Small Town Sunday

Living a hour outside a major city has its advantages: you don't have to deal with excessive traffic, you see a few more stars, and you're just close enough that if you feel so inclined to go out and have fun, it's not that difficult. But being fifteen or sixteen in this same town was miserable. There was "nothing to do" every weekend, and my friends and I had to get creative. Yesterday my BFF and I had a nostalgic day. Sleeping in late from a party-hard Saturday night, I got up and met her at the local dinner. Five dollars for a huge omlette? Uh, yes please. We chowed down, then proceeded to spend two hours just talking. Yup, this was a typical weekend in high school. Though admittedly, we probably would have arrived at said diner a lot later than we did this weekend, and stayed later, most likely drinking a pot and a half of coffee, being loud, and checking out the other tables. There would be glares from other patrons.

But then after that, we headed off to Q-Mart. Ah, Q-Mart: small town paradise for the weird and out of place. Think of a flea market meets knock off goods meets a Made-in- China mumbo jumble of things. It reminds me of "Portobello Road" from Bedknobs and Broomsticks, with a lot more pickup trucks and missing teeth.

But it's one of the few places we can still find nickel candy and candy cigarettes, sorts Runts and chewing gum we know is illegal for its addictive properties. There's leather shops, furniture stores, jewelry, meat counters, and, our favorite, the ice cream stand with real Hershey's Cotton Candy ice cream. It's a little scoop of ecstasy. Oh! And just about everything here is cash only. It's the perfect palce to budget: you enter with ten bucks, and anything that costs over that, you're not buying. Hence why most things you find there are never more than six or seven dollars.

Sure, the shopping is good, but the people watching is even better. Hipsters, grandmas with bumper stickers on their walkers, guys with really big speakers in a super tint car… you find everyone at Q-Mart. It's pretty amazing. Not bad for a small-town Sunday!

A Hair-raising update (hahaha)

So I went to get my hair done yesterday, as I mentioned in the previous post, and told them I wanted to go back to as close to my natural color as they could get me. I really thought it wouldn't be too bad: I had a good inch and a half of uncolored roots to match a swatch to, and my hairdresser in this area always told me he had been dying hair for twenty years. Don't get me wrong, when he dyed my hair red, it was great. Color was perfect for my skin tone and he was very accomadating to my nutso schedule (though was always hard to get ahold of - when a customer calls you, word to the wise, don't wait three days before calling them back). I thought this would be similar. He told me he would lift the color using an ammonia free system, which is great. I hate damaging my hair excessively. SO he went at it. And, at the end of two hours of lifting and tinting and washing and conditioning... my hair looks just about exactly the same. ::deep breaths:: Yeah, I don't mind having my hair different and wold colors, but when I have to pay for two hours of nothingness, I get a tid bit frustrated. Hair is no where near natural color. I'm just a slightly duller color of red-brown. (For those familiar with hair color, I'm a six, this is an eight.)And I can even still see my roots! Very frustrated, I paid, was polite (that's right! Stop Snarking in action!), and vowed to find another color artist.

I loved my salon person in Pittsburgh. Seriously. Capristo is AMAZING. I have actually waited until I'm going back out that way to get my hair done. Sarah is my lady/homegirl/fabulously talented and sarcastic brush-weilding heroine. But, in all truth, I work primarily with guys at the fire house who if I showed up with purple hair might ask me if I lost weight, or did something a little different with my eyebrows. I love them, wholly and completely, but I'm not so sure they'd actually notice anything different! I'll be sure to take pictures of the hair later and post them next to the original hair color so you can see the "difference"! ;)

With my hair salon appointment looming tomorrow, I though I would venture a little into my hair-raising experiences with cuts, dyes, and control.

I'm currently a red head. And a darned good one too. Generally, my appearance fools people into think that I'm a natural red head. Of course, now that I've told you that I'm not, you'll look at the photo and say "of course you're not, who would think that?". Everything is clearer in hindsight, especially fake red heads.

But, yes, I like red. A lot. My first experiences with the color though were a little interesting. In college, bored one night, I mixed up a batch of henna and didn't bother to test it. I really didn't mind all that much what I looked like. It was October, and I figured if it turned out poorly, I could use the upcoming Halloween holiday as an excuse. Well, guess how it turned out.

Does my hair look like:

A) Gatorade

B) That girl from Fifth Element

C) Carrots

Yes, it was ORANGE. But I had a good laugh for several weeks and then went to the hairdresser, who mildly freaked out at what I had done, toned down my hair, and I ended up with a really pretty red that I kept until later that winter.

But red was hard to maintain, and I was feeling the itch to change things up again. (I like minor shock factors, FYI.) So, I went to my hairdresser and asked for [[drumroll please]]

Brunette! Dark, dark brown. It was a shocker. Really, I looked in the mirror and half wanted to cry. I had no idea of my reflection half the time I had brown hair. It wasn't as bad as it started to lighten up, but it was certainly a dramatic difference going from red to brown. Because, in reality, I'm a blonde.

And, like tomorrow, I will dye my hair back as close as possible to my natural color and leave it the heck alone for the summer months. It's not that I'm lazy (well, I am a little when it comes to beauty stuff), it's that the up keep between the sun, chlorine pools, ocean romps, and general hair-abuse makes maintaining a lovely colored mane pretty impossible.

It's also the season I usually let my hair grow, contrary to all other girls in this world. My season for haircuts is fall and winter. For instance, when I went to France, I went to their version of a SuperCuts and had six inches hacked off, and even got these angled bangs that proceeded to annoy me for the rest of my trip there. Really – I had this piece of hair that was always dead set on being smack dab in the middle of my face. Argh.

Otherwise, I get the whole/layered/collarbone length thing going on, and like it for the first two weeks until I really want to braid my hair, or pull it completely out of my face. Once again, not fun. Someone needs to remind me I don't wear my hair down and that I need to let The Beast (my hair) be long, blunt cut, and manageable so I don't make myself crazy when I'm spending hours at a computer typing or attempting to blow hair out of my face for the fiftieth time while rock climbing.

Tuesdays and Posting

I was just pleasantly drifting off to sleep when a panic-stricken thought awoke me: I hadn't posted today! In a flash (read: I dragged myself out from underneath my covers) I was turning on my computer to struggle to post these sentences.

So I've been reading more and more up on spring enrollment for graduate schools. It's been a little rough between trying to figure out what universities meet my rather demanding criteria as well as having spring admissions and aren't too far from a major airport (a deal breaker for me: I need to get home in an emergency no matter where I am).

But the other fairly serious consideration has been living expenses, namely apartments. I was really blessed with my first real apartment. It was HUGE, cheap for the location (and its location was great), on a major transit line, and I could even walk to school. Downside: the landlord wasn't the most attentive, the place was falling apart, and living on a main artery as far as traffic went was a little rough with all the sirens and accidents.

Looking at new schools though, I've started comparing cost of rent using Rentometer.com. It's really cool. You plug in where you live/ where you'd like to live and see how the rent compares. Bottom line (and no shocker): the farther South my school, the cheaper the rent. The best place I've found so far has been University of Georgia: it's the perfect combination of close to airports (Hartfield Jackson is right there), a great school (one of the top five for my major), and reasonable to live in (500$ median for a one bedroom apartment). Plus it wouldn't be so darned cold in the winter. I'm tired of numb toes, bring on the sun!

I'll certainly have to do more research (gasp! research!) and try to figure out how I should move all my stuff. Ugh, moving. How I despise thee.

Until then, bed. I'm pooped.

Writing Habits

One of the largest reasons I started this blog was obvious: I want to write more.

Throughout my college career, I thought nothing of cranking out 15 page papers in the space of a week. I wrote a course-specific text book in the space of a semester. And, off and on, I worked on my "novel", a sad little piece that since graduation has not seen the light of day. But I found myself craving letters, words, sentences.

Initially, I tried things like 750words.com with the idea that I would dedicate myself to working on my novel a little bit each day. But as sure as I was I could make the word count, when it came down to it, it started to feel more like a chore than something I looked forward to do. I never want writing to be that way to me. The way I wrote in the past was the absolute fury style: I would have inspiration strike at one point, grab my computer, and sit in a cafe for 8 to 10 hours (this is during schooling or unemployment) and crank out paragraph after paragraph. I'd revisit it a week later, revise my work, and then came the dry spells.

Oh the dry spells.

The headaches.

The sleeplessness.

The gosh-awful inclination to eat entire boxes of Girl Scout cookies. (No joke: I polished off two in one sitting at one point without blinking.)

Then was Nanowrimo, short for National Novel Writing Month. I actually was doing pretty well on this one: no revisions, no re-reading work, it was like word vomit for the fiction-obsessed (that sounds a lot gross-er than I meant it to...). And then one night, while sitting in a cafe with other fellow Nanowrimo-ers, my head started to really hurt. I had been tired for a week or so, but I chalked it up to writing so much in the midst of working and studying. And plus, I was right in the middle of this really great scene. I didn't stop. What writer would?

At the end of the night, I finally made it back home and into my bed, fell into a blissful sleep... and didn't wake up for 14 hours. Ladies and gentlemen, I had H1N1. Nanowrimo fell to the wayside of general illness misery.

Once again, my writing suffered.

And after recovering, writing for classes, job applications, and finishing my thesis, I was exhausted. Ready to close up Word for a while and enjoy...under-employment. No. Not fun at all. I picked up two jobs (and I still work both, by the way). That wasn't enough, so I decided to volunteer. Three volunteer positions later, I still felt under utilized. I caught myself reading at every spare moment. Project Gutenberg constantly ran on all my computers at home and work(s), so while something was loading/compiling/I was stalling, I could read a little. My Kindle (a wonderful gift from my ever so thoughtful boyfriend) was/is always with me, with three books in session at all times. From Google News in the morning to my web comics at breakfast to novels at lunch to Thomas.gov in between documents to magazines with dinner... I averaged a book every two days. I even listened to books while working. Yes, I realize I was an idiot for not realizing it sooner - I missed the world of writing desperately.

So, as part of my growth and re-dedication to do things that make me and others happy, I'm writing more, and this blog (obviously) is the embodiment of that wish. Maybe after a little while I'll be able to dust off the ol' novel and take another crack at it. We'll see...

Oh: I finished my "Apply once a week" a little early. Times two! Well, really 1.5. I didn't make successful contact with the one individual, but I did fill out yet another application for a job that though far away, sounds incredible.

And for the record, I am taking more pictures. I now just need to sit down and upload them to try and bring a little more personality to my blog. Maybe that should be the real resolution: share my pictures, not just take them!

Decision Making

There are two clear-cut types of decision makers in the world: those who research all their options before making a decision, and those who see what they want and do it. I would like to say that I'm of the former school. My mother certainly is, as in my boyfriend (although he can be impulsive if the situation arises). My closest friends, on the other hand, are more like me: we see something, we don't think twice.

My track record:
- Deciding on a college. My counselor said something about University of Pittsburgh, I applied, got in, and despite all the research my mother had me do on all the locations (all of which I was also accepted into), I said yes to Pitt. One of the best decisions I made.
- Traveling to New Orleans. I booked my tickets four days before I left the first time I was going. I knew no one there, I had only heard about it. It was amazing, and I've returned four additional times since that first trip.

St. Paul's in NOLA the last day of my visit.

- Studying in France. Two days before the dead line for a study abroad program closed, I submitted an application. Though I do have to say, I thought about this on for a full 48 hours (a longer period of time for me). A month and a half later, I was on a plane.

Black Forest during my visit to France.

But this also goes for things I don't want. Apartments, fashions, places: I can tell you in the first sixty seconds "no". But my decision making style has caused some points of tension with others. Like take for instance, interactions with my mother. She wants to know everything about my rationale. Every. Little. Detail. And yes, I can understand that that is how she works, and that I probably should just look into things a little more so I can be prepared for the absolute barrage of questions when she asks me things, but it's just not in my style of decision making. So, I am ashamed to say, I get a little annoyed when I feel like I have to justify myself or defend my decisions. I have actually given up on things I have wanted to do in the past because of the interrogations: I regret not going through with them now and that I let someone else (even someone I love and respect as much as my mom) influence my decisions that greatly. (By the way, for both traveling and studying abroad, I let her know at the last possible second. Solid call.)
In line with my goals though (see the side bar for the list), I need to "stop snarking". I would really like to work on not necessarily changing how I make decisions (that I've tried. It ain't happening.) but instead how I react to the researcher-type questions posed by others. I've come up with a few options:
Don't tell anyone what I'm planning on doing.
Tell others of my plans, but have research ready.
Acknowledge the questions that come up, but don't address them.
Point people to where they could find more information if they're interested in finding out more what I'm doing.

Obviously there are a few hiccups with all of these ideas. I'm a talker (which I'm sure you've noticed by now), so option one is a little rough. I like to let others know what I'm doing, since a complaint from family and friends all throughout college was that I am all over the place (literally) and they never knew what I was doing. So now I try to give people a heads up of my plans. So scratch number one, save if I elope. (I kid, I kid. My mother would kill me. Seriously.)
Having research ready seems like a solid option. I mean, I could be more informed about my deicison then, and I could answer all the questions that may come up. But this goes back to the original style of decision making: that's just not me. And I want to be comfortable with how I'm acting while pacifying others. Research would just get me frustrated before the fact. (Oddly, by the way, I love doing research for other things: papers, books, presentations, even travel once I know I'm going! Anyways, back to the point…) So not having my head in a happy place even before I have a conversation wouldn't be so hot.
Three and four I think could go hand in hand. Pointing my mom to where she could find out more always worked in telephone conversations and e-mails really well.
"I have the website right here! I can send it to you as soon as I hang up to you can find out more about X and Y."
It was pretty great. But in person, it doesn't work so well. When you're actually physically in front of someone, calling upon technology doesn’t jive. Time to call on strategy number three.
"You're right, that is a good point! I'll have to look into that." Ok, I have said this in the past, and sometimes it helps. I really might look it up later, but mostly for the sake if the person asks me again "hey did you ever find out…?" rather than actually in pursuit of the information (awful, I know, but I want to please people and still work in my own comfort zone). But then again, this has also backfired horribly. Instead of someone being satisfied that you've taken their point into consideration and are going to act on their advice, they are spurred on. Whether this is on the account that they are thrilled that they have offered a piece of advice you're actually going to use, or in shock and horror that you probably haven't thought about A, B, and C, if you haven't thought about X and Z. (Advice correlation? Does such a think exist?)
All in all, people really just like offering their advice. They want to be heard, and I really need to work on my receiving skills. Just like a gift, I need to smile politely, acknowledge their question, and if they remain persistent, offer a place where they can get more information.

Goals incorporated in this challenge:
Smile more
Really listen
Stop snarking
Be patient and respectful

(Sidenote: goal for applying once a week was completed this morning. Boo to the yah.)

Vegetarianism, Food Diaries, and All the Other Food Things My Family Teases Me About

"Look, LB! I'm eating meat! Does it bother you?"
"Do you want some of this delicious lamb, LB?"
"Why won't you eat the steak I made?"

Of all the things that my family, and some of my friends, don't understand, it's my eating habits. I'm a bit of an odd eater. It's not that I'm not adventurous – oh no, I mean, look at my visit to Thailand. I had no idea what I was eating 75% of the time (or more likely more, if you think about translation issues). No, it's more that I have dietary restrictions due to my body.
For example:
I'm lactose intolerant. Have been since I was really little. I can eat cheese and stuff in moderation, but straight up ice cream leaves me in pain.
I can't eat popcorn, which is a total bummer because I really love the stuff.
Meat and I just don't get along. My tummy gets upset when I do eat it, and I feel slow and generally icky for a full day. Not fun
And then there's the whole food diary thing. I used to use CalorieCount.About.com, and it worked great to lose weight, but I found myself unconsciously obsessing about the number of calories in things which lead to two things: I didn't want to eat the foods I loved, and I didn't want to log what I ate.
Logging my food and vegetarianism go hand in hand here. Yes, it's proven that people who log their food eat less, eat better, and are more conscious about what goes in their mouths (I can't tell you how much I cut down on my chocolate intake in a day). But it also helps me (and my trainer/nutritionist) make sure I'm getting the protein and vitamins I need.
What this leads to though, is me hauling around this gigantic pad of paper. Sure, could've opted for something smaller, but I'd lose it going back and forth to everything I do every day. And when it's really inconvenient, sometimes I leave it at home. The food journal still does it's job: I think about logging something before I eat it, and it often (sometimes) makes me think twice about eating that extra piece of cake.
We'll see how long I can keep it up, but I've logged four days in a row now! Whoo hoo!