Home Depot: A Review

UPDATE: There’s a lot that has happened since I last wrote. I got married, got a dog, stopped complaining to people on the internet and instead used my husband as an outlet (he would like that to stop soon because he doesn’t care). But most recently, I bought a house. And with that house comes the false sense that I am, in fact, Chip and Joanna Gaines morphed into one perfectly capable, handy human that can for sure do shit myself and it will be spectacular. So took my first trip to Home Depot. And this is how it went down.

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Dear God, what is this place?

I approached the parking lot in my sleek, white Jeep Compass fresh out of 2012 and a child’s soccer game and I was immediately overcome with anxiety. First, because for the love of all things good and well, there is never a good parking spot when you need one. Second, because I know the journey on which I am about to embark and I am terrified for both myself and my wallet.

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What my husband sees every time I leave the house.

In my mind, Home Depot is like Costco. Only there are no snacks to hide behind, just the shame of my ineptitude and the fact that I didn’t realize the dress code for entry required a tool belt, or at the very least, a back pocket tape measure. Nevertheless, I decided to treat my newfound homeownership the same way I treated purchasing wholesale groceries – with an empty cart, a half-baked list and no plan for how I will fit everything in my trunk.

So I parked and hesitantly approached the orange sliding doors. There was still time to turn back. No one would know. But that’s not how I roll. I do things solely because I can film them for Instagram and make people think I am cool, edgy or in this case – handy as f*ck. A short mental pep talk, a quick slap to my own face later and I enter the vibrant-and-not-in-the-slightest-case-pearly orange gates to home remodeling heaven. The ceilings are tall, the aisles are big, the signs are signing, and OH MY GOD EVERYONE IS WEARING MATCHING ORANGE APRONS.

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The Home Depot people deciding whether or not to subject their employees to a burnt orange hell.

Home Depot was like a choose my own adventure. And I was on a quest to do something amazing. Only where to start? Bathroom? Garden? Lighting? Hardware? The opportunities were endless and I was only limited by my own incompetence and the fact that they were closing in 15 minutes.

Ignoring the fact that I severely overestimated how many middle-aged men who consider Home Depot to be their personal Lord and Savior would judge me – literally not one human, man or woman, looked at me in any way shape or form – I made my way to the lumber section because everyone who is anyone knows every good project starts with, that’s right, lumber. I had a rudimentary sketch and an idea in my head of what I needed, but there I stood at a crossroads between four different aisles, full of different kinds of wood and I had absolutely no idea how to navigate this sea of pine and walnuts.

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Me tying to figure out which wood is the ‘good wood.’

But the man in the orange apron did. His name was Johnathan and he was my home reno sherpa. Johnathan told me about quarters of inches, types of plywood and all of the things my dad probably wanted to tell me when I was younger but I was too busy not being interested in learning practical skills at 14.

Johnathan didn’t care that I didn’t know that screws and nails aren’t interchangeable. He didn’t bat an eye when he asked what kind of wood I wanted and I replied with, “Whatever is the cheapest.” He just cared that I was there and literally trying my best to look like I belonged. Or he just wanted me to leave so he could close up, the jury is still out.

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Johnathan when I told him this wasn’t my first rodeo.

He looked at my rudimentary sketch and knew exactly the kinds of things I needed. He even cut the wood to size before sending me on my way with a cart full of stuff and no idea what to do with it when I got home.

Because what I came to realize is that, Home Depot truly is like Costco. While everything may be disorganized and the things you need aren’t ever really in the place they’re supposed to be, the people are helpful and at the end of the day, do any of us really know what we’re doing? No, right? Please tell me it’s a no.

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Everyone who knows how to do basic home improvement tasks.

About two hours and 147 wrong turns later, I said goodbye to Johnathan and his orange apron, checked out at the orange cash register and walked my orange cart full of stuff out the two orange sliding exit doors to my car and felt like I had just experienced something amazing.

But really I think I just inhaled too much sawdust.

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EMERGENCY ALERT: HELP ME WIN A FREE BURRITO

It’s been one year since I went to war with Chipotle, and now I have a chance at redemption.

This is the first Chipotle, ever, in the history of the world. I found it. And I ate there. And it was magic.

This is the first Chipotle, ever, in the history of the world. I found it. And I ate there. And it was magic.

If you don’t remember, or if you don’t care, it was basically the biggest victory of all mankind and I revel in the idea of winning fair and square this year.

Chipotle has given the public another chance to WIN two free burritos this Valentine’s Day by writing haikus and posting it on social media.

I need help winning this for the second time. This will not only be the greatest accomplishment in my twenty-five years of living, I’m pretty sure it will top the day I get married and/or have children.

And god only knows when that’s going to happen because on my first date with my boyfriend, all I talked about was my feud with Chipotle, onion rings, and sweet potato fries.  I think he partially thinks I’m certifiably insane. And no one wants to commit a lifetime to someone who is certifiably insane.

He’s not wrong though.

Whatever.  I don’t just want this to happen.  I need it to happen.

So, here’s what you can do for me.  And really, if you do this for me, let me know what I can do for you.  I’m really good at giving high fives, making cookies from mixes that only require adding water, and eating competitively against people who aren’t competitive eaters. 

Please head over to Twitter and retweet THIS tweet and the person with the most at the end of the day today will win!  I HOPE IT’S ME.

Or if Facebook is your social drug of choice, head over to Chipotle’s wall and ‘like’ THIS post by yours truly.

Thanks for supporting and fueling my inevitable descent into gluttony. 

Ps – I know. My life is sad.  But what else is there to do but ignore the world when there are two free burritos, chips and guac, and the fountain soda of your choice on the line?  NOTHING. NOTHING I SAY.

Hey 2014, Thanks For All The Cramps.

Have you ever stayed in on a Friday night drinking wine and wondering what position you’d chose to pose in as a gargoyle for the rest of time?

If you have, why didn’t you call me? And if you haven’t, you clearly not only have friends, but way less time on your hands than I do.

What I realized while arbitrarily planning to cement myself in time, is that a lot of what I do revolves around me being comfortable.  Like, if I’m going to be plastered in a position for the rest of time, you best believe I will try to avoid cramping.

This is what I would look like if I was a gargoyle.

This is what I would look like if I was a gargoyle.

To prove my point, yesterday, I had my legs vertical to drain all the lactic acid out of my fat ankles while I was simultaneously trying to reach for my beer, and my roommate boyfriend captured the ultimate depiction of the laziest human being on the planet.

help.

help.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t he just help? And while that question still remains in my brain, and I will subsequently keep it for ammunition the next time he asks me to get something for him, by taking this picture of me struggling to achieve the impossible, yet really, really simple task of picking up a beer, he unknowingly captured the picture that represented the entire year of 2014.

2014 gave me cramps. 

No, I’m not talking about lady cramps, although, I’ll do almost anything to avoid those. I’ll steal a baby. Don’t tell me I won’t.

(For legal purposes, if your baby goes missing, it was not me. I still have cramps and that’s how you know I’m telling the truth)

I’m talking about metaphorical cramps. These are the things that remind us something needs to change in order to become the best possible version of yourself.  Sometimes they’re good reminders, like the soreness after a hard workout telling you that you did everything right.

But then there are the not so fun ones, like the headache after a hangover, constantly making you question whether or not you’ll drink again.

Hint: You will drink again.

2014 was mostly full of bad cramps that yielded good results, because change is not always easy; sometimes it’s hard, it sucks, and you hate it.  But that’s life, and it’s unexpected as hell.

There was that chip on your shoulder.

You know, that thing that happened a while ago that you can’t really get over.  Everyone can tell everyone else to stop holding grudges, but it’s never that easy when you’re the one who has to let go and move on.  Most times, it’s easier to stay mad at the person than confront the actual issue at hand.  I guess that’s why it’s a chip though.  Whoever it was, and whatever they did, they kind of ate away at you.

You may have been a pain in the ass.

Or maybe you had one.  Whichever it was, remember that no one likes a pain in the ass. If you have a pain in the ass you should get rid it. Immediately. The last thing you need after a hard day of work is to come home, sit down, and be constantly reminded that someone or something is still annoying the crap out of you.

Maybe you found out your Achilles heel. 

There is nothing, I mean nothing worse than figuring out what can hurt you the most.  But the good thing about finding it out, is that you can make strides towards preventing that from happening.  Surround yourself with people that will be beneficial to you in the long run, those who will support you and grow with you, rather than those who will hold you back.

You realized life is better without the headaches.

If you’re constantly on edge, stressed out, or unhappy, there’s something wrong.  Knowing what may literally be causing your headaches is one thing, but eliminating them can be an entirely different process.  I love coffee. So, so much. And when I don’t have it, I get a massive headache. Is the risk of eliminating coffee out of my life worth it? Not yet.  But if someone or something in your life is causing you way more stress than comfort, take a closer look, and maybe you’ll decide that eliminating them gives you a clearer head.

Sometimes you have to accept that cramps are part of life.

Just like lady cramps, people come and go.  There is never going to be a year where you won’t have to make sacrifices in order to improve your overall well being.  I mean, come on, taking birth control pills to prevent yourself from becoming a she-beast each month is proof enough.

But bumps in the road are par for the course.  People come in and out of our lives for different reasons at different times.  Not everyone is meant to be permanent.  That doesn’t mean the time spent with you was invaluable.  We can all learn something from someone else, we can all help each other become people that we want to be.  We just don’t all have to hold hands and walk each other to the finish line.

Because no friendship or relationship, regardless of how long or short, is insignificant.  Those people were brought into your life for a reason, and maybe they’re staying for a while, but maybe they’ve left this year.

But when you start to get a headache, become a pain in the ass, or develop a chip on your shoulder, put up your feet and get rid of the cramp right there.  It’s better to deal with problems head on than to be lazy and let them unnecessarily morph into something bigger.

And this is also where I need to take my own advice.


What are your New Year’s Resolutions? How did you make yourself better in 2014? Did you get any cramps this year? If so, which ones?

Barbara Walters Is A Jackass

Last night marked the most important thing to happen in pop-culture after the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.  Barbara Walters put on forty-seven pounds of makeup and a suit from 1986 and rattled off her annual list of the most fascinating people on the planet.

And the top honor was, you probably didn’t guess it, Amal Alamuddin, or as you probably know her, as George Clooney’s wife.

Full disclosure, you can file this post under feminism... I think?

For most of the video – that is supposed to encompass why this woman is so fascinating – you sit and watch a compilation of clips memorializing George Clooney’s slingledom, emphasizing him talking about never wanting to get married, and throwing in after the fact that Amal is really fascinating to the people of the world because, much like George, she can wear a mean suit and has really nice hair.

There is almost no mention of her skills, talents, or endeavors, other than the fact that she went to Oxford to become a humanitarian and women’s rights defense attorney, oh except for the shocking revelation that she’s also, like really, really pretty, too. 

For Barbara Walters to highlight and harp on the fact that the main and most important reason Amal is fascinating is because she got George Clooney of all people to get married again is kind of actually really ridiculous.

And I personally stray away from feminist rants, but when I heard she earned the coveted label, I figured we’d be learning much more about Amal’s drives, aspirations, and achievements rather than a recap on George Clooney’s much publicized aversion to marriage (complete with a list and segmented montage of all those women who tried to get him to settle down along the way).

It makes her “inspirational” list more of a publicity stunt and ratings magnet rather than a real, in depth look into the lives of these people that we are so fascinated with.

I mean, let’s be real, her spotlight on Taylor Swift will hardly feature the work and dedication she has to making great music, but it will most likely talk about her past relationships, how highly publicized they are, how and why she hasn’t found a boyfriend and when on God’s green earth will she find the time and the urge to settle down with someone.

Like, I enjoy talking about boys, but at some point can we just talk about how amazing certain women are without the mention on their male counterparts (or lack thereof)?  Could Barbara Walters maybe have at least tried to make a connection to George dating cocktail waitresses and models before wanting to settle down with someone who holds substantially equal intellect, values, and ideals?

COME ON, BABS, HELP ME, HELP YOU.

Because, while marrying George Clooney is great – because he’s super hot #SilverFox – this would have been the perfect platform to unveil some of the lesser to little known human rights issues around the world that both Amal and George (SO WEIRD SINCE THEY’RE MARRIED, RIGHT?) think are important. Or the women’s rights issues or cases she’s been a part of, or the numerous charitable donations and do-goodey things she does on a daily basis that just makes her an all around badass and fascinating person.

I think that’s all I have to say about that.

If you want to read more about Amal and less about George, check out the articles below, you’ll realize that she is way more than a pretty face, she actually does good stuff for the world and wants to make it a better place.

But, she just married George Clooney, and I guess that’s more important.


Amal Clooney is the most fascinating person of 2014 because of who she married, says Barbara Walters

Amal Clooney married down. She’s way more fascinating than George.

What Is This Goddess Doing With George Clooney?


What do you think of Barbara Walter’s list?

I’m Superior Because I Spent The First Year Of My Life Building A Chin Army

Scowls on my face, don't give a fuuuuuuuuuuhg. 

Scowls on my face, don’t give a fuuuuuuuuuuhg.

People are always telling me a lot of things can happen in a year.  And according to this picture, the better part of my first year on earth as a baby was cultivating an army of chins to protect my head from falling off.

But you take one look at that picture and you can sense the essence of pride my mother must have been feeling when her firstborn daughter turned the big bad numero uno.

And aside from being all things adorable and totally growing up to be an upstanding, completely serious and focused human being, you can’t help but want to celebrate the little milestones in life, even if those milestones solely consist your daughter’s ability to mass produce neck fat.

That’s why I’m here to celebrate, because today, my friends, is my blog’s FIRST BIRTHDAY.

Yup, October 2, 2013, I took the leap into complete and utter insanity and made a website where I complained about all of my life’s problems because I thought I was important enough to do so.

So if birthing and growing a blog for a year is anything like parenting, I’m going to be pretty good at it.  I mean how hard is it to pay attention to a kid for four or five days at a time and then do whatever the hell you want on the weekends?

Am I right, mom and dad?

In all seriousness, I am so happy and thankful for how far this little website has come from day one. Starting this thing as a place where I can write uncensored thoughts – that then became censored because my mother and grandmother starting reading – and having it turn into a chronicle of my life over the past year is amazing.

I’ve always had a penchant for journaling and writing everything down, and never knew that doing so would eventually open so many doors and opportunities to do this in my professional life.

This blog is my creative outlet; but more so a representation of who I am as a person, the way I think, and how I react to the ridiculousness of society and the world around us. I never could have imagined the reach that my posts would have, being featured on Freshly Pressed and eventually leading me to a Contributing Writer gig at Elite Daily and The Eighty8, and somehow making this thing still work to my advantage in convincing people I’m not certifiably insane when I say I want to be an onion ring connoisseur.

I want to thank each and every person who has read this blog over the past year.  Whether it be once, twice, or daily, I thank you.  Putting myself out there may not seem like a big deal, it’s hard when you take time to write something and not have it noticed.  I thank all the people who have commented, liked, shared, or reblogged my posts.  I sincerely thank all of the people who have let me guest blog, tagged me in a blog hop, and followed me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

I’m thankful that my baby did not grow eighteen chins over the past year, but there’s always the future and I can’t be held accountable for what happens to my brain child over the next 365 days.

But regardless, I thank you. Cheers, here’s to year two, three, and beyond. Maybe one day I’ll get paid for this shit. 🙂

Oh, and if you haven’t already, let’s be friends.

Here’s Some Helpful Advice: Suck It Up.

endurance

i love the dictionary.

They always say if you don’t go through bad things you won’t appreciate the good.

They say you need to go through trials and tribulations to appreciate where you are now compared to where you’ve been.

They say you need to push through, that it’s just a rough patch, and that if you keep going, they say you’ll make it out alive.

And whoever they are, they’re right.  We just tend to forget, or maybe ignore, all that advice when we’re going through those rough patches, when we’re in the midst of trials and tribulations, and when the bad is blocking out all the good in our lives.

We live in a world that feeds off of instant gratification.  Text messages don’t get prompt responses, relationships fail to be defined, and job offers don’t come.  But we texted first, we want to be with that person, and we applied to that job an hour ago.  Why haven’t we heard back?

Our parents, and their parents all struggled.  Yes, our generation has technology, and the ease and accessibility of it has made communication that much stronger, faster, and immediate.  But we, as millennials, fail to accept that regardless of that access, we all still must struggle and endure the worst parts of life, in order to come out stronger, to persevere, and appreciate what we’ve built, just like our parents.

The reality of the world is that things aren’t going to be handed to you, and if they are, you’re extremely lucky and shouldn’t take it for granted.

The internet has made overnight success a seemingly attainable and tangible idea, when in reality, most kids coming out of college will not be on the influential 25 under 25 lists, and they’ll have to work for money just like 98% of the population.

Hollywood has made romantic relationships and the idea of perfection achievable.  And while you should still never compromise on someone with whom you’re going to spend the rest of your life, the harsh truth is that things don’t work out like the movies, and you’re going to have one or multiple failed relationships in order to realize what you want, need, and deserve in a partner.

You’re going to have to start from scratch, try and create something out of your life with a multitude of wrong ingredients before you finally realize there isn’t a recipe to success, it’s all just trial and error until you get it right.

But that’s why it’s called endurance.

You need to have that shitty job when you’re first starting out to know that you’ll constantly strive for bigger and better. There are going to be horrible things that happen to you along the way, people are going to get promoted over you, you may get laid off, you may be stuck in a position for a long time with no room for growth.

But you have to endure it.

You need to have a series of imperfect connections for you to know when a good one comes along. Sparks will fly and fade multiple times until you find one that just keeps burning.  You’ll figure out what you thought you needed when you were sixteen may not translate to your desires for twenty-five.  Or maybe you’ll realize you shouldn’t have let that one get away when you decided you wanted to grow up separately rather than together.

But you’d never know these things if you didn’t endure them.

There’s a reason why life is considered a marathon rather than a sprint.  If we all rushed to where we were going, we’d be dead in nine minutes.  But the beauty of time is that we have it and the reality is we should not waste it.  We need to understand that life isn’t all rainbows and butterflies and there are going to be shitty times where you want to give up, run away, or break down.

But you should just endure it.

Because at the end of that seemingly endless, pitch-black tunnel, there will be a light. And everything you’ve worked for, gone through, and endured will be worth it.

You’ll find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and cherish the connection you have from the start. You’ll nurture that relationship and use the lessons from your past to make yourself and your partner better.

You’ll get your dream job (eventually), and realize that all the skills you acquired through that crappy customer service gig or the connections you made through that string of temp jobs will ultimately help you in the long run, even if it seemed like remedial work at the time.

Because endurance is the reason people wait all winter for spring.  It’s the reason we lived in that horrible roommate situation to be able to save up enough money to move out and into a better place.  It’s the reason we hate our lives now, but will love and appreciate our future.

So just remember to endure it.

I Wanted A Pony, I Got A Lecture.

Watch out. Marlborough Man. There's a new chick in town.

Watch out. Marlborough Man. There’s a new chick in town.

Every year for my birthday I prayed that I would get a horse.  Instead, I got my cousin’s old sweaters and a lecture from my mother on being grateful for the things I already had.

A hand-me-down, by definition, is something that has been passed on from another person.  Most likely, you’ll refer to that old coat with holes in it that never kept you warm in the winter, or the pair of socks that went through three siblings before they made their way to your feet.

They are the sweaters your brother always wore that made him look so cool, or the high heels in your mother’s closet that your six-year-old feet prayed every night they would one day fit inside.

They are the items that the previous owner took care of enough to live a second or third life.  Like the house that’s been in your family for generations, or that weird glass duck your mom keeps on the mantle, and no one really knows where it came from.  But it has value.  So it’s passed down, kept, and maintained.

In an effort to avoid being completely literal, I want to talk about the hand-me-downs in our lives that are way less tangible, yet far more meaningful.

These are the attributes that have shaped you into the person you are today. It’s the ideals, beliefs, and quirks we learned from people in our lives that had an impact far greater than a birthday gift.  A hand-me-down isn’t just an object, it is something that makes you who you are.

It is your mannerisms; the ways you move, gestures you make.

It’s why you always twirl your hair because your older sister did it when she was talking to boys.  It’s the nervous ticks you inherited from your mother because she hates public speaking.  The way you always talk with your hands because your family always had to show rather than tell you what they were talking about.

It is your perception of color, and the way it can positively or negatively affect your life.

It’s the inheritance of racism, sexism, and the idea of inequality from previous generations.  Views that your parents, grandparents, and relatives had that were unfortunately passed down to you.  Or you might carry the legacy of acceptance, open mindness, and visions of equality.  Your mind is a sponge, and you know that skin color is no grounds for inferiority, and people are people, all of whom we can learn from.

It is your voice, and the way it carries you through life.

You’ll never be able to count how many times you’ve been asked why you don’t say your R’s, or how you got your lisp.  You’ll never be able to explain why you learned to say “draw” instead of “droor,” or “theeter” rather than “thee-a-ter.”  It’s because you were taught to hold your tongue and wait for others to speak, or why it’s your innate desire to blurt out your thoughts without thinking of the repercussions.

It is the lesson you learn from the past.

Whether it be a day, a week, a month, or years, there are people in our lives that have an impact.  It’s because of that time you fell in love too quickly, and from then on, refused to show all your cards from the start.  It’s the friends who made you laugh, realizing you need those more than ones who will bring you down.  It’s that man on the street who greets you every day, letting you know that the littlest bit goes the longest way.

It is your genetic make up.

Or the reason why you dealt with curly hair through puberty when all the pretty girls had straight. It’s why your thighs are thicker and your waist is smaller.  It’s why your face is longer and your nose is pointy, and the reason you can’t digest dairy or are prone to alcoholism.  It’s all the things that make up who you are, and remind you where you came from.

That weird glass duck will always be sitting on your mantle, and no one really knows where it came from.  But as human beings, we are all walking examples of what has been handed down to us.  We represent an amalgam of experiences, cultures, perceptions, and memories, all of which affect how we act on a day to day basis, for both the good and the bad.

And we will all eventually pass those things down.  Just remember that the next time you don’t say hi to that stranger on the street, or talk down to someone without thinking of the effect it will have, or go for the guy you think you can change when you’ve never been able to change one of them.


What hand me downs to you have?

I’m On The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five

Chevvvvvvvs.

Chevvvvvvvs.

So, um.  Vacation is real, and it’s fucking awesome.  It also hurts like hell when it’s over.

But sound the alarms, hide all the children, bake every cake, cause I’m back and I’m chock full of noggin goodies and ready to write em down.

Mentally, I feel great. Physically, I’m a little worse for wear.  As you get older, you really start to recognize how many things you just can’t do anymore.  Along with wearing overalls and cheetah print scrunchies, I found out over the course of my week long hiatus that I can’t quite hang like a college kid and bounce back like I used to when I wasn’t twenty-five.

I woke up this morning and my eyes essentially refused to open, and walking in to work looking like you just toked up with Willie Nelson and Snoop Dogg is never a good look.  #apologies

What I’ve learned this week is that I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five.  

And that really, really sucks.  Cause being on the right side is always more fun, I think.  Depending on how you look at fun, I guess.  Criminals and the like would probably disagree with me.  But then again, they’re in jail and I’m not… yet.

I may be young and able-bodied, but I am in no way, shape, or form, capable of doing beer olympics and not spending the entire following day curled  up in a ball watching reruns of CSI while having someone spoonfeed me macaroni and cheese covered in velveeta.

Listen to your bodies.  When you wake up on Sunday and you feel like crap, going outside and sitting in the sun without drinking water is not going to make you feel any better on Monday.  In fact, it will make you feel worse.

Exercise is always good.  Even when it’s not good, you’ll feel better after you’re done.  Or at least that’s what my mother tells me.  I always say the same thing about naps and chocolate.

If you have a good buzz going, cleaning your kitchen and/or entire house will be way more productive in the moment.  You will cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time.  Drunk minutes always seem to double regular minutes, but you may also wake up wondering why you slept in bed with a swiffer wet jet and why your dog is wearing rubber cleaning gloves.

Never forget to eat.  At twenty-five, this seems like it should be natural.  It’s not.  Sometimes you spend all day shooting the shit and catching up with old friends and wake up the next morning realizing your body survived a day of treacherous drinking on one egg and 8 pieces of cold bacon.  Set alarms, bring a buddy, or grow the hell up and remember to nourish yourself.

Strapless bathing suits are the devil.

Keep in touch with old friends.  Especially if you experienced something life changing together.  Friends like that don’t come into your life often, so cherish them.  Make a point to see them, keep in touch, and reunite as much as you can.  You’ll want to remember the time one of you passed out in a strange place and how many different locations you traveled to in order to reunite. (shameless plug)

And last but not least, it was confirmed that Ray Rice is a giant pile of douche bags.


What did you learn this week?

http://dailypost.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/downtown.jpg?w=700&h=

What You Don’t Realize About Moving To The City

http://dailypost.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/downtown.jpg?w=700&h=Loneliness is an interesting feeling.

Upon graduation, or if you were one of those not-college types, whenever you had the means to do so, there comes a time in everyone’s life where we are expected to spread our poor, little, struggling wings, fly the coop and become devoid of our parent’s protection, guidance, and monetary support.

But that’s totally okay, because we’re moving into the city.

The city, whichever one you choose to call your home, is the true American dream.  Getting out of your hometown is just the tip of the iceberg.  Success in the city you choose is the fulcrum of happiness and the epitome of making it out alive.

So you do your research.

You find the city that has the hippest music scene, the best deals on brunch, those hole-in-the-wall dive bars where everyone becomes a local.  You find that city, and it becomes your dream.  It becomes your destination.

Because moving there is so much better than living at home.  There’s so much to do, there’s so many new faces to meet, and jobs to attain.  But what they, whoever they are, don’t tell you, is that it doesn’t matter how many tall buildings, restaurants, bars, and people there are in that city.

Because you’re going to be lonely.

And you’re going to struggle.

And you’re going to feel what it’s like to be on your own.

And you’re going to realize that feeling alone never crossed your mind or factored into your equation.

Because loneliness is an interesting feeling.  Especially when you don’t plan for it to happen.

We live in a world where we are constantly connected.  Cell phones, applications, social media, and, if you absolutely have to, verbally.

And even though we have all the means to communicate, it still doesn’t shake the feeling of being completely and utterly helpless.  Because at the end of the day, we are on our own, in a new place, and it’s bound to happen.

The thing about being lonely, is it’s actually a good thing.  When you move to a new place, regardless if you know people, but especially if you don’t, you get to truly find what you want for yourself.

You may move to a new city with dreams of becoming a teacher, and end up in the very field your father advised you never to pursue.  Or realize that living with roommates is more trouble than it’s worth, and paying the extra money each month is better for your sanity than the few extra bucks you’ll spend going out to avoid them anyways.

We do ridiculous things to avoid boredom.  The same goes for being lonely.

Because loneliness is an interesting feeling.  You’ll find ways to combat it.

Maybe you suddenly get the urge to take up cooking, join a yoga studio, or train for a half marathon.  You’ll meet people along the way, find a few friends here and there.  Start building up a core group of people with whom you enjoy spending time.

Once you’ve moved away from home, the place where you were forced to spend time with people because you lived in the same place, you get to start over, you have the ability to find the people with the same interests, values, and goals.

You are not confined to a certain group of friends because you’re not popular, or don’t play sports.

Real Talk: No one is popular in the city. And if you think you are, you must be a celebrity or have a very inflated sense of self, and I’m going with the latter, because no one knows who anyone is unless you’re in an immediate circle of friends.

Loneliness is an interesting feeling.  So get comfortable with it.

At the end of the day, you’re making strides to better yourself.  You’re moving out, moving on, and moving into a new city.  Get comfortable with being the person that has to make hard decisions, and take heart that if they go wrong you can only blame yourself.

Get to know yourself, figure out what you want, where you want to go, and who you want surrounding you while you get there.

But most importantly, know that you’re not the only one who is lonely.

We’ve all felt alone in a city with tall buildings, millions of people, and tons of activities.

It’s part of growing up, and that takes time.  No one just uproots their life and has roses, butterflies, and rainbows greeting them when they walk in the door to their new apartment.

Most of us move and are greeted with rainy days, a mattress on the floor and a bank statement with a less than desirable account balance.

Because loneliness is an interesting feeling, but I promise you’ll get through it.

Today In Things That Are Almost True: Rick Ross Is A Vision of Positivity

Contrary to popular belief, we could all learn a thing from Rick Ross.

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HEY — IDGAF

There’s a lot of talk about who is too fat or too skinny these days.  And personally, I don’t think we’re doing enough as a society to reward to the high profile pioneers who have middle fingers up and just don’t give a fuuuuuuuu**k.

Instead of shaming people for trying to squeeze into something that doesn’t fit, or critiquing men and women alike for their figures, we should be embracing the few people on this earth who promote and exude a confidence that we should all aspire to obtain.

In short, the body shame tunnel has a light at the end of it, and that light is hip hop swag master, Rick Ross.

Rick Ross is on a ruthless quest involving not giving a shit what anybody thinks.  It’s clearly evident because he’s just strutting his stuff all over music videos, and he’s doing it shirtless.  Just completely avoiding social norms but choosing to express himself through music sans shirt.

Whether or not Mr. Ross is choosing to spit jams without a shirt is just a larger (pun intended) ploy to get all of us humans to forget that he is, in fact, not really a good rapper at all, is still up for debate.  But the sentiment is there, and it’s reverberating throughout lunch buffets and potluck dinners around the world.

Aside from the fact that his talent in the hip hop community is measured at less than mediocre, he does express, whether he knows it or not, a very worthy cause: positive body image.

He loves himself, all of himself.  He is happy in his skin.  He’s confident.  He’s accepted this is the suit he will live in for the rest of his life, and for better or worse, he’s going to live life to the fullest.  And frankly, he’s doing something right.  This guy is fat, happy, and a goddamn millionaire.  Meanwhile, I’m over here slaving away at a 9-5 job while I count how many cucumbers are in my salad in order to fit into a bathing suit.

If all of us gave the same little amount of fucks Rick Ross gives about how he looks without a shirt on, the world would be a better place.

If all of us just accepted our bodies, our flaws, and shortcomings, people would be less inclined to point out the negatives in others and appreciate the positives in their own skin.

Instead of thinking about how many calories you need to cut, or how many imaginary allergies you need to develop, or how many times you have to get a salad when you’re out to dinner instead of just getting the cheeseburger like your heart wants, we should be thinking about Rick Ross, shirtless, in a giant house surrounded by fat stacks of money and the occasional siberian tiger.

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#Acceptance

We salute you, Rick Ross.  We salute your commitment to maintaining a positive body image in a time where the media, faceless strangers behind a computer screen, and even real humans who have the audacity to criticize someone else’s body say things that make other people cower in fear.

Keep your shirt off, your head high, and send me a check for like a hundred grand for the promotional work I did on my own volition by writing this blog.

We should all strive to be a little nicer to one another.  We should all encourage each other and validate the good rather than overemphasize the bad.  Because positivity, self-love, and acceptance are three things that many people never attain in their lifetime.  And that, my friends, is tragic.

We all, as human beings, need to start recognizing that people are just that: people; with emotions, ideas, and energy.  We are not JUST our bodies, nor should we be allowed to think that we are defined by them.

I promise you will much rather be remembered as the person who helped people out of a funk, guided them through a depression, and built them up when they felt down than the person who criticized someone who was already weak, kicked someone when they were already down, and scarred someone beyond repair.

Love yourself, love one another, and the world may just turn its frown upside down.


What do you think about body image?  Do we have the power to change the way people perceive one another?