Some people, such as Neil Sedaka, think breaking up is hard to do … but is it really? It's just giving up something (or someone) that isn't good for you. It should be easy. Well, it's not … but your body can only take so much bad stuff.
Now, it's not easy because so many people and things that are bad for us make us feel so good … to a point, that is. Take for instance someone who has intense acid reflux. (By intense I don't mean someone who chews a few Tums every couple of months. I'm talking about the people who consider a proton pump inhibitor a food group). I know so much about PPI's because I'm one of those people. My reflux gives me this chronic cough, which leaves me explaining to my co-workers that I'm not sick, it's just reflux. I know, I know … no one wants to hear about my reflux, but I bet the people sitting around me are glad to know I'm not spreading nasty cold germs.
Although it's painful, the hardest part of this reflux crap is giving up stuff I love. No coffee, red wine, grapefruits … even ice cream is a problem. It's a shame that coffee, liquor and chocolate couldn't be acid minimizers.
As I said before, a large majority of the things that are bad for us taste and feel so damn good. And, since we're all idiots at some point, we give in … making giving up hard to do.
This is where I compare acid reflux to relationships. Certain things, or shall I say people, are just bad for you. You begin to see a pattern in your relationships. Some of them are toxic and leave you pissed off and unhappy. You start to realize that the men/women that leave you over-indulging on Ben & Jerry's have similar characteristics. Maybe you're attracted to men who never want to settle down, women who never want children when you do, or maybe it's as simple as men with long hair or natural blondes. Whatever it may be, once you realize it, you have to give it up. Find people who work with you and what you want. Heartache and heartburn both suck.
Excuse me while I take my Prilosec.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Is Love Like Budweiser and Champagne?
It's Tuesday night, and I'm grocery shopping after work. I do this every Tuesday. Tonight, while I was standing in line at the register, I looked up at the current issue of Vanity Fair. On the cover was Prince William and his new bride, Kate Middleton. Then, on the bottom right corner of her brown hair, I saw these small white letters. I looked closer, and the italicized words read, "Love is the greatest refreshment in life." The great genius, Pablo Picasso, came up with these words of wisdom.
I laughed after reading that quote, and almost asked the cashier for a plastic bag to barf in. If love is the greatest refreshment of all, then are half of the people in the world thirsty, dehydrated, in need of a new beverage? I just couldn't help but think about all the people who laughed at that quote just like I did. First of all, this is Vanity Fair … and I think placing that quote on the cover was quite cheesy (I can see why they made the font a size 8). Secondly, it can make people feel like losers if they aren't experiencing this so-called "greatest refreshment." Not everyone has found a prince/princess (pardon the pun).
On the other hand, some think they do … and maybe they have. They might even walk down the aisle and do the whole exchange of vows thing in front of their friends, family and God. And, after five years, they realize they've been drinking Miller Lite and it's just not refreshing to them anymore. Now, they could work it out and conclude that they truly love Miller Lite. Maybe it just affected them differently for a while … but it still refreshes them like none other. Or, maybe they go separate ways and the man finds Budweiser and knows that this is the refreshment he's been waiting for. Or the woman stumbles upon champagne and has never felt more satisfied. Maybe, after you've been alone for a while, Milwaukee's Best even tastes good.
My point is that love -- in the moment, at certain times and with the right person -- is the best refreshment. But, at other times, it could be the new promotion, house or dog you just adopted. A great refreshment doesn't have to involve rings, titles and constant hand-holding. And sometimes, tastes can simply change.
We live in a world with a ridiculous variety of refreshments. Try a lot. The greatest will come. The key is to always having a thirst.
P.S. I am from Wisconsin. Of course I think beer is good. In no way is the above a slam on any brand of beer. I was just trying to make a point. I've learned that when you talk about beer, people (especially men) listen.
I laughed after reading that quote, and almost asked the cashier for a plastic bag to barf in. If love is the greatest refreshment of all, then are half of the people in the world thirsty, dehydrated, in need of a new beverage? I just couldn't help but think about all the people who laughed at that quote just like I did. First of all, this is Vanity Fair … and I think placing that quote on the cover was quite cheesy (I can see why they made the font a size 8). Secondly, it can make people feel like losers if they aren't experiencing this so-called "greatest refreshment." Not everyone has found a prince/princess (pardon the pun).
On the other hand, some think they do … and maybe they have. They might even walk down the aisle and do the whole exchange of vows thing in front of their friends, family and God. And, after five years, they realize they've been drinking Miller Lite and it's just not refreshing to them anymore. Now, they could work it out and conclude that they truly love Miller Lite. Maybe it just affected them differently for a while … but it still refreshes them like none other. Or, maybe they go separate ways and the man finds Budweiser and knows that this is the refreshment he's been waiting for. Or the woman stumbles upon champagne and has never felt more satisfied. Maybe, after you've been alone for a while, Milwaukee's Best even tastes good.
My point is that love -- in the moment, at certain times and with the right person -- is the best refreshment. But, at other times, it could be the new promotion, house or dog you just adopted. A great refreshment doesn't have to involve rings, titles and constant hand-holding. And sometimes, tastes can simply change.
We live in a world with a ridiculous variety of refreshments. Try a lot. The greatest will come. The key is to always having a thirst.
P.S. I am from Wisconsin. Of course I think beer is good. In no way is the above a slam on any brand of beer. I was just trying to make a point. I've learned that when you talk about beer, people (especially men) listen.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
It's Been One Year ...
I remember when I first entered New York City. The plane landed, my ears still hurt and I saw a sign on the runway that read, Welcome to NY (complete with a big red apple in the sign). In my head I said, "Shit ... what have I done?" I had my computer, purse and two suitcases, and I got into a taxi for the second time in my life. This time it wasn't a Badger cab. I was excited, happy and scared beyond belief.
Then, I remember walking out of the subway station with one of my new roommates. "Here we are ... welcome to Bushwick," he said. In those next three seconds, I thought about grabbing my suitcases and fleeing back home at least 10 times. But I didn't.
Three-hundred and sixty-five days later, I am in love. No, not with a man, but with a city ... with my life.
You see, I don't stick with things very long. I'm still shocked I never changed my major in four years of college. Seriously, I've never had a relationship last longer than a year, and in five years I've lived in five different apartments. It's as if the concept of renewing a lease terrifies me. Well, I think it always did ... just like long-term relationships. It was all too much commitment for me. For some reason, I didn't want to become comfortable where I was. That reason is this city, and the people that fill it up.
In this year, I've had a horrible job, and now a great one. What I thought was a silly fantasy of go go dancing, turned into a pretty awesome reality. I went from walking the Brooklyn Bridge by myself on Friday nights, to finding a crowd I fit in perfectly with. And, even though I didn't move to the city for love, I at least met someone who reminded me that there are good men in this world ... good men that look great in a pair of faded, black Wranglers. Oh, and there's been some rock n' rollers along the way ... isn't that every little girl's dream?
To be honest, I've made it through this year with the help of some great advice given to me by great people. I believe in these words of wisdom, which is why I'm going to share them with you - right here, right now:
Day 2 in NYC, one of my roommates told me that you need an addiction to survive living here. She's right. It may be shoes, lipstick, broadway plays, or whiskey ... we all need something to turn to when this city overwhelms us.
Week 2 in NYC, the manager of the first NYC bar I went to, told me that the key to good hair is cheap shampoo and good conditioner. The man has good hair ... and he's right. My hair has it's own personality, so when the summer heat hits, I need all the help I can get. And this tip does seem to work.
Month 1 in NYC, an assistant at an interview I had told me the men in this city are jerks (actually, I think she said assholes first, then apologized, and changed it to jerks). She said I should meet a man in Wisconsin and bring him here. Trust me, at times I've thought she was right. But, like I said, there are good men out there, and her little spiel made me more determined to find one.
Month 2 in NYC: After meeting someone who told me they pissed their pants on the train, they also told me to always go to the bathroom before you leave. Even if you don't have to go, try to squeeze a little out. You never know when the train will be "held due to train traffic ahead."
Month 3 in NYC, one of my other roommates told me to give up on planning things in this city. He said, "Everything is spontaneous and people are always late. At least if they're late, that means they actually showed up." I'm a planner and time-obsessed person. This one is a challenge for me - still. I like to think I'm getting better.
Month 5 in NYC, my good friend, Gabe, taught me how to paint on an amazing cat eye. He helped me find my signature look, perfect it and own it. He also taught me to define my eyebrows, how to brand myself and the importance of always being brave.
Month 6 in NYC, a friend who loves handbags said that every woman needs a statement bag. You know, one that makes her feel like Superwoman. My statement bag involves leather and metal, because that makes me feel like Superwoman. This is necessary when your main form of transportation is the subway and the sidewalk. You don't have the front seat of your four-door sedan to throw your stuff during the morning commute.
Month 7 in NYC: The best songs in the world were recorded before this century ... I learned that from a number of amazing DJs. You should think about this, realize it's true and delete the Top 40 hits on your iPod (unless there's a few you just can't part with).
Month 8 in NYC, a rocker friend of mine said that you can always be yourself in New York City. Here you can shop at the Salvation Army store with the cool kids, fishnets can be considered pants and leather can always be studded. Find the people that believe money doesn't matter, creativity does ... and stick with them!
Month 11 in NYC, one of my best friends (who is three or four years older than me) told me to "Always do what's right for Amanda." Right there, that's what everyone should live by (of course, please insert your name in the sentence ... or else we'd all be a bunch of aspiring writers who dance on bars). It doesn't matter who thinks you're crazy or delusional. You know what's right, so do it. The moment you live your life for you, is when you actually start living your life.
Now, when I land in New York and see that welcome sign, I do a little kick line in my head while listening to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York. Tonight, at 7:18 p.m., I walked out of the subway station and laughed. On a Monday night, one year ago, I was terrified. Now, I'm so happy to walk those same blocks every day. It's been one year … and I have no intention of leaving this time.
Then, I remember walking out of the subway station with one of my new roommates. "Here we are ... welcome to Bushwick," he said. In those next three seconds, I thought about grabbing my suitcases and fleeing back home at least 10 times. But I didn't.
Three-hundred and sixty-five days later, I am in love. No, not with a man, but with a city ... with my life.
You see, I don't stick with things very long. I'm still shocked I never changed my major in four years of college. Seriously, I've never had a relationship last longer than a year, and in five years I've lived in five different apartments. It's as if the concept of renewing a lease terrifies me. Well, I think it always did ... just like long-term relationships. It was all too much commitment for me. For some reason, I didn't want to become comfortable where I was. That reason is this city, and the people that fill it up.
In this year, I've had a horrible job, and now a great one. What I thought was a silly fantasy of go go dancing, turned into a pretty awesome reality. I went from walking the Brooklyn Bridge by myself on Friday nights, to finding a crowd I fit in perfectly with. And, even though I didn't move to the city for love, I at least met someone who reminded me that there are good men in this world ... good men that look great in a pair of faded, black Wranglers. Oh, and there's been some rock n' rollers along the way ... isn't that every little girl's dream?
To be honest, I've made it through this year with the help of some great advice given to me by great people. I believe in these words of wisdom, which is why I'm going to share them with you - right here, right now:
Day 2 in NYC, one of my roommates told me that you need an addiction to survive living here. She's right. It may be shoes, lipstick, broadway plays, or whiskey ... we all need something to turn to when this city overwhelms us.
Week 2 in NYC, the manager of the first NYC bar I went to, told me that the key to good hair is cheap shampoo and good conditioner. The man has good hair ... and he's right. My hair has it's own personality, so when the summer heat hits, I need all the help I can get. And this tip does seem to work.
Month 1 in NYC, an assistant at an interview I had told me the men in this city are jerks (actually, I think she said assholes first, then apologized, and changed it to jerks). She said I should meet a man in Wisconsin and bring him here. Trust me, at times I've thought she was right. But, like I said, there are good men out there, and her little spiel made me more determined to find one.
Month 2 in NYC: After meeting someone who told me they pissed their pants on the train, they also told me to always go to the bathroom before you leave. Even if you don't have to go, try to squeeze a little out. You never know when the train will be "held due to train traffic ahead."
Month 3 in NYC, one of my other roommates told me to give up on planning things in this city. He said, "Everything is spontaneous and people are always late. At least if they're late, that means they actually showed up." I'm a planner and time-obsessed person. This one is a challenge for me - still. I like to think I'm getting better.
Month 5 in NYC, my good friend, Gabe, taught me how to paint on an amazing cat eye. He helped me find my signature look, perfect it and own it. He also taught me to define my eyebrows, how to brand myself and the importance of always being brave.
Month 6 in NYC, a friend who loves handbags said that every woman needs a statement bag. You know, one that makes her feel like Superwoman. My statement bag involves leather and metal, because that makes me feel like Superwoman. This is necessary when your main form of transportation is the subway and the sidewalk. You don't have the front seat of your four-door sedan to throw your stuff during the morning commute.
Month 7 in NYC: The best songs in the world were recorded before this century ... I learned that from a number of amazing DJs. You should think about this, realize it's true and delete the Top 40 hits on your iPod (unless there's a few you just can't part with).
Month 8 in NYC, a rocker friend of mine said that you can always be yourself in New York City. Here you can shop at the Salvation Army store with the cool kids, fishnets can be considered pants and leather can always be studded. Find the people that believe money doesn't matter, creativity does ... and stick with them!
Month 11 in NYC, one of my best friends (who is three or four years older than me) told me to "Always do what's right for Amanda." Right there, that's what everyone should live by (of course, please insert your name in the sentence ... or else we'd all be a bunch of aspiring writers who dance on bars). It doesn't matter who thinks you're crazy or delusional. You know what's right, so do it. The moment you live your life for you, is when you actually start living your life.
Now, when I land in New York and see that welcome sign, I do a little kick line in my head while listening to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York. Tonight, at 7:18 p.m., I walked out of the subway station and laughed. On a Monday night, one year ago, I was terrified. Now, I'm so happy to walk those same blocks every day. It's been one year … and I have no intention of leaving this time.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Wait, I Have To Get This On Facebook
It's like human beings can't do anything anymore without immediately (emphasis on immediately) putting it up on Facebook or Twitter. Look, my tube of toothpaste is deformed. Look at the empty jug of Sangria I just drank with my roommate. LOL, look at my cat after a bath.
The reason for this rant is, nonetheless, a post I recently saw on Facebook. One of my old college neighbors just had a baby (well, technically his girl did). Like we find out most of our information these days, I saw pictures on Facebook. The online baby album contained hospital pictures, and for a minute, I thought they were put up the day the child was born. I mean, you just had a kid, and I know you're proud, but should Facebook be one of the first things on your list? I'd be more concerned about having enough Pampers at home or if the bundle of joy has my eyes.
Private lives are a thing of the past. Even if you choose not to post embarrassing pictures of you falling asleep on the train at 4 a.m., your best friend will. When you bowl a pathetic game, someone will put your score up on Twitter ... most likely with a video link displaying your gutter ball. And when high school students get into the college of their choice, I bet they put it up on FB before sharing the news with their parents.
Don't get me wrong, online profiles can be great ... but I still think your parents should know your dream college accepted you before your 546 "Facebook friends." So, enjoy your wedding, a concert, your baby, or first house ... before snapping pictures and posting to Facebook. Enjoy the moment. Let your online peeps enjoy it later, if at all.
As for my neighbor, the new dad, the pictures were put up a few days after the birth. Probably after many diaper runs and making it through the first couple of sleepless nights.
P.S. Yes, I am putting this post on Facebook. It can also be used as a promotional tool, you know! I would prefer you read this than look at pictures of my cat ... even though she's pretty damn cute.
The reason for this rant is, nonetheless, a post I recently saw on Facebook. One of my old college neighbors just had a baby (well, technically his girl did). Like we find out most of our information these days, I saw pictures on Facebook. The online baby album contained hospital pictures, and for a minute, I thought they were put up the day the child was born. I mean, you just had a kid, and I know you're proud, but should Facebook be one of the first things on your list? I'd be more concerned about having enough Pampers at home or if the bundle of joy has my eyes.
Private lives are a thing of the past. Even if you choose not to post embarrassing pictures of you falling asleep on the train at 4 a.m., your best friend will. When you bowl a pathetic game, someone will put your score up on Twitter ... most likely with a video link displaying your gutter ball. And when high school students get into the college of their choice, I bet they put it up on FB before sharing the news with their parents.
Don't get me wrong, online profiles can be great ... but I still think your parents should know your dream college accepted you before your 546 "Facebook friends." So, enjoy your wedding, a concert, your baby, or first house ... before snapping pictures and posting to Facebook. Enjoy the moment. Let your online peeps enjoy it later, if at all.
As for my neighbor, the new dad, the pictures were put up a few days after the birth. Probably after many diaper runs and making it through the first couple of sleepless nights.
P.S. Yes, I am putting this post on Facebook. It can also be used as a promotional tool, you know! I would prefer you read this than look at pictures of my cat ... even though she's pretty damn cute.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Laundromat Advice
I do my laundry every Sunday. Unless it's raining, or for some reason, I decided to do it on Saturday. I pack my white bag and walk to my favorite neighborhood laundromat.
This Sunday was no different. Well, it was different in one way. Usually I don't walk into the laundromat until after 1 p.m. Today I was there by 9:15 a.m. It's amazing what you can accomplish on Sunday when you stay in and get a good night's sleep.
After loading my clothes into the machines, I sat and thought. Usually I read or write, but today I thought. I realized that I had a wake-up call this weekend. We all have wake-up calls. Some are harsher than others, but when they happen, it forces you to think. A wake-up call could be a result of a night that got out of control, a bad experience with drugs, sleeping with someone you shouldn't have, or maybe just realizing that you aren't happy with your life (Just to be clear, my wake-up call didn't result from any of those examples ... I don't want my mom to worry).
No matter what it is, it happened. Now it's up to you to learn from it and become a stronger person. Maybe you have to change some things in your life, even if you're not ready to. If you don't, you'll probably have another wake-up call real soon ... and this one might be a bit harsher.
Thanks to my wake-up call, I realized that I need to spend more time with just myself ... and working on things that make me happy. So, Saturday is my new day. I used to devote it to other foolishness and that got me nowhere, except unhappy and unfulfilled.
Sometimes, especially in New York City, you get so wrapped up in making everyone else happy that you forget that no one is as important as you. It's ok to turn off your cell phone for a day or a night and focus on you! You don't have to be at every party or every event that you're invited to.
As I was thinking about all of this at the laundromat, an employee came up to me. I see her there all the time and she always starts a conversation with me. This morning she came up to me and started talking about how messy and rude people are at the laundromat (which is true ... people just throw their dryer sheets on the floor when there's a garbage two feet away). Usually I'm all bubbly and chat with her, but today I just nodded my head and smiled. She said, "Honey, are you alright? You look a little down." I assured her that I was fine and that I just had a lot on my mind.
She came closer to me and said, "All you can do is dance and be happy. That's the remedy." Without even knowing that I'm a dancer, she somehow gave me the best advice I've heard in a long time. As I folded my last sock, I thanked her for the words of wisdom.
It felt great to get my laundry done and receive a dose of advice all before 11 a.m. on a Sunday. I really liked it. Thanks wake-up call. I'm glad I listened this time.
This Sunday was no different. Well, it was different in one way. Usually I don't walk into the laundromat until after 1 p.m. Today I was there by 9:15 a.m. It's amazing what you can accomplish on Sunday when you stay in and get a good night's sleep.
After loading my clothes into the machines, I sat and thought. Usually I read or write, but today I thought. I realized that I had a wake-up call this weekend. We all have wake-up calls. Some are harsher than others, but when they happen, it forces you to think. A wake-up call could be a result of a night that got out of control, a bad experience with drugs, sleeping with someone you shouldn't have, or maybe just realizing that you aren't happy with your life (Just to be clear, my wake-up call didn't result from any of those examples ... I don't want my mom to worry).
No matter what it is, it happened. Now it's up to you to learn from it and become a stronger person. Maybe you have to change some things in your life, even if you're not ready to. If you don't, you'll probably have another wake-up call real soon ... and this one might be a bit harsher.
Thanks to my wake-up call, I realized that I need to spend more time with just myself ... and working on things that make me happy. So, Saturday is my new day. I used to devote it to other foolishness and that got me nowhere, except unhappy and unfulfilled.
Sometimes, especially in New York City, you get so wrapped up in making everyone else happy that you forget that no one is as important as you. It's ok to turn off your cell phone for a day or a night and focus on you! You don't have to be at every party or every event that you're invited to.
As I was thinking about all of this at the laundromat, an employee came up to me. I see her there all the time and she always starts a conversation with me. This morning she came up to me and started talking about how messy and rude people are at the laundromat (which is true ... people just throw their dryer sheets on the floor when there's a garbage two feet away). Usually I'm all bubbly and chat with her, but today I just nodded my head and smiled. She said, "Honey, are you alright? You look a little down." I assured her that I was fine and that I just had a lot on my mind.
She came closer to me and said, "All you can do is dance and be happy. That's the remedy." Without even knowing that I'm a dancer, she somehow gave me the best advice I've heard in a long time. As I folded my last sock, I thanked her for the words of wisdom.
It felt great to get my laundry done and receive a dose of advice all before 11 a.m. on a Sunday. I really liked it. Thanks wake-up call. I'm glad I listened this time.
Friday, June 3, 2011
First, Pull Up Your Pants ...
I still think New York City would be a nicer place if there were more people from the Midwest and the South. Those people are nice, not selfish and even smile at one another once in a while. After a year of living here, I'm still shocked when a guy takes a seat on the subway, leaving an elderly or pregnant woman standing.
It happened again this morning (just like I'm sure it happens every minute of every day). This teenager, who needed to pull up his damn pants, took a seat next to me. He sat down even though an elderly woman, with two bags, was moving towards it. At the next stop I asked her if she wanted to sit and I gave up my seat. I shook my head at the asshole kid sitting next to me. If I can stand for 12 stops in high heels, you can stand in your Nike shoes.
If I'm ever riding the subway with a dude who won't give up his seat for someone who could use it more than him, that'll be the last time he sees me. A man like that wouldn't impress me or my Midwestern family. He'd probably make my mom bring him beers from the fridge ... without even asking nicely. Asshole.
To recap: First, pull up your pants. Then, give up your seat for someone. You might even feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
*Yes, I know there are kind East Coasters around. I wish I ran into them more often.
It happened again this morning (just like I'm sure it happens every minute of every day). This teenager, who needed to pull up his damn pants, took a seat next to me. He sat down even though an elderly woman, with two bags, was moving towards it. At the next stop I asked her if she wanted to sit and I gave up my seat. I shook my head at the asshole kid sitting next to me. If I can stand for 12 stops in high heels, you can stand in your Nike shoes.
If I'm ever riding the subway with a dude who won't give up his seat for someone who could use it more than him, that'll be the last time he sees me. A man like that wouldn't impress me or my Midwestern family. He'd probably make my mom bring him beers from the fridge ... without even asking nicely. Asshole.
To recap: First, pull up your pants. Then, give up your seat for someone. You might even feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
*Yes, I know there are kind East Coasters around. I wish I ran into them more often.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Ponder This
Even though you may feel like you've been struck by lightning when "the one that got away" gets married, it's really not that bad. Trust me, they got away for a reason. Or maybe it was you that got away. Even though it still sucks to see the wedding pictures on Facebook, just remember that some day your dress will be way more unique than hers (I plan on wearing a leotard at my wedding).
Remember ... you are who you are today because of relationships that didn't work. There's a reason for everything, it'll all work out, yadda yadda yadda ... but that bullshit is actually quite true.
Because ... when you really start thinking about it, did you really want to end up with that person? Probably not. Start designing your remarkable wedding dress, shut up and be happy for the lovely couple.
Remember ... you are who you are today because of relationships that didn't work. There's a reason for everything, it'll all work out, yadda yadda yadda ... but that bullshit is actually quite true.
Because ... when you really start thinking about it, did you really want to end up with that person? Probably not. Start designing your remarkable wedding dress, shut up and be happy for the lovely couple.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
A Whole New World ... Full of Sweat and Changes
It's here. The month of June. The sweltering New York City heat. People flooding to beaches with coolers full of juice boxes or beer, depending on your life stage. When June hits, things change. And they should. It's good ... like a whole new world.
Everyone starts wearing less clothing. Women make sure their toes are painted, men start wearing hideous plaid shorts and toddlers wobble around in their Huggies. When outside, you sweat enough bullets to take on a gang, but you enter a building and need your ankle-length winter jacket.
June is also a popular month to make a move, as in location, apartment, etc ... not making a move on the girl you've been too shy to talk to since January (you should have made that move months ago). Walking around in NYC, you'll find chairs, desks and mattresses ... half of which are probably infested with bed bugs. People need to make a change, and why shouldn't that change require you to memorize a new zip code. Even my favorite NYC girl decided to move on the eve of June. And not just from the Upper West Side to Midtown - all the way to Michigan (she's going for med school, so it's alright). I'm guilty of the June move too. Last year, I moved in the beginning of the month. Only I moved from the Midwest to this frying pan of a city (Don't get me wrong ... I love it here, even though the summers are disgusting). And I definitely didn't move for med school, my brain doesn't think that way. It likes to make impulse decisions, like the one that lead me to move to NYC "just because something told me I needed to be here."
Could the need for making changes occur because we are now approximately halfway through the year and the next thing you know we'll be humming the Little Drummer Boy as we walk down the sidewalk? It's as if we all stop and say to ourselves, "Oh shit, I have to make the rest of this year really amazing before I have to think about what I'm going to get my family for Christmas." We all of a sudden start living life to the fullest. We want to look our best. We want to be busy and learn how to waterski and attend outdoor concerts. Everyone is happy to turn the wall calendar to June, whether you have a Playboy calendar or one with fluffy kittens on it.
Make the best of the year. If you didn't start working on your New Year's resolutions in January, start now. And, if you gave up on them by February, give it another try ... or set some new goals. For instance, if you're one of those men who wears plaid shorts, your goal could be to NOT wear them. Women, start out by making your feet pretty and your toenails painted like colorful plastic Easter eggs.
Summer is a great time to feel good about yourself and make positive changes. The season doesn't really begin until the end of June, yet it's already 90 degrees outside. I don't care about the real Summer Solstice ... 90 degree, frizzy hair inducing weather means summer in my world. So enjoy the summer, and at the same time, accomplish something more than just getting a tan (the sun causes wrinkles people, oh and skin cancer - just saying). Make June your month. I did last year, and it's worked out pretty damn well for me!
You'll only have yourself to blame when you're Pa, rum, pa, pum, pumming down the street, wishing you would have done more with 2011 ... or at least with the second half of the year.
Everyone starts wearing less clothing. Women make sure their toes are painted, men start wearing hideous plaid shorts and toddlers wobble around in their Huggies. When outside, you sweat enough bullets to take on a gang, but you enter a building and need your ankle-length winter jacket.
June is also a popular month to make a move, as in location, apartment, etc ... not making a move on the girl you've been too shy to talk to since January (you should have made that move months ago). Walking around in NYC, you'll find chairs, desks and mattresses ... half of which are probably infested with bed bugs. People need to make a change, and why shouldn't that change require you to memorize a new zip code. Even my favorite NYC girl decided to move on the eve of June. And not just from the Upper West Side to Midtown - all the way to Michigan (she's going for med school, so it's alright). I'm guilty of the June move too. Last year, I moved in the beginning of the month. Only I moved from the Midwest to this frying pan of a city (Don't get me wrong ... I love it here, even though the summers are disgusting). And I definitely didn't move for med school, my brain doesn't think that way. It likes to make impulse decisions, like the one that lead me to move to NYC "just because something told me I needed to be here."
Could the need for making changes occur because we are now approximately halfway through the year and the next thing you know we'll be humming the Little Drummer Boy as we walk down the sidewalk? It's as if we all stop and say to ourselves, "Oh shit, I have to make the rest of this year really amazing before I have to think about what I'm going to get my family for Christmas." We all of a sudden start living life to the fullest. We want to look our best. We want to be busy and learn how to waterski and attend outdoor concerts. Everyone is happy to turn the wall calendar to June, whether you have a Playboy calendar or one with fluffy kittens on it.
Make the best of the year. If you didn't start working on your New Year's resolutions in January, start now. And, if you gave up on them by February, give it another try ... or set some new goals. For instance, if you're one of those men who wears plaid shorts, your goal could be to NOT wear them. Women, start out by making your feet pretty and your toenails painted like colorful plastic Easter eggs.
Summer is a great time to feel good about yourself and make positive changes. The season doesn't really begin until the end of June, yet it's already 90 degrees outside. I don't care about the real Summer Solstice ... 90 degree, frizzy hair inducing weather means summer in my world. So enjoy the summer, and at the same time, accomplish something more than just getting a tan (the sun causes wrinkles people, oh and skin cancer - just saying). Make June your month. I did last year, and it's worked out pretty damn well for me!
You'll only have yourself to blame when you're Pa, rum, pa, pum, pumming down the street, wishing you would have done more with 2011 ... or at least with the second half of the year.
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