Monday, February 22, 2010
8:49 PM Matthew 17:20 (I know. I surprised myself.)
At the risk of writing yet another sappy and sentimental blog post... I'm writing another sappy and sentimental blog post. If you can't stomach it, feel free to stop reading now. Seriously. It's okay. Even I cringe sometimes when I read these.
But while I was on the train going up to Boston the other day, I was checking Twitter on my phone, and I came across a quote. I follow TheDailyLove, which sends these random inspirational quotes out into the void, and one just really struck me. Struck me so much I can't really remember it (ha), but it had to do with putting all of your faith into the Universe or God or whatever it is you believe in.
And, as you know, I'd been having a tough week at work. And I'd been having a tough week personally because of (I'll admit it) Valentine's Day. And believe me when I say I truly HATE that Valentine's Day bothered me because I truly HATE when single people are all single and bitter about a day that celebrates Love. But that is how I found myself last week. Single, and bitter about it.
So, I'm stuck on this train that's running and hour and a half late after a really long, hard week, and I thought, 'Okay, FINE.' It wasn't an angry "fine," it was more of an exasperated, okay-you-win "fine." I'll do it. I'll just put all of my faith into the Universe. I'm going to believe that everything is happening for a reason, and when I get frustrated or lonely or sad or lose hope for humanity, I will remember to have faith.
And I've decided I'm going to do this, this whole crazy having-faith-and-not-questioning-the-Universe thing, for three months. Because, while putting a time limit on faith may not exactly seem like real faith, I'm still me. And it makes me feel better to know I have a date when I can reassess and decide if this philosophy is working for me. My biggest fear is that by completely letting go, I'll lose sight of the life goals I have for myself. Right now I think of "having faith" as following blindly. I hope that will change.
Anyway, stay tuned. And have faith that I'll keep you posted...
BA DUM CHHHHH!
Anyone? Anyone?
Love,
Tara
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Home Again
Sunday, February 21, 2010
9:20 PM Boston.
In honor of Stephanie's 21st birthday, I am in Boston this weekend. As I write this, she is sitting on her bed, deleting unattractive pictures of herself from her camera. I don't really feel like blogging. I'm faking it. (Sorry, does that ruin it for you?) But I told myself I would blog on all the days I have off from work, and this day is one of them. One of the few. You know the story.
Anyway, because I'm an awesome sister and because I SO needed a break, I took a train from NYC to Boston yesterday after work. I wound up getting into Boston at 10:30 (an hour and a half later than planned) because the train was running late, but as soon as I stepped out into the cool night air by Back Bay Station I was giddy. Seriously. Like a child. There's something about Boston that makes me want to kiss every drunk sorority girl, homeless man, and Red Sox fan I see.
And so I've spent the past 24 hours feeling more relaxed and happy than I've felt in a long time. I don't know if it's the good memories I associate with this place or the city itself, but I need to live here again someday. NEED.
And when I'm a huge, successful writer I'll be able to live anywhere I want, so I think that works quite nicely.
Love,
Tara
9:20 PM Boston.
In honor of Stephanie's 21st birthday, I am in Boston this weekend. As I write this, she is sitting on her bed, deleting unattractive pictures of herself from her camera. I don't really feel like blogging. I'm faking it. (Sorry, does that ruin it for you?) But I told myself I would blog on all the days I have off from work, and this day is one of them. One of the few. You know the story.
Anyway, because I'm an awesome sister and because I SO needed a break, I took a train from NYC to Boston yesterday after work. I wound up getting into Boston at 10:30 (an hour and a half later than planned) because the train was running late, but as soon as I stepped out into the cool night air by Back Bay Station I was giddy. Seriously. Like a child. There's something about Boston that makes me want to kiss every drunk sorority girl, homeless man, and Red Sox fan I see.
And so I've spent the past 24 hours feeling more relaxed and happy than I've felt in a long time. I don't know if it's the good memories I associate with this place or the city itself, but I need to live here again someday. NEED.
And when I'm a huge, successful writer I'll be able to live anywhere I want, so I think that works quite nicely.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Reminder
Thursday, February 18, 2010
8:49 PM Blurg.
Today I had the day off, so Dad and Kaitlyn came to visit me here in NYC. It was the nicest day I've had in a long time. So, naturally I ended it by starting to cry at dinner. I started crying over... nothing. I was telling some story about this guy who was rude to me at the post office over a week ago, and then I lost it. The truth is there are a lot of little things (stressors, obstacles, problems) that happen every day now that I'm living on my own and working at a new job that apparently build up. And somehow I manage to ignore them until I'm with my family again, and I suddenly lose it.
I think when you're in a stressful situation, you automatically go into "survival mode." You can't fully think about how tired, stressed, frustrated, lonely you are because if you do, you won't function. So, while you're kind of aware of it, you push it out of your head and just keep swimming. It isn't until you're around the people that truly know you and love you, that all those feelings come rushing out and over onto your pumpkin risotto. And I think I tend to be hard on myself because, let's face it, I'm lucky. I have a job. I have an apartment. Things could be SO much worse. So I get angry at myself when I start to feel overwhelmed or lonely because who am I to complain when I have so many good things in my life? I get mad that I let "weak" emotions affect me. I have a great job... I should be happy most of the time.
And it's really not that I'm unhappy, because I'm not. For the most part, I'm happy. But almost every day I am looked down upon and condescended to and made to feel very small...and it's wearing on me. Especially when I don't have my family to come home to at the end of the day. Because all I really want at the end of every day is for someone to hug me and tell me it will be okay.
I know it will be okay.
It's just nice to have someone there to remind you.
Love,
Tara
8:49 PM Blurg.
Today I had the day off, so Dad and Kaitlyn came to visit me here in NYC. It was the nicest day I've had in a long time. So, naturally I ended it by starting to cry at dinner. I started crying over... nothing. I was telling some story about this guy who was rude to me at the post office over a week ago, and then I lost it. The truth is there are a lot of little things (stressors, obstacles, problems) that happen every day now that I'm living on my own and working at a new job that apparently build up. And somehow I manage to ignore them until I'm with my family again, and I suddenly lose it.
I think when you're in a stressful situation, you automatically go into "survival mode." You can't fully think about how tired, stressed, frustrated, lonely you are because if you do, you won't function. So, while you're kind of aware of it, you push it out of your head and just keep swimming. It isn't until you're around the people that truly know you and love you, that all those feelings come rushing out and over onto your pumpkin risotto. And I think I tend to be hard on myself because, let's face it, I'm lucky. I have a job. I have an apartment. Things could be SO much worse. So I get angry at myself when I start to feel overwhelmed or lonely because who am I to complain when I have so many good things in my life? I get mad that I let "weak" emotions affect me. I have a great job... I should be happy most of the time.
And it's really not that I'm unhappy, because I'm not. For the most part, I'm happy. But almost every day I am looked down upon and condescended to and made to feel very small...and it's wearing on me. Especially when I don't have my family to come home to at the end of the day. Because all I really want at the end of every day is for someone to hug me and tell me it will be okay.
I know it will be okay.
It's just nice to have someone there to remind you.
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Recipe for Disaster
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
10:07 PM Oy vey...
Recipe for Disaster
Ingredients:
- 1 First Night Off After a Seven-Day Work Week
- 1 Open Bar at The Empire Hotel
- 0 Dinner
- 1 Pair of Gladiator Heels and a Bangin' Dress
- 1 22-year-old Girl Who Wants Her Co-Workers to Like Her
Mix ingredients with a drink stirrer and pour. Best served with Gatorade and several Tylenol. May result in a hangover, foot-in-mouth syndrome, and/or flashbacks to regrettable college frat parties.
Love,
Tara
10:07 PM Oy vey...
Recipe for Disaster
Ingredients:
- 1 First Night Off After a Seven-Day Work Week
- 1 Open Bar at The Empire Hotel
- 0 Dinner
- 1 Pair of Gladiator Heels and a Bangin' Dress
- 1 22-year-old Girl Who Wants Her Co-Workers to Like Her
Mix ingredients with a drink stirrer and pour. Best served with Gatorade and several Tylenol. May result in a hangover, foot-in-mouth syndrome, and/or flashbacks to regrettable college frat parties.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Bring It.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
3:56 PM No, I didn't have today off.
I don’t have today off and I’m exhausted and I’ve got to be to Mike’s apartment in an hour, but I just need to express myself (…that last part reminds me of a 13-year-old version of myself – Can’t you just let me have my feelings???). Anyway, I have to say that I’ve found that living in New York has made me more assertive. I don’t know if it’s the new job or the city or living on my own or what, but something has changed. I mean, don’t get me wrong… I wasn’t exactly shy or reserved before, but this is different. Maybe it’s that “No Bullshit” policy I talked about in my list of New Year’s resolutions. Whatever it is… I kind of like it.
Example: Last night I was running the elevators for this show that I work at that airs live on Saturday nights (eh, eh?) and a guy in the stand-by line got out of line and started to mouth off. To me. I’ve never had kids of my own, but in that moment I think I got a taste of what it feels like to be a parent disciplining her child in front of her other children. All the other kids are watching you to see what you’re going to do, and it’s a make it or break it moment – you either earn their respect or lose it entirely. I won’t go into details, but I shamed him and sent him to the back of the line so fast he looked visibly shocked. I guess you don’t expect a little girl in a skirt to put you in your place, but I did, and I left the whole line wide-eyed and silent. And well-behaved. I didn’t have another problem the rest of the night.
And then there was the cable guy last week. He was sloppy, he was late, he was in a bad mood. But I was in a worse mood because he was sloppy and late and completely unprofessional. I’ll top your mood any day, trust me. So he comes in and tells me he’s going to install one box. I tell him I ordered two. He tells me I didn’t. And guess what? I don’t like when people tell me what I did and did not do. I told him to check the order. Of course, I was correct. He told me he only brought one box. I told him he better find one. And guess what? Magically, a second one appeared.
And finally, there’s my landlord. Oh, Julio. Why you won’t hire a freaking exterminator to come to my apartment building I don’t know. But I do know two things:
(NOTE: Are you guys sick of hearing about my cockroach problem yet? Are you? Really? You know what I’m sick of? HAVING COCKROACHES.)
1.) I am not paying for an exterminator. Especially for the entire building (because they’re totally coming in from other apartments). By New York Law, he is required to pay for an exterminator and take care of any infestations. I looked it up. Unfortunately, he’s allowed to deal with the situation himself, rather than call an exterminator, which means he rolls in with a can of Raid every time I call him.
2.) I am going to make his life miserable until I get an exterminator. Now, I call him every SINGLE time I see a cockroach. Daily, nightly, afternoonly (?). Whatever it takes. I am now in the habit of coming home at night, killing a cockroach, and calling Julio. It’s the Come, Kill, Call Routine. And I like it. You don’t want to call an exterminator? That’s fine. Because you can look forward to daily calls from me instead. BRING IT ON.
I’m realizing now that this may seem like a pretty angry blog post. And that’s the best part… I’m not angry! In all of the examples I gave, I was actually extremely polite and never, ever raised my voice. I smiled when the standby guy was being a jerk. I winked at the cable guy when that second cable box magically appeared. In the voicemail I just left for Julio, I wished him a "Happy Superbowl" and said that I was so looking forward to seeing him again this week. And I’ll continue to do just that.
After all, you know what they say…
Kill ‘em with kindness.
Love,
Tara
3:56 PM No, I didn't have today off.
I don’t have today off and I’m exhausted and I’ve got to be to Mike’s apartment in an hour, but I just need to express myself (…that last part reminds me of a 13-year-old version of myself – Can’t you just let me have my feelings???). Anyway, I have to say that I’ve found that living in New York has made me more assertive. I don’t know if it’s the new job or the city or living on my own or what, but something has changed. I mean, don’t get me wrong… I wasn’t exactly shy or reserved before, but this is different. Maybe it’s that “No Bullshit” policy I talked about in my list of New Year’s resolutions. Whatever it is… I kind of like it.
Example: Last night I was running the elevators for this show that I work at that airs live on Saturday nights (eh, eh?) and a guy in the stand-by line got out of line and started to mouth off. To me. I’ve never had kids of my own, but in that moment I think I got a taste of what it feels like to be a parent disciplining her child in front of her other children. All the other kids are watching you to see what you’re going to do, and it’s a make it or break it moment – you either earn their respect or lose it entirely. I won’t go into details, but I shamed him and sent him to the back of the line so fast he looked visibly shocked. I guess you don’t expect a little girl in a skirt to put you in your place, but I did, and I left the whole line wide-eyed and silent. And well-behaved. I didn’t have another problem the rest of the night.
And then there was the cable guy last week. He was sloppy, he was late, he was in a bad mood. But I was in a worse mood because he was sloppy and late and completely unprofessional. I’ll top your mood any day, trust me. So he comes in and tells me he’s going to install one box. I tell him I ordered two. He tells me I didn’t. And guess what? I don’t like when people tell me what I did and did not do. I told him to check the order. Of course, I was correct. He told me he only brought one box. I told him he better find one. And guess what? Magically, a second one appeared.
And finally, there’s my landlord. Oh, Julio. Why you won’t hire a freaking exterminator to come to my apartment building I don’t know. But I do know two things:
(NOTE: Are you guys sick of hearing about my cockroach problem yet? Are you? Really? You know what I’m sick of? HAVING COCKROACHES.)
1.) I am not paying for an exterminator. Especially for the entire building (because they’re totally coming in from other apartments). By New York Law, he is required to pay for an exterminator and take care of any infestations. I looked it up. Unfortunately, he’s allowed to deal with the situation himself, rather than call an exterminator, which means he rolls in with a can of Raid every time I call him.
2.) I am going to make his life miserable until I get an exterminator. Now, I call him every SINGLE time I see a cockroach. Daily, nightly, afternoonly (?). Whatever it takes. I am now in the habit of coming home at night, killing a cockroach, and calling Julio. It’s the Come, Kill, Call Routine. And I like it. You don’t want to call an exterminator? That’s fine. Because you can look forward to daily calls from me instead. BRING IT ON.
I’m realizing now that this may seem like a pretty angry blog post. And that’s the best part… I’m not angry! In all of the examples I gave, I was actually extremely polite and never, ever raised my voice. I smiled when the standby guy was being a jerk. I winked at the cable guy when that second cable box magically appeared. In the voicemail I just left for Julio, I wished him a "Happy Superbowl" and said that I was so looking forward to seeing him again this week. And I’ll continue to do just that.
After all, you know what they say…
Kill ‘em with kindness.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Home is Where the Heart Is (and by "heart" I mean "free food")
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
3:11 PM Groundhog Day
Home again, home again jiggity jig... A very wise woman named Mother Goose once said those words after going to market to buy a fat pig. As a vegetarian I find I can't relate, but I like the rhyme scheme, and I can't help but do a little jig every time I come home (my mother can attest to this as I was just doing a jig in the Evergreen Walk parking lot this afternoon). Anyway, the point is, I'm home. By some miracle I managed to get Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off (I was assured this would never happen again), so I jumped at the chance to spend a few days at home. I don't like the feeling of not knowing when I'll get home again, so I'm trying to squeeze every ounce of home time I can get out of these few days, including taking a very early train back to NYC tomorrow, just so I can spend an extra night here.
Unfortunately, the world doesn't stop just because I come home (though it should), so Mom, Dad, and Kaitlyn have still had to go to work and school, though Mom managed to take part of today off to buy me things. I don't mind being home alone though... simply being in a roach-free environment is enough to make me want to lick the base boards. Compared to my apartment, the kitchen here is STOCKED, and the basic cable I just got in New York pales in comparison to the home package which includes Bravo and E! and the Food Network. Watching those channels is like reuniting with long lost friends. I'd also been putting off doing laundry in New York (I believe my words were, "You mean I have to lug my dirty laundry two blocks, sit there and watch it wash and dry, and then lug it back???"), so all I packed to come home with was dirty laundry. Literally. The morning after the SNL gig, I got up and folded loads of dirty laundry to fit into one giant suitcase. Dad suspects this was my real reason for coming home.
But whether it's the laundry or the television or the free food that I used to complain we never had enough of, it's good to be back. I kind of wish I wasn't going back to NYC.
Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got till it's gone? (FYI: Another very wise woman named Joni Mitchell said that.)
Love,
Tara
3:11 PM Groundhog Day
Home again, home again jiggity jig... A very wise woman named Mother Goose once said those words after going to market to buy a fat pig. As a vegetarian I find I can't relate, but I like the rhyme scheme, and I can't help but do a little jig every time I come home (my mother can attest to this as I was just doing a jig in the Evergreen Walk parking lot this afternoon). Anyway, the point is, I'm home. By some miracle I managed to get Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off (I was assured this would never happen again), so I jumped at the chance to spend a few days at home. I don't like the feeling of not knowing when I'll get home again, so I'm trying to squeeze every ounce of home time I can get out of these few days, including taking a very early train back to NYC tomorrow, just so I can spend an extra night here.
Unfortunately, the world doesn't stop just because I come home (though it should), so Mom, Dad, and Kaitlyn have still had to go to work and school, though Mom managed to take part of today off to buy me things. I don't mind being home alone though... simply being in a roach-free environment is enough to make me want to lick the base boards. Compared to my apartment, the kitchen here is STOCKED, and the basic cable I just got in New York pales in comparison to the home package which includes Bravo and E! and the Food Network. Watching those channels is like reuniting with long lost friends. I'd also been putting off doing laundry in New York (I believe my words were, "You mean I have to lug my dirty laundry two blocks, sit there and watch it wash and dry, and then lug it back???"), so all I packed to come home with was dirty laundry. Literally. The morning after the SNL gig, I got up and folded loads of dirty laundry to fit into one giant suitcase. Dad suspects this was my real reason for coming home.
But whether it's the laundry or the television or the free food that I used to complain we never had enough of, it's good to be back. I kind of wish I wasn't going back to NYC.
Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got till it's gone? (FYI: Another very wise woman named Joni Mitchell said that.)
Love,
Tara
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