Know Your Audience

Me: "My Grandfather has an odd sense of humor."
Male friend: "Give me an example."
Me: "Well for instance, he introduced me and my cousin Heather as his barren granddaughters because we haven't had kids."
Male friend: "....do you need me to kick his ass?"

I live and work in a man's world. If you don't get sarcasm, if you can't take a joke (even when you have a sneaking suspicion that the joke is a half-truth and aimed at you personally) then you shouldn't be a female attorney. And you wouldn't survive in the Wehmeyer family. Compliments are given out backwards in the form of sarcasm ("Geez your ugly" - Grandfather again with a wink of his eye). Actual honest-for-goodness compliments are handed out also, don't get me wrong, but usually in private...Just so that honest comment cannot be used against the speaker in the future.
The only way to survive and thrive is to hand it right back in the same form it came: backward. Growing up with this, it's what I've come to prefer. Which is handy being a female lawyer - I'm living in a man's world.

And that is why it is important to survey your surroundings. One must always be cognizant of one's audience. If you're interviewing for a firm, google/bing/search/stalk the firm and see the male-to-female ratio. Try and determine who you'll be interviewing with. My rule of thumb (no wife beating with a thumb-wide stick required) is that if you're interviewing with males, wear a smart looking skirt suit, hair half down, nylons and medium to low heels. If it's a female, a neutral colored pant suit, hair up with small earrings, and low stylish heels. Either way, be understated. Leave them wanting more.
My uncle Mark told me a story about myself today that I had forgotten, which inspired this blog post. We were in Colorado for a cousin's wedding when I was 18. A few family members went to a pub for dinner one night. Mark and I bellied up to the bar. The bartender, understanding his audience, asked for my ID. I ran my painted fingernails through my hair a few times, flipping it over my shoulders and smiling sweetly to the young man. "Gosh I'm such an idiot. I left it in the condo. Can you spot a girl?"
I drank for free all night.
Mark paid for his beers.

I surveyed the scene; understood my audience and spotted a weakness in the guy: sweet girls (then why the hell did he fall for me?!). I think that this can be applied to all sorts of situations in life. Treat everyone differently. Treat everyone according to how you believe they should be treated. This will please your audience and help yourself. Nothing altruistic going on here; but no harm, no foul.

The Lotus Eaters

"The cool thing [about war] is,when this one's done, there's always another one."

I'm almost done with a book that is quickly becoming one of the best reads yet! The Lotus Eaters follows a female photographer to Saigon and through the Vietnam war in the 60's and 70's. the author, Tatjana Soli, does a beautiful job describing the horrors of the war, contrasted against the breathtaking backdrop of the lush nation of Vietnam. In one passage she says that "the beauty of the country made the violence especially awful. like slashing a pretty woman's face." - I couldn't help but think to the wars we're currently fighting. Is it easier to take, an easier pill to swallow, because we think of the middle east as an ugly, dried up piece of desert? it is easier because our men aren't bringing home "exotic" wives from the country we're at war with?

Is there anything that makes war easier to understand?

I guess having an attack on US soil makes war easier. Having the media whirlwind that followed made it harder. The main characters in this book are photographers. "Pictures could not be accessories to the story- evidence - they had to contain the story within the frame; the best picture contained a whole war within one frame." They told the story from the unbiased perspective of a camera lens. And when she returns home, she finds that the people in the US, the people whose sons are being drafted, don't want to see the pictures. They would rather pretend it wasn't happening.

How long has it been since you've seen pictures or video from the wars in the middle east? Pictures of our men out in Afghanistan? Until we caught Osama, it had been too long since I'd seen a news reel from the war. Is it better not to see the pictures, the video, of the war efforts? Or should we immerse ourselves with the knowledge? I don't know the answer. I know that it is easier not to know. Not to see the truth. But when does shelter lead to ignorance?

Everyone has been through something that they've deemed to be tragic. Had a loved-one or a family pet die. At one point in the book the soldiers are discussing what they're going to do when they get out of the Army; take their first breath of free air. Helen, the main character, sat around and listened. "Helen didn't yet understand that conjuring up the future was the duty of the living, what they owed to the dead." - I thought this passage was so beautiful and eerily poetic. We owe the future to the dead.

I recently lost a friend to...well no one is really sure what we lost him to. himself I guess. We lost him to drugs, alcohol, addiction, mental anguish; a demon inside him. We lost him the day before my birthday. My good friend Rachel came over to take me out (among other friends) and told me, this is not a time to be sad. We're partying for Will because that is what he would want us to do (he was a big partier). So I took tequila shots and danced until the wee hours of the morning. I lived, for the dead. Maybe that is our duty; to turn the next page and enjoy the sunshine that is our lives.

The book is not the feel-good beach read of the summer. But it is also not depressing. Ms. Soli does a great job of making war like a drug: you just need one more hit. Helen and her fellow characters are addicted to war. And I'm addicted to this book.

I ain't makin' no damn list

The following are the traits I am looking for in a man. No negotiations allowed.

spontaneous

good listener

caring/kind (why is one with a K and one with a C? always wondered that)

tall

dark

handsome

no more sociopaths

Okay so it's not my real life "list" because I don't have one. My cousin Lisa famously (in our family) penned a list of over 30 attributes she was looking for in a man. And not only that, they were all non-negotiables. Lisa is happily married to a man with all 30 traits, sprung from page to life, and they have 4 beautiful children. 4. holy. mother. of. God.

My Mom and my aunts from the Wehmeyer clan think that Lisa is a genius for having made this list and sticking to it. The brain so does not get credit for that shit. I call her lucky.

I wouldn't really know where to begin, other than the boilerplate things we all want. Not only am I not certain enough to know what I want in a man to be able to make such a list, I'm way to lazy to sit down and actually do that! And then where would I house it?! I don't have a file folder entitled "man traits" sitting under my bed next to my copies of Nora Roberts romance novels.

The minute you put it into words, it all sounds so calculated. So cold. I'm more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-pants sort of girl (pretty woman reference). If you lined up all my old boyfriends the ONLY common theme would be their height. Not even the color of skin, hair, or eyes is the same. I guess you could say I'm an equal opportunist when it comes to men (unless you're under 6 feet tall).

I don't want to know what I'm looking for in a man! Because I don't know what I'm looking for in a man!

Don't get me wrong, I know that (a) these lists people make aren't about looks and (b) we all have a few common themes to the list (good listener, kind, gentle, good with kids and dogs, loves him momma, not a serial killer....) but I mean really?! I'm supposed to list these things? Like, will writing them down like really make them like come true?! ..........

Last night on the bachelorette Ashley asked Aimes what he was looking for in a woman. He replied that he doesn't have a list and that it is an "evolutionary step" not to have made said list. I'm not sure that this is a sure sign of evolution (lets not piss off the South here people) but I do agree with him that it isn't needed. I'm a believer that when I meet him, and it's right, I'll know it. "What I want in a man" is not a literary marvel by anyone's standards and I won't waste my time making one.

Okay. off my soap box.

Time to go pick out a company cell phone (!!!) and see a first draft of my new business cards (!!!!!!). I'm a big girl now!

reckless love

I've never been accused of being one of those people who is afraid of the L-O-V-E word. Granted I only say it to my girlfriends and have only said it with any real meaning and consistency to one man (boy)... but still. I love my friends, my parents, my brother, our dog Cooper, my new Louboutins. Recently I had someone tell me I'm an "I love you" whore. Which has got me thinking, am I too reckless with the word love?

It's like that movie Maid of Honor with Patrick Dempsey. He can tell everyone and everything on earth that he loves them but he can't say it to the person he truly is in love with. Therein lies the distinction for me: there is a difference between "I love you" and "I'm in love with you." The latter being much more heavy. I'm not in love with my girlfriends but I do love them. You never know what the day will bring you so it's important to express that love! I don't want to diminish the word and it's true meaning between two people in love, but I also don't want to be afraid to use it. Just like any good relationship, I can't imagine my life without my ladies. And calling them "lover" is just fun so if you think its weird that is just tough titty.

But what is love really? (I had to just erase the word actually for fear of using "love actually" and then having to go on a tangent about how much I LOVE that movie. It is love.) In my family, if you say you love something tangible my aunt Karrie will then go, "if you love it so much why don't you marry it?!" (Maturity is optional.) I'm beginning to subscribe to the very unromantic idea that the person you marry is more of a matter of timing than feeling. When you're ready for marriage, you'll marry the person you happen to be with at that time. If we played that related-terms game and someone said love, my association word would probably not be marriage. Not because they aren't associated. But because there is so much more to it than marriage. I think you're selling love short if you think straight to marriage.

I recently had lunch with an ex who is in town on leave. My favorite ex boyfriend. We were at a dive bar, eating tacos (me) and fish n' chips (him) talking easily and laughing frequently. He made a comment about how we happened at the wrong time in our lives. I couldn't agree more. We were both unhappy in our own ways and it ended because he decided to make a few poor choices and I decided to hold him accountable for said decisions. And really, if I'm being honest with myself, we were over before it ended...we just didn't know it yet. We're too alike. At lunch, talking about his current state of love, we starting discussing how we hate to talk about our feelings. I said to him, "that's one thing you and I did well...not talking about how we felt." His comment back to me was, "why discuss something you're feeling so strongly? Why does it need to be said?" Good question (idiot). Well, because people are dense and even if you're bursting with a feeling, the person with you may not catch on. We never said a word to each other about how we felt. Maybe that was the real reason it ended.

I love that we're still friends because at one time, I thought I did actually love him. For me, it's important to stay friends with my ex-boyfriends so that maybe one day, I can say "I love you" (the not in-love type) as a friend.

illegal activity

Life has been amazingly good to me as of late. I have a real legal tax-related job, a couple of crazy parents who have agreed to let me freeload in their basement, and cash on the horizon. Once I have my feet in my new Christian Louboutins I'll be set to die of happiness!

I have until July 5th to end my life in Seattle and start anew in Wenatchee. I never thought I'd see the day. But even as I type the words, I know it's right. Every time I'm back, I'm home. It is my home. For so long, too long, I've felt like my life was in a semi-permanent state. Like at any moment the wind could change and I blow me away again. Spokane felt like a prison sentence. Sometimes I see a glimpse of that person, the lonely girl I was there, and it makes me mad at myself for allowing it. The world is what you make of it and I made my world there a nightmare. I hated it. When, just as easily, I could have changed my own mind and embraced my time there. Sometimes I wish I were that nauseatingly happy person - everyone knows one. The one you want to hit in the month to stop them from spitting sunshine at you. But really, if I were like that, it would be a mask. I think that my internal being is naturally contemplative and that makes me, well, me. And I bet I have a few ex-boyfriends who can tell you: I'm not changing a bit of me. Because I like me this way...even if it is exhausting at times. And overly honest.

I had an old boss write me an email congratulating me on my new job - the new chapter of my life. He said that he was surprised that I didn't look for a job internationally. For the first time in a long time, it didn't even dawn on me that I would want to work overseas. And that used to be my one career goal. I was told once, in a little Buddhist village in North India, that travelers are really just escapists. We're all away because we're running. It was appalling to hear this and I immediately balked at this words. But he's right...to some extent. Whenever I'm the most unhappy, I dream of traveling. I dream of the sound of sand scrunching between my toes. I dream of a overstuffed backpacking travel bag and of not knowing where tomorrow will take me. Of me and Pete in a campervan down by the river, drinking wine and bullshitting about nothing. Because it's exciting! It's what I love to do! It's also an escape from life.

I'm happy here. I've met some amazing people in Seattle and some not-so amazing people. I've had my heart broke and I've probably reciprocated the feeling onto another. that's the funny thing about love and relationships, you never know how it's going to turn out. Right when you think you have the upper hand, you realize you're not even playing the same game. When it's right, neither person will be holding cards. Recently I met a really great guy and things were good. I was me with him. Which is a slight miracle. But I'm moving so I ended it. And now I'm left missing him. But from every heartbreak, from every down, there is an up! And baby, I'm flying.

marathon training

I don't write this blog for only myself. I like to share my thoughts with others: friends, family, and randoms who may find it on blogger. It's liberating....even if its usually not about my day-to-day routine. Recently I sent the address to a friend who was surprised by the subject matter. I think he thought it would be more like, "today I ate radishes and got my nails done..." - not really my style all the time. I'm more doing a running commentary on the judgmental thoughts that pop in my head during the day. I'm not that conceited to think that people would want to know my daily routine (ok that might be a lie...). I would rather comment thing about things I read or see just because it's what is interesting to me. I'm with me all the time...I don't need to re-think the bad decisions I've just made (jk jk).

So for the real substance of this post:

I just wanted to update you all on my marathon training (after I just get done telling you that I don't usually talk about myself [lie], I'm going to talk about myself. what? stop judging me). How is this for ironic: I've never had a running-induced injury in my life until a few days before I officially started training. And my calf is still being a butthead! WTF is up with my lower left leg?! It will feel fine one day and then it'll flair up. I should be icing everyday but I can only motivate myself to do it every now and again. Today Ian and I went for a 3.3 mile run from his house down into Fremont. It started tight (again) and then loosened up (much like the person its attached to?? don't be mean...) It was a good run with a substantial down-hill which I needed. Instead of going to my gift and estates class tonight I think I'll go back to the gym and lift and do pilates since it's what I usually do on Wednesdays and didn't get out of bed in time for this morning.

I just need a day off from class...and my last two weekends have not counted as "days off." So I hope you take some "me" time as well this week...give yourself a break or two.

I need to look good for Maui :)

good chats *fist pound*

I think everyone needs to have at least one friend in their life that they can always count on for a good chat. Whether it be about fashion, psychology, philosophy, or my love of shirtless men. Thank god I have a few of these people in my life. For instance, Amy and Erin are my go-to girls for philosophy/theology/psychology/shirtless men chats. (they are really all-purpose friends). If I wanna talk fashion, I call up my lovie Sarah beara from college. If I want a ego-ass-kicking I call Pete. We don't chat on the phone much...mainly because I can slap him through the phone like he deserves. So the point of this is: I went down to visit my friend Courtney in Tacoma over the weekend. We always have these epic chats about life in general. Saturday's chat was particularly awesome, and thus it deserves a blog shout-out.

What we discovered in our discussion was that everyone has the present ability to choose to be happy. Happiness is not some grand state-of-mind that is unattainable for all who aren't either insane or mentally...shall we say...slow. Or those perpetually happy people who smile through everything, always spit rainbows and sunshine, and make my eye twitch. I think most people try too hard to obtain this gold pedestal of existential being. If you think about it like that, it will always be out of your reach. It's so much more simple than that: it's a decision. Those rainbow and sunshine people have probably made this decision without even thinking about it. It comes too natural for them (or they're trying to cover up how terrible their life is by being overly happy. I think I like this option better.)

My emotional state is easily affected. Unfortunately, I absorb emotions like a sponge. If I go watch a depressing movie, or if a sad song comes on the radio, I'm sad. It's stupid really...but I can't help it! (I guess there is an exception to that: I'm rarely sensitive to other peoples' actual troubles. So if you're like depressed and want to talk about it, it's only going to make me want to drink. And therefore forget what you've just told me.) Today on the bus a sad song came on my ipod and I started to get gloomy...until I remember the words of wisdom Courtney and I had discussed. I just smiled. Because I can smile...it's possible and I do a lot of it. Smiling that is.

So the next time you're thinking that your life is not what you want it to be, and you are striving for happiness, just be. just be happy. just be yourself. and just....be. It's quite liberating actually. and don't over-think it. Cause then you've just eliminated this blog wisdom and wasted both your time and, quite frankly, mine...which I like just about as much as like girls who wear Ugg boots or juicy sweatsuits. icky.

tastes like college

Tailgating for the Seahawks game really tasted like college. Tasted like back in the day when I didn't have real homework to worry about. Back when I had no job. Wait...I still have no job. So, back when I didn't even want a job! When life was good and simple: college. My Bud Light tasted like college - as if I was sitting in 812 Nora with my girls, playing F-the-dealer with only one other person.
Saturday morning Ricky Martin (yes that's his real name) and Ryan Cloakey picked me up outside of my place. At 7:45am. Ricky and his parents run a family farm business with a booth at pike place, so our fashionable ride to Quest Field was in the refrigeration truck....which has two seats. Oddly enough Ryan didn't feel compelled to let me, the girl, take the actual seat so I got to sit between the seats on an 18-case of Bud Light. Classy, no? I get in the truck and find them both munchin' on Jack In The Box breakfast sandwiches. (thanks for grabbin me one). Ryan must have known that I was silently judging his breakfast choice because he soon started spouting off lies about how some junkie came up to the truck with a gun and made them get themselves breakfast at jack in the box. At this, Ricky starts giggling and goes, "Ryan got that story from the obvious hooker we had the pleasure of seeing in the Jack in the Box." Apparently some strung out hooker (the guys were 92% sure she was getting paid for sex) ordered food at the counter and then looked around all paranoid-like, screamed something incoherent, and then took off. Again, classy. I forget how they described her attire but I'm sure it was something modest.
So far the boys have not been described as very gentlemanly. (which is per usual). But they soon redeemed themselves! Our tailgating spot was not near the big group of tailgaters but rather behind the starbucks against this building. When I asked why we weren't being our usually social selves, Ricky explained that the spot was chosen because of its convenient location to the starbucks bathrooms. Oh thank Jesus! Bathrooms, for those of us who are cursed with teensy blatters, are an object of concern while tailgating.
Soon I was playing beer pong (which I'm only moderately good at) and flip cup. In three games of flip cup, only once did it take me more than the first try to get the cup over. It was an extremely good showing for me on the ol' flip cup stage. After being fed a delicious hot dog ("when you tailgate with the Martin's you must eat") I realized that I was kinda drunk. I looked at my phone for the time: 11:52am. Awesome. Drunk by noon.
Ryan and I watched the game from right below the 12th Man Flag, happily drinking beers and watching the Seahawks beat the Saints. Who'd a thought! I made the mistake of buying the first beer. Right as I sit down, the Seahawks made some great play. From then on, Ryan decided that me buying beer was good luck, and refused to pay for another beer the whole game. I must say, it did seem like every time I went to get more, we did something phenomenal. So maybe I really am good luck! Just like the palm reader in India said!
On the way home I made a quick stop in to McDonalds for a delicious McNugget and fries. drunk eating by 6pm. Awesome.
By 9pm, I was experiencing a hangover.
By 9am, I was no longer drunk or hungover. I had fully recovered! I might start getting drunk during the day more often! .....

For example, Miike Snow...

I think I have an anxiety disorder. Or hypochondria...either or. I was going to write today about the Seahawks game but I was listening to Miike Snow on the bus, thinking about the anxiety I experienced today and the almost-right-hook I threw at the Miike Snow concert. Which inspired me to write this. Let me explain before you take this post as the evidence you need to confirm your preconceived suspicion that I'm certifiable.

Ian (brother), Meredith (brother's girlfriend) and I went to see a band name Miike Snow this fall in Seattle. It is a "standing room only" sort of thing. So after getting a few drinks at the bar (priorities right?) we decided to muscle our way to the front...with me leading the pack. After using my seeming-innocence with the men, and my right-elbow-to-the-ribs with the females, we made it to the stage! It's there that Ian tells me not to let anyone muscle past me...no matter what! Do not give me a direct order without believing that I'll follow it. Soooo...I get pushed in the back. I turn around swingin'. Don't mess with a country girl. I'll hit you in the face. Seriously. Just ask The Bear (college slut) or Sara Z. (cheer friend who bet me I wouldn't do it). I think the look on Meredith's face was shock and awe. Ian just looked embarrassed. The rest of the concert I felt like an idiot, which didn't stop me from proceeding to almost get in a few more fights. But that one guy deserved it!

Before the concert I knew this was going to happen. I don't like crowds. Being shoved into a small space with a whole bunch of morons makes me lose my breath (and my mind). I'd rather spare my heart the palpitations and just stay home. It's how I've always been at concerts. I used to think it was claustrophobic (or hypochondria either or) because when I'm closed in I feel anxious...for lack of a better word. But there are other times where I feel like I may faint or hyperventilate, for little to no reason.

Today I had a to-do list (which gives me anxiety inandof itself): pick up dry cleaning, pick up camera at best buy, 3 mile run, lifting-legs day, studying and school. I woke up at 7am thinking about this list and couldn't get back to sleep. Just thinking about it made my throat close just a smidge. I had until 6pm to get all this done. That's like, almost 12 hours. I mean, what if there is traffic? what if I can't find a parking space at best buy? what if I get in an accident? What if I lose motivation to run? What if...I stop being such a princess drama queen and just shut the F up. Even typing it out makes me feel both silly and anxious. The funny thing is, I did all of these things by 1pm. With time to make myself a delicious lunch. WTF is wrong with me?! Personally, I blame my parents. For a few reasons: the first being that I'm too perfect...it can't be something wrong with me, and secondly, everyone gets to blame their parents for something and this seems like a perfectly good opportunity to use my "blame the parents" card.

What it probably is (because I didn't feel like this ever in Cashmere or Spokane) is that the big bad city is a teensy bit overwhelming for me. I think, like that maybe I have a flaw!!! SHIT! Is like what it feels like to be you?! ....how do you like, deal?! Once I get used to the hustle and bustle this small flaw will dissipate and all will be well. For now though, I think I'm going to stick to taking the bus and avoid the Showbox concert hall.

that's all for now.

--LJW

Reality

I hate the term "the real world." Mostly because this infers that my existence thus far has been fake...or something less than real. If a prerequisite to living in the "real world" is that I have a job, then lets just say I'm living one foot in, and one foot outside of this so-called real existence. I work for the UW low-income taxpayer clinic. I think you can deduce from the name what it isthat I do, but for you slower readers, I assist low income taxpayers with their tax issues with the IRS. Some people owe 6,000; others owe 60,000. I would venture to guess that most of my time is spent on the phone and/or on hold with the good people at the IRS. The well-spoken, highly educated, warm-and-fuzzy IRS employees. Like a good shot of Jim Beam, they make your insides (crawl) heat up. Actually, most of the time they're alright. Some times they're big jerk faces and hang up on you after you've listen to their "on hold" music for 20 minutes and then spent 10 explaining what you would like them to do. (and that music doesn't change. like ever. They didn't even switch to Christmas music during the holidays! What's a girl gotta do to get some Frank Sinatra Christmas!?) My blood pressure spikes when I hear the words (narrated with a southern drawl) "please hold." My internal voice (ironically and unexplainably also narrated with a southern drawl) screams "UMM NOOO!" My inter child throws a tantrum. I've only been hung up on once. But it's enough to teach me to be wary of the seemingly innocent, "please hold."

Is "please hold" a question or a statement? I feel like one should always ask you to hold. Because if it were asked as a question, I might just actually say no because I don't wanna hold! (alright that's a lie. I'm a push over. But I would want to say no...)

All in all working for the clinic is rewarding and informative. I've learned more working in here than in any of my classes. Every now and then you get a client the outcome that they've been hoping for and that feels way better than acing an exam (but I think I've forgotten what acing an exam feels like...).

On a marathon note: I completed my 5 days of 3 mile runs for last week with flying colors! I even ran outside twice! Kay reprimanded me for running over 3 miles when I ran with Ian on Friday. We probably did 4ish miles. It's hard to pace yourself! I can run more than 3 miles...but I need to remind myself that if I get injured, I'll long for the leisure 3 miles. Today I pussed out on running outside when I saw snow on my car and went to the gym/treadmill. (brr!) I increase the incline every now and again to simulate the outdoors. (totally the same thing.) Afterwards I went home and did a 20 minute Jillian Michaels workout DVD. I know I know...I suck at pacing myself. bite me. I LOVE Jillian Michaels and her hellish workouts! They make me wanna cry, but then I see the killer shoulder definition that it gave me and it makes me wanna hug that mean little lady!

My next post will be about the joys of Seahawks games and tailgating...I'm just too lazy (and need to read for class tonight) to write it all out now.

Tata

valuing the value-less

So if you've read a blog of mine in the past, particularly the India blog, you will know that I enjoy taking tid bits from books I'm reading and then commenting on them. Right now I'm reading a book my dad bought me for Christmas: The Mentor Leader by Tony Dungy. Yes that Tony Dungy...the retired head coach of the Colts and now announcer for Sunday and Monday night football. Like there could be another person named Tony Dungy...geez really. try to keep up here.
In the first chapter (since I just started it today on the bus) he talks a little about sociology and societal values. He writes, "I've heard sociologist Tony Campolo say that the world has "switched the price tags," giving value to the value-less while undervaluing the truly important. Accumulating things is highly prized in our society, as are status and fame. On the other hand, the truly important things of life often happen in quiet, private moments- moments of faith, family, and building relationships." He then goes on to discuss how he's been helping Michael Vick discover a significant moment. Because apparently puppy killing isn't good for the ol' soul. You've been given a second chance Mikey...don't F it up.
Getting back to that quote...(watch out! I'm climbing the soapbox!) Our society has its priorities all wrong. The world is not right when we have over 400,000 more unemployed workers applying for benefits every month, and people who've done nothing with their lives like Snookie are out "writing" "books" and discussing the art of blacking out. I mean, talk about putting value (dollar signs) on the valueless (getting paid to drink to excess and sleep with randoms). The older I get the more irritated with all of this shit that I get. I mean really?! What is the future of the world if our youth think that all they have to do is fuck up enough, but do it in a unique and/or clever way, and you'll have a free ride through fame? I'm not knocking the occasional early-20's black out. My point is that blacking out is not a job nor furthering the functionality of society. It's trash. Just like the stuff found in the garbage can you slept in last night Snookie.
I know that the economy and all that Shiz is depressing and we therefore need something to entertain us. That is so NOT an excuse for shows on TV like Teen Mom and Bridalplasty (where idiots compete for plastic surgery before their wedding day). It makes me want to throw my TV out the window. THIS is what we value and what is a waste of time.
Another point to the quote is about accumulating "stuff." I loves stuff. To name a few things...I love shoes, handbags, anything within the confines of Nordstrom, cars, jewelry, and anything else shiny or sparkely. I'm a big fan of the accumulation of things. But alas, the other Tony is right...in the big scheme of things it is meaningless if it has consumed you or if it defines you. The moral to the story may be, all things in moderation.
When you look back at your time here on earth, what will define you? What will you remember? what will others remember of you? I think the other Tony's point is that you will be remembered for you impact on others and the relationships that you build. If those relationships are not cultivated, or poorly so, you've undervalued your time: your time on earth and your time with other people.
Now, with this nugget of knowledge, go out and do good! (PS I recommend the book...it's good so far).
As for me, I just remembered that I need to go to American Apparel and shop. I'm bored.

Tata

PS: woke up at 5:45am and went to the gym for my third 3 mile run. Very successful. Sore legs since I've been running and I lifted them yesterday...but that's good. One step at a time people.

new year decisions

So lately I've been a bad blogger. I've been neglecting my posts and followers (if there are any of you left). With a new year comes new goals and promises! So here is mine: I promise to be a more diligent blogger! Be warned, this first post may annoy some of you...I say this because if it weren't me, I'd be annoyed. But princess Lindsey never annoys herself (yes. talking in third-person is still lame/annoying. Annoying the reader is a theme interlaced throughout this post apparently).
Yesterday I started my marathon training! (how many of you rolled your eyes?! don't lie...) This week I'm to run 3 miles 5 times. No sweat. Pun intended. So yesterday I ran up and around the Queen Anne neighborhood. Today I ran on the treadmill....because princess Lindsey cannot be expected to run in the rain. pshhaw. (a mantra that severely limits my outside running opportunities in Seattle. And is also a joke...mostly.) So far so good! I've been running 4-6 miles once or twice a week leading up so 3 miles seems do-able. It'll be the 5 times that will start to get at me I think.
I'm notorious for making big goals like this, with ideas of grandeur, and then dropping the ball about 5 steps from the start line. So take this as you will. Running a marathon is a goal that I've only recently decided is less than a death wish. Growing up in a household of athletic overachievers, I've always brought up the rear with great pride and style! ...kind of a "screw this I'm walking" sort of attitude. Or, more like it... a "hand me a beer!" sort of attitude. Like um no. Sweat makes my hair look like yours. Which would be like so not cool.
Since college, when I needed a good outlet, I've been into working out. During the bar exam I got into lifting weights. So now, I'm taking it to the next level! Not one to be left behind, I'm going to run a marathon! Ian did it without training in over 4 hours (which will be his "out" when I beat his time), mom ran it in 3 hrs 20 min, dad ran it in 3 hrs 12 min. I'm shooting for something between beating Ian and not killing myself.
So wish me luck! Or hope I fail...I could really give a shit less. I will be assigning you all miles makers to stand on in order to cheer me on. Signs encouraged.

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