Goggles

If you've ever dated anyone for an extended period of time (in a loving and committed relationship) you realize that, as time passes, you become less and less aware of things going on outside of your relationship bubble.

When going out for a night on the town, so to speak, with your significant other, you would tend to focus on just that -- your significant other. Not the Brad Pitt look-a-like on the other side of the bar, or the creepy guy trying to sit in your vicinity, or who's married and who isn't. Really, you're just focused on your relationship and having a nice time with your other half. Maybe you're a little focused on the pushy girl with no morals who is trying to scam on your man (maybe!), but that's about it. Otherwise, it's just about the two of you.

I am naming the phenomenon described in the preceding paragraph: Relationship Goggles. Brethren to beer goggles, although the googly eyes and fuzzy feeling that fills you briefly and lowers your otherwise decent standards in the former is replaced with a similar googly-eyed and fuzzy feeling associated with being "happily in a relationship" in the latter. This, my friends, is an all-too-common relationship benefit hazard which lingers uncomfortably for an unspecified amount of time whence you find yourself out of said happy relationship.

Case and point: I just celebrated my 5-month unversary and have been rediscovering how much I enjoy frequenting the local watering holes with my friends. With my training wheels still on, I notice time and time again the frequency of which my girlfriends are approached by new potential prospects. I am just beginning to notice this as my relationship goggles are finally fading and I am becoming more open to the idea of talking to the opposite sex let alone being in the same room with them. (I would say up until month 4 I reverted to my 8 year-old self and decided that boys had cooties, which were very contagious and could be transmitted by being within 5 feet of anyone with a you know what [friends and coworkers excluded]).

It was just after this point when I realized how disgustingly rusty I am! I am (a) oblivious to any male trying to approach me -- definite side-effect of recent relationship goggles, (b) in desperate need of a filter -- those tend to fall to the wayside after a 5 year pseudo-marriage, and (c) mortified by the fact that I have absolutely no cute clothes to wear "out" anymore as they have all been replaced by suits, slacks, cardigans, and black pumps -- this is what I get for being an accountant.

I am working on all of this.

I have also learned some valuable lessons over the past week. (1) Do not approach the prospect -- they will approach you...and you don't need to go looking all desperate. (2) Do not interrupt another female while she is talking to a male no matter how much you want to interject (yes, there is another word for this and see previous comments about obtaining a filter). (3) Do talk to everyone because practice makes perfect, people. (4) Do go shopping when you decide your closet is empty. And (5) do dance when someone asks you to, even if it's a completely ridiculous song to which it is only appropriate to jump around to.

Whew! It is hardly fair how certain skills fall to the wayside when they are not being put to use. This whole new single thing makes me feel like I got sent back to kindergarten and have to learn how to write my name all over again. I do, however, have one thing going for me: I am happy. And happy girls are most certainly the prettiest girls (thank you, Audrey Hepburn).

Here's to looking forward to next week's adventures.

OT: These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

No, I'm not going to sing it in the form of The Sound of Music (although, I have been to Salzburg). Lately, I have been feeling very grateful for and content with my life. I'm sure this feeling has something to do with the passing score I received on my second to last part of the CPA exam and pending homeowner status (6 days!). Happiness, like other habits (good or bad), is contagious. I think it's important to know what brings joy into your life. This way, your supply can be replenished if it is, for some reason, depleted. The following is a list of things that I find keep my happiness at optimum levels:

1. The beach. Everything about it. The smell and feel and state of mind. You can take the kid out of the beach but you can't take the beach out of the kid, right?
2. Hot chocolate. Whenever I am forced to do something unpleasant (i.e. study), I always make a mug of hot cocoa. How can you be bummed when you are drinking the happiest drink on earth (alcohol excluded -- see number 15)? The answer is, you can't. 
3. Coasters.
4. And monogramming. Better yet, monogrammed coasters. Yes, this is where my preppy seeps out. 
5. Sailing. Nothing a good sail can't fix. What is better than harnessing the elements? It's like magic. Or physics. Magic sounds better. 
6. Tea and coffee. Hot and cold. 
7. My dog.  This should really be number 1. 
8. The sound of the mountains in the snow. And being outside in general. 
9. Any type of road trip. Or adventure. 
10. Radiohead, Iron & Wine, Dave Matthews Band. And this would be where my inner-hippie makes its appearance. Most music, in general, makes me happy. 
11. Food. Good food. I am not a salad girl. Deal with it. 
12. Flannels and beanie hats. See previous comments about inner-hippie. 
13. Dresses. (So now you're probably thinking I'm bipolar). 
14. Philosophical conversations. Debates. Especially with friends, and good friends at that. Nothing better than a good, thought-provoking conversation.
15. Champagne. Bubbly and delicious. Best when paired with #14. 
16. Hosting parties and bringing people together. 
17. Learning. I would be a professional scholar if I could. I suppose accountant is a good close second...or third...or somewhere on the list. 
18. Lazy Sundays. Not experiencing much of these lately due the nearing final exam part and big girl house purchase. Hopefully will resume soon. 
19. Cards. There's is something special about a beautiful card. If there is an occasion out there, there is a chance I have bought someone a card for it. 
20. Good sheets. Feeling like you're sleeping on clouds each night is worth the splurge. 

So, there you have it. My list of happiness. I try to employ as many of these as often as I can. When you have a stressful job and life, it helps to focus on the bright side of things. We create our own luck. Best to be in the right mindset to do it.

OT: Best Friends and Bridge Burning

Looking back on my life, I think it's safe to say that I've always been somewhat of a loner. I have friends, of course, (this is where my sister would interject: really? I never knew!) but I never had a best friend. At least, not the kind where you are totally BFFs4E and you do everything together and refer to each other as the girl version of your soul mate and buy matching necklaces and so on and so forth. 

I've had the same handful of "best friends" (plural, not singular)  pretty much since middle school. What made (and makes) it hard was that all of my best friends weren't also best friends (i.e. we didn't have the Sex and the City thing going). Honestly, some of them didn't (and don't) even like the others...which makes my life difficult. How can I have a girls' night with my friends when they all don't enjoy each others company as much as I enjoy theirs? I don't exactly fit in with any of their individual groups of friends either. I mean, I'm down for going out and meeting new people but there's only so much awkwardness I can take at one time. Lastly, the majority of them have moved (or are in the process of moving) out of the state. Again, this makes my life difficult.

I realize I'm being a little selfish here. But what's not selfish? Always jumping for your friends. Being where they ask you to be. Supporting them. Participating in their charities. Worrying about them. Carrying their drunk asses back to the car. Flying across the country to see them. Always wishing them a happy birthday or anniversary or whatever. Keeping their secrets. Not judging their significant others or sex lives or drug habits substance issues and everything else on top of that. Those things don't suck. But what does? Not having the favor returned. Having your friends not be there when you need them to be. Even if it's just over the phone. Realizing that these people are not going to jump for you. That fucking blows.

So when do you cut them off? When do you tell them that your friendship is not a partnership and you are done wasting your time? When do you tell them they are not being very friend-like? When do you give up on them and move on to your new friends? When do you burn the bridge? Or, do you burn the bridge?

I don't know the answer. Also, I was never a very big fan of bridge-burning.


(soundtrack: "city" by sara bareilles)

OT: Do You Believe in Rock and Roll

My sophomore year of college, I took a writing class at NYU. I don't remember the name of the class or the teacher. All I recall is that the guy looked like Jay-Z and wore Nike high-tops, jeans and a 59Fifty hat to class every day. He would give us a ten minute writing assignment at the beginning of each class. Most memorable of all of them was the following: Pick a line from a song and write about it.

I chose the following:
"Do you believe in rock and roll; Can music save your mortal soul?"

This line, of course, is from American Pie and the answer to both questions was (and is), undoubtedly, yes.

I didn't chose this verse because I'm some huge Don McLean fan or even remotely because I'm a fan of 70's music. I chose it because of the honesty behind it.

Music is magical. The way it creeps into your soul and gives you goose bumps. It transports you to the past...or maybe to the future, if you can look at it that way. It makes your heart...not ache, but pulse. It is the co-conspirator of wanderlust. It is, in a way, serendipitous. Stumbling upon a genius song without having bothered to look for it is perfection. A good song can lift you out of the darkest of depths or push you to the highest of highs. It is an outlook modifier and a game changer. And best of all: music releases endorphins, you know.

Next time you're feeling sad. Or lonely. Or happy. Or excited/anxious/nostalgic/and so forth; pop on a song. NOT your favorite song. This is the key here. The song needs to not be overplayed or overly-popular. It needs to be a treasure; hidden and possibly forgotten about. This is where you dig through your iTunes library or, better yet, put it on shuffle (now that's dangerous). Keep clicking next until you hear that opening that makes your heart pulse and your goose bumps rise and your mind wander.

Found it? Enjoy the mortal soul saving.


(soundtrack: "to be alone with you" by sufjan stevens)

OT: Run, Forrest, Run

I have never been a runner. I have never even been anything close to a runner. I am still not a runner. Sure, I was active in high school: I played field hockey and tennis. I was actually pretty decent at both of them and was captain of my field hockey team until I quit during sophomore year because, well, I didn't like running.

That's when I started playing tennis, which involves so much focus that I didn't even have time to think about the exercise I was doing. I had a tennis trainer and he made me run a lot, but I loved the sport so much that I didn't really mind. Plus, I was like seventeen and who is out of shape when they are seventeen anyway.

Then, I went to college, discovered alcohol and other poor habits, gained 15lbs (and then lost it, and then gained it...), and gave up on exercising all together. Yeah, I went to the gym, but I never really went to the gym. I wasn't one of those people who was going to absolutely die if I didn't make it to the gym or to my pilates class. I just kind of went when I felt like it.

And...here we are.

I'm still not a runner, gym-goer, or fitness junkie. I am, however, a pretty excellent walker. I walk every day. Same route. 1.5 miles. This exercise habit was completely unintentional. When I became the most awesome woman alive single 3 months ago, I realized that someone was going to have to walk my dog, Henry, and that someone was most certainly going to be me. So, I started walking. At first, it was a chore. Another thing on my to-do list. But over time, it became something I very much looked forward to. Sitting at my desk at work, I would think about how nice it will be to get home and walk Henry and be outside and not be stuck in my mole-cave of a cubicle. It actually turned into one of my favorite parts of the day (next to lunch).

Not so long ago, I was walking Henry on our usual route and something dawned on me: I can do this faster. The thought kind of shocked me. Faster? Are you on something? What are these thoughts and what have you done with my brain? But I thought about it some more and realized I probably could do it faster. I had been walking the same distance for 3 months and it was time to up the ante a tad.

Which brings us to tonight.

I, the worst runner in the world, ran (at super-human snail speed) with my dog along our usual route. I didn't make it the whole distance (don't judge!) but I followed the advice of a good friend of mine (and fantastic runner) -- pick a point along your route and tell yourself, I can make it to that. So I did. And I made it. And Henry was absolutely fantastic! Which is a huge surprise because he is such a spaz and I was wondering if we were even going to make it to running at all, but we did! It was like he knew I was serious about this and that it was something I needed to do and he just trotted alongside and listened perfectly. I was very proud of him. And I am also very proud of me.

I was a little hesitant to write this because I didn't want it, under any circumstance, to sound like I was saying I am something I am not...or that I am good at something I am not. But I think that tonight might be the start of an excellent adventure, so I decided to document it. My philosophy is this: I have to walk my dog. If I can get it done a little faster, well, go me.

Until next time, kids.

(soundtrack: "schoolboy" by grouplove)

OT: Delivery Men and the Giants Suck

Two-hundred-and-seventy minutes have gone by since I have been waiting for the appliance delivery guy to get here. Two-hundred-and-seventy fucking minutes. (That's four-and-a-half hours for all of you folks who can't do math). In my (not so humble) opinion, delivery people hold one of the, if not THE, top spot for most dreaded appointment, possibly surpassing the likes of accountants (guilty) and even dentists. Scheduling a delivery? Kiss your day goodbye.

To rub salt in the wound, today is absolutely flipping gorgeous and my dog is at my mother's (in an attempt to save the delivery people -- something I wish I hadn't thought of, given the current state of events). The rays of sun and wisps of breeze pouring through my curtains are taunting me. I have flipped from channel to channel on tv trying to find something to appease myself and have been forced to settle on football -- that's when you know I am desperate (and, side note, wtf Giants?).

Two-hundred-and-eighty-three minutes.

Today, I am frustrated. I am frustrated that butt-face (see: ex-boyfriend) has absolutely no responsibility while I am left to care for our my condo, pay for our my bills, and take care of our dog. I am not quite sure whose dog it is now, actually (I would say 90% mine, 10% his). He does help out sometimes but let's be honest: how long can you possibly share joint custody rights of your pooch? If I had a normal 9-5 (see: not slave labor public accounting) this would be a no-brainer. I would keep the dog. I love the dog. He is my dogchild. But I don't. So--- this is how it's going to go until I am forced to make a decision. The end.

Oh, and I am also not usually so whiny about my responsibilities...but today is an exception. Don't judge me.

Two-hundred-and-ninety minutes.

Onto the next frustration: the CPA exam. I know this blog is called "Off Topic" and this is really quite on topic but I can't help it today so I'm breaking my own rules. I've never had trouble with anything related to education. I got a 4.0 in high school and almost college (damn you, religion teacher), and got a near-Ivy League worthy score (see: NYU) on my SAT's without even cracking open a book to study. I don't need to study. I don't study. I am me.

I am also a cocky little shit sometimes and, in this case, I am wrong. (That tasted like vinegar, by the way).

Three-hundred minutes, ladies and gentlemen.

The CPA exam is not so much a test or a piece of education as a three-headed, fire-breathing dragon. (Ok, so I'm being a little dramatic). The test is three to four-and-a-half hours, depending on which of the four parts you're taking, and no two attempts are ever (or even slightly) the same. There is an element of luck, which is a problem for me seeing as I've never been remotely lucky (logical, yes; lucky, no) and you can only take each part once per quarter. To make a very long story short, I have two parts passed and two parts failed not passed. Oh, and did I mention that each passing grade is only good for eighteen months? Yeah, my first part expires January 31st. Happy day.

I should be studying today and, in my defense, I did study a little this morning, but it has become really hard for me to keep being motivated about something that I have been attempting for twenty-seven months straight with a very low success rate. You do not want to know how many parts I have sat for. I'll give you a hint: I've only passed two.

I will deal with my feelings on this later to save you from being lulled into a comatose state anything related to public accounting.

Three-hundred-and-ten minutes.

Ok, so in all honesty I thought the delivery guy would surely be here by the time I finished writing this post. It seems I was wrong again and that I should probably stop making these predictions as my accuracy percentage is dropping below the level I normally like to keep it at. So I'll continue sitting on my couch and have moved on to the Green Bay/Cincy game which is sure to be better than witnessing the G-men lose thirty-eight to zero to the Panthers. (The Panthers?!)

Three-hundred-and-fifteen minutes. This better be a damn good washing machine.

OT: F is for Fall

Today is September 1st which means the unofficial start to fall is upon us. Kids are getting ready to go back to school, the enormous September edition of magazines are adorning check-out line shelves everywhere, and Starbuck's has begun serving all things pumpkin spice. I have to say that I have had just about enough of the humidity and beach-seeking tourists that summer brings and am excited about the inevitableness that is fall...

...but I am also a little nervous.

Fall will be the first season of my life in recent memory that I enter alone. No longer do I have a co-pilot with whom I can plan October adventures with or make homemade soup for. For this fall, at least, I must say goodbye to apple picking dates and tailgating partners. Like these, there are so many more events and items and habits that I didn't realize are deeply connected with memories until I was forced to realize that the memories I was thinking of are the last of their kind...until someone comes along with whom I am willing and excited to make new memories with.

As the whole world knows (unless you are of course living under a rock), the football pre-season has already begun. Football is something I've never hated but never loved either. I don't mind watching the game, especially when watching with someone who does love it. I have even gotten attached to a certain team over the past few years and have developed a mediocre understanding of how the game is played (thanks to a lot of patience and invisible play drawings on the couch involving various x's and o's and arrows).

To my immense surprise, I flicked on my tv the other night to be greeted by an NFL game and a simultaneous (and unexpected) pang in my stomach:

It is already fall. I have been on my own for two months. And what the heck am I going to do about my football team?!

I resigned myself to the fact that I will have to find a new football team, one with no strings attached. I remembered that my mom's family is from Pittsburgh and that they are all serious Steelers fans, and it was decided in an instant that I would become one too. So that's settled.

Before June, I used to think I was a strong person. I thought that I could do anything I set my mind on. The past two weeks have made me realize that the pre-June me was nothing compared to what I am now. I am amazed at how I've grown and adapted in such a short amount of time. The human element truly is amazing and resilient and can be pushed to the limit without breaking but instead becoming something new and evolved and better. I am thankful for what I have, what I am capable of, and the turn my life has taken for I know it will make me a stronger, better person in the end. I can feel it already.

So with the onslaught of all things fall, I am apprehensive but excited and curious. I have faith in myself (which, coincidentally, is another thing F could stand for). I will also be taking applications for temporary partner-in-crime/pumpkin spice enthusiast. Preferably of the platonic kind. If you're interested, you know where to find me.