On tantrums, touchdowns and Odell Beckham Jr. being my brother from another mother.

What do me, and a 5’11 wide receiver for the New York Giants have in common?

No, it’s not incredibly confusing hair or the natural athletic talent bestowed upon us straight from Jesus himself. But I truly thank you for thinking of me and Odell Beckham Jr. in that light. It’s flattering, really.

We both just aren’t having fun anymore.

Let me take a step back here. Two years ago I would have given my unborn child and all of my future stock in Taco Bell to be paid to write. It was all I wanted. The insatiable and unquenchable dream that loomed over me as I sat monotonously day after day at my shitty receptionist job.

Then, one day, it happened. Just like Odell Beckham Jr. on draft day. I got the call. I dropped everything. I made it. I was going to be an all-star wide receiver for the NFL with confusing, yet intimidating hair that everyone loved to hate a writer for an ad agency.

Like my doppelgänger and brotha from anotha motha, I had trained for this. Hours and hours of cranking out things to publish that made me proud. Some that bared my soul, some that made me, and only me, laugh. Others that just made my mom happy that I was doing something besides sitting in bed moping with a glass of wine at 10am.

(Breakfast wine is a thing. It’s called fermented grape juice. Read about it.)

When OBJ got drafted, I can assure with as much certainty as someone who wasn’t with him, that he was ecstatic. And when I got that call, I was too.

But the moment I accepted that job, I stopped writing for myself because I was now going to write for someone else, and that was a far more superior venture in my naive mind.

Two years and a treasure trove of words later, I’m confused.  I sit at a computer and ask my brain to do something day in and day out that it used to do on its own. Except I don’t get angry and throw a tantrum on the sideline, I wait until I get home and cry in the bathtub like a goddamn adult.

Also I’m a Pats fan so this whole meltdown is kind of funny. Cue the 18-1 jokes.

I’d wake up with funny thoughts about being an interesting sponsor choice for Head and Shoulders life or weird observations and I couldn’t wait to rush to my computer and jot them down.

Unfortunately, that rush is going away.

It’s a hard thing to realize that when you started to do what you love and love what you do, eventually you’ll stop loving it. Because work is work no matter how pretty you dress it up.

What I’m saying is, I get how Odell Beckham Jr. is feeling.

What happens when you’re not passionate about your passion?  What if the one thing that kept you sane during a monotonous 9-5 job turns out to be the very thing that makes your 9-5 so monotonous?

Two years ago my life changed. And here I sit, two years later, wondering if it was for the better or not. And I don’t know how to figure that out. Maybe it’s a change of scenery or a different way to jumpstart my brain. Maybe it’s finding out how to reignite that spark that fueled me, drove me and motivated me to get up and write every day.

Whatever the answer is, and whoever has it. Let me know. I’m all ears.

Also, if you have OBJ’s number, please let me know so I can call him and tell him to stop being such a big baby. Anyone who makes that much money is not allowed to be sad. It’s science.

Or maybe I’ll just become a professional dog walker. No one in the history of earth has ever fallen out of love with a dog.

Stand by.

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.



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?

Here’s Some Helpful Advice: Suck It Up.


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.

Does Heaven Have An Open Bar?

Dichotomy City.

Dichotomy City.

I have already talked about how I’m going to hell, but since turning twenty-five, my mother told me to grow up I’m all about making dramatic life changes in order to become a better person.

A few weeks ago I was at the gas station when a homeless woman came up to me and asked me for money so she could buy a coffee.  I never carry cash, so I went in with her and used my debit card to get her a medium light and sweet.

The next day a man asked me for some money so he could buy a T pass. Again, I never carry cash, but I swiped him through the turnstile so he could catch the next train.

I don’t carry cash for a variety of reasons.  One, I am too disorganized in my purse to ever hold on to any amount of money.  Second, using credit cards gives the illusion that I’m not spending real money, so if I don’t see the cash physically disappear, it must still be in my bank account (this is completely rational thinking, by the way).

But not carrying cash in those two instances allowed me to do something good with my money.  Now I know buying a coffee and a train ride aren’t the basis for getting into heaven, but I have to believe it’s a good start.

This whole path towards greatness got me thinking about what heaven must be like.  And if I’m going to be in it, there definitely needs to be a few things to make my eternal stay in the afterlife a comfortable one.  I made this list assuming bacon was already present, because frankly, excluding it would be preposterous.

Here is a list of the things that (absolutely) have to be in heaven:

1. Naps

You have to be outside of your mind if you don’t think that I will spend every night dreaming about nap time, and every day planning out when it’s happening.

2. Wine

Grapes on grapes on grapes.  Wine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Wine is water, and water is wine. I think the bible says that.

3. Buffets

I can’t be in an eternal place of peace and serenity and not have unlimited access to selections from Taco Bell, Pizza Hut and KFC.  KFC biscuits are a deity.

4. Teleports

Aint nobody got time to wait in line in heaven. I can’t be dealing with traffic up in the sky when I want to go to Cloud Bar for a 7pm dinner reservation.

5. Jax Teller

I don’t understand why I would have to explain this one.

6. Baby Animals

Puppies will always be puppies, and baby pandas will be my pillows, and there will be a baby jungle full of baby lions, tigers, bears, OH MY! Basically heaven will be Neverland for animals.

7. Trampolines

No one has a bad day after playing on a trampoline. I will also miraculously be gifted the talent of being able to do gymnastics, so trampolines will have infinitely more applications in my afterlife.

8. Good Hair Days

There is no way I don’t wake up in heaven with perfect tendrils or tresses or curls, it’s just not possible. Hair always looks good in heaven. I think it’s because there’s no humidity or something. Don’t quote me on that.

In the vein of all things glorious, there are definitely a list of things that are, under no circumstances, allowed in heaven (with or without me).

1. The DMV

The DMV belongs in hell. Those people probably didn’t pay their parking tickets and have more of a use for it anyways. Heaven only lets in good drivers.

2. Airport Security

I’m going to fly with nine hundred water bottles and regular sized shampoos.

3. Push Button/Hand Sensor Faucets

Heaven trusts people to turn the faucet off when you’re done washing your hands.  The people in hell deserve to have sensors tell them when they’ve hit their water quota.

4. Food Allergies

I’ve lived too long with a dairy allergy. I reserve the right to gorge my face with cheese and ice cream, or cheese-flavored-ice cream in heaven.  Food allergies are going to hell. BE GONE.


What’s Up With That Wednesday

FEATURING: A British Chick Commenting on Americans 

Sophie from British Chick Across the Pond so wonderfully volunteered to guest post for me!  

 As my weekly rant addressing all the weird things people do without reason, I thought it would be a great opportunity to have a recently transplanted British person comment on all the, “What’s up with that?!” nuances of American life.  

Please check out her blog, and follow her cause she’s hilarious and makes me want an accent.  

 Without further adieu…

Life Across the Pond

One question people usually ask me when they learn I’m not from here is, “What is the thing you miss the most?” (Closely followed by… “Have you met the queen?”)
Well, if you take out the obvious of friends and family, my initial answer would be “Bakewell tarts” – a type of pastry filled with fake cherry stuff and topped with some kind of fondant (and a cherry of course).
This is closely followed by, “and yes but the queen and I stopped hanging out since the incident so I don’t like to talk about it.”
After being here 4 months – and having had a care package filled with tarts- my answer would need a bit more consideration. Now I think it’s more about things I didn’t realise I would miss… Things that are almost the same but totally different at the same time.
To figure out what I miss the most I need to think about what things have taken me by surprise or been difficult to adjust to.  My blog is all about the alien encounters since moving here but for now I’ll go with my top 3:



I’ve blogged about my fears of driving before but since then I’ve actually done it.
Personally I’ve found that driving on the right side of the road (or the wrong side as far as I’m concerned) is doable.
But throw in all this right on red – unless there’s-a-red-arrow-and-even-then-that-doesn’t-mean-don’t-go-unless-there’s-a-sign-and-sometimes-there-is-and-sometimes-there-isn’t-but-even-then-it-depends-on-the-state- crap… Well it’s bloody confusing!
My son knows more than I do.

My son knows more than I do.

Not to mention the fact that a green light doesn’t actually mean, “Go! Be free… Drive forward confidently!” because depending on the layout the chances are it actually means yield but you won’t know that until you get beeped at for being hesitant or rammed head on for going without checking every possible direction.
Now I’ve learned what is and isn’t allowed at each set of lights between home and daycare but the thought of driving anywhere else makes me want to curl up and hide.
I miss the ease and confidence of driving, I miss roundabouts, streams of traffic where the majority know what indicators (blinkers) are for regardless of whether they use them and traffic lights in a 30mph zone rather than stopping dead from 55.
My brakes -and my nerves- are shot.

Words & Accents

Now… I say a lot of weird things in the company of friends but never have I experienced as many confused/blank faces after saying a simple sentence than I have since being here.
An American vs. Brit reading this label = fun for all

An American vs. Brit reading this label = fun for all

I get that we use different words for the same things and that even then we pronounce the same words differently, but the idea of starting a conversation with anyone who isn’t used to “my accent” fills me with dread.

The cashier asks me how my day is or if I found everything I was looking for and I’ll reply… But then it’s over because she’s trying to translate whatever my response was into something she can make sense of and there just isn’t enough time to wait for it to sink in before the card throws out my receipt and the person behind starts unloading.
Having my ID checked at the base gate the guard always says something along the lines of, “Hi, how are you?” And every time I reply with, “Fine thanks… You?”
… And then silence because he thinks I’ve cut him off with a, “Fine, thank you”.
Not only is every pleasantry met with “the look” but I’m always the one to accidentally finish it by opening my mouth so these people probably think I’m rude too.


When you go on holiday, money usually feels like monopoly money – for me anyway. It holds little ACTUAL monetary value in my mind and gets thrown around without much thought…but this ISN’T a holiday.
Where is it actually $1?!
Where is it actually $1?!
I still think of items as they’re UK conversion and think, “yeah that’s about the same,” but when you get paid in dollars and a pack of chicken nuggets sets you back more than 8 of them…well it’s gonna be bread and water for dinner tonight buddy.
I mean who doesn’t feel like they’re flashing the cash when they’re carrying a whole handful of bills…but then you remember the ones you have are worth ONE dollar. This is all well and good if you’re shopping in the dollar store…but even then they add tax at the end.
If I go in to a place where everything is one dollar I expect to come out with 7 items for 7 dollars… but it doesn’t work that way…and it gets me every time. Then you have the coins… the dime and nickel thing is guesswork for me; a nickel is bigger than a dime… 25c is called a quarter… one cent is called a penny… so why aren’t they all pennies?
I would rather break a $20 to pay for something with actual change. But hey on the upside my sons piggy bank is making big bucks…I just cant figure out how much that is!
I miss the familiarity of it all, the ease of asking anything with confidence and knowing that more than one person will be able to help me out or the ability to drive from one place to another without needing a stiff drink to calm my nerves. In short, there’s nothing I miss because it’s all here… it’s all the same and yet completely different and THAT has been the hardest change to deal with.

It happened again!

Elite Daily has smiled upon me and has deemed me worthy of being published for a second time.

Clearly my Masters degree in secondary education is being put to good use.

Please check out the link below to see what I have to say about being perpetually single, and why it doesn’t suck.

Me, Myself, and Holy Crap, I’m Still Single


Yeah, I will (not) be there in a minute.


Below is a rudimentary list defining and subsequently documenting a myriad of tasks one can accomplish during the following time allocations:

The term for using big words to assert personal dominance over others has yet to be coined. 
In the meantime, feel free to use, 'egotistical overachiever' as an acceptable substitute.

Microwave Minute:

A term used to describe the activities one can accomplish whilst food is in the microwave.  Tasks are seemingly endless, and include, but are not limited to, cleaning an entire house, re-tiling a floor, baking a turkey, and/or solving world hunger before coming back to the kitchen and realizing your Lean Cuisine still has thirty seconds before it’s done.

Sleep Minute:

The time it takes you to fall asleep, minus the time you are actually asleep, divided by the time spent knowing that you have to do something important in the morning.  Symptoms include waking up thinking it is 3am believing you’ve been asleep for eight hours, just to look at your clock and realize you’re late for work.  Alternatively, one can take a nap intended to last twenty sleep minutes, but in turn, accidentally lasts eight hours.

Hot Minute:

What you say to someone when you’re running late, but have no intention of actually taking less than sixty seconds to get your act together and get out the door.  You can accomplish almost nothing in a hot minute, but your bottom dollar you’re going to give a fair effort.

Healthcare Minute:

What clinical secretaries give as a standard of measurement to let you know that your healthcare professional will be moving at a glacial pace, and will be with you after he or she has transversed across the entire globe during his or her lunch hour for a delicious sandwich, knowing full well you are a real person with a schedule to maintain, yet at the same time choosing to ignore your civic responsibilities in favor of their own personal satisfactions.

Travel Minute:

Often times, when traveling, you’ll hear the phrase, “Folks, this will just be a minute,” over the loudspeaker.  Be aware that this means something is wrong and will most likely make you late for whatever it is you’re planning on attending. You can potentially read an entire novel and write a book report during a travel minute.

New York Minute:

A highly underrated film starring the incomparable tweens of my youth, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, that had absolutely nothing to do with time, but totally worth noting for the fashion sense, sophisticated plotline and dialogue.

Regular Minute:

An actual span of sixty seconds that is virtually non-existent because people like me are lazy and irresponsible, and people like you don’t enforce time constraints and allow me to get away with being late.

Tell the truth, 50% of the time.

where's my snow day?

where’s my snow day?

If you were watching the weather at all this week, you are aware of the snowstorm that almost happened in Boston.

There were forecasts, predictions, and meteorologists swearing on their grandmother Pearl’s grave that there would be a foot of snow rumbling and tumbling all over Beantown.

Naturally, I thought a snow day was in order.

There I am, all snugged up in my bed, ready for an easy peasy day of working in sweatpants, and I hear my cell phone ring.

This is a sound that no one wants to hear at six am, because it only means that a parking ban has been lifted and it is okay to drive on the roads.  And unfortunately, it means I have to go to work.

I walk outside, and there is probably two inches of snow. At most. I am not that great at math, but I know two and twelve are VERY different numbers.

Two babies is manageable, twelve babies is an infant army.  Two cookies is dessert, twelve cookies is still delicious, but also a guaranteed stomach ache.  Two drinks is a Monday, twelve drinks is a Saturday.

What I’m saying is, the weathermen were wrong.  And this is not the first time I’ve planned to be a couch potato and had to wake up and run a marathon.  They are just unreliable most of the time.

Being right about 50% of the time is something with which I am particularly familiar.  But, I am not a weatherman.  I am a mere citizen relying on such information to prepare for my day to day commute.

What would happen if weatherman made predictions in other fields?

Pregnancy: Well, congratulations!  Strong possibility for either a boy or a girl at the end of this term.  Overnight, expect minimal sleep, and constant discomfort. Conditions are perfect for mood swings, obscure cravings, and swollen feet.

Referees: The momentum of the ball is covering significant ground.  Still unsure if it will result in a field goal.  Later tonight, fans will temporarily go insane due to a botched call, but look for a return in judgement tonight after a few beers. (There’s a 100% chance that referees are already weathermen due to the fact that they never get anything right.)

Runaway Brides: We’re seeing a pretty big cold front coming in, coupled with a strong set of nerves arising from the east.  Keep your tissues and your car keys handy, there is a strong possibility that your bride will be running to a warmer climate at 4pm.  #cuffyochick

Angry Spouses: Bad news for anyone who wanted to enjoy a stress-free weekend.  Unfortunately, there is no love or happiness forecasted for the next five days.  Looks like setting up a tent in the backyard is the only way you’ll catch some sleep.

Award Shows: There are rarely any surprises in this region, so be prepared to witness the same movies winning every single category. Be sure to stick close to your remote control, as you’ll want to change the channel pretty frequently.

Cafeteria Food: Strong possibility for grilled cheese and chicken tenders.  Also a large portion of the food will be leftovers from yesterday, or last week. Minimal chance for salads, or anything remotely healthy.

… hey, maybe they’d be more accurate though?

Am I There Yet?


Sometimes life gives you lemons, and you make lemonade.

Sometimes, life gives you lemons, and you blurt out in a slight rage asking, “WHERE’S THE VODKA TO COMPLETE THIS LEMON DROP?”

I would be the latter in that scenario.

At 24, I figured I’d have the world figured out by now.  Well, not figured out, but at least have a semblance of a life map that I could follow.  A trajectory that was somewhat attainable in the foreseeable future.  A life plan, or goal that I’d want to achieve by now.

This is not to say that I am not ambitious.  I moved out of my house when I graduated college, I pay my own bills, and live by my own rules.  I’m almost an adult.

But there are still things that I struggle with day to day.  I navigate a pretty complex maze of social situations that I can’t firmly grasp, as well as trying to win the ongoing battle with my closet – finding something to wear without changing eighteen times in ten minutes. And then there is paying bills, but, everyone has problems with that, right? No?  Okay, I’ll tackle that next year.

I’m going to chronicle the myriad of skills or tasks that I have mastered at 24, as well as those with which I’m still struggling.  It’s for your enjoyment, entertainment, or personal reflection.  Though, by no means do I want you to hold yourself to my standard of living, because you’ll find out really quick, I like to cut corners.  And I cut them often.

At 24, I have…

Mastered: Following Directions

Give me a job to do, and I will excel.  Does that mean I’m not cursing you out under my breath or in my head? Absolutely not.  But at 24, I feel like I am pretty competent at taking initiative and following the directions that are given to me.  If my mom tells me to clean my room – done. I’d take my time though, and definitely listen to a little too much pop radio dancing and pretending I have the vocal chops to be a superstar.  Because what fun is cleaning if Britney Spears and Ke$ha can’t help you mop, sweep, and get the job done?

Not Mastered: Following Directions

Ah, the double edged sword of directions.  I’ve lived in Boston for a year now, and I can say with full confidence that I will never know where I am going.  I’ve taken public transportation up and down and side to side of this city, and will get lost EVERY TIME.  I’ve driven to my old apartment in Cambridge back to my new apartment in Back Bay, and I still get lost.  I cannot follow directions.  I use a GPS, I still get lost.

Also, who he hell reads those stupid booklets to put together furniture?  If it’s not already assembled, it is going to stay disassembled until someone comes over with enough patience to either do it for me, or watch me try to hammer and nail something that needs a screwdriver and screws to complete.  Building stuff is just not in my scope of talents.  I accept it.  I’m working on it (kind of).

I have to think about my resolutions for 2014 (yes, still working on that, I have three days, OKAY?), but I have to believe learning how to put together a bookshelf and figuring out how to drive in my own city is on my list of things to master… or maybe finding the lowest priced wine bottle in a given area is a more realistic way to go?

xoxo, Meg

Thanks to Brunch For Every Meal for the inspiration.