tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91634970391661820172024-03-05T20:38:04.963-06:00All I Wanna DoThe True Story of An (Cupcake Addicted, Massachusetts Bred, Theatre Besotted, Chicago Transplanted) All-Amerikan GirlErikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-22261494145999528402013-11-11T10:20:00.001-06:002013-11-11T13:15:33.634-06:00Number 31b: Be Better October - The Recap, Part OneIt's 5 pm on the first Friday, October 11. I'm insanely exhausted.<br />
But I'm not complaining. Not bitching. Not moaning. <br />
I'm just busy. Which makes happy. Dare I say, satisfied?<br />
<br />
Let's recap. <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2013/10/number-31-invent-interesting-past-or.html" target="_blank">Over a month ago I pledged to Be Better during the month of October.</a> With the insanity of the Government Shutdown, and all of the negativity I read daily on the internet, I made the decision to not spread any more negativity last month.<br />
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I set six goals for the month of October. Here's how I fared in tackling the first three. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Be Better At Saving</span>. <i>The Challenge:</i> I will not buy any new clothes during the month of October. I will put aside an extra $25 each week into my savings account. <br />
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<a href="http://www.thebreathless.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Cher_Horowitz_Closet-007_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://www.thebreathless.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Cher_Horowitz_Closet-007_2.jpg" width="320" /></a><i>The Halfway Point:</i> I was SO TEMPTED to buy clothes all month. The transition of season just made me crave the purchase of fuzzy sweaters and earmuffs and that new pair of boots. (I mean come on, who doesn't love a fuzzy sweater?) I caved on one item, and that was a new long sleeve for running, which replaced my well-worn (and somewhat pungent) running jacket. So I'll say everyone is better off due to that purchase. (Plus it helped towards my mileage goal -- have I justified this enough to the world yet?)<br />
<i>The Results: </i><b>I DID IT!!</b> Last week I allowed myself a new fuzzy sweater and a (sale) necklace. Other than that though, I've done pretty well at breaking myself of my spending habit. And the extra $100 I put away this month? Keeping it in my savings account for a rainy day. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Be Better To My Liver.</span> <i>The Challenge:</i> Avoid alcohol for an entire week.<br />
<i>The Halfway Point:</i> I cut down on my alcohol intake during the first weeks of the month, but I still found it insanely hard to socialize without drinking. So I compromised with myself, I did not drink within my apartment during the week.<br />
<i>The Results:</i> I definitely could have tried harder to stick to this challenge... but fortunately last week's cold kept me without alcohol for a full six days. So thanks, body, for yelling at me so my mom doesn't have to. Maybe we'll try this guy again after Thanksgiving.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZy-5uyBhlXCGE3vKr3b0ELc7rScDNx2_GT5I-U6nQNxe7Eyu6SFUoz1Ww7waqp_9KdR6vloHdsiUetJ-Ibkh4_CDMDv9sErXKdY4o-WnjO1Qmtb-6jZBqalXEwdPck9n9xDb1Yge-5g/s1600/IMG_20131103_083138_233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZy-5uyBhlXCGE3vKr3b0ELc7rScDNx2_GT5I-U6nQNxe7Eyu6SFUoz1Ww7waqp_9KdR6vloHdsiUetJ-Ibkh4_CDMDv9sErXKdY4o-WnjO1Qmtb-6jZBqalXEwdPck9n9xDb1Yge-5g/s400/IMG_20131103_083138_233.jpg" width="223" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Be Better About Increasing My Mileage. </span><i> </i><br />
<i>The Challenge:</i> Run 60 miles during the month of October.<br />
<i>The Halfway Point: </i>26 miles (I was only four miles off at halfway!)<br />
<i>The Results:</i> 43.74 miles. I was off my goal by about 3 runs' worth of miles. What I didn't factor in this month? I was in rehearsal and simultaneously finishing writing a play. So while I didn't hit my goal, it wasn't because I was lazy.<br />
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The silver lining? In the past three months I've run 131.47 miles. I'm going to cut myself a little slack.<br />
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Fun fact? I finished the Hot Chocolate last weekend in a little over 26 minutes. Even though I didn't hit my goal, I'm still pretty proud of myself, folks! Plus, look how much I'm enjoying that chocolate post-race.<br />
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All of the challenges actually went much smoother than I was expecting. <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2010/08/list.html" target="_blank">While this blog in general is about tackling a ridiculous "to do list"</a>, I thought I would hold myself more accountable but tracking the goals on the blog itself. But it turns out I was able to stick to my goals with publicly publishing. Maybe I should have also added, Be Better at Blogging About Stuff to the list, but oh well. <br />
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Tackling goals is not easy and sometimes it's hard to see progress. I think it really helped to have a set of tangible things I could monitor with numbers - things like amount of money saved and number of miles run with less tangible things like counting to ten before I whine about my life. Do I feel like a better person? Sure. Can I do better? Always. Stay tuned for my recap of the second set of challenges and my next set of silly encounters in the city.<br />
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As always, thanks for reading.<br />
xoxo, E.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-57019175517060174882013-10-02T10:44:00.000-05:002013-10-02T10:44:52.417-05:00Number 31: Invent an Interesting Past... Or Work On Creating An Even Better Future<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0TgzACP2RqDekHGC5AECGp9T4Fm2-lFv_MCM88bus_aapAKKWBCEytLaeUqw-4j-HMdQdC4qQD3hfTR-mvGfeRs1xFdDpItOdFlo3YWe8MgyXhdGHMmKWSL6aVzM9Ji7bTlt54MtP8Y/s1600/tumblr_mjvjrdaBKn1qc6rt2o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0TgzACP2RqDekHGC5AECGp9T4Fm2-lFv_MCM88bus_aapAKKWBCEytLaeUqw-4j-HMdQdC4qQD3hfTR-mvGfeRs1xFdDpItOdFlo3YWe8MgyXhdGHMmKWSL6aVzM9Ji7bTlt54MtP8Y/s320/tumblr_mjvjrdaBKn1qc6rt2o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
Hey Gen Y. Millennials. Whatever all of you underemployed, over-ambitious, under-40s are being called this week. Can I get something off of my chest? Can I ask a teeny, tiny favor? Could you all please STOP. YOUR. BITCHING. Yeah, I'm talking to you, whoever wrote this <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wait-but-why/generation-y-unhappy_b_3930620.html" target="_blank">article</a> and this <a href="http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2013/09/generation-y-millennials-entitled-poor" target="_blank">article</a>, but I'm also talking to <span style="font-size: large;">myself</span>. Do you know how many times a week I complain about the "first-world problems" I'm experiencing? Too many. Complaining is natural - I get it. And keeping frustrations in is simply unhealthy. But lately I'm sick of listening to myself. I complain about everything from not having the perfect pair of shoes to wear on a Saturday night, to why I'm a 6 instead of a 4, to complaining about my job, to complaining about my career (and yeah those things are different). And let's not get started on the tirades I've gone on about my love life.<br />
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But what do I ever do about it? What do any of us every do about it?<br />
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I read a rash of articles every day that just COMPLAIN about the state of our lives without thinking about improving on it. We graduated into a recession, that sucks. We may be dreamers, but why is that a bad thing? We are called lazy, yet somehow we have the time and the means (and apparently the drive) to write article after article
about the sorry state we are in - but we can't control those things. I mean someone out there had the time to create a <a href="http://www.ghostsingles.com/" target="_blank">DATING SITE FOR GHOSTS</a>, but we don't have the time to spread any good. Look at what is going on in Washington. It's essentially a <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/ellievhall/the-government-shutdown-is-basically-exactly-like-mean-girls" target="_blank">massive temper tantrum</a>, but WHY?! This is helping NO ONE. NO. ONE.<br />
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So, starting today, instead of acting like this about the things I can't control...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8y56NNCCfhhBRq0bNYa2E6jPJr2v9ZQBqe5Ob7dbHyNqHMBS6_UpJ-GuXWpyIlvQVVcLMxvRiM0rxKsa38b9bPXDsOzGv4h8EoCQ6DJECVhXf6tJFwP6DkAtN-mIGzri_adu2sllh-eg/s1600/tantrum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8y56NNCCfhhBRq0bNYa2E6jPJr2v9ZQBqe5Ob7dbHyNqHMBS6_UpJ-GuXWpyIlvQVVcLMxvRiM0rxKsa38b9bPXDsOzGv4h8EoCQ6DJECVhXf6tJFwP6DkAtN-mIGzri_adu2sllh-eg/s1600/tantrum.jpg" /></a></div>
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...I'm going to focus on the things I can control and challenge myself to something I'm calling <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better October</span>. I <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2010/08/welcome-to-my-sort-of-bucket-list.html" target="_blank">started this</a> blog (<a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2013/03/number-66-rebrand-yourself.html" target="_blank">twice</a>) to give myself a challenge. To publicly dare myself to get out and DO something. Here's All I Wanna Do this month...<br />
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- <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better At Saving.</span> <b>The problem? </b>I love clothes. LOVE THEM. But I don't necessarily need to buy any new ones right now. <b> </b><br />
<b>The Challenge:</b> I will not buy any new clothes during the month of October. In addition to what I already put aside from each check, I WILL put an extra $25 into my savings account at the end of each week.<br />
<b>The Payoff:</b> I'll have an extra $100 set aside to do something nice for myself. Or a jump start on my holiday present fund. <b> </b><br />
<b>The Duration:</b> October 1 - October 31.<br />
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- <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better To My Liver.</span> The problem? Chicago is a drinking town. Everywhere you go, alcohol is not only presented to you, but it is encouraged that you have multiple drinks.<br />
<b>The Challenge:</b> Stay sober for an entire week. (I'll give myself a bye for a celebratory glass of wine on Friday evening. Or when my fantasy team dominates again this week.)<br />
<b>The Payoff:</b> Again, there's the bank account thing... but I'll have more energy to complete my "Be Better" tasks. <br />
<b>The Duration:</b> October 2 - October 9.<br />
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- <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better About Increasing My Mileage.</span> <b>The problem?</b> I ran a half-marathon in May and while I haven't stopped running, I haven't kept my mileage up to the number I'd like it to be. Now that it's getting cooler, it's easier for me to go on longer runs, so it seems like a good time to up my mileage.<br />
<b>The Challenge:</b> Run at least 60 miles this month.To be fair, I ran 52 miles in the month of September. But I'm determined to up the ante.<br />
<b>The Payoff:</b> Looking smoking hot in my not-at-all sexy Halloween costume. (That isn't sarcasm. It's really unsexy. But it is hilarious. Obviously.) And smoking the competition in the two road races I've got lined up for November. <br />
<b>The Duration:</b> October 1 - October 31.<br />
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- <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better To My City.</span> <b>The problem?</b> I feel selfish. In an effort to think and act more positively this month, I think I should do something for my community.<br />
<b>The Challenge:</b> Volunteer at least once this month.<br />
<b>The Payoff</b>: I'm helping to make my city better and someone's day better while betting myself. <br />
<b>The Duration:</b> We'll see what I choose to do!<br />
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- <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better About Complaining.</span> <b>The problem?</b> I'm sick of negativity. With all of the time I spend complaining about things, I could be using that time to make improvements<br />
<b>The Challenge:</b> Like with anger management, I'm going to count to ten before I complain. <br />
<b>The Payoff: </b>Hopefully I'll be sending out more positive vibes by the end of the month. <br />
<b>The Duration:</b> This one is open ended... the wishful thinking part of me hopes this will become habit. <br />
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- <span style="font-size: large;">Be Better About Working Hard.</span> <b>The problem?</b> No matter how hard I work as an actor, there is always someone working harder.<br />
<b>The Challenge:</b> Find and work out two new monologues by the end of the month.<br />
<b>The Payoff:</b> ...we'll see. <br />
<b>The Duration:</b> October 1 - October 31.<br />
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So, here we go internet. I'm trying to do a little good, one day at a time. So here's to a little less bitching, a little more positivity. I plan on feeling like this by the end of the month...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFORMFEI3ff8Q-xhGZ0o8VNLO7Cv0actNZ-ZbKVGfMx-6dS5_cGz8kft9ZEO4TYDnxLcuL9GIBQpJ0MH5EWASJHwMs9vwjuB7ZVkbEV3wv0Kq7XHRQ8zpbyQ37yR16qIneMIJv_cA_-E/s1600/taylor-swift-valentines-day.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFORMFEI3ff8Q-xhGZ0o8VNLO7Cv0actNZ-ZbKVGfMx-6dS5_cGz8kft9ZEO4TYDnxLcuL9GIBQpJ0MH5EWASJHwMs9vwjuB7ZVkbEV3wv0Kq7XHRQ8zpbyQ37yR16qIneMIJv_cA_-E/s400/taylor-swift-valentines-day.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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...because really, when I think best self, I think breaking it down with TSwift. Happy October, Friends. I'm off to do some good.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-56646480282370452722013-09-23T15:00:00.002-05:002013-09-23T15:28:16.951-05:00Number 47: Wear a feather boa and movie star glasses to the grocery store -- Or a Mustache Around A Street FestivalAh... the street fest. The quintessential must-do for every Chicagoan. Starting in early April, we begin buying oversized mugs guarenteed to get us one dollar off our next refill, making excuses for why we're not paying the "suggested donation" at the gate, and taking pictures of us acceptably drinking in public.<br />
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Good times, guys.<br />
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But not all street fests are created equal. And so, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce... Taco Fest. I'll start off by saying that one of the particular perks of this fest is that we had to do zero traveling as it was right at the end of our street. In fact, it screwed up my run and my errands on Saturday afternoon. But Sunday, Taco Fest redeemed itself. (And it had nothing to do with the tacos.)<br />
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Before acquired any food or beverage, we acquired some mustaches for participating on THIS:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUG98gGjhyKCxMPjaJ-t7A4Qqol21PfI0L6gwgwwZR7QhT0bzvthSEtib7aKHJbhhrGmiacgOyIukLl0B0pSDjmuea6b6oVE89iAGSl4DFpyz73KQ42uuMKsNGL4XjuiG9ty4DM-h3Xpw/s1600/006_4A.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUG98gGjhyKCxMPjaJ-t7A4Qqol21PfI0L6gwgwwZR7QhT0bzvthSEtib7aKHJbhhrGmiacgOyIukLl0B0pSDjmuea6b6oVE89iAGSl4DFpyz73KQ42uuMKsNGL4XjuiG9ty4DM-h3Xpw/s400/006_4A.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yep, that is literally a mustache ride. Gross name? Sure. Fun? You betcha.<br />
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Then came the funner part. (Yep, I went there.) Wearing the staches. I'm not sure when the stache became a fashion statement, but we rocked the hell out of them on Sunday afternoon. From group shot... <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_HLpZ2bf32x0J8-vfZlhBToeGbTAQiMMfqzCaRBizXpZhPJX5DCNgcUSYOfl7t_L_u5-PF7vB3-62pU9QPnFi1nzRF-k-zz6EgliJ9qUcQzVcJo2Xrb1zHp4ZD0VOGrFkBmQdotW-Ssw/s1600/002_0A.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_HLpZ2bf32x0J8-vfZlhBToeGbTAQiMMfqzCaRBizXpZhPJX5DCNgcUSYOfl7t_L_u5-PF7vB3-62pU9QPnFi1nzRF-k-zz6EgliJ9qUcQzVcJo2Xrb1zHp4ZD0VOGrFkBmQdotW-Ssw/s400/002_0A.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
to acting natural...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj9ghOsBIgr0pNg40jjkuEQFbubXJVsyndZ5kuj9FbdtUsnCcsRunQdIJ2oSKj79rNFcDtg6B0qm6miI5CEqAeIUOBHdIOfNkKjnxH-KPW4V9byj15ZGWBym81FUORlWHoDf2aGX0ipS4/s1600/LadyStache.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj9ghOsBIgr0pNg40jjkuEQFbubXJVsyndZ5kuj9FbdtUsnCcsRunQdIJ2oSKj79rNFcDtg6B0qm6miI5CEqAeIUOBHdIOfNkKjnxH-KPW4V9byj15ZGWBym81FUORlWHoDf2aGX0ipS4/s400/LadyStache.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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to taking care of business...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblihA3BWZ_fFeOjdciCvNkK7cyuMdjvicKS165TULTXgNV_q-xBe11ba-UqfTa4KaWrq9y8OwPuymI17r8Up1wRMQ3U2lySMBL3MAw56zftBNAFHM9yxDhCf5IpvJcQia14R8CDrCTpw/s1600/IMG_20130922_164311_026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblihA3BWZ_fFeOjdciCvNkK7cyuMdjvicKS165TULTXgNV_q-xBe11ba-UqfTa4KaWrq9y8OwPuymI17r8Up1wRMQ3U2lySMBL3MAw56zftBNAFHM9yxDhCf5IpvJcQia14R8CDrCTpw/s320/IMG_20130922_164311_026.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
we sported staches everywhere. And apparently people noticed.<br />
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My favorite conversation?<br />
Guy sitting on patio at Mystic Celt: Oh man - did you lose a bet or something?<br />
Me: Nope. Why?<br />
Guy: You know... (Gestures to the stache.)<br />
Me: I really don't. (Walks away. End scene.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga1z7adsqY7tduAWteIRkWvl5_4ZGkNLC_8H5B7tQY7i2Kw-3QWzyE2GlLJ6EhdtK_9WL8nD1fN8reLKeWti4YaNpcTfFxdkcCrg4NKmMHS51fR8EhuSR3iP9FmFtHT7rtRKCcvNIApFg/s1600/IMG_20130922_172235_782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga1z7adsqY7tduAWteIRkWvl5_4ZGkNLC_8H5B7tQY7i2Kw-3QWzyE2GlLJ6EhdtK_9WL8nD1fN8reLKeWti4YaNpcTfFxdkcCrg4NKmMHS51fR8EhuSR3iP9FmFtHT7rtRKCcvNIApFg/s200/IMG_20130922_172235_782.jpg" width="112" /></a>So, the mustaches had nothing to do with Taco Fest but they did help promote what is my new favorite pumpkin beer - the <a href="http://travelerbeer.com/" target="_blank">Jack-O-Traveler</a>. I'm actually surprised I've never heard of this company before since they are Vermont based, but I'm really glad I discovered them. It was like drinking a piece of pumpkin bread. AKA Heaven. Anyway, I understood the staches... what I really didn't get was the appearance of A CAMEL at Taco Fest. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but when I see a camel, I think Mediterranean food... not Mexican. But there it was in all its camel glory.<br />
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And while I avoided climbing up there, I thought it would still be a good time to have my picture taken with said camel. You know, until it was hungry since no one probably fed it any tacos and it decided to eat my hair. But hey, no harm, no fowl... er... dromedary.<br />
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Here are the things I learned about sporting a stache.<br />
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- I have no shame when it comes to wearing ridiculous things in public. And I love it.<br />
- Drinking is pretty easy while wearing a stache. Eating, however is HARD! How do you do it, men?! I had to take mine off to eat my tacos. My delicious duck tacos.<br />
- After awhile, you get used to the stares. (This is me assuming all staches get stares, not just mine.)<br />
- And... this. While photos of staches are hilarious, photobombing will always be funnier.<br />
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You stay classy, Chicago. Lord knows we're not. </div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-74585008690626492342013-09-18T16:17:00.001-05:002013-09-18T16:17:26.620-05:00Number 65b: Remember the "a la mode" - A Summer Reflection Hey BlogLand... it's me. Erika. You may not remember me, but I'm the the girl whose life you read about when you visit this site. And sometimes that girl takes stupidly long hiatuses from posting. I'm sorry that I've left you hanging. Today marks a solid four months without a post. You're probably wondering what I've been up to. Well, friends, it's been a heck of a summer. (Hence the hiatus.) If we're Facebook friends you've probably noticed that I spent a lot of my summer holding red solo cups (cough, Mom, cough cough). That's because summer in Chicago is hot and I understand the importance of routine hydration. Glad we got that out of the way. <br />
<br />
Well, since I posted last, I completed my first ever half-marathon (in 2 hours and 6 minutes), hydrated, spent two weeks traveling the East Coast, had some visitors, hydrated some more , saw some plays, and generally lived up that infamous "Chicago summer." You know, hydrating. And I made some important self-discoveries. (I know, I sound insanely productive.)<br />
<br />
Here's a fun fact about me: I love watching tv sitcoms about solid groups of friends. Whether it's kicking back at Monica and Rachel's or sitting at the regular booth at MacLaren's or (as of late) playing poker at PJ's with the boys - we take on these friends as if they are our own. I find myself saying things like, "I wish I could be friends with Schmidt." "Wouldn't it be fun if we could do that every night?"<br />
<br />
But last month, as I walked away from a going away party for one my best friends, I realized that I actually do have THAT. We have our routines and our "spots" and our inside jokes. In every group, we each play our roles. We understand the dynamics of putting together certain groups of people. Recently, someone said to me, "I love meeting your friends - everyone is so nice and is always having fun." I'm pretty proud of that. I'd like to think that at 26, I'm choosing to surround myself with good people. People that I love and want to be around. People who bring out the best in me, understand the worst parts about me, and are still there for me when I have a colossal break down. <br />
<br />
I don't have a large extended family and as a result I've made my friends a part of my family. Now that I'm far away from my family, this has become even more important to me. Whether it's coordinating a Skype date between four different time zones with my college friends or heading to a show to support new friends or answering that late night phone call because you know something isn't quite right, being a good friend is important to me.<br />
<br />
An old boyfriend once commented how he was amazed that I have so many friends that I keep in close contact with. He wondered how I made time for them all. And how I was able to keep that many people close to me. "I make time," was my response. I've lived here for almost a year and half now, and I've gone from loving it, to wondering if I was doing the right thing, to being an absolute mess, to standing on solid ground. And it is the people I've surrounded myself with that even out the footing. <br />
<br />
I know a lot of you (especially those in my age set) probably read <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wait-but-why/generation-y-unhappy_b_3930620.html" target="_blank">this article</a> yesterday. It made some interesting points, and gave me some stuff to think about, sure. But after I finished it, I got to thinking. I'm not unhappy. Things aren't perfect. I've cried more than once about the imperfections in the last month. But things will never be perfect. And, I mean, did you read the start of this blog? I just told you that I haven't blogged in four months because I've been having too much fun. I've been going on auditions and planning parties and discovering that I have friends that I can do nothing with. Because those are the best kind, the kind you can just sit next to on a couch with no movie on and no agenda, and just be with for hours on end. So what is there to be unhappy about? I've described myself as always striving to be the person in the room having the best time. <br />
<br />
And sure, I probably could have a few more bucks in my savings account, and could spend some extra time per week at the gym, but life is out there to be lived. And so far, things are exactly at expectation level. So here we are, first post back, waxing on about happiness levels. I've got to go -- I've got to plan the side dish I'm bringing to supper club tonight and then figure out what I'm serving at this weekend's party. With my friends. Where I'll be having the best time.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading, BlogLand. I'm excited to be back in the game. See ya soon.<br />
xoxo, <br />E<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-70148710239229594062013-05-18T20:33:00.001-05:002013-05-18T20:37:12.286-05:00MBFTIBMTTIF: This Is ItFRIENDS! Tomorrow, Sunday, May 19, I will celebrate my four year anniversary as a college graduate. In even bigger news, I AM RUNNING MY FIRST <a href="http://www.chicagospringhalf.com/" target="_blank">HALF MARATHON</a> IN THE MORNING.<br />
<br />
I'm carbed up, hydrated, and ready to go. And it certainly helps that I've received an insane amount of will wishes from friends and family this week. So thank you! Oh, and did I mention that my parents are here to cheer me on?! Well, they are. And I couldn't be happier.<br />
<br />
So here we go, kids. If you happen to be up around 7 am CST tomorrow and you'd like to follow my race progress, check me out on <a href="https://twitter.com/withak39" target="_blank">Twitter</a> or on Facebook. If this crazy world works the way I think it does, every time I pass a mile on the course, my bib should tweet where I am...<br />
<br />
See you all in 13.1!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIjS4seWL3IWDlE0A08wo6A_DeZ-BrBTZtf7o6USBE71TKiRluc6lq2p58iok38etHNesTU2sanJHYj9aQbtJzfqIIlJJTApjl_cjPJuHgoQ3-K7DT9n1b1CtRUHJv3pE7i26NwUcd9I/s1600/2013-05-18_20-05-50_684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdIjS4seWL3IWDlE0A08wo6A_DeZ-BrBTZtf7o6USBE71TKiRluc6lq2p58iok38etHNesTU2sanJHYj9aQbtJzfqIIlJJTApjl_cjPJuHgoQ3-K7DT9n1b1CtRUHJv3pE7i26NwUcd9I/s320/2013-05-18_20-05-50_684.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
xoxo,<br />
ErikaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-89351935626079337722013-05-10T14:33:00.000-05:002013-05-10T14:39:45.795-05:00Number 57: Take the credit, and the compliments, and say thanks!I am not the most tech savvy person you've ever met. I know my way around basic computer stuffs, I can effectively stalk anyone on Facebook, and I can usually figure out small issues on my own without calling a help line. I'm also easily confused by the iphone, don't really understand how to use shortcuts on my computer, and PLEASE DON'T EVER ASK ME TO TYPE ANYTHING ON A TABLET. (That shiz is hard.)<br />
<br />
So yesterday, you can imagine my chagrin when, while using my computer normally, I discovered my trackpad would no longer "click." My mouse worked but I could not select anything on my computer. I did some research from my phone and found that this is an insanely common problem with MacBook Pro once they hit a certain age. (Mine is about 3 years old.) It's often caused when the battery, which is located directly below the trackpad, swells, rendering the trackpad immobile.<br />
<br />
So naturally, the first thing I did was call Apple to get a quote. Let me tell you something about Apple. They are certainly a well structured company when it comes to making their consumers completely reliant on them when it comes to help... and making sure they are charged every step of the way. But apparently, they don't put a huge emphasis on customer service. Here's the conversation I had with the "Genius" (read: asshat) that I spoke with at the Lincoln Park Apple Store yesterday.<br />
<br />
Me: Hi, I'm calling to get a quote on a repair.<br />
Genius: We don't give quotes over the phone.<br />
Me: Okay, well if I describe the problem to you, can you tell me if you think you'll be able to fix the problem in store?<br />
Genius: No.<br />
<br />
[Silence.] <br />
<br />
Okay, I know what you're thinking. I probably should have given up at this point but I wanted some answers! Obviously he can't promise me anything without seeing the computer, but he could have at least tried to be helpful. Or at the very least, polite. THAT IS WHAT HE IS PAID TO DO. Here's how the conversation continued:<br />
<br />
Me: Okay, um, well let me ask you one more question [insert part of story where I describe the problem here]. Am I right in saying that this is a pretty common problem with these computers?<br />
Genius: I don't know.<br />
Me: Well, do you see this type of thing a lot with the MacBook Pro?<br />
Genius: Yeah, all of the time. <br />
Me: Okay, so... you would say yes, this is a common problem. Can you usually fix it in store?<br />
Genius: I don't know.<br />
Me: Well, thanks for your lack of help.<br />
<br />
And I hung up. SERIOUSLY APPLE STORE?! He didn't even try to be professional let alone helpful. If I'm going to shell out some money for this, I want to be spoken to respectfully. You know who spoke to me respectfully yesterday? The internet. I found <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdKwE9FOnrI" target="_blank">this video</a> -- which detailed the exact problem I was having with my computer.<br />
<br />
So, here was my next problem. I didn't have QUITE the right screwdrivers to complete this task. I went to the hardware store but the guy that works there said that they are definitely a special order type tool. Well played, Apple. Well played. BUT... if you think that was going to stop me you would be sadly mistaken. I did a little MacGuyvering with the screwdrivers I did have and FIXED MY TRACKPAD.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'll be taking the credit for this one. Absolutely. Special shout out to GoGeeks. Thanks for giving me the tutorial. Not bad for a Friday, folks. Not bad at all.<br />
<br />
Thinking you want to use your computer skills to make yourself feel good today? You should probably give a vote for Sixth and I synagogue before midnight tonight. <a href="https://www.preservedmv.com/competitors/sixth-i-historic-synagogue" target="_blank">Click here.</a> I did it. BECAUSE MY TRACKPAD ONCE AGAIN CLICKS. Yeah, I won't be letting this one go for awhile. Thanks, interwebs.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-55643204865887388332013-05-08T14:54:00.003-05:002013-05-08T15:04:59.641-05:00MBFTIBMTTIF: And So Does Mike Jeffries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9T9YUx_gQtTOMY1c5iqgRwcbVws8CjetWf3XTIbe0ZLzdRf1pcM8p3IbLtwSOFGhIoz2OksN2taPLhOV9lS8S0FBTYaQQUJLF65d7WeffbyjlxbJ9g7t57QNgSTfzP9GSTqHgAFkaj68/s1600/BFFT.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9T9YUx_gQtTOMY1c5iqgRwcbVws8CjetWf3XTIbe0ZLzdRf1pcM8p3IbLtwSOFGhIoz2OksN2taPLhOV9lS8S0FBTYaQQUJLF65d7WeffbyjlxbJ9g7t57QNgSTfzP9GSTqHgAFkaj68/s320/BFFT.png" width="273" /></a></div>
<br />
As per my usual naptime routine, I'm cruising FBook (like the cool kids), so I can get my news fix (like the cool kids), and I discovered that I am not, in fact, one of the cool kids. At first I wanted to cry. When I was in high school, I had a couple of weird haircuts, some clothes that didn't really fit me right, and a little bit of pudge on me in undesirable places. Plus I was a theatre kid. Definitely not one of the cool kids.<br />
<br />
Then I went to college (in a city -- cool things happen in cities!) and things got a little better. I dressed a little cooler. I had a larger group of friends. Except for that time I gained the freshman fifteen (fine -- twenty), things seemed to be going well. Then I realized that on the weekends most college kids did things like this:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.darwinsmoney.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/animal-house.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.darwinsmoney.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/animal-house.png" width="253" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
instead of things like this:<br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS6EBIVLsA_ky6FyMiRays4rn18KtCuUjv6U3oDPuvP29ohwlcfWA" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS6EBIVLsA_ky6FyMiRays4rn18KtCuUjv6U3oDPuvP29ohwlcfWA" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
and I realized once I again that I must not be cool.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to 2013, I am a fully grown adult. I've been told I'm kind of cute. I have a lot of friends. I have multiple jobs. I have a closet full of great clothes. For the first time in my life, I had reached the status where I knew I MUST BE COOL. And then today happened. And I <a href="http://elitedaily.com/news/world/abercrombie-fitch-ceo-explains-why-he-hates-fat-chicks/" target="_blank">read this an article</a> where Mike Jeffries, the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch publicly proclaimed that I was not cool. How do I know? Because he said this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids... Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either."</blockquote>
Because as we all know -- the way to be cool is to wear exactly the same clothes and to exclude those who can't afford a $50 tshirt, nor can they fit into it. GUYS -- I DON'T OWN ANYTHING FROM ABERCROMBIE AND FITCH. And since (I assume) I do not fit into Abercrombie's elite line of spaghetti strap tank tops and pre-shredded short shorts I MUST BE FAT AND UNCOOL. I even made one of these doodads to double check (I mean, I did well on my SATs and I went to a study-college -- remember?!)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Owning Abercrombie : Cool :: Not owning Abercrombie : Not Cool</b></div>
<br />
OMG I AM SO EFFING UNCOOL. And since Mike Jeffries is telling me I am not cool, then he must be the COOLEST of the cool. He must either look like this:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://i.perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/heathers2__oPt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i.perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/heathers2__oPt.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Or This:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://media.tumblr.com/ffb9b018422aac9eb057d35ef49f8c10/tumblr_inline_mk2ypc2OJn1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://media.tumblr.com/ffb9b018422aac9eb057d35ef49f8c10/tumblr_inline_mk2ypc2OJn1qz4rgp.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Or This:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://cdn03.cdn.socialitelife.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/abercrombie-fitch-quarterly-2010-06242010-08-435x580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cdn03.cdn.socialitelife.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/abercrombie-fitch-quarterly-2010-06242010-08-435x580.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
So I googled him to see what the god of skinny popular teenagers must look like...<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://cdn.lipstiq.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Michael-Jeffries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://cdn.lipstiq.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Michael-Jeffries.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And good for you, Mark Jeffries. I was worried when you told me I was uncool. But now I see, that you're just re-branding cool. Because 2013's cool is just a <a href="http://elitedaily.com/humor/the-10-most-ridiculous-things-mike-jeffries-ceo-of-abercrombie-fitch-has-said/" target="_blank">creepy looking middle aged man</a> marketing teeny tops to underage girls. I get it now...<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.jesush.com/i/mikejeffries_ericstoltz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="http://www.jesush.com/i/mikejeffries_ericstoltz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
You know what else I hear is cool? Being a dick. A exclusionary moron completely obsessed with physical appearance, with limited vocabulary, and ridiculous friends. Unless it lands you on reality television. Then it's a whole different situation.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://thefosburyflop.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/The-Situation1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://thefosburyflop.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/The-Situation1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-78634601881128905282013-05-02T08:24:00.000-05:002013-05-02T08:26:35.441-05:00MBFTIBMTTIF: Runaway Baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_pSbR4JOO7i89vTTZvDDt0t62JKphDyUH9rlp38pOElZHg1JWAMq1hKk-gf9MxO92zS0aitwG4D0I60mONGPkJz5YPMcIJoqeFA4cUBeYh0r26TCYC0U-QUf0YSidhKw57i2lQpVChU/s1600/picmonkey_image.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_pSbR4JOO7i89vTTZvDDt0t62JKphDyUH9rlp38pOElZHg1JWAMq1hKk-gf9MxO92zS0aitwG4D0I60mONGPkJz5YPMcIJoqeFA4cUBeYh0r26TCYC0U-QUf0YSidhKw57i2lQpVChU/s320/picmonkey_image.jpg" width="274" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Before we get started... please click this link. I'm in the mood to give this blog a soundtrack today.<br />
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/6Ww-8jvxT5Q?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Feeling good? Alright, let's start. With 17 days left til the race, I've got a lot to catch up on. Here was Week 8 in numbers.<br />
<br />
2.5 with a stroller.<br />
3 on a treadmill with wet feet.<br />
6.5 in the rain.<br />
8 in the snow.<br />
4 out of anger and confusion.<br />
All 18 miles out of choice.<br />
<br />
I
think I'm officially a runner. I signed up for this marathon out of a
desire to do something for me. All 18 of those miles were for me. Week 8
happened to be the week of the Boston bombing. That week, Monday's
miles were to cope with the shock. Friday wasn't much different. I've
been tossing ideas around in my head in regards to my feelings about the
event, and frankly, many other people have put my thoughts into words
in a prettier fashion and you should probably read <a href="http://milespergallentine.tumblr.com/post/48106764944/helping-each-other-cross-the-finish-line" target="_blank">this</a>, <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2013/04/you-may-leave-boston-but-boston-never-leaves-you/275018/" target="_blank">this</a>, or <a href="http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/lust-during-wartime" target="_blank">this</a>. (Okay, that last one is just hilarious.)<br />
<br />
Dealing
with the one year anniversary of a friend's passing, plus Boston, plus
the normal turbulent tumult of my ever transient twenties has made the
last few weeks less than excellent. But instead of bringing everyone
down further, I've made a small departure from my usual blogging style
and compiled a list of ten things that made me feel better over the last
few weeks -- hopefully some of them will lift your spirits as well.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
1.
RUNNING. On Monday, April 15, I ran through Diversey Harbor. Nay,
sprinted. I was angry at the news and I couldn't slow myself down until
after mile two. I was missing the Boston skyline and instead had this
insane view of Chicago midstorm. Boston in my heart, Chicago on the
horizon. And I felt better.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAoxz0B-Z18UBXKlTFltvvmUNypgxonLEJ3rVclR6aIZ4EjobSX8LVpTpUq35ihWqISSeSgtSQqr5JzKJO-CeVt6rv1TNWie01w6Wdli_e8eVCpFYG-c-AdBPCTbH0y06CvfFaj8eaP0/s1600/2013-04-15_18-35-14_881.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAoxz0B-Z18UBXKlTFltvvmUNypgxonLEJ3rVclR6aIZ4EjobSX8LVpTpUq35ihWqISSeSgtSQqr5JzKJO-CeVt6rv1TNWie01w6Wdli_e8eVCpFYG-c-AdBPCTbH0y06CvfFaj8eaP0/s640/2013-04-15_18-35-14_881.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/awesomer/reasons-kids-are-pretty-much-just-tiny-drunk-adults" target="_blank">THIS LINK</a> came
to me from my good friend Dani. As someone who is paid to look after a
tiny person, I can say that I have multiple experiences like this every
day. Henry is a fan of shutting himself in his dog's kennel. Why? I do
not know. But it makes me laugh each and every time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
3. <a href="http://www.goatking.com/?p=1041" target="_blank">TURTLE RACING</a>.
What's that you may ask? Exactly what it sounds like. Go to the bar.
Buy beer. Get tickets. If your ticket gets pulled you choose a turtle.
If that turtle wins the race, you get a free drink or a tshirt. We
didn't actually get to race a turtle but I'm 100% going back. It was
100% hilarious and 100% worth the beer I drank out of a solo cup. I
recommend this wholeheartedly. 100%.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4. OMG EDITH. Special shout out to <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/f6151058de8aeaf07b3fc1a7c9d1b36b/tumblr_mlqhctO8Cn1s1049vo1_400.gif" target="_blank">THE BLOG THAT PRODUCED THIS MEME.</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVOKLs_-ezM8C3ycjI0zLU1kXsNKpjKzvw6lPy1uv0zPAS0GEUOx-fmfV-5sjNxntaV_Gr96jnAkKu7rsfMgQ5DVuegOZw9Oj95FCNSzudOYQxrvBVt5Qxi7hfKyTSNWyuyqFDd2gjB8/s1600/2013-04-14_20-22-00_695.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVOKLs_-ezM8C3ycjI0zLU1kXsNKpjKzvw6lPy1uv0zPAS0GEUOx-fmfV-5sjNxntaV_Gr96jnAkKu7rsfMgQ5DVuegOZw9Oj95FCNSzudOYQxrvBVt5Qxi7hfKyTSNWyuyqFDd2gjB8/s320/2013-04-14_20-22-00_695.jpg" width="179" /></a><br />
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5.
EATING STUFF. Making good use of all of the food Chicago has to offer
also helped out over the last few weeks. Right now I'm trying to decide
which was better. Eating this Chi Dog Pizza at <a href="http://dimospizza.com/" target="_blank">Dimo's</a> or getting free rhubarb pie last week at <a href="http://www.bangbangpie.com/" target="_blank">Bang Bang</a>.
(Side note: Free pie officially makes us regulars! I've always wanted
to be a regular somewhere. Couldn't have picked a better spot to make
our own.) Shout out to Leor for being present on both food-tastic</div>
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occasions.</div>
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SERIOUSLY THOUGH GUYS. THAT'S CHICAGO DOG PIZZA.</div>
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6.
LOVE. Phone calls and texts with my loved ones. I spent so much time on
the phone during the week of the bombing. I talked to my parents,
my friends in Boston and beyond. And I was overwhelmed at the number of
texts I received asking if my family and friends in Boston were okay.
Thank you to everyone who looked out for me. I appreciate the gesture
more than you know. (Except I just told you, so now you know.)</div>
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7. SARA BAREILLES released a new single. Which means a new CD and another tour. Gosh this girl is incredible.</div>
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8. <a href="http://dailynewsdig.com/how-do-you-decide-who-to-marry-written-by-kids/" target="_blank">THIS ARTICLE.</a>
Please tell me these are real comments and not something made up by a
comedian. Please, please, please. Not sure you want to click one more
thing? This is a preview:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED<span style="font-size: small;">?</span> </span></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.<br />
- Derrick, age 8 </div>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
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HILARIOUS RIGHT!??! Get reading. </div>
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9.
CULOTTES. I'm happy to report that I've gotten a lot better at biking
since last year. But one thing that drives me crazy is always having to
wear shorts under my dresses and skirts while I bike. Well, thanks to
Target, my problem is solved! Check out these babies, you only THINK
they're a skirt. THEY'RE ACTUALLY SHORTS. Mine are adorable like this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYRegSmT8EYjHuwXnRTIl2h8gX5E7hBZx38Pfj4d6CkxJEDXBj6XxncDRBifTXXV_vX_d-Ij2D_kPnUPy08Nmv84zszfc9__wIthH5z8xUmIWDi8O62htXsAQyrbLIlad7HhmOgdb1Mg/s1600/4-up+on+2013-05-01+at+23.32.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYRegSmT8EYjHuwXnRTIl2h8gX5E7hBZx38Pfj4d6CkxJEDXBj6XxncDRBifTXXV_vX_d-Ij2D_kPnUPy08Nmv84zszfc9__wIthH5z8xUmIWDi8O62htXsAQyrbLIlad7HhmOgdb1Mg/s400/4-up+on+2013-05-01+at+23.32.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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10.
PRIDE. I've run with this hat a lot during the past few weeks, and all I
can say is, I'm so proud to be from Massachusetts. Proud, proud, proud.
And that's helped me getting through. (And yeah, that's Ollie the Owl
and me showing some Boston/Brandeis pride. And maybe a little sadness.)</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm5JwcAfepzhyIbdFyas0mlkfEz0rB2hWu6XOILt8nE4RJ7466dhKFGJz38c2cmhs55KQXGRCAZsX0SMvrdIjuGWj9IXkE8PVYq8h_LsNLHBX88csguLB-mhko55SsgTGDRwoIVOpO1A0/s1600/Photo+on+2013-04-19+at+11.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm5JwcAfepzhyIbdFyas0mlkfEz0rB2hWu6XOILt8nE4RJ7466dhKFGJz38c2cmhs55KQXGRCAZsX0SMvrdIjuGWj9IXkE8PVYq8h_LsNLHBX88csguLB-mhko55SsgTGDRwoIVOpO1A0/s320/Photo+on+2013-04-19+at+11.18.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PS - That's me trying to look disheartened. I realize now that I kind of
look like I'm saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Deal with it.</td></tr>
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Well, Erika, (you might be saying), that certainly was random. It sure was, dear readers. But here's what I've got. Messy things are going to happen every day. Sad things are going to happen every day. But so are the happy and the silly. So all I've got for now is -- just keep running. </div>
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Til next time my loves.</div>
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xoxo,<br />
E </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-69435070136546792522013-04-14T18:33:00.000-05:002013-04-14T18:33:34.045-05:00Number 48b: Borrow a motorcycle and take the driver's seat. (Or don't. One year later.) <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2012/04/number-48-borrow-motorcycle-and-take.html" target="_blank">Life is always now.</a><br />
<a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2012/04/number-48-borrow-motorcycle-and-take.html" target="_blank">-- Tennessee Williams</a><br />
<br />
I sat on my steps last night and looked at the sky. The night was cold enough to wear a coat but not so cold that I needed gloves. Living in the city, I don't often get to appreciate the stars, but I could see a few last night and all I could think was, the night can be beautiful. Quiet and silent and reflective. There's something cleansing about spring time. The fact that we've made it through the winter and are about to be rewarded. Even a cold rain is a sign of growth, a passage of time. No matter how cold and miserable the rain, we can be glad that it's not snow. There are all sorts of sayings that go along with this time of year - March goes in like a lion, out like a lamb. April showers bring May flowers. We celebrate holidays about freedom and rebirth. We remember that life is cyclical.<br />
<br />
We remember that life is now. I made several phone calls to people I love yesterday. I thought about the little things. And today I made sure I did some little things. I went to the gym, cleaned my room, ate a banana muffin. Tonight I will see a comedy show tonight with some friends. <br />
<br />
I'm making sure I laugh today. Because I can't think of any other way to honor Dan than with laughter. My mom loves to tell a story about my high school graduation party. We were making a whirlpool in my parents' above ground pool. It was mostly my friends but a couple of young kids belonging to the neighbors were there as well. If you're not familiar with the concept of the whirlpool, you basically get a bunch of people to run in a circle around the perimeter until the water starts moving so fast in the same direction that you can lift your feet and float. In a circle. It might sound stupid but I love that feeling - you have little control, you are literally "going with the flow." One of the kids from next door was too small and got sucked under the current. My mom noticed from the deck, but before she could even shout out a warning, Dan just reached down, pulled this child out of the water and kept running. Somewhere in a high school scrapbook, there's a photo of this moment. And the thing I remember most from the photo is that we are all laughing.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I feel like I'm floating in a huge whirlpool,
and there are definitely times when I feel like I've gotten sucked
under. But my friends always pull me back to the surface. Tomorrow marks my one year anniversary in Chicago, and despite all of the friends I've made here, those bonds are new. Some will last, some will not. But there are people who will always be a part of my life, and these people are part of memories I will hold forever.<br />
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There's nothing we can do about the events that took place a year ago today. But we can do our best to remember. Remember that life is short. Remember those people who are important to us -- even when you've fallen out of touch. Remember to laugh. <br />
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I'm thinking of you today, Dan. I think of you often. Laugh on, my friend. Laugh on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXKve-oHC-ows5VoF1pRqdkDTFkmWdZstALm2m_xkVnW_W3F_eBCmX9oxNhyphenhyphenzSbFIsvUUNfI7o3uyFBW2imvhmFtxXha-nCy77J3hiIcN1_-wHwt_n7J_-lFDFpDrcLzdvma-7u2zOnE/s1600/TheCove.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXKve-oHC-ows5VoF1pRqdkDTFkmWdZstALm2m_xkVnW_W3F_eBCmX9oxNhyphenhyphenzSbFIsvUUNfI7o3uyFBW2imvhmFtxXha-nCy77J3hiIcN1_-wHwt_n7J_-lFDFpDrcLzdvma-7u2zOnE/s400/TheCove.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-bowling at The Cove, Summer 2006</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-60838649387180462412013-03-27T15:27:00.002-05:002013-03-27T15:28:09.414-05:00Number 58: Start a campaign (Or Join One -- Erika Jumps on the HRC Bandwagon)Like many of you, I awoke yesterday morning to find my Facebook news feed filled with stories about changed profile pictures. A number of my friends had changed their profile picture to show this graphic brought to you by the <a href="http://humanrightscampaign.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Human Rights Campaign</a>:<br />
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<a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/9e8bfae1d59e631ad18ca3a3eebc09f1/tumblr_mk9zjzt0kZ1r2fldao1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/9e8bfae1d59e631ad18ca3a3eebc09f1/tumblr_mk9zjzt0kZ1r2fldao1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you follow me regularly, you may have noticed that I rarely blog about anything political. I have my views, but I don't often post them for all to see, read, refute... However, you will also know that what I do write about is <i><b>emotions</b></i>. I try to speak from the heart, and what I saw on Facebook yesterday spoke TO my heart. Because when I realized I was having difficulty distinguishing my friends in my news feed, the beauty of the solidarity in changing my picture hit me.<br />
<br />
Those fighting in Washington this week in support of same-sex marriage are sending one simple message. We are all people, we may not all love the same way, but we all love. And we know how important love is to our happiness. I happen to be a woman who is attracted to men, but on my screen, I am now indistinguishable from close to half of my Facebook friends -- men who are attracted to men, men who are attracted to women, women who are attracted to women, people who love LOVE and want to say, "One love is not greater than another."<br />
<br />
Then came the statuses mocking the sweeping change of profile pictures. I understand your point of view of what appears to be "jumping on the bandwagon" but the point is really, in this decision where nine people will decide who has the right to marry, the world is saying this is how we feel. As evidenced in <a href="http://newsfeed.time.com/2013/03/26/what-is-the-red-equal-sign-all-over-facebook-and-twitter/" target="_blank">this tweet I stole from a TIME article...</a> <br />
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<div class="root standalone-tweet ltr twitter-tweet not-touch" data-twitter-event-id="1" dir="ltr" id="twitter-widget-3" lang="en">
<blockquote cite="https://twitter.com/mollyfitz/status/316581235709325312" class="tweet subject expanded h-entry" data-tweet-id="316581235709325312">
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<a class="u-url profile" href="https://twitter.com/mollyfitz">
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<span class="full-name">
<span class="p-name customisable-highlight">Molly Fitzpatrick</span>
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<span class="p-nickname" dir="ltr">@<b>mollyfitz</b></span>
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Hurry up and change your Facebook profile pictures for marriage
equality! The Supreme Court Justices are tallying them all up right now!</div>
<div class="dateline">
<a class="u-url customisable-highlight long-permalink" data-datetime="2013-03-26T16:03:43+0000" href="https://twitter.com/mollyfitz/statuses/316581235709325312">
<time class="dt-updated" datetime="2013-03-26T16:03:43+0000" pubdate="" title="Time posted: 26 Mar 2013, 16:03:43 (UTC)">4:03 PM - 26 Mar 13</time>
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...<a href="http://www.theonion.com/articles/i-get-to-determine-whether-gay-people-can-marry,30684/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=SocialMarketing&utm_campaign=standard-post:headline:default" target="_blank">Clarence Thomas</a> may not "like" George Takei's profile picture tonight on Facebook, but in this time of social media inundation, I think articles like this one will indeed pass through their minds before the end of the hearings. (Although if you ask <a href="http://www.ellentv.com/2013/02/28/ellens-brief-to-the-supreme-court" target="_blank">Ellen</a> you might get a different opinion.) One of the biggest debates in this case is whether or not this is a decision that should be left up to The Supreme Court or whether is should be decided by the states, and by the people. Well, here are the people speaking up. This is how we fight nowadays, via Facebook and Twitter and Blogger. Via a constantly updated news stream on NYT and HuffPost and Fox News. So, yes, I do believe the justices are listening. We're shouting -- til we're red in the face (or at least the profile picture) -- that marriage is a basic right given to us by our status as US citizens.<br />
<br />
In listening to NPR yesterday afternoon, a number of sound bites (Or is it bytes? I'm not quite that tech savvy.) were thrown around. I would highly recommend the NYT's compilation of these quotes <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2013/03/26/us/supreme-court-same-sex-marriage-prop-8.html?hp" target="_blank">here</a>. One of the bites that I found most interesting, was the discussion on what the effects of same-sex marriage are on the children of these marriages, and why NOW is the time to address this issue. (Check out 'Newer than Cell Phones' and 'Crossed that River' for these particular instances.) I'm not a lawyer or a sociologist or a mother. But I spend my days around children and I see children interact with their various caretakers all day long. And what I see is, the children who are treated with love, are the children who are the happiest (and this often coincides with being well behaved and most certainly with contentment). Children only want to be loved. There is a question of, "Won't it be harder for them to to grow up in a family that is different?" These families are only different because we define them as such. Once a stigma is lost, we stop being afraid and we learn to accept. Or as a wise man once said,<br />
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I don't have all of the answers. I wish I could make a sweeping argument over the course of this blog that would make the decision easier in the coming weeks, but this is my opinion and for now that's all I've got. Because I am an American woman and I have a right to my opinion. Because the constitution protects me and my right to not only have one, but to speak it proudly. I mean, you are talking to a girl who became a feminist in the fourth grade when she dressed up as Elizabeth Cady Stanton for a class project. And when that same girl took some women's studies classes in college, she learned that the most commonly used term for feminist nowadays is this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="ssens">A third wave of feminism arose in the late 20th
century and was notable for challenging middle-class white feminists and
for broadening feminism's goals to encompass equal rights for all
people regardless of race, creed, economic or educational status,
physical appearance or ability, or sexual preference.</span> <span class="ssens"><a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/feminism" target="_blank">-- Merriam-Webster's definition, as well as the one I learned in college</a> </span></blockquote>
Equal rights for all people. ALL PEOPLE. If I could recommend you read one more article today, it would be the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/24/sports/football/scott-fujita-acceptance-by-example-in-locker-room-and-at-home.html?pagewanted=all" target="_blank">essay published yesterday by Cleveland Browns' linebacker, Scott Fujita</a>. He's a pro-athlete, ally, and adopted child to a mixed-race couple. It's quite well-written and it makes a clear, valid argument on the case for gay marriage, but also on the importance of family, and looking back at our nation's history. This isn't the first time a group of people has had to fight for a basic right and it won't be the last. Even if the only way you are able to show your support right now is a small, pink equal sign on your Facebook page, you should be proud of yourself. You are a part of history.<br />
<br />
As always, remember to spread some love today.<br />
xoxo.<br />
EAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-60423255622235092702013-03-22T10:35:00.003-05:002013-03-22T10:35:42.407-05:00Number 17: Go commando<div style="text-align: center;">
Okay, everyone is thinking it so I'm just going to come out and say it. My posts have been a little emotional lately. And long. I like to write, but I also started this blog to do something fun. So, this will be short. Here is what I have to say about Task Number 17. </div>
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I tried this. <span style="font-size: large;">I do not like it.</span> It's like... underpants were created for a reason. (I'm just NOT Jon Hamm, okay?! Stop with the pressure.)</div>
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The end.</div>
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(Except how could I end WITHOUT showing this clip?!)<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-44709272868443383542013-03-21T11:26:00.003-05:002013-03-21T11:26:48.217-05:00#ActorProblems: The Onion Was Right About Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pTsIJDREZd7sowys9mhGucUxUGxLo-_yGibJMjKvBhPDMzwtQZ3I9FVCpFhutBAVZPwcsU5V3X665bfHyn3WM7ERudKmWxqTJw0Hn_Jsl65B0plZ4tlCYK1yIiG-vy87qEJ_5lXDdhc/s1600/actorsprobs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pTsIJDREZd7sowys9mhGucUxUGxLo-_yGibJMjKvBhPDMzwtQZ3I9FVCpFhutBAVZPwcsU5V3X665bfHyn3WM7ERudKmWxqTJw0Hn_Jsl65B0plZ4tlCYK1yIiG-vy87qEJ_5lXDdhc/s400/actorsprobs.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
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Friends, Romans, Actors, lend me your ears. And eyes. If you haven't already read <a href="http://www.theonion.com/articles/find-the-thing-youre-most-passionate-about-then-do,31742/?ref=auto" target="_blank">THIS</a> article from The Onion, I recommend you do that now. Seriously. You. Go. Read. Now.<br />
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Okay. Now raise your hand and tell me if that accurately describes your life. Well, here I am raising both hands because that is 100% me. What's your deal, Onion? Stop understanding me so well. Or making fun of me so well, something like that. <br />
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When I introduce myself to people and they ask me what I do, I reply, "I'm an actress." Their next question is always, "So what have you been in?"<span style="font-size: large;"> Never ask an actor that question.</span> Then we have to go through this story about the business and how it works and you're just breaking in to the scene here and yada yada yada. I understand why that's your first question, but just don't ask it. When you tell me you're in advertising, I don't ask, "Have you produced anything I might have seen?" Because the thing about most of us is, we've done a lot of work, it just might not be something you recognize and we don't feel like having to explain to you why what we HAVE DONE is meaningful to us.<br />
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I do not have an Oscar. I do not care if I ever win an Oscar. I feel accomplished. I still have a dream, and sometimes I only spend 10% of my day working on that dream. But it's a dream nonetheless. And that's a major thing I've got to hold onto right now. This may not work out. But you may also never be CEO of your organization. So, there's that. Sometimes I feel guilty that I don't want to go out and "change the world." But I think that I do help make the world a little better by bringing some art and some emotion into it.<br />
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If no one ever dreamed, life would be boring. There would be no Picasso. There would be no polio vaccine. We wouldn't have a black president. Hell, there wouldn't even be a United States to have a black president of. And you better believe I'm excited to write a post about our first female president. <span style="font-size: large;">So what I'm saying is, yep, Onion, you got me. I bust my butt at two different jobs to afford my acting pursuits. But we all dream that we'll be happy in our careers one day, so freelance writer for The Onion that also works at Starbucks on the weekends, you got me again.</span> I've got a lot of #ActorProblems, but my ability to dream certainly isn't one. I know this rant is getting long, so I'll end with this because I'm feeling a little passionate (And defensive? Why am I always so defensive about this?) right now. <br />
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A college student recently asked me for advice about setting out into this world of theatre. This is what I said.<br />
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"Nothing happens quickly in this business. The percentage of people
who have that lucky "big break" is very small but the number of people
making money working in facets of the industry is large. And there is no
right way to get there and no right place to end up. Your path will
take you places you never dreamed. Follow
your own agenda. Don't take a job just because you're scared another one
won't come along. (Because it will.) If something doesn't compel you,
it's not worth your time and energy. In other words, be true to
yourself. </div>
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Okay, so that's the advice from the practical side
of me. Here's my advice from the artist in me. If writing is your
passion, NEVER STOP DOING IT."<br />
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I know I won't. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-16446832405139793522013-03-20T11:31:00.000-05:002013-03-20T11:31:48.882-05:00Number 51: Try An Extreme Sport<div style="text-align: center;">
I grew up on a ski team. From the time I could walk, my parents strapped two planks to my feet, brought me to the top of a mountain, and said "go." I've had my fair share of race-related thrills, nerves, and injuries. </div>
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None of that compares to the world of Adult Intramural Dodgeball.</div>
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I'd like to think of our team as one out of your typical underdog movie. A rag tag group of players enters a tournament to save their beloved gym from being taken over my a huge conglomerate. Wait, that's already been done you say? Okay, what about, an ex-baseball player, current alcoholic coaches his son's team of misfits in order to prove that if you've got some heart, you can play some ball. Oh, that's also a movie? With two terrible sequels and a kind of decent remake? Well, what about a small group of strangers that came together as some sort of respite from this cold Chicago winter and somehow became friends? Oh, okay. There is it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, that's me fixing my hair while everyone else gets ready to play.</td></tr>
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Our injury count was high, and the number in the wins column was low, but we had a hell of a time playing. I guess I realize why my parents put me on a ski team as a kid. A team brings you together. You make friends. In this case, I also learned a thing or two about adults. There were weeks we played with other teams that were just out there for the fun of it, and then there were weeks where we played against the most competitive group of grown ups to ever assembled gather-and-throw-things-at-other-adults. I'm really not kidding when I say that I'm pretty sure Jaws was on the other team one week.<br />
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But I digress. I was talking about making friends, not putting up with people who never learned how to be good sports. Or why it's not fair to draft a Bond villain. As I approach my one year anniversary in the city, I'm hyperaware of the life I've built for myself here and that includes the wonderful people I've chosen to surround myself with. With each new thing I decide to try I realize that no one is ever in a position to turn down friends, and I'll also suggest that if you ever get the chance to join a dodgeball team, say yes.<br />
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I think Team Super Stretch Armstrong will rise again.</div>
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And if we don't, at least we know how to throw a heck of an after party. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-28888709384677333042013-03-14T15:06:00.000-05:002013-03-14T15:06:46.078-05:00MBFTIBMTTIF: Ten Weeks to the Half<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well friends, <span style="font-size: small;">h<span style="font-size: small;">ere I am, ten weeks from <span style="font-size: small;">my first half-marathon and making good on my promise to rebrand <span style="font-size: small;">my blog. <span style="font-size: small;">I've <span style="font-size: small;">come a long way s<span style="font-size: small;">ince I bought <span style="font-size: small;">that <span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2013/01/number-35-run-for-worthy-cause-and-for.html" target="_blank">new pair of r</a><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2013/01/number-35-run-for-worthy-cause-and-for.html" target="_blank">unning shoes</a>. Literally<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">. Since February 23 (our first official day of <span style="font-size: small;">training), I've logged 35 miles, and will complete an additional 9 b<span style="font-size: small;">y the end of the weekend. I'm pretty proud of myself seeing as I<span style="font-size: small;">'ve never considered <span style="font-size: small;">myself to be a runner before. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I did a little research<span style="font-size: small;"> (<span style="font-size: small;">you can take th<span style="font-size: small;">e girl out of Brandeis...</span>)<span style="font-size: small;">, and discovered that not only i<span style="font-size: small;">s the half-marathon (<span style="font-size: small;">that<span style="font-size: small;">'s 13.1 miles for those of you who don't know<span style="font-size: small;">) is the <a href="http://www.runningusa.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=news.details&ArticleId=333&returnTo=annual-reports" target="_blank">"fastest <span style="font-size: small;">g</span></a></span></span></span></span></span></span><a href="http://www.runningusa.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=news.details&ArticleId=333&returnTo=annual-reports" target="_blank">rowing r</a><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.runningusa.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=news.details&ArticleId=333&returnTo=annual-reports" target="_blank">oad </a><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.runningusa.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=news.details&ArticleId=333&returnTo=annual-reports" target="_blank">race distance in the United States</a><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.runningusa.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=news.details&ArticleId=333&returnTo=annual-reports" target="_blank">,"</a> but that 59% <span style="font-size: small;">of the people <span style="font-size: small;">who r<span style="font-size: small;">un<span style="font-size: small;"> half marathons are <span style="font-size: large;">women</span>. Most of them are <span style="font-size: small;">in the 35-44 age bracket, with the second <span style="font-size: small;">highest concentration of ladies b<span style="font-size: small;">e<span style="font-size: small;">tween</span></span> 25-34 years old.* The mo<span style="font-size: small;">re people I <span style="font-size: small;">talk to about running this race, the more people tell me that they are currently training for a half or have run one in <span style="font-size: small;">the past. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>It seems amazing to me that so many people a year put themselves through the training - mentally and physically to run such a distance. And now I'm one of them. </div>
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So I've got my <a href="http://www.halhigdon.com/training/51131/Half-Marathon-Novice-1-Training-Program" target="_blank">schedule</a>, my flashy shoes, and my GPS watch is supposed to come in the mail tomorrow. But what's it all for? I've spent a bunch of money on gear and thrown myself out on the street to run four times a week. But why?<span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've already told you that I need <span style="font-size: small;">s<span style="font-size: small;">ome "me time". But <span style="font-size: small;">while I sta<span style="font-size: small;">nd <span style="font-size: small;">before you as a coordinat<span style="font-size: small;">ed<span style="font-size: small;">, </span>athle<span style="font-size: small;">tic (ha!)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span>26-year-old, I often need to remind myself of what happened to six-year-old Erika. As a kid, I couldn't run in a straight line. I don't mean by choice...</div>
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<a href="http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2011/11/11/family-circus_footsteps_wide-5728b2e29f79dad321bd09d0c1acaa867e16052c-s6-c10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2011/11/11/family-circus_footsteps_wide-5728b2e29f79dad321bd09d0c1acaa867e16052c-s6-c10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...but I mean I was physically unable to run in a straight line. I was slower and less coordinated than your average child. You can imagine how rough a game of tag was -- I was "it" until someone took pity on me and let me tag them. In late elementary/early middle school, my parents sent me to my first ever personal trainer to literally learn how to run. (This one didn't think I was fat, but I doubt he thought I'd ever run a half marathon either.) Now, I'm not saying this incident scarred me for life. Trust me, I know a lot of people have it much worse off than that. (Plus, I grew out of it once hitting puberty.) But on some level, it made me aware very early in life that I wasn't meant to be a competitive athlete. And it wasn't for lack of trying, but I just didn't get that gene.<br />
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But somehow, here I am, ten weeks away from a 13.1 mile ROAD RACE and I'm feeling pretty good about my training. It has been almost a year since I moved to Chicago and in the past year I have experienced some of the largest changes in my life. I feel like I've been moving towards a major goal, and adding this race to the list of things I've tried in the past year is exciting. My longest run to date is 5.5 miles, I'll do 6 this weekend, and I find myself actually excited to go out for a run each week. And still, there's more. This race has actually given me a physical goal to reach for, not just an intangible one like, "I want to audition more." And I actually think (gasp) this might be making me a more well-rounded person. You know, while simultaneously making me a less round person.<br />
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Plus, I get to drink a large glass of chocolate milk at the end of every run, so there's that.<br />
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See you on the streets.</div>
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xoxo. </div>
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*Look! There's a bibliography right <a href="http://www.runningusa.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=news.details&ArticleId=333&returnTo=annual-reports" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-63929669661673932682013-03-12T15:13:00.000-05:002013-03-12T15:13:26.961-05:00Number 66: Rebrand Yourself<div style="text-align: center;">
Ladies and Gents - we are now 71 days into 2013 and it's been about that long since I promised you a rebrand. Well, here it is. When I <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2010/08/welcome-to-my-sort-of-bucket-list.html" target="_blank">started this blog in 2010</a>, it all had to do with <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2010/08/list.html" target="_blank">one list of 65 things</a>. I was going to try and accomplish them all in a year, I didn't succeed but I learned a lot about blogging and about myself. As time as continued, <a href="http://amerikan-girl.blogspot.com/2012/04/number-62-head-to-airport-and-fly.html" target="_blank">I've gotten better at blogging</a> on a more regular basis, but I've still found it hard to stick within my original parameters. So here it it -- I'm going to add some new segments to the list. Introducing my first two!</div>
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The first new segment is dedicated to training for my first ever half-marathon. I've currently living a single girl lifestyle (happily and by choice), but it doesn't mean that I can't rely on the opinions of some really wonderful gentlemen that I've dated in the past to fuel this title. I mean, who hasn't felt like this?! </div>
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I have a lot of these so get ready. And yes, I'm hashtagging that. All the kids are doing it. I think. Tune in Thursday to see the first rebranded post EVER. (Well, if you're not counting this one.)<br />
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xoxo,<br />
Erika</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-53890277017769473752013-02-21T00:14:00.001-06:002013-02-21T00:14:09.624-06:00Number 30: Try on very expensive clothes in a boutique you know you can't afford (And then decide you can!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSM6YyEwvNdJRGbEHEH3zmuntNSc4TuPqvcaEihdUK7vlo1n6jUiJuxHyOi_5kXwd-8fv9KM43Dfib8Hprsl1iyjXSaVeewCw7tA99y93mQKOBSG-0gZyqJDKxY4lypGn59nIECe8P_k/s1600/JorErSF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSM6YyEwvNdJRGbEHEH3zmuntNSc4TuPqvcaEihdUK7vlo1n6jUiJuxHyOi_5kXwd-8fv9KM43Dfib8Hprsl1iyjXSaVeewCw7tA99y93mQKOBSG-0gZyqJDKxY4lypGn59nIECe8P_k/s320/JorErSF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
An often told story exists from our college days - a friend was introducing Jordan and me to a group at a party. In her inebriated state the friend announced, "This is Erika, she's a talented actress. This is Jordan, she has nice clothes." We've consistently laughed over this story, but the fact remains that some of my first memories of Jordan included me complimenting her clothes. (We first bonded over a pair of
pencil-shaped earrings she had.) She is the first friend in history that
I could remember borrowing her clothes. At 18, this was a huge deal for
me. I never had sisters, and none of my high school friends had a
similar body type to mine. According to the movies, I had found a best
friend. Some one to share clothes and secrets with. At the time, I
appreciated this as a milestone. I had no idea where that friendship
would head.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13uQ9emTCyrVIrBGfThnU6dJ4VeLyIvEVIYHv25LCeCObA0zVphgX1Ai9woVr0t1BETQ4tZ8vAGiCN8lTR5ntKEi9SYt6LDrqjTp3jpUIFPMeSULL85l_Cnf7EOHGEJFmuqgUEJ9vv0U/s1600/2013-02-15_12-01-07_257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13uQ9emTCyrVIrBGfThnU6dJ4VeLyIvEVIYHv25LCeCObA0zVphgX1Ai9woVr0t1BETQ4tZ8vAGiCN8lTR5ntKEi9SYt6LDrqjTp3jpUIFPMeSULL85l_Cnf7EOHGEJFmuqgUEJ9vv0U/s200/2013-02-15_12-01-07_257.jpg" width="111" /></a>Jordan and I were randomly placed on the same hall freshman year. A random assignment put us on that hall, but time did the rest. From September 2005 to May 2010, Jordan and I lived no more than a staircase apart from each other. We shared more than clothes during that period of time. We went through good times -- birthdays and first loves and long lunches in the dining hall. We went through tough times -- heartbreaks and hospital stays and lost friends. We went through the best times -- lazy nights on the couch watching tv, midnight conversations in our college lounge about the future, and heated drives to the drugstore because our apartment was too cold and we were too cheap to turn on the heat.<br />
<br />
And it killed me when she moved to San Francisco in Spring 2010, but saying goodbye to my roommate was just that. Just because she stopped being my roommate, didn't mean she stopped being my best friend. But distance is hard. None of us live in that Boston apartment any more, and, to put it eloquently, being apart sucks. I miss my girlfriends daily, but every once in awhile, we get to see each other. Because having a best friend means buying a plane ticket so you can be with her on Valentine's Day. Having a best friend turns spending a weekend doing "nothing special" into the most special thing in the world. And even when you aren't able to see each other for two years, having a best friend means picking up where you left off. Because while Jordan DOES have nice clothes, it is the characteristic that defines her the least. She is so full of love and life. She is one of the strongest women that I know. She is one of the most giving people that I'll ever meet and that allows her to love fiercely. And THAT is why I am proud to call her my best friend.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THAT <span style="font-size: x-large;">BEING SAID...</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6O2Dc4KnVkd3q38biJ-yfmtpBLpuV_WNCOXb4hjCO9iPkBHw1C1bgZpDjc4dgPnHBQPNZHWk4dA7QHJHvnY0Pe5TvSKVbwMR_GGEh8KkrhNek-xHkoiWQUgzGb0UTOr8z9zWddlR8VE/s1600/2013-02-15_12-05-10_90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6O2Dc4KnVkd3q38biJ-yfmtpBLpuV_WNCOXb4hjCO9iPkBHw1C1bgZpDjc4dgPnHBQPNZHWk4dA7QHJHvnY0Pe5TvSKVbwMR_GGEh8KkrhNek-xHkoiWQUgzGb0UTOr8z9zWddlR8VE/s320/2013-02-15_12-05-10_90.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi119hvKELBGHdnTaICYBN9QxPncYVLLWHZ7U5CVYnK0TLBxYeDSG63ugOPBmBEnPsY2ij4GwJymsrkaE_4FDE4UhUIUxjUU03YX3KKGsVnbhkcg_-1aKkMt2nl3daLmYNrrGUFlPfNKEg/s1600/2013-02-15_12-11-02_134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi119hvKELBGHdnTaICYBN9QxPncYVLLWHZ7U5CVYnK0TLBxYeDSG63ugOPBmBEnPsY2ij4GwJymsrkaE_4FDE4UhUIUxjUU03YX3KKGsVnbhkcg_-1aKkMt2nl3daLmYNrrGUFlPfNKEg/s200/2013-02-15_12-11-02_134.jpg" width="112" /></a>Wearing a
sundress in 70* weather IN FEBRUARY while you shop with such a fashion maven is a dangerous combination. And if you've never witnessed us together, I should warn you that we enable each other. So while our weekend was full of hiking and gorgeous scenery... we also made a few off season purchases in a trendy little boutique called <a href="http://www.azaleasf.com/#view=grid&item=&search=*&currIndex=0&pageSize=60&currSort=score&sortDirection=desc" target="_blank">Azalea</a> in San Francisco. And while we attempted to "just try on clothes for fun" we each left the shop with a to-die-for-dress and the same top. (I mean, we had to find a silver lining to being half a country apart, right?!) I ended up with the polka dots. Jordan didn't buy that (faux!) fur coat. And it was a weekend to remember. It might be a good thing we only see each other once every two years... or our bank accounts might never recover. ;)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFIOlynY9WQ-fIbqvhjPNuY69Ym5XG0_z7qeJJYU6lWz7qCg-m7hIkJdG2OZhuVkk5dqQR3ztBKdZPwAs6uQ9wBs2-sa3byAozTPi7W43udEZChOXUOwsC6XQ-x1C3l58AVeMo4p5upc/s1600/2013-02-15_12-18-48_531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFIOlynY9WQ-fIbqvhjPNuY69Ym5XG0_z7qeJJYU6lWz7qCg-m7hIkJdG2OZhuVkk5dqQR3ztBKdZPwAs6uQ9wBs2-sa3byAozTPi7W43udEZChOXUOwsC6XQ-x1C3l58AVeMo4p5upc/s320/2013-02-15_12-18-48_531.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXaE3cQlCcz39IXjHG8VXqpM2tdyRoeoEmtjT_l_UYCMKeMqZMg0Dmq_LzpVGhQB-6EtQcMByVOx6IvvENMx0n0JCA5N8Trb7pk5jThggsaBdyg7hEjFkgW4F-jNLAcjStDlvak-6wpo/s1600/2013-02-16_16-55-56_518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXaE3cQlCcz39IXjHG8VXqpM2tdyRoeoEmtjT_l_UYCMKeMqZMg0Dmq_LzpVGhQB-6EtQcMByVOx6IvvENMx0n0JCA5N8Trb7pk5jThggsaBdyg7hEjFkgW4F-jNLAcjStDlvak-6wpo/s320/2013-02-16_16-55-56_518.jpg" width="180" /></a> As usual, while I set off to do something fun with this blog, I learned a lesson in the process. So here's your Erika-advice for the day. Life is short. When you find someone you love, soak up as much time with them as you can. And if you absolutely have to buy a sundress in the process, it's a small price to pay for a memory.<br />
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xoxo,<br />
E </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-25767002488081913312013-01-30T09:06:00.002-06:002013-01-30T09:06:13.287-06:00Number 35: Run For A Worthy Cause (And For Yourself)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zT117Rv7HYZtdC9dvqxcRxMAlEu_hOm_VLOh718DE2aeaccMyP13cQ2RqlFy_nE5l3XM3ab_SFvjSynF9JLUJFwf7YttPmgdsdRjcnNrSOfmQFrzWS7GXOnDa1YNIFCDvdD2NQpZpDQ/s1600/2013-01-27_15-13-47_945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zT117Rv7HYZtdC9dvqxcRxMAlEu_hOm_VLOh718DE2aeaccMyP13cQ2RqlFy_nE5l3XM3ab_SFvjSynF9JLUJFwf7YttPmgdsdRjcnNrSOfmQFrzWS7GXOnDa1YNIFCDvdD2NQpZpDQ/s400/2013-01-27_15-13-47_945.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nervous - so hot right now.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I almost got washed away on my way to spinning yesterday evening (seriously - it looked like a full blown monsoon out there) but I made it to the gym anyway. Yesterday was the perfect day to avoid the gym and one of the toughest (but greatest) spin instructors I've ever had, but I dragged myself out there anyway. EIGHT PEOPLE showed up amidst the rain. Last week, the instructor had to give away his bike we had so many people trying to get in. EIGHT. So making it there was already an accomplishment, but I started thinking about why I go to class every week.<br />
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In the fall of 2010, I went through a break up. The relationship wasn't a long one, but it had been an uber-concentrated one. You know the type, a few weeks of intensity where the two of you literally do everything together and your friends start to wonder where this guy even came from and how long he'd be sticking around. I didn't see the break up coming and it hit me hard. So I hit the treadmill. Harder. I got over the heartbreak and into great shape. I ran my first 5k that fall... then stopped running for awhile. Started again. Hurt my back. Stopped. Moved to Chicago. And I started running again. A lot of change happened really quickly and I went through a lot of emotional ups and downs in those first weeks here. Running helped. Lake Michigan was gorgeous and I looked forward to checking out the city and clearing my head. And then it got hot... so I stopped again.<br />
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Last week, over a drink, one of my girlfriends asked me to run <a href="http://www.chicagospringhalf.com/">The Chicago Spring Half Marathon</a> with her. Maybe I should have said no - she's run three halfs before and I've never run more than seven miles at once. Plus, I'm definitely not in the best shape currently. But maybe it was our dodgeball high (that's another story...) or the beer hit me quickly, but I agreed to do it. And the next day, instead of regretting my decision and bailing, I found myself excited. And ready to train. Why?<br />
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Because the idea of completing a test of will and endurance reminds me what I'm out here to do. Sometimes I have bad days and I wonder if I'll ever make money on stage. Heck, at this point I'm wondering if someone is ever going to put me ON STAGE. I've yet to be cast in full length show here and while I know it takes time, I'm anxious. So anxious for something to happen. Anything to happen. So in the meantime, I will remind myself that <a href="http://colabtheatre.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-marathon-not-sprint.html">this career is a marathon, not a sprint</a>. I'm still new here and I need to be patient, as hard as that is. And while I continue to audition and network, I will run. <br />
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For me.</div>
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Because spin class will go on whether I trek through the rain or not. But I go for me. Because that hour is mine and mine alone. And sometimes when my lungs are staging a coup d'etat, that aerobic pain has the ability to banish all of the bad thoughts from the day and suddenly the only thing on my mind is -- when the hell is this song going to be over?! And it's nice to have an hour where everything truly melts away. </div>
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I never thought that I would EVER run a half marathon. EVER. But on May 19, three of my girlfriends and I will run 13.1 miles for the <a href="http://www.braintumorinstitute.org/home/index.cfm">Northwestern Brain Tumor Institute</a>. I'd like to say that we chose the half because of the charity, but we didn't. We just wanted to run. So for now I'll just say that I'm glad we're running for a worthy cause, but I'm especially glad I'm running for me.<br />
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I won't steal my <a href="http://almondjay.com/">bestie's blog idea</a> (and you better believe I'm a little bit running for her as well), but you'll be able to follow my progress on my blog as I continue. Because right now, All I Wanna Do is finish the 13.1 miles. And (since technology is crazy) on the day of the race, you'll be able to see where I am on the course via Twitter. How cool (read: terrifying) is that?! We don't officially start training until March, but I've got a few goals of my own to hit before then. For now, I'll probably just update you on the new gear I buy. Like these cool kicks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzVk8Xuo-7BFpcRefgy2EErm8WMTmRrCwcDfd8UDwmv9GtWrxeV6cAn2J2ST3w11Vkzs0qIG4Ue9R02ZAI2bW9_2JTgd0sbh7Nm4AYlaSt9W8TM4Obrfz0Nv3PEwfBVImK_QdzqOjbXE/s1600/2013-01-29_23-13-26_837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzVk8Xuo-7BFpcRefgy2EErm8WMTmRrCwcDfd8UDwmv9GtWrxeV6cAn2J2ST3w11Vkzs0qIG4Ue9R02ZAI2bW9_2JTgd0sbh7Nm4AYlaSt9W8TM4Obrfz0Nv3PEwfBVImK_QdzqOjbXE/s320/2013-01-29_23-13-26_837.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Cat not included.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFfFDWvYVohulNufJOO8_j4-YXqBlLzO-jaEe7yZriSqXH-2OmOkdV-vVP5mwZnY-9AJ0MRsO1Qo5r6PxsOb8cvuikDhKd3K-L-tnsyJN5z3XMsZUzStfdDc5NYeMnUZGD5DJI9oX1Nk/s1600/2013-01-27_15-16-14_974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFfFDWvYVohulNufJOO8_j4-YXqBlLzO-jaEe7yZriSqXH-2OmOkdV-vVP5mwZnY-9AJ0MRsO1Qo5r6PxsOb8cvuikDhKd3K-L-tnsyJN5z3XMsZUzStfdDc5NYeMnUZGD5DJI9oX1Nk/s320/2013-01-27_15-16-14_974.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Happy trails!<br />
E<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-15182210493590205422013-01-17T19:14:00.000-06:002013-01-29T23:33:09.938-06:00Number 39d: The Facebook Fast - Day Four Recap<div style="text-align: center;">
Well, kids... tomorrow at noon I'll be back on Facebook. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>How do I feel about this past week?</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.wordstream.com/images/facebook-vs-google-advertising.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="http://www.wordstream.com/images/facebook-vs-google-advertising.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Would I do this again?</b></span></div>
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Absolutely.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Is there a chance that I might just not reactivate tomorrow?</b></span></div>
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Yes... but I'm also kind of wondering what you've all been up to all week. :) Thanks for hanging in there with me!</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Do I still have plans to own a french <span style="font-size: large;">bulldog and name i<span style="font-size: large;">t K<span style="font-size: large;">EVINBACON</span></span></span>?</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRNWhYCZLqshCG0eOgH2-zOKssqTUnf0uemS7xD3CEQ5vG7jIPkv9aHvrH0Gw" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRNWhYCZLqshCG0eOgH2-zOKssqTUnf0uemS7xD3CEQ5vG7jIPkv9aHvrH0Gw" width="400" /></a></div>
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You betcha.</div>
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xoxo,</div>
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E</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05733547280177982803noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-45400130372344855262013-01-16T23:28:00.001-06:002013-01-29T23:33:54.404-06:00Number 39c: The Facebook Fast - Day Two Recap<div>
For those of you keeping track at home, here's what I accomplished in the last 24 hours while avoiding The Book:<br />
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- Finished my thank you notes from the holidays, purchased stamps, sent them on their merry and grateful way.<br />
- Crafted, edited, and rehearsed the story I'm set to tell at my audition tomorrow.<br />
- Spent some quality time with the roomies.<br />
- Blogged not once, but twice.<br />
- Returned some long overdue emails and phone calls.<br />
- Yet again didn't have to charge my phone midday.<br />
<br />
Call me a dork, but I love to craft status updates. It's not a self indulgent thing, it is part of my love affair with words. I loved my job this summer because I got to put words together every day - I got to be the voice of a festival and the voice for many companies. It was pretty exciting.<br />
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I don't miss Facebook, but I miss status updates! (Does that mean I should just convert to Twitter? Ugh.) I really feel like a Gen X (am I Gen X? I always forget...) weirdo but that's that. Right now I'd be complaining about bus etiquette via status updates. At what point is it rude to move because you are too close to a dude coughing up a lung? Like for real man, stay at home. Or take some meds or at the very least, cover your damn mouth. I'd write an ode to you, but I already did that this week. (But seriously I don't have IL health insurance until February so please for the love of Pete, get your germs away from me.)<br />
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I'd also have let you know that I made s'mores nachos this evening. Jealous? I bet you are. <br />
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But ANYWAY, during this FB drought, I've done a lot of googling about Facebook. (It turns out you really just need to waste some time for the hell of it sometimes.) Here's what I found out:<br />
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- <a href="http://technology.inquirer.net/18188/facts-and-figures-about-facebook-2" target="_blank">Facebook</a> has more than one billion active users. If the company were a
country, it would be the third largest in the world after China
(population: 1.34 billion) and India (population: 1.17 billion). Some
600 million people use Facebook on mobile devices.<br />
- <a href="http://www.businessinsider.com/28-crazy-facts-you-didnt-know-about-facebook-2012-5?op=1" target="_blank">Facebook</a> engineers originally wanted to call the "Like" button the "Awesome" button. (<a href="http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/15000000/Barney-Stinson-barney-stinson-15066650-500-430.jpg" target="_blank">Barney</a> Stinson would approve.) <br />
- Rumor has it, <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/katienotopoulos/teens-dont-use-facebook-anymore" target="_blank">the kids don't use Facebook any more</a>. So, this fast makes me one of the youngins. Just saying.<br />
- And apparently... this: <br />
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Wow. Morbid.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And with that I'm calling Day Two of The Facebook Fast </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A SUCCESS. </span></div>
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Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-18064030758526120762013-01-15T15:46:00.000-06:002013-01-15T15:46:53.037-06:00Number 39b: The Facebook Fast - Day One RecapIt's been over 24 hours since I logged off Facebook and I'm actually doing pretty well. I thought I'd be feeling like this:<br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRClnIBQdwp1OZdTVSMKusDci4WJxzMs_Sjp2iGRIIncTXTOHun" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRClnIBQdwp1OZdTVSMKusDci4WJxzMs_Sjp2iGRIIncTXTOHun" width="200" /></a></div>
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...but I'm actually feeling much more like this:<br />
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<br />
That's me, feeling productive and well rested. Here are the things I've accomplished a bit more of since logging off:<br />
<br />
- Arrived at the gym on time because I wasn't putzing around on Facebook (Yep. I just said putzing. Deal with it.)<br />
- Actually did some work while the baby napped yesterday. The whole point in nannying was supposed to be the amount of flexibility/time I would have during the day to work on things. I usually spend the first half of a nap scrolling through my newsfeed and the second half looking at all of the buzzfeed articles that caught my attention on my newsfeed. (While we're at it... check <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/the-25-most-embarrassing-destinys-child-coordinat" target="_blank">this</a> out if you ARE looking to waste time.)<br />
- I WENT TO BED ON TIME.<br />
- I didn't have to charge my cell phone half way through the day. Huh. Go figure.<br />
<br />
I only felt like I was missing it twice yesterday, once when I was waiting for the bus and again when I was ready for bed since that's when I usually do some scrolling. It's been a bit refreshing... the only thing I missed was saying <span style="font-size: x-large;">HAPPY 23RD BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE BROTHER</span> over some form of social media. Wait... nope. Did it. I'm pretty happy with my Facebook Fast so far... let's see how the next 24 hours go!Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-54361677422091795872013-01-14T11:04:00.001-06:002013-01-14T11:04:12.808-06:00Number 39: Go without electricity for a night (Or Facebook for a week)<a href="http://cache.gawkerassets.com/assets/images/4/2010/05/ban_facebook.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://cache.gawkerassets.com/assets/images/4/2010/05/ban_facebook.png" width="198" /></a>I'd love to go without electricity for a night and see what happens, but in the dead of winter and the start of audition season, that's really not going to happen. But with a number of auditions coming up in the next few weeks, I've been thinking about my productivity levels and realizing that with so many distractions throughout the day, I'm not accomplishing nearly as much as I would like. And so began the idea of...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Facebook Fast</span>.<br />
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Last week my roommate was discussing a news report her mother had seen about a group of girls who ditched their smart phones for a week to see what would happen. Not at all shockingly, the girls were 100% able to function without their phones. I've recently come to notice just how much time I waste on Facebook. I keep telling myself how much more productive I want to be in the new year, but I've yet to do anything about it. So here it is, friends. Can this internet addicted lady go without Facebook for 96 hours?<br />
<br />
I guess we'll find out. I'm hoping the hiatus will allow me to catch up on the blog a bit more (and launch my new idea for 2013!) Because let's face it. I've had at least three posts about rebranding my blog and writing more in the new year, and I've yet to do any of that, but I've updated my status at least once a day for the past two weeks. And I think life will go on keeping track of it on my timeline. Tune in here as the week goes on to see how I'm holding up against the pain of withdrawal.<br />
<br />
Eek... wish me luck!<br />
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<br />Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-70154213150440484362013-01-08T14:57:00.001-06:002013-01-08T14:57:47.975-06:00Number 33b: Write a Scathing Letter to the Editor OR An Ode To An IdiotAn Ode To The Accidental Train DJ<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh, Train DJ with your non-noise canceling headphones,</div>
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I know it is you who is filling this entire train car with your kids-these-days rap music.</div>
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And it's not because of your skin color or age or dress, but because of the muffled obscenities emitting from your cheap headphones.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Oh, what's that? You have one earbud dangling around your neck so you can hear what's going on around you?</div>
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Well, here's an idea, lower your music and maybe you'll hear even better. And prevent some serious hearing loss.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And my oncoming migraine. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh, accidental DJ, it's not that I don't appreciate being able to hear some well crafted lyrics about some dude's sexual prowess. (Because clearly if you need to sing about it, you really can make ladies' undergarments drop like that.) (Gross, ps.) </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But I really think the elderly lady standing next to you on this 8 am commute is trying to figure out how to politely ask you to turn down your music before she politely removes your headphones from your ears and accidentally crushes them to a pulp on the train car floor with the heel of her shoe.</div>
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Or maybe that's just me. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Because I'll tell you one thing, Mr. DJ, I'd love to crank TSwift every day on the train, but it's just not polite to my fellow commuters.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, to sum up, Train DJ. Shut it, before I --</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh, what's that? It's my stop? You win this time, Train DJ. But karma's still listening, and I hope your workplace radio plays nothing but Justin Bieber and Call Me Maybe on repeat today. (Sigh, if only.)</div>
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<br />
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Best wishes, fellow riders, this girl's got a children's music class to attend.</div>
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Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-30230048519683643492013-01-04T19:28:00.001-06:002013-01-08T15:00:37.681-06:00Number 65: Remember the "a la mode" (Or Remember Why You Started This Blog in the First Place)2013.<br />
The new year. For some, this is a time for new beginnings, a fresh start, clean slate. For others, it is a time to celebrate. For me, it is a time to remember where I have been and how much further I have left to go. I stopped making resolutions years ago because I felt like I never stuck to them. But looking back at all of the new people and new experiences that 2012 brought into my life, I am thinking of the new year as a benchmark, and an opportunity to be thankful for everything I have.<br />
<br />
Moving far away from my family, friends, and my home state was a hard thing to do, but it was a change I needed and I do not for one moment regret doing it. There are good days and there are bad days and even on the days where I feel like I belong and everything is falling into place -- well even on those days, especially on those days, I miss my loved ones the most. You can replace so many things in your life. You can figure out how to make a fresh start in so many ways, but you can't replace the people who truly love you.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I sit on the bus with my headphones in, but the music off. I listen to people sharing and living and that's when I feel the most like I'm actually a part of things. Of the hum and the doldrum. Those are the days I realize that the city isn't new and that I don't stick out. And those are the days I know something's headed my way. Because this life doesn't stay quiet for long. And because every once and awhile I look up at the skyline... and it all feels fresh again.<br />
<br />
And I remember that the city is magical. And still new. And I can't help but feel that 2013 has something special in store for me.<br />
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<br />
But today, in this first week of this new year, I am thankful for everyone in my life. From Pittsfield to Everett to DC to Sitka to Israel to San Francisco and to this little town they call Chicago. I am thankful to all of the people who love me and have faith in me. I love you back.<br />
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This year, my only resolution is to love. So get ready for it, friends. It's going to be a good one. Happy New Year.<br />
<br />
xo,<br />
Erika<br />
<br />
(...and stay tuned! Because the blog is getting a revamp and some more love in 2013 as well.)<br />
<br />Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-11197626999115491162012-09-21T12:22:00.000-05:002012-09-21T12:22:12.337-05:00Number 12: Write your acceptance speech for your "Woman of the Year" awardFall is my favorite time of year. The leaves change and fill the sky with warm colors to counteract the sudden chill in the air. Fall means the start of a new school year, apple picking, Halloween, my parents' anniversary, sweatshirts and scarves and tights. It means shopping for that new pair of boots and pumpkin flavored everything.<br />
<br />
The the last two weeks of September leading into the first two weeks of October is my favorite time to be in Berkshire County, Massachusetts. I love taking a drive along Route 7, seeing the colors from up high as I travel North, or winding through the oversized homes surrounded by the lush foliage in South County. But somewhere in the middle, lies Pittsfield. My home town. And there, amidst the memories of pillaging the leaf piles in my front yard, lies some beautiful memories of two beautiful women.<br />
<br />
For those of you who aren't familiar with the Jewish calendar, the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, occurs in the fall. It is a time to celebrate the sweet things in life, like family. As I suddenly find myself farther from home than ever before (minus my brief stint in England), I've thought of two women that couldn't deserve a Woman of the Year Award more than my two grandmothers. We have many traditions in my family, but no tradition is as great as that of love and acceptance. When my parents were married in October 1983, it would have been easy for Sylvia Geller and Cecelia Rainka to become family in title only. Their children came from two long standing sets of traditions -- my father from a faithful Jewish family and my mother from a devoted line of Polish Catholics. I can't imagine how scary it must have been for them to compromise some of their traditions so that their children could wed. From what I know, the two families didn't immediately run to each other with open arms. But it took some extreme bravery and a whole lot of love to put aside their basic differences and discover that when it came down to it their traditions were not all that different -- they both loved their families more than anything, and that made all of the difference. Despite what prejudices they might have had 29 years ago, as a child, I never knew that my grandmothers were not always friends.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my paternal grandparents in Florida, Winter 1988(?)</td></tr>
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Holidays in my house are a well-rounded family affair. My maternal grandmother sends out cards for Rosh Hashanah and attended our Passover seders and my paternal grandmother never missed a Christmas Eve dinner. And without knowing it, I learned things from them both. From Sylvia, my dad's mother, my "Grandma," I learned the importance of picking up the newspaper in the morning. That staying informed about the world will always serve you well, whether it is in passing conversation or making an important life decision. She taught me that you are never too old to make new friends, or learn new skills. Grandma was a Netflix member long before I was, and waking up for an 8 am Friday class in college was always made a little easier when I had an early morning email waiting from her in my inbox.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1Zhyphenhyphen2CKG3rKz84ncMLtfQ3T8qzYfAfSZPJRJdoz4YMMEdA6pnhCgQY3dfrW4z4E3_2ayj3x6RMKXPkP-gbi_llO5QdebtfJQ6XJArN-aHh66aUowAhlg25IMyC4YUOWiF00LN7kMTiU/s1600/SCAN0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1Zhyphenhyphen2CKG3rKz84ncMLtfQ3T8qzYfAfSZPJRJdoz4YMMEdA6pnhCgQY3dfrW4z4E3_2ayj3x6RMKXPkP-gbi_llO5QdebtfJQ6XJArN-aHh66aUowAhlg25IMyC4YUOWiF00LN7kMTiU/s320/SCAN0013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my Baba</td></tr>
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My mother's mother, or my "Baba," was the one who cared for me before and after school as a child. She taught me how to poach an egg and darn a pair a jeans. She gave me an appreciation for how hard both my parents worked. To this day when I go home, I try to do small things around the house for my parents, whether it is loading the dishwasher or switching over a load of laundry because the words, "Your mother works hard, help her out when you can" always echo in the back of my mind. Baba also taught me that remembering the small things, even someone's name can go a long way in making someone's day. And from them both I learned the importance of independence. They were both widows for the majority of my lifetime, and I watched these two fiercely independent women host holidays, mow lawns, pay bills, and take care of their families. Sometimes when I will myself to do something brave, I think of Grandma and Baba, and I try to imagine what they would tell me to do. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandmothers, with my brother.</td></tr>
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When Grandma passed away in August 2008, Baba mourned not just as an in-law but as a sister and a friend. And that's when I learned the most important lesson of all. Love. Love always comes first. No matter how different you might think you are, a sense of love and compassion for those around you, especially your family, will always carry you through. And for that, I thank you both. You both lived through so much, and I've never met two stronger or more beautiful women in my life. (Unless you count their daughters, among them my mother, who also inherited my Baba's strength and ability to love fiercely.) I miss you both in different ways every day, but I'm comforted when I can feel you next to me. Grandma, I was missing you last week so I made my first ever batch of matzo ball soup -- and it turned out okay! Baba, every time I give a stranger a smile and they smile back, I think of you, for you are the kindest woman I've ever met.<br />
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Fall reminds me of both of you in different ways, but mostly because it makes me think of home, and that makes me think of you. I'm grateful for all that you've give me over the years, but without you, I most certainly would not be where I am today, or WHO I am today. Happy New Year, Everyone. May you be surrounded by loved ones as the seasons change. And to my grandmothers, thank you. Shana Tova. Sto lat. I love you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matzo ball soup now, pierogies to come next!</td></tr>
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<br />Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9163497039166182017.post-27187701390275305852012-08-12T20:10:00.002-05:002012-08-12T20:26:15.200-05:00Number 63: Walk a mile in someone else's shoes<div style="text-align: right;">
<i> Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.
That way, when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them, and
you have their shoes. <br /> -- Freida Norris</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
I know what it's like to be a Harvard Student.<br />
And a teenaged heroin addict.<br />
And an apple.<br />
<br />
Kind of.<br />
<br />
From an early age, I liked to play pretend. Sometimes, I miss the early ages. Believing was easier back then. But playing has always been easy for me. As a nanny, my favorite part of the day was story hour. (Well, that and Lego Zoo building time. I'm a beast at making habitats. Just ask my four year old co-architect.) Actors, if you've never tried reading aloud to a group of small children, I highly recommend it. You'll never understand the effect you're having on an audience better than when you're trying to hold the attention of a group of toddlers. There is no questioning when they're bored with your tactics -- they just get up and walk away. (And sometimes you have to chase after them through a crowded Barnes and Noble. But that's a whole other set of issues.)<br />
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I'm about to hit the four month mark in Chicago, and in two weeks, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/events/103495463132559/" target="_blank">I will make my Chicago stage debut</a>. Which makes me realize, it has been a long time since I've taken a walk in someone else's shoes. (Almost two years, really.) And I miss it. One of the best things I did since moving here is sign up for an improv class at Second City. It was terrifying at first, but the more I do it, the more fun I have, and the more I think that I'm actually kind of good at it.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to my next order of business. In having a conversation about this crazy career path I'm walking, a good friend asked me, <span style="font-size: large;">"Do you want to be the best?"</span> I didn't know how to answer. And the question has been frustrating me all week. Because I don't know what that means. That's a heavy question. Everything about this business scares the shit out of me. I've gotten used to making sacrifices for it - whether it be missing events with friends, or family, or sacrificing a relationship for a rehearsal. And sometimes, that's frustrating. But when all is said and done, I've always tried to make the best decision for me at a given time. And sometimes you have to walk a mile or two before you figure out what the best decision actually is.<br />
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I know I want a happy future. I honestly don't know if I want a family, but I want the option. And I think it can be hard to have a family when you have such uncertain hours and uncertain paychecks. <span style="font-size: large;">Do you want to be the best?</span> I don't know what "the best" means. There's no finite barometer. Does the best mean being the highest paid actor out there? Or does it mean you're the most decorated? As an actor, you can't measure yourself by being the first to the finish line, because there is no finish line. There's just another race, and one more hurdle. In acting, there is no come from behind stroke that wins you the gold medal. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do you want to be the best?</span> I want to be happy. And as much as I loved my job this summer, it didn't make me happy like being on stage does. <b>Do I want to be the best?</b> That's not how I think about it. Because I have to do this. I want to win the part -- I <i>always</i> want to win the part. Does that count? I want to keep training, does that give me a few points? At 22 years old, I started my own company because no other company was letting me have the kind of fun I wanted to be having on stage. Where does that leave me?<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, I'm not sure I care about being "the best." What I care about it, is working hard. And showing respect for those in the theatre scene with me. And staying true to myself. In the words of Terry from Kaufman and Ferber's <i>Stage Door</i>, "I can't just walk up and down my room and be an actress. They have to let me." I love that quote, but that's not my mantra. The harder you work, the further you'll get. The longer you run, the stronger you'll be. Mathematically, I'll probably never win a Tony. But, that's okay. If your only goal is to win a shiny paperweight, what's the point in doing this?<br />
<br />
Suddenly, after months of staying behind the scenes, I'm about to hit the stage again. And the audition circuit. And I'm probably going to get discouraged a few times. But it's what I came here to do. And I'm sure as hell going to do the best work I can do. I'm going to work myself as hard as I can. And I'm going to make sure I surround myself with enough people and activities that make me happy. Because at the end of the day, no matter how miles I walked in my character's shoes. I'm still Erika. And my size 6 Converse are the ones that matter.<br />
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Because I'm not a Harvard Student: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Q5sncIR8vYRW2Kh-WnRuquxjrb5XsTU3D-mOk4OOTv_0G9hlvSQX5dmWWCIann2bMXOT3K4Vh5PB1fBBQXNv6sUS-24knp_a86VrAiy3uvRJTenHE4PE5tvp5AvwTgxHEs-ShyphenhyphenwK0ds/s1600/68525_161429647233769_152423264801074_285267_4536406_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Q5sncIR8vYRW2Kh-WnRuquxjrb5XsTU3D-mOk4OOTv_0G9hlvSQX5dmWWCIann2bMXOT3K4Vh5PB1fBBQXNv6sUS-24knp_a86VrAiy3uvRJTenHE4PE5tvp5AvwTgxHEs-ShyphenhyphenwK0ds/s320/68525_161429647233769_152423264801074_285267_4536406_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Or a teenaged heroin addict:</div>
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Or an apple: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr9jw0QNWitzkOOHzzJ9IPArK0qTUyFjTbh7OoHRmAKTWjGw0K_IQ6mhj44JXzplxSV9LaohQOo8iY1RAGUL3Ltap2VPDTI3tinEgGDdqq71RGsK0YskK2LkUp7oUPb_O-4-kvLPxzmwA/s1600/2012-02-11_12-12-38_191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr9jw0QNWitzkOOHzzJ9IPArK0qTUyFjTbh7OoHRmAKTWjGw0K_IQ6mhj44JXzplxSV9LaohQOo8iY1RAGUL3Ltap2VPDTI3tinEgGDdqq71RGsK0YskK2LkUp7oUPb_O-4-kvLPxzmwA/s320/2012-02-11_12-12-38_191.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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I'm just me. Any these babies have carried me several miles already. And I have a feeling, we've got a few more to go. I don't care if we're the first to cross the finish line, as long as we don't give up on the way there.</div>
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<br />Erikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494581508305690151noreply@blogger.com0