Twenty Something

I am approaching a milestone in my life.

Oh, okay, more like a worthless birthday, but whatever.

I am a little unnerved by my upcoming 23rd birthday.  My mother kindly reminded me that I did this whole panic-attack routine last year, lamenting the fact that I would never be 21 again, and I've managed to not fall apart in the past 12 months.  I was sure it would be the same with 23.

Until I turned on the dang radio.

(I know, I know.  The day I find a blog post that is not inspired by XM radio I'll know I've really made it.)

Today's instigator: Blink 182.  And the line...

"That's about the time she ran away from me... Nobody likes you when you're 23..."

Geez, now I'm really thrilled.  You see, I have this small issue with age and the fact that I'll never be 17 again.

If you're reading this and you're under 17, (are there any of you out there, by the way?) you have this whole holy grail of sorts looming in your future that will pass too fast for you to even realize that you've made it to the pinnacle of your life.

I kid.

Kinda.  Think about it.  How many songs do you know that talk about being 25? Or 32?  Or (gasp!) 40?

I mean, 17 has a whole publication, for Pete's sake.  Taylor Swift is perpetually 17 in her songs. The Dancing Queen is only 17.  Liesl von Trapp feels so strongly about her approaching age that she can scale whole gazebo's in one leap.  In Strawberry Wine... oh, nevermind.

You get the point.  I get really sad when I think about the fact that 17 is gone forever.  Maybe I should write a song? It could be called "Seventeen is Gone."

Clever, huh?

Which brings me to my next theory... I have a theory that when we get to Heaven, God is going to offer up a plethora of sorts of characteristics we will get to have for all of eternity.  And since it is heaven, we will all choose perfectly and be forever perfect.  I've long ago decided that I will be tall in heaven, as I have no idea what the world looks like from anywhere higher than 5'2''.  I'm convinced this will happen.

Now I've decided that I will be perpetually 17.  It's about the age I feel, and my interests tend to skew in this direction.  I don't think this is something that will change with time, either.  17 is my soul age, I'm afraid.  I'm certainly not 20, or anywhere close to where I should be given the clock.  There is, however, a large possibility my soul is about 35, but that is a depressing realization that I'd rather skip over.

So, on Friday, when I become unlikeable to everyone, I'm just going to pretend I'm turning 17.

Because I can't miss out on that twice.

Drops of Something

I'm a little tired today.

Also, my ears are incessantly ringing because I stood too close to the speaker at the Pat Green concert in Hollywood last night.  Yes, that Pat Green.  I haven't seen so many boots and cowboy hats in Los Angeles since the Rose Bowl.

I'm also a little emotional.  I have no reasoning for this, so just bear with me.  I was reading this charming little book called "Koala Lou" to my boss' 7 year old daughter last night and I literally had to choke out the last page through my tears.  She laughed hysterically.  Oh, to be 7 and not know the bittersweet stepping stones on the path to adulthood.

Oy freaking vey.  It's sad though.  And it just made me want to hug my mom.  (Love you, Mamasita.)

This whole mess adds up to me being nostalgic (Pat Green) delusional (lack of sleep) and a big blubbering crying mess (Koala.)

Therefore, I've come to some revelations.

And they probably won't make any sense to anyone other than myself.  Here goes...

I am terrified of being a "Drops of Jupiter" girl.

Did ya catch that? Really, no?

Suffice it to say that Train and Sugarland are having a battle in my head.

Drops of Jupiter-this song comes on the radio all the stinking time.  If you know me at all you know that I place great value upon the songs that I hear on the radio.  It's weird and superstitious and wrong.

Take a listen...

So my fear here is that I'm the girl who's wandering around the atmosphere, (hopefully my head is glistening with drops of something) and that someday someone will say to me "Did you sail across the sun- did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights are faded, and heaven is overrated... And tell me, did Venus blow your mind- was it everything you wanted to find and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?"  "Me" in this case being all of my lovies back in Texas.

I am terrified of finding that I have spent my time frivolously chasing after "faded" lights and an "overrated" heaven.

But I tell you- the second I start wondering these things too much, Sugarland pops in to save the day.  The current radio message is "Settlin'."

Now, I would like to point out that I am taking this from a "life" point of view as opposed to a "love" point of view.  Such girl power going in this one, right?  She's not settling, or setting the bar low, or giving up, or fearing that she is wasting time.  And I shouldn't either...

So you see my conundrum...

(And I'd like to point out- I'm not plagued by this like it might seem, I'm just feeling needy today.)

The only answer I've found for all these wanderings comes from the place where all my answers lie...

"For the LORD gives wisdom; 

From His mouth come knowledge and understanding;

7 He stores up sound wisdom for the upright; 
He is a shield to those who walk uprightly; 

8 He guards the paths of justice, 
And preserves the way of His saints. 

9 Then you will understand righteousness and justice, 
Equity and every good path."

-Proverbs 2: 6-9

In all these things, I am exceedingly comforted by the fact that as long as I am seeking Him wholeheartedly, I cannot be led astray.  My path is not some elusive needle in a haystack that I am searching for, rather my path is my everyday interactions, my work, my conversations.  

Seek ye first...

Amen.

Things to Note

What have I become?

I lamented the other day that my life has become this dizzying array of predominantly worthless things that I am stringing together to try to make a meaningful life for myself.  And before you start thinking that I am unhappy- you just need to take one giant step back.

Because even though the things I do might seem small in certain ways, I am without a doubt aiding and affecting more people's lives than I probably ever have before.  And that is kinda beautiful. 

So, in the midst of all this, I have realized that I really only have about two things I can speak on with any authority at all.  And those things are... drumroll please...

Lean Cuisine Steamers and new Fall television.

I know... I know.  I would like to retain a shred of dignity by pointing out that no matter how helpless I become, I will not go back to the days of regular Lean Cuisine's.  The horror... Oh no.  I am firmly rooted in the Steamer category, and feel that in some ways this gives me a sense of cultured sophistication.

...I should stop trying, huh?

So here are my observations based on weeks upon weeks of scurrying home for my gourmet dinner at 8:30.  I work long hours, folks.  These things are godsends when it's 8:30 pm.

Er, some of them are.  Read on.

Chicken Margherita: Last night I had the great displeasure of experiencing this.  Let me tell you... it was rough.  The green stuff (still not quite sure what it was) clumped up and became super soggy in the microwave, the tomatoes turned orange and the chicken required a steak knife to cut.  My rating: 3/10. Next!

Chicken Poblano: I was really looking forward to this gem.  It came highly recommended by my sister and I looked foward to the spicy goodness inside.  And, well, the green beans were funny.  They didn't taste like green beans.  Maybe that is an effect of the freezing, thawing, and cooking with weird sauces, but they threw me off.  And my pack was LOADED with green beans.  Rating: 5/10.

Shrimp Scampi:  I should know better than to try frozen shrimp.  There is just a disconnect somewhere... Possibly due to the fact that they have been dead for months now.  Eww... Rating: 4/10.

Sweet and Spicy Ginger Chicken: Now we're talking.  Although I could certainly do with less broccoli, (who couldn't?) this just might earn a regular spot in the freezer.  The flavors were interesting enough to keep me from contemplating the meat quality too much, so that makes it a winner in my book.  Rating: 8/10.

And last but certainly not least: Chicken Pot Stickers.  These babies are good.  Ironically they were the first ones I picked up, and there is almost nothing offensive in these.  Pot stickers (I mean, come on- in a LEAN CUISINE?) edamame, (which is basically a food group in my life) and water chestnuts.  What are these things, by the way? Do they fall into the potato category?  Do they grow in those small discs?  I don't know and I don't really care because they just have such a satisfying crunch to them. The only problem I have with this one- sometimes if the sauce isn't totally covering the stickers, you can end up with weird hard crunchy patches.  Nevertheless, 9/10.  Winner winner chicken dinner. 

And on to the second regular feature in my life... the ever-elusive and thrilling television.

It's been a good premiere season folks, and I feel it is my duty as a resident of Hollywood to tell you what I think about all things entertainment related.  If you don't agree- well you can stop reading.  I am fairly opinionated about what I think makes the cut- and as Taylor from "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" would say, "I finally found my voice and I'm not afraid to use it."

And there went my credibility.

Anyhoo... I have found three favorites.

Revenge, Hart of Dixie, and American Horror Story.

Revenge is kinda great, even though I'm shamefully only one episode in.  Whatever.  I'll catch up.  The poster alone makes it worth watching.

Hart of Dixie: Aside from the fact that I think Rachel Bilson is a terrible actor, there is something really charming about this super cheesy, super old-school WB feeling show.  I mean, one of the lead character's names is "Lemon" for Pete's sake.  But Jason Street makes many appearances, and has so convinced me.  Dillon Panthers for Life.

And last but certainly not least...

I'm going to go ahead and vehemently recommend that no one under the age of 18 and no one over the age of 30 even give this one a shot.  It is weird and scary and certainly nothing like the Tami Taylor I know and love.  But it's also fascinating.  Who is that man in the weird black rubber suit?  Why do the house residents think it's okay to keep pickled bottle parts laying about?  So many questions, so few answers.

But Tami Taylor is still rocking that hair.  Between P-Dubs and Tami Taylor, I'm really wanting to dye my hair red.  I mean, we're talking about two of my role models here, and they are both redheads.  Now, before you go crazy, I would be aiming for the strawberry variety. Thoughts? Opinions?

Until next time, I'll be eating pot stickers and watching bad reality television.  I just won't tell you about that part.

Roller Coaster Living

The highs and the lows and the round and round...

Here goes:

Current high: In less than 24 hours I will be en route to TEXAS. This is the high I've been waiting on for weeks.

Current low: Car wreck. Oy freaking vey.  Such. A. Headache.

No serious damage, just a loss of pride. And a few tears.

I need more sleep.


SEE YOU SOON BUDDIE OL' FRIENDS! TEXAS FIGHT!

Burning the Midnight Oil

My life is a dizzying array of traffic, homemade iced coffee, Home Depot runs, Yogurtland and television.  If you think this sounds pathetic, well, I might agree with you.

But please, withhold the judgment and let me justify each element of my life.  Please.

Traffic...

This is a given.  If you've spent any amount of time at all in SoCal, you understand.  My dad likes to refer to the highways of Los Angeles as the "world's largest parking lot" and I'm sad to report that he is correct from the hours of 7am - 11 am, and 3 pm - 8 pm.  If you're calculating you'll realize that this leaves almost zero useable time in the day to do much of anything.

Oy, vey.

(Also, I've taken a liking to Jewish phrases.  Happy Rosh Hashana, folks!  All Californian children are off school today, how did we miss out in that in Texas?)

Homemade iced coffee:

This stuff is a Godsend.  Seriously, I would not have the time or money to keep my caffeine IV running without the embarrassingly large pitcher that always lives in the forefront of my fridge.  (Whoa, was that a run-on sentence? More coffee, please)  I'll post an easy breezy recipe (complete with pictures- what a concept!) soon.  You have to do this.

Home Depot:

How I loathe this joint.  First of all, it's ginormous.  It can take me 10 full minutes to cross the store, and I move at a pretty fast pace for all of my 5 feet, 2 and a quarter inches.  In addition, I am only good at home renovation projects when they involve wheelchair ramps or drill guns.  Wheelchair ramps because I build one every summer for about 7 years and drill guns because they are fun.  And I think at some point in my life I used one with my Dad on a swing set.

Needless to say, the Home Depot is not my friend.  And yet I go almost every day.  Heavens to Betsy.

Yogurtland:

Have you all tried this place? You need to, stat.  If only for the joy of getting to put little pink and white frosted animal cookies all over your yogurt.  What is it about these cookies, by the way? They are so stinking delicious, and the they must be made up of nothing more than sugar and water.  My mom commented to me after looking over my bank statement that Yogurtland seemed to be a regular fixture in my life, and to this I have no rebuttal.  I've traded yogurt for Sonic diet cokes.  This could actually end badly, now that I think about it...

And last, but certainly not least- the glorified television.  I'm typically not this lame (am I?) but it is premiere week(s) for Pete's sake.  Therefore my sweet rooms and I have stacked up our DVR to capacity with everything from Hart of Dixie (charming, but how in the world is Rachel Bilson successful?) to Awkward (Also known as the Best New Show No One has Seen) to The Vampire Diaries (Still the most shocking 44 minutes of my week) and everything in between.  Need a new television obsession?  Just say the word.  I've successfully hooked my family on Friday Night Lights (Don't even get me started...) and I can do the same for you.

As Sadie from Awkward would say, "You're welcome."

Back to Life

...Hopefully I will be by this weekend, at least.

I have started my new job!  It is wonderful and crazy and busy and confusing and funny and satisfying.  I also work pretty long hours, like about 11 a day.  That's why I've been completely MIA from the Blogosphere, because whenever I have a free moment of any sort I usually go to the store and buy foods that I shouldn't eat and devour them.

Speaking of, have you all ever had a Marie Callender's Chicken Pot Pie?  If not, whatever you do- DON'T start now.  Because they are really divine.  And this is coming from someone who doesn't like vegetables.

Here's how this misadventure began.  I left work at 8:00 pm, running on one bowl of cereal, two cups of coffee, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the day.  I was hungry.  So when I overheard a young couple commenting on how many pot pies they could fit in their cart, I had to inquire.  "So the pot pies are good, you say?"  The accolades for the pot pie for so vehement that I caved and threw the darn thing in my basket.  "Just don't look at the nutrition facts," they warned as I wheeled away.  Whatever, I mentally said, I have worked hard today.

Now, it is important we don't confuse "working" with "working out," which unfortunately seems to be the first thing to go when time is scarce.  Whoops.

So imagine my surprise when I got around to reading the nutrition facts on this baby... I can feel my heart closing up now... THIRTY EIGHT grams of fat.  38 folks.  (I'm not sure whether words or numerals better express my disgust.  And about 700 calories... Holy guacamole.  And speaking of guacamole, I'm guessing these weren't "good" fats, a la avocados.

Oy vey.

It was so delicious though, I totally forgot about the disgraceful nutritional value.  Or maybe I was delirious from lack of sleep...

Either way, I'm just bopping along in life.  I have a trip to Texas planned for less than two weeks away (YIPEE SKIPEE DOO DA!) and I'm actually getting paid for all my hard work.

I've reached the pinnacle folks.  It's gotta be all downhill from here...

Answered Prayers

Apparently I should have miniature emotional meltdowns on public forums more often, because less than 24 hours after I posted that last melodramatic, sappy little diddy on here I received a phone call to schedule an interview.  Which then led to another interview.  Which then led to a job (!!!) that I start tomorrow.

Due to the nature of this job, I can't really give many details on here.

(And I promise I'm not dealing drugs.  That's totally what that sounds like.)

All I can say is that I am gainfully employed, full time, by a wonderful boss and every day of my working life will be challenging and different and hectic and full of adventure.

I've said it once, I've said it a million times:

God is good.  All the time.

Amen.