The pitfalls of filing

Life isn't quite this boring, but for lack of a better topic and fear of rupturing something in my already congested brain, I've decided to dedicate this post to Neil's Carnival of the Mundane.

There can be a certain zen-like vibe you get from mundane office tasks. The rhythmic monotony of stapling papers or labeling envelopes can lull your brain into a meditative state that some might even call rejuvenating. At the very least it require very little in the way of brain power and gives you time to think or carry on that trashy conversation with that co-worker you never see. Filing, however, is like a dreaded trip to the dentist. I loathe filing with every fiber in my polarfleece jacket. The only task worse than filing is the creation of new files. If you have ever seen the old comic strips with the character hidden among the stacks of papers on their desk, you've gotten a glimpse at what my desk can become. It's not the alphabetizing associated with filing that irks me. I'm pretty tight with the alphabet. I abhor the ambiguity associated with filing. What is paper X should be filed in file B but also makes sense in file H? Do you put a opy in B and H; just B or H; or do you create file Q to house files that work in both B and H? The only logical use for paper files, in my mind, is part of larger bonfire. Paper files are, in fact, antiquated. Why keep all of that paper around when everything can be scanned into a computer these days and logged as part of a much vaster electronic network. You can even back everything up on a supplementary hard drive. But, no, heaven forbid we move fully into this century and embrace technology. Instead, I ordered pink file folders in the hope this would jazz up the process. Now they sit at the end of my desk mocking me with their cheerfulness. My distaste for torture and my belief that I would be violating some sort of Geneva Human Rights pact even prevents me from passing this task along to interns or other staff. For the moment, I will continue to hide these growing stacks of paper until I can stomach the pink.

Knock-Knock...who's knocked up?

I love my family, and the older I get the more I see my mom in me. It was this early morning that realized I might very well have sent my mom over the edge last night. Basically, I have paranoid tendencies and love to jump to fantastical conclusions. Those crazy stories I make up for people on the metro find their way into my life too as I try to decipher what's really going on. I would bet money on the fact that this is probably a personality quirk I inherited from my mom. This is why it hit me this morning that I must have freaked my mom out last night. You see, I'm from Texas and didn't have an opportunity to go home to spend time with my family at Christmas this year. I keep trying to pick a time I can get home to visit, and my mom keeps inquiring as to when that might be. Last night we were talking on the phone, and she mentioned how unexciting her life was. When I asked what kind of excitement she was looking for, she relayed that she wasn't actually looking for excitement and liked her life excitement-free. I jokingly asked if was sure she didn't want me to get knocked up and give her a grandkid to spice things up. Her response was not positive to having me knocked up. Ha! We talked a little more, and she mentioned, if I couldn't make it home, they were considering driving up to see me this summer. I thought nothing more of this conversation until this morning when I remembered who I was and who my mom was and realized that there is now a 75% chance my mom is at home freaking out because she thinks I'm knocked up and that that is the reason I haven't come home yet. Hahahahaha. Poor mom.*


*I am not, nor have I ever been, knocked up, pregnant, with child, had a bun in the oven or whatever other cute term you'd like to use.

An open letter to the men of the world

Dear Men:

Life is confusing and drama-filled enough without you adding to it. See...the thing is that we women are stronger than we appear. We may bat our eyes and shed a tear when Cameron Diaz and Toni Collette make up in In Her Shoes, but we have enough lacquer built up from all of that nail polish that we can take it. Rather than sending mixed signals about whether or not you are interested in us, grow some testicles (or borrow them from your bff) and tell us how you feel. I promise you that the majority of us will not (1) key your car; (2) dissolve into a sobbing mess; or (3) start screaming obscentities when told you are not interested. In fact, we just want to know, to be put out of our misery. And, if you do happen to finally come out of your shell and mention you might have a small thing for us, you might actually get lucky and find you have a new someone to snog. Regardless, honesty and reality are better than delusions and trying to read signals. Just a thought.

xxoo,
Serena

Where am I going?

Lately I feel like my mind has been on dancing around a "do I like where my life is going" crisis. I like to avoid thinking about this kind of thing because then that forces me to make decisions, something people who know me know that I'm loathe to do. Unfortunately, I'm getting older and am evidently supposed to have some kind of strategic plan for my life. I dislike strategic planning because life can't be carved in stone. I believe it's best enjoyed like a river, winding its way across the land.

However, spank me and call me Sally because evidently I'm glutton for punishment and need to go through this exercise in annoyance. Maybe today I'll just allow myself to ponder my career situation.

Pros:
*Enjoyable/Fulfilling
*Challenging
*"Expert" (ha) in field
*Varied

Cons:
*Quest for something more
*Need for greater creative outlet
*Nonprofits don't pay the best
*Need for excitement

This basically did nothing but make me feel guilty for wanting something more than my current job. What it boils down to is this girl needs regular change. I need to feel like I'm making a difference, and while I do feel like I'm making a difference for the environment (and subsequently people), I want to start with people. Of course, who am I to try to fix people? I should be thankful for what I have.

This is my city

Have you seen those American Express commercials with Robert DeNiro talking about NYC as his city? He conveys such a sense of place, a true connection with his city. As I was walking my city yesterday, I felt a connection similar to DeNiro. Even though I technically live in Fairfax, I work, live and breathe Washington D.C. Walking the city energizes me and reveals hidden jewels. The character of the city lives on every corner and is driven in large part by its people. To truly embrace my city, you have to embrace all parts. Even if you don't love it, don't turn your nose up at it. Look at the homeless people as you navigate the gauntlet that are their parks. Stroll through the Capitol complex and act like you own the place, just like everyone else. Find a favorite watering hole and make it yours. Discover that perfect place to hear some tunes.

Despite all of this, I still feel like a DC virgin. A few of this (DC)virgin's favorite haunts (for the time being):

U Street - I *heart* all of it. I can shop for unique items at some of the funky boutiques like Pink November and Love Hurts; get awesome cupcakes at Cakelove; dance the night away and hear new bands at the Black Cat; grab a drink at Polly's Cafe or Saint-Ex; accidentally smell pot at some of the local record establishments; and many, many other things to titillate.

Fado - The Irish pub at gallery place. I like it's atmosphere. I just like it a little less crowded then it was on Friday night.

Tryst - Hoping the place doesn't become cliche, but it's great for coffee and blogging in the morning and hanging with boos at night.

More Gallery Place - Matchbox for mini burgers and Sushi Go Round for pretty tasty sushi.

Really I'm just a street walker who loves so many places. For the real scoop on hot new things to try in DC, sign up for the District's edition of Daily Candy and steal their suggestions. I do, and it just continues to make the city more mine.

The aftermath

Scarlet's birthday should never be described as a one-night stand, burning hot but fizzling quickly. It's more like that obsession you immediately feel for that one person once you lock eyes. It's fun and hot and for that first weekend you just can't leave each other's side. Scarlet's birthday was that kind of marathon.

The Cast of Characters:
Scarlet, Steven, Allie, Ravena, Vanessa, Vanessa, Jay, Julianne (+boy), Erin, Nicole, Carolyn

Scene 1:
After Cakelove and champagne at an undisclosed location, a smaller version of the group above crammed into Ravena's car and made haste for Sushi Go Round. A few flaming drinks and sushi rolls later, we were sufficiently fortified to make our way into the cold and wait the remaining band of revelers.

Highs - flaming volcanos, the dropped makeup brush, Steven's footprint on the car window
Lows - Jay (ask Steven), merry band of revelers picking a much calmer set of places to "crawl" to

Scene 2:
The Scarlet bar crawl began at Fado where we were everybody's Gap and Abercrombie was crushed against eachother. Luckily we're a bit more original than that, so after a round of jaeger bombs and the realization that Flogging Molly was not playing there we decided to jet.

Highs - Scarlet dancing with the drunk guy, jaeger bombs
Lows - the beginning of Scarlet getting continually congratulated on her engagement (damn that tiara)

Scene 3:
The next stop ended up being some world of beer place where (shock) I actually had a beer (Magic Hat). This was also the transition from sober Scarlet to drunk Scarlet. As the tiara started to tilt, the eyes glossed over and the flirting intensified, the beer continued to flow.

Highs - whipped cream shots, gossiping with Vanessa, Scarlet's flirting, texting across the table
Lows - being talked about by The Others for use of sidekick in the above texting

Scene 4:
A final move to Clyde's set the final wheels in motion. A lack of seating forced us to separate from The Others, but the drinks continued to flow. Tiara was at full tilt and hair was fully mussed. It was awesome. Damn that Grand Marnier shot.

Highs - Grand Marnier, Ravena getting hit on, tilted tiara, Steven being thankful for Ravena
Lows - the guy who hit on Ravena

After the smaller band of revelers snagged the princess and loaded her into the car, the fun continued as we made haste back to Fairfax. I need to be discreet here, but let's just say somebody got some action (cough...Steven) and that most in the car are apparently very studious.

To be continued...

The stories I weave

I make up stories for people I see on the metro. I don't know why I do it, but something in me feels the need to create lives for these people, explaining away their appearance or actions. This morning I got on the train with blonde girl and indie professional guy. Together, they are each forced to snag seats by eachother but not side by side. A few minutes into the ride I hear blonde girl exclaim and evidently realize she knew the curly brown-haired girl next to her. While I can't hear the conversation, I love that their body language tells its own story. Curly brown hair proceeds to talk more to indie professional guy, occasionally giving a glance to blonde girl. As the train barrels on Curly brown hair is full-on flirting with indie professional guy. Meanwhile, blonde girl begins to visibly withdraw. The smile slips from face and eyes. Her lips flatten into two thin lines as she attempts to hide her irritation. As I witness this interaction, my mind is inside the blonde girls head, imagining the form her anger takes inside her own mind. In my story, indie professional guy is tired of blonde girl and her unwillingness to create a life of her own outside of him. Curly brown girl is like the complicated Carrie, unwittingly proving that blondes don't always have more fun.

I wonder if people make up stories about me. I think I'd rather not know.

Merry band of revelers

Tomorrow night a merry band of revelers will depart for parts unknown (at least to them) to partake of a little orchestrated happenstance in honor of Scarlet's birthday. Though I'll never be as excited as she is (it is her birthday), knowing what will go down and the devious plotting that surrounds it has me smiling. I can assure you that the havoc we wreak this weekend will make it onto this space (and probably many others).

Since I know you'll read my blog just as quickly as any email, I thought I'd post your directives here for all to enjoy and ponder.

Bring with you the following items...

• a camera or two (duh)
• chapstick
• matches
• canned whipped cream
• your i.d.
• batteries (AAA)

What to wear...

• something hott

Where to go...

• be at Steven's apartment no by 5:45 on Friday. Park in visitor parking.

Everybody has the planning gene

Planning has often been a 4-letter word in my mind. Actually, clarifying thought...overplanning is the deal breaker. However, I've come to believe that everybody has the planning gene if there's something they want bad enough. In fact, stepping out of the planning haze I've been in, I have decided that planners fall into a few set categories.

Ain't-A Planner: This is a person who loathes to plan anything at all. Any attempts to drag this person into a planning session may result in scratching and eye gouging. Ain't-A Planner won't even plan their own wedding. Elopement is so much easier.

Reluctant Planner: The reluctant planner is really the person I described in my intro. This person dislikes planning anything too far in advance and refuses to get excited by the details. However, when confronted with an idea to fabulous to ignore, the non-planner morphs into planner and begins to get annoyed with others when they don't hop on the planning bandwagon.

Bunny-on-Steroids (BoS) Planner: This person is usually the worst nightmare to the other types of planners. The BoS maps out a plan of action months in advance. They carry a clipboard and create numerous lists. On the day of the scheduled event, BoS can be found with a whistle and a riding whip barking orders at the troops they've strong-armed into helping. This person can often be spotted by the vacant, slightly neurotic look in their eye and the headset for their cell phone.

Love the mix

Don't get any ideas from the title...it's just a crush. It's a crush that's slowly reducing my ability to think like a normal human being and managing to turn me into a mute fool when he's near. I reached a turning point last night, however, and decided to stop blathering on about it. This is like my almost last hurrah in blogging about him making me loopy, inspired entirely the songs that found their way onto my MailTunes* cd. I truly believe the right songs find us at the right times in our life, narrating our thoughts and emotions.

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge - My version of the perfect crush song. It's like an obsessiveness that builds into like and wanting someone in every way you can want them. Wanting to be devoured by someone.

Hate by Cat Power - Illustrates that vulnerability I just can't shake...where you're not even good enough for you.

This Modern Love by Bloc Party - Sublime. I'm still working on all the ways I feel this song, but the last couple of lines (where he asks if she wants to hang) nags at the dusty corners of my brain.

*A fab club of fab girls exchanging music to a theme.

Life isn't all purple dinosaurs

I used to be one of those people who would declare how much they hated people. I had no tolerance for the difficiencies of the human race. When it came to thoughts and feelings, I thought I had some unique card that made me different. Surely no one thinks the way I do. I have to be the only one having these insane fucking thoughts. Then I discovered blogs and began to be struck by how similar will all really fucking are. I'm not alone, am even pretty far from unique. This Fish must be my soul sister when talking about having a crush/obsession. Marissa shares my staring problem. The Girl Who wants to avoid being the same married girl I want to someday avoid being. Amanda writes about the pain of hating something about yourself so much it changes the fabric of who you are. Scarlet shares my esp and tendency to try to read all the signs. Green Canary understands the perils of trying to be different. And I think Love & Haterade shares my spunk.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad I don't hate people anymore, and I'm kinda glad I'm not all that unique ; )