My Land of Women

Finding good roommates is kind of like dating.  Like dating your best friend, living with them can either bring you closer or completely obliterate any crumb of a relationship you may have by the time one of you moves out in the middle of the night.  And like dating on the internet, you really never know what you are going to get.

Now, I know the fallacies of Craigslist.  I have experienced some of them myself.  I once found a roommate who advertised herself as "Quiet, but still likes to have fun occasionally.  Looking for someone who can be a friend as well as a roommate."  Well, quiet ended up meaning absolutely crazy and likes to have fun meant watching the mold grow in the bottle of ketchup she kept in the fridge that she refused quite profusely to throw out.

Single White Female, anyone?

My experience with internet "Roommate Dating" was different this go around.   I have had the fortune of falling into a group of wonderful, beautiful women who are so diverse but have no problem finding a common ground in any situation.  And believe me, these girls are VERY different than anything that I'm used to...seeing as they are all lesbians.

Living in the South, I was never really exposed to this Land of Women.  I had two good friends who were homosexual, but they were the only two people I knew who were openly gay.  One of the reasons why I love my girls here is that they are uber out.  They rejoice in not only other women's bodies, but their own also.  They are so confident in their womanhood, and it is wonderful living in an environment where we are so celebrated.

And, of course, they are so much fun.  Whenever I am not with the boyfriend (yes I really do have one and the girls have affectionately named him "Beardy," as he will now be known to you all), you can find me doing something completely ridiculous with the girls.  We all openly love 30 Rock and are secretly obsessed with Glee.  We love dressing up and going out, or putting on our most unflattering pj's and cooking dinner for each other.  I realized how lucky I was the other night as we gathered around the tv for our weekly Glee viewing.  Everyone was a twitter about how the team would perform at Sectionals and why we all are in love with Brittany.  Trying to be more health conscious, we were all chewing wilty spinach leaves with the least disgusting of the fat free dressings we had begrudgingly purchased at the store.  We soon became bored with being healthy, and I was chosen as the one to make the snack run.  After I had collected the money, I sprinted, literally, down the street in my pajamas in the 30 degree weather to the tiny convenience store on the corner to buy ice cream sandwiches for everyone.

I luckily made it back home before the show came on (not that it was my favorite anyways), but whether we enjoyed the episode or not, all of us broke into song when the kids on tv started singing Florence and The Machine.  We apparently became re-interested in being healthy (it was probably the adrenaline of our spontaneous performance talking) and then engaged in a self made group exercise program.  When our earnest working out disintegrated into riotous laughter at the spectacle we were making of ourselves, we decided to look to the professionals for help.  We found something that looked like it may be easy on our Video on Demand, "Beauty Body Sculpt."  I'll admit we were a little sexist in choosing this.  It sounded like something that toothpick women who didn't really need to work out but wanted to look like they were doing something to make themselves look so beautiful would do.  And, in the beginning, we seemed to be right.  Our self-induced illusion was soon quelled when our pretty exercise guide informed us that what we thought had been a moderate workout was actually just a warm up.  The little workout devil woman then launched into some hellish exercise routine that had five girls jumping and pumping fists and lunging and twisting themselves into such a frenzy that by the end, those of us that weren't laying in the floor claiming their legs did not work were trying to hold ourselves up on the bookshelves while we gulped in breaths of hot, sweaty, living room air.

We then fell on the floor with our fallen comrades as our tired, tired bodies were raked by more laughter.

This is my life now.  I know that my best friend M was worried when she let this baby bird fly out of the nest we had made in SC, but I already cannot wait for her to come visit me and meet not only Beardy, but this group of radical women who are breaking down boundaries not only within the realms of the society in which  we live, but, as sappy as it sounds, in my own heart too.

It's "wicked pissah." :)

The Catch-up Quickie

No, I am not dead, I did not lose my computer on my way up to Boston, and I did not forget the password to my blog.  So there is really no reason as to why I have given up writing for the past three or four months.  I simply just got busy!


But I have returned, with plenty of ammo to last me until my next slump.  From food to landscapes to really crazy people, I've been experiencing some pretty wonderful things that I absolutely cannot wait to tell you about. Here is a quick run through that will bring us up-to-date on my travels (in semi chronilogical logical order):

*On my way here, I found that the farther you go North, the faster and more erratic people drive.
Virginia- people drive like turtles.
Pennsylvania- people drive like Speed Racer.
Boston- people drivers are replaced by bats out of hell and allowed to do whatever they want on the road.

*I arrive in Boston carrying nothing but a trash bag full of clothes and a bookcase full of books...That's...it.

*My new home for the next month was very old and scary.  There was only one roommate to be found.  She is awesome and has the cutest puppy.

*I buy an air mattress that has a hole in it. (Hole is undetected upon purchase).

* I find a boyfriend.  This is him.

*Second day:  I walk up and down the street until I find a part time job- barista at a crepe cafe in Davis Square.  SWEET.

*1 month later:  I really freaking hate my part time job as a barista in a crepe cafe.  NOT SO SWEET.

*I find a full time job with my English degree at a university in Cambridge (no, not THAT university) in Accounts Receivable.

*I quit my part timer to go to the beach with said boyfriend (and I am starting my new full time job).

*Did I mention I found  full time job?

*I find a new apartment with 4 girls who all happen to be lesbians.  THEY ARE AWESOME.  Expect many blogs about our late night Tetris tournaments and new bars and restaurants we like to try out.

*Oh, and of course...I fell in love with Boston.  Here are some reasons why...

So there ya go...  I can't wait to tell you all about my adventures :)

Last Day in Town

So it is officially my last day in town.  I'm spending the day with my family, and I have to say, they make it a little hard for me to leave.  I have a very tight-knit group, and I'm going to miss them terribly.  I know tomorrow, as I drive away, I'll be crying like a baby.

Old South Rising

Today, I sat under a tarp in a cemetery and watched as my grandfather was lowered into the ground.  It was hot and not just to the point that it was uncomfortable.  I mean "feel like your skin is burning when the sun touches it, hair clinging to your neck after 5 minutes of being outside" hot.

My grandfather lived in the Lowcountry of South Carolina- the land of Spanish moss and people who smell the pluff mud and think of it as a sort of "Welcome Home" from the land that they are so tightly tied to.  The people who live here are a different breed- they consider you family once you've sat down and had a meal with them, they live and breathe the land that they work so hard to help yield the livelihood of their families, and they always find someway of leaving an everlasting impression on your heart- no matter where you head to after you leave.

As I sat there, surrounded by family (blood and "adopted"), I couldn't help but soak in the wonderfulness of the life of a Southerner.  My grandfather's remaining brothers and sisters (4 of the original 12 are still living) sat together, acting as if they had never left eachother's side, and all the grievances that they held had melted away when they heard one of their youngest brothers was sick and needed their help.  My "highfalutin'" great aunt held her head high, almost regally, as she rested her hand on her older brother's knee as he wept into her shoulder.  On the other side of him sat the other brother, who traveled the world and settled in Texas, making deer sausage and writing postcards to the family he left behind.  They did not try to hold back their tears, but in true Southern fashion, they remained as reserved and proud as the pastor spoke of their late sibling.

People were sniffling and crying, and tissues were passed around, as much for the tears as for the sweat that trickled down the chins and the throats, making the grief only seem more real.  I looked at these people, who drawled their soft "r's" and who would suffer a blizzard to watch one of their fellow kinsmen be committed to God, and thought of how much the Old South still survived.  And as an African American sergeant folded the flag that rested upon the coffin that held my grandfather and sat it in my grandmother's lap, I watched her cover his dark hand with her pale one, thanking him for honoring her husband; I realized that maybe some of it had died and something more beautiful had been born and was growing in its place.  (They still have a long way to go, but prayerfully the lines of race that have marred the life of Lowcountriers for so long will finally start to fade.)  The pastor boomed his wonderful, deep southern voice across the yard, teetering on the edge of comfort and the fire and brimstone that only men from the southern part of the country can achieve.

I was comforted by these people, my people, and the things that I saw.  I thought "How blessed I am for getting to experience a life such as this."  I will miss the South; it has been ingrained in my soul in such a way that I know I cannot ever fully leave it behind.  And today, I knew that I would never want to.

Casual(ly Uncomfortable) Friday

About 20 minutes before we closed yesterday, my boss poked her head in the door and announced that it would be Casual Friday today.  The initial rush of excitement and flurry of ideas of what I could wear the next day were later to be quelled by two contrasting ideologies:  cute, truly casual wear, and the exasperation of trying to look professional and having to wear jeans in the middle of summer in the hottest state in America. (My office Casual Friday rules state “You must wear jeans or khakis, with a work appropriate shirt.  You must also pretend like you are not sweating and smell like a mule. “)

Now for some, this would not be such a big deal- say if you worked in an office that you didn’t have to deal directly with a client, or some movie-like newspaper/magazine where you could wear whatever you wanted to as long as it was trendy and “cool.”  But when you are working in an insurance office where you are always dealing with clientele, dressing for “Casual” Friday is a little more complicated.

So I’m sitting in my room last night, in a pile of clothing, gripping a beautiful salmon colored shirt that I want to wear so badly and wiping the nervous sweat that beads up on my brow with the dark, dressy jeans that I don’t want to but know that I will have to wear the next day.  I realize something at this point, as I clutch the twirly skirt and the cute shorts and large waist belt to my breast with a wild look in my eye…I hate Casual Friday.  Because it is never really “casual.”  Because people will be judging by just what you are wearing, employees and clients alike.  I mean, you can take the chance and wear those light-washed jeans and graphic tee from Banana Republic, but all day you will feel self-conscious that you have killed your professional integrity by actually coming to work in comfortable clothing.

Now you may be thinking, So, just wear a skirt or something, Ryan.  You don’t have to look like a bum. Ah, yes, but then you will be the party foul who showed up on Casual Friday in something sassy and semi-professional.  The next thing you know, someone is spiking your coffee with copier ink and leaving Hate post-its in your cubicle. I do not want to be that girl.  

So eventually, I had to resign myself to my jeans and spent today sweating my face off every time someone opened the door to the inferno that lies outside and shifting uncomfortably as my dark dressy jeans moved into strange and foreign places after sitting in the same chair for so long.

The next time you hear someone resounding joyfully at the mention of this mythical day of casual fashion, do me a favor and punch them in the face.  It will ease the pain for them of dealing with the fallacies of Casual Friday later.

If I had been able to dress in my regularly scheduled clothing, this may have happened:

Help Me, Gerry!

I have had no idea what to write about for the past few days.  It is ridiculous!  I get little flickers of ideas through the day (The Value of the Cheeseburger, 8 Signs Your Boss Holds Attila the Hun as a Role Model, Why Gerard Butler is the Celebrity Love of My Life, How I've Developed My Boston Driving Skills, etc.) But when it comes time for me to sit down and type something up, my mind goes completely blank or Facebook notifies me of one more college mate of mine getting married, to which I stalk the bejeezus out of the wedding I was not invited to.

*Scottish, ruggedly handsome, funny.  And he sings in my favorite musical??  Um...yes?*

I just can't think of anything to write when it comes down to it.  And I feel like as a writer, emotional madcap, and American Lit extraordinnaire, staying shut up is not healthy.

What do you do when you suffer from the dreaded writer's block?

Soundtrack Saturday

Ladies and Gents, welcome to the first Soundtrack Saturday of this blog's life.  Every Saturday, I will attempt to remember to post a soundtrack for the day.

A soundtrack, you say?  Are we in a movie, here?  Why no, we aren't unfortunately.  But, I know that you know what it is like to be walking down the sidewalk and think, Wow, it would be really great if there was music playing right now that expressed how I feel.  Which is what IPods are for.  But it would just be better if everyone could hear your own personal soundtrack as you were walking down that sidewalk, so people could bust a move or just walk up to you and hand out a hug (depending on what songs you are playing).

And since I had such a dismal, awkward posting session yesterday, I thought today I should make a playlist early and let it set my day for me.  I also feel like I should say that I don't own any rights to any of the following pictures or links.... don't sue me.  So without further ado, here is my soundtrack for Saturday, June 18th:

#1  "Daylight" by Matt and Kim

Yes, this is the song from the Bacardi commercial.  But it makes me so happy.  And these two crazy kids just seem so in love and facy-free that it just bleeds out through their music.

#2  "Something Beautiful" by NeedtoBreathe

I love this song for so many reasons.  I heard it first while I was living in Charleston, and I loved listening to it on the way to the beach.  Lots of guitar, lots of the raspy, sexy vocals.  This is a great song no matter which way choose to take it, spiritually or just a feel good song.








#3  "If It's Love" by Train

Train, I love your happy, quirky lyrics, and the way you make me want to shake it while I'm driving down the road with my windows down!






#4  "Ladies of Cambridge" by Vampire Weekend

This indie band has a ton of great songs, very upbeat and unique.  This one in particular just gets me in Boston-mode.









#5  "Babylon" by David Gray

This song makes me think of driving downtown at nighttime.  And not taking notice of all the drunk college kids (or maybe noticing them and embracing them as a symbol of the last carefree moment and making it last).  Plus, David Gray is too cute.







#6  "Drowning Mr. and Mrs. Palmer" by The Restoration

Ok, you have probably never heard of this band.  They are more locally known, but I have a feeling it won't be like that for long.  The Restoration has a very ecletic sound, a mix of rock, folk, and bluegrass.  They have such a unique sound and vocalists Daniel Machado and Adam Corbett have some of the best pipes around.  From the banjo to the violin, the drums to the bass, this group knows what's up and is inventing a new kind of sound.  What is even cooler is that Machado has written a short story to accompany the tracks on their album, sort of as a bakground/prequel to what you will hear in the songs.  How awesome is that??




#7  "Fidelity" by Regina Spektor

I love this song.  Spektor has such a versatile voice and a quirky sound.  This song make me want to skip and learn how to play the piano.










#8  "Song Away" by Hockey

Don't dance to this song...I dare you.







#9  "Africa" by Toto

This song is timeless.  It is just that good. Plus, the video is AWESOME.









So, what are some songs that you would use for this first Soundtrack Saturday?