Friday, October 10, 2008

Day 12 - 14

The weekend Alex visited.

Day 12 was impressionist art and deep dish pizza;
Day 13 whirling dervishes, millenium park picnics, military mothers, and couch passing outness;
Day 14 was cubs clinching first place, the birthday of my lil sis, and irrational indecisiveness.

Day 11

The content of Day 11 was mostly lost in a haze of popcorn, vodka, and that pine-orange banana juice. The highlight was the valuable discovery of the glory that is House.

Second day in a row where the friends were good, but the television shows were better. I should really work on that.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Day 10

There are not two, but FIVE seasons of Hercules the Legendary Journeys on DVD.

Count em.


Day 9

"Don't worry, you'll be ok"
-My mom, upon hearing that I was going to hanging out with my friend Sammy and her boyfriend, in an attempt to reassure me that the fact that I am currently single when most of my friends are in relationships in no way means I am going to die alone.

Days 7 and 8

-Day 7 was beer and Bring It On and conversations about family and life and death.
-Day 8 was wine and french bistros and conversations about love and marriage and friendship.

Both nights were spent with high school friends from the days of yore. In my hurry to start fresh and build a new life and cut all my superfluous youthful ties, it's easy to try to forget how valuable old friends actually are. The ones who may not match up perfectly with who you are right now, but who were always there for you when you needed them then. Cutting through all the converational getting to know you bullshit and spending nights talking about things that actually matter is...nice.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Day 6

I spent most of Thursday organizing the apartment and watching TED videos. Which sounds lame but is actually cool. Because I learned about crows.

And crows are awesome!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Day 5

I split a pitcher of beer at a bar in Wicker Park w/ my friend Sam who I hadn't seen in a while. Our conversation was fun but singularly uninteresting to write about.

I walked back to the El while eating a bag of potato chips. A fortysomething looking guy leaning outside a bar saw me walking and said "hey baby. why don't you come inside? I'll give you some potato chips AND a soda!"

Was he merely suggesting the beverage that he thought would best complement a potato chip palette? Or is his soda suggestion indicative of the fact that he actually thought I was around 17 years old...and chose to hit on me anyway? You decide.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Day 4

Went to my first couchsurfing event for day four, a dinner discussion type deal on what should be taught in college but isn't to help a fellow couchsurfer/general badass writing a book on the topic.

couchsurfing version of me =

The most interesting thing said at the dinner discussion thing about what should be taught in college when a women talked about the idea of unlearning, and how that should be taught. It’s v. true – shaking off something you’ve already absorbed is so hard. Makes me think of politics and the way narratives of politicians remain true to the public even when they’ve been proven false. Reminds me of my dad complaining about ‘iran is a tiny country’ obama. I’ve shown him the quote in context. He knows what it means. He actually AGREES with obama’s stance on Iran. But he still can’t, I mean literally CAN NOT, shake the instinct and accompanied righteous indignation that obama said iran is a tiny threat and it proves he doesn’t understand foreign policy. It’s almost scary.

There was also an unrelated funny moment, when the guy who organized the talk spoke about how kids today grow up in a culture of fear. I asked him how he raised his kids to try to avoid that, and he talked about how he raised his kids not to fear people by having them go up to tables at restaurants and tell jokes to the patrons, and then ask for a joke from them. Another woman asked what the end result was, if his kids grew up to be really outgoing and confident. He said that no, they were shy (but tried to compensate by saying that at least they weren’t afraid). He sounded awfully disappointed.

Perhaps he felt like he failed them. Or perhaps felt like they failed him, with their reticence to become the uber-extroverted cultural exchanging super people he wanted them to be. Or perhaps he feels fine about it and everything else is all in my head.

Day 3 Part II

So, at 10pm, I dragged myself out to open mike poetry night at this bar called Weeds in search of an indie soulmate. I arrived seven blocks, one rerouted red line stop, and forty five minutes later, sorta pissed off and tired, to see that there were exactly two people in the bar. The first was a large intimating bartender playing pool who looked an awful lot like an older scarier Penn. The second, a short smiling latino guy who made a decent Teller. Not promising.

Two 60+ men then trickled in, as well as a guy I initially mistook for a homeless person hiding from the rain. Still not promising. Worst bar ever.

Things eventually took a turn for the better. As I slowly broke down bartender's surliness with my affable charm, Not-Actually-Homeless-But-Still-Sorta-Looked-It guy struck up a conversation with me and we chattered reasonably interestingly about life and ways to inspire youth through social activism. He then reached into his bag to pull out the binder of of poems he had written.

As the other bar patrons started fiddling with their pens as well, I realized that these people weren't hobos at all. They were sensitive souls and poets, brought together by a mutual love of personal expression and beer. Or at least they were more layered than I gave them credit for upon first harrowing glance. Yes, our heroine learned a valuable lesson on first impressions as she drained her last sip of Old Style, promised NAHBSSLI guy to come back next Sunday and read his favorite poem, and headed out.

Day 3

Day three was almost a wash. A lecture called Pleasuring the Peach: Perfecting the Art of the Female Orgasm showed some promise until I saw that it was advertised to straight men, lesbians, and couples. And, even more importantly, cost like $20. So I passed.

As a sidenote -- My sister, upon hearing the class cost money, said something along the lines of 'you have to pay for the class? what do for you for the money" and sounded horrified. Tee hee.

I also skipped out on plans to hear a lecture on sports and politics and micropolitical resistance of some kind because it started raining and I feared I would melt. With the rain increasing and my options dwindling, I tried to think of something else I had done that day that constituted interesting. Watching Gossip Girl? No. Contemplating buying antique dresser? No. Vaguely flirting with guy at check out counter? No.

I almost gave up. But if whats-his-face could go 30 days straight of eating mcdonalds, I could certainly go three days of being cool. I WOULD find fun!

To be continued...

Monday, September 8, 2008

Day 2

Yesterday, I grabbed my mom, threw on some heels, and headed to Flirty Girl Fitness for the Summer Crave charity event they were having. It cost $20 to attend, but the proceeds at least ostensibly went to their partner nonprofit, an organization that gives free makeovers, massages, and haircuts to women going through cancer treatments. And that's good stuff. Plus they threw in a magazine subscription to a chicago event mag called TimeOut, weeeeee.

Flirty Girl Fitness is like a dream gym...if you're Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. Or, Alternatively, A stripper. The outside is pink. The inside is pink. The towels are pink. The weird plastic chandeliers are, well, really more of a salmon color. But you get the drift. They offer classes like pole dancing, chair straddling strip teases, and music video dance lessons. And they call it exercise. How awesome is that? Answer: SO AWESOME.

The actual party was pretty neat. There were a few appetizers and unlimited Miller 64s for the calorie conscious alcoholic. Plus some designer clothes to try on, pole dance demonstrations to super expensive but delicious smelling body lotion to pretend to be interested in purchasing when really there's no freaking way i'm spending that much on glorified soap.

My mom and I got Bare Essentials makeovers that made me look relatively pretty and mi madre look DAMN HOT. And she knew she looked beautiful too. And was more full of smiles and confidence then I had seen in a while.

And it was good.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Day 1

For my first act for the Sarah Palozza-Stravaganza-McAwesome MonthO'Sweetness, I decided to go to the beach and watch Flugtag, a Red Bull sponsored thing where groups of people build pseudo-flying contraptions and try to fly them off a pier on Chicago's North Avenue Beach. It's sponsored by Red Bull. Because Red Bull gives you wings! Get it? BWAH! Hilarious.

Teams are judged by how far their crafts fly, how hilarious their accompanied constumed song and dance number is, and how much man skin they show. And there was certainly man skin aplenty. Indeed, there's a good chance I'll have nightmares about one particularly large banana-hammock clad Smurf for years to come.

Words don't really do this show justice. But it was pretty awesome.

The guy I went with, a fellow future work person who is starting the same day I am, was really cool. We pledged to enter a team in the next competition, so I suggest you mark your calenders now. At this point next year you will invariably be cheering on the Fly Bankers as we rock out to 'I Want Money' while engaging in some sort of cross-dressing suit striptease that culminates in the farthest flight the Flugtag world has ever seen.

Skeptical? Pshaw. You'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE!!!

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Day 0

My previous blogging experiences were done to chronicle experiences, capture feelings, share the joys and sorrows I felt as I wandered the world. This blog is way more simple and selfish than that.

I have exactly thirty nine days before I start work. Thirty nine days where, if I'm not careful, I will do absolutely nothing and be bored and jumpy and miserable. Ergo, I have decided to start a blog where I will write down one exciting thing I do each day.

Is it sad that I need to have an excuse to go out each day? That the only way I can ensure I'll be motivated to make friends, go places, and just in general be a real person is to first make some sort of blog commitment? That while I want to have fun, what I REALLY want is for my best friends and particularly devout stalkers to read about it?

It's not not sad.

But why analyze? The world awaits.


Monday, March 31, 2008

Dear Eve

I was having a wonderful night tonight – met with all the freshman who want to become SWAT leaders and it was great and I just felt enthusiastic and buoyant and excited about the world. And I thought of you and how excited you always were and started looking at one of your facebook albums and now I can’t stop crying. You were so amazing and vibrant and alive and now you’re dead and it’s just so wrong.

I think you were in DC the same time I was…I recognize the onion article. I didn’t know. If I had known, I imagine we would have said we’d meet up and then not actually done it because both of us were too busy. And I would have felt a teeny bit of resentment at you, and you would have probably felt nothing negative at all towards me because you were a better person than I was, then I am. Every little thing I do that is good – being friendly, being honest, being random, being excited – feels a little bit like I’m acting in honor of you. They talked about you today at the Chelsea Clinton speech. How you would have been so happy, because you had wanted and tried so hard to have a presidential campaign come to Carolina. It was wonderful. But it’s not fair that you didn’t get to be happy about it, didn’t get to see, don’t get to hope and work and try to do other wonderful things ever again.

I don’t know how your close friends do it. You were only a tiny sliver of my life and sometimes it still just hurts so much that you’re gone. Life is so beautiful and sad.

I still can’t stop crying. I’m so sorry Eve. I miss you.