"We need to make books cool again." --John Waters

It has recently occurred to me that by the time I get around to procreating, there's a good chance that my children won't own books anymore. Not to say they won't read; anyone who knows me knows that my offspring will be spoonfed Tolkien and Rumi from the womb. The way the publishing industry is heading, however, makes me seriously concerned that the era of printed books is coming to an end. While there's no denying the convenience of an e-reader (or whatever the hell you call it, I googled to no avail), there is something that strikes me as inherently wrong in replacing print with a flat, lifeless computer screen. I guess in the end you can take my newspapers, you can take my libraries, but you can never take my books (*to be read out loud in a William Wallace voice*).

5 Reasons Why Books Are Still the Best (and you can take your Kindle, Nook, etc, and suck it)

1. The smell--Follow these simple step by step instructions to drink in the absolute pleasure that is the musty book smell. 1) Head to your nearest library 2) Enter said library and proceed to a section that is most likely to be deserted (I'm a fan of the 1920's historical fiction section, which may or may not be a section I have entirely fabricated) 3) Ensure the aisle you have selected is uninhabited, as you don't want people thinking you're a book perv 4) Select a book at random, preferably one with an unlaminated cover and a partially deteriorated spine 5) Upon opening, double check that its front jacket is still emblazoned with an aged check out card. This ensures that the book is from the appropriate era for the desired smell effect. 6) Open to the very middle of the book, insert your nose to spine depth, and inhale. Smells like history doesn't it? Last time I checked, my Ipad didn't have an app for that.
2. Sex appeal--Is it just me or does a man with a full library ooze sexiness? I'm talking multiple shelves, stacked to the brims, books on books on books kind of library. Throw in a plaid shirt and we have ourselves a winner ladies and gentlemen. I've determined recently that aside from being an SC fan, not being a reader is a deal breaker for me. It's books or bupkis basically. Get your ass to a Barnes and Noble.
3. Easier dramatic quote pagination--As a relic of the era when kids still carried books to class, it has been a struggle for me to transition to the usage of online textbooks. How will I take notes? How will I easily flip to the page I need during the Internet exam ensuring that I get the correct answer? (as if you actually thought students absorbed and retained anything they learn in an online class). Whether it be for class or for impressing the ladies at the bar by quoting Shakespeare, nothing beats an old underlined and earmarked copy of Romeo and Juliet.
4. A sense of permanence--I'd be lying if I said a major reason for my obsessive documentation of life wasn't self preservation. Luckily I'm not the only one out there who feels the same; literary greats from Fitzgerald to Hemmingway often integrated loved ones and real life experiences into their work. While blogging has taken the place of the good ole key locked diary from the sixties, there is something to be said for having a hand written account of your college years at your disposal. Except that doesn't smell like history, it smells like beer and bad decisions.
 5. You're killing the written word dammit. No explanation required. Buy more books. Period.

Australia, A Love Story

You know the exact moment you fell in love with Oz and Oz knew it too, for it was at that moment that the world seemed a bit brighter, the sky a bit bluer, and the sun just a bit warmer. Facing all manner of embarrassment, you waded with your Uni friends into the water, knowing what was coming. A lost bet, you think, but honestly, you’d probably do it with or without the pride at stake. It’s all about the experience, you tell yourself. Knowing full well that there is a beach full of locals and tourists only a short distance away, you slowly untie the strings of your bikini and let it fall away. Your friends cheer and hoot and scream, drawing the attention of a few beach patrons, but not long enough to incur the intended blush and cover that was expected from the dare. Instead, you bob weightless in the waves and submerge your ears underwater, watching the scene around you naked and noiseless. A rocky cliffside dotted in underbrush hides the narrow path you took to get to this isolated strip of sand and sea. Your group’s beach towels dot the shoreline in colorful rivets. The muted sounds of laughter mix seamlessly with the ebb and flow of waves upon the shore. Concealed only by the tepid North Queensland waters, you feel yourself let go and it’s as if a part of your heart falls off and latches itself to the seabed below. This is the moment where you know there is no going back. You belong to a sunburnt country.

From Bali, With Love

There is no way I can really describe stepping out of the airplane and into the Balinese sun. A blast of warm air hit me in the face like I was opening an oven door and a thousand different sights and smells flooded my senses. The onrush of brown faced men and women smiling and wordlessly trying to carry my bag. A cacophonous melody of languages blending into one vibrant buzz of excitement. Twenty five American dollars later and I am granted my Indonesian visa, a temporary thread in this quilt of culture. From the airport at Denpasar we took a van to Seminyak, our driver flawlessly navigating the haphazard motorbike drivers by the dozen. The streets are littered with trash and stray dogs, with two lone cows set to pasture among them. The Kembali villas seem like a different world compared to the squalor of the streets. Stepping stones set above water lead the way into the open air kitchen and living room. A plush red lounge faces the green-blue glow of the pool. White curtains sway in the breeze covering glass doors to the bedrooms. An outdoor shower and toilet invite you to take your normally private business into the open. From my bed, I see skinny palm trees eerily lit from below, while the frangipani tree deposits small white blossoms about the yard. I take a sip from an ice cold Bintang beer and press the bottle against my neck, letting its condensation drip and settle onto the gentle curve of my collarbone. Cleverly placed candles cast an ethereal glow over the still surface of the water. Heat lightning pops and cracks in the distance like the flashbulb of a camera. The scent of incense and mosquito coils burns and fills my nostrils as I breathe the night air fully. The villa is noiseless and still, save for the sound of running water trickling down the entryway. I welcome the quiet and the solitude after a long day spent baking under the sun. Here, I feel more content than I have in some time. I am happy to be by myself, not seeking meaningless distraction to combat the loneliness. On the contrary, I quite enjoy it. I've come to learn something after my first month here--I would much rather be alone than in the company of someone I don't thoroughly enjoy. I don't need a space filler; I need a champion. But as long as I'm surrounded by the hot Bali air for another week, I don't need a damn thing...well, maybe another beer.

"True goodbyes are the ones never said or explained"

Well hello blog. It's been a while.

As most of you know, I'm preparing to move to Australia for a year to work as an au pair with a family in Brisbane. As a result, people have been calling me left and right begging for one last chance to bask in the glory of my presence. I'm fairly certain that everyone has experienced both happy and sad goodbyes in their lifetime, but being a seasoned world traveler such as myself, I have become an expert on the best and worst ways to bid adieu to my loved ones.

Top 5 Classic Ways to Say Goodbye

5. The Random Goodbye- When getting ready to leave for an extended period of time, it's only natural to make a prioritized list of the people you absolutely must see before you go. Generally these people are already aware of the fact that you are about to move across the world for 9 months as they are presumably close to you (or at least Facebook friends with you...I hope...). However, there are those people who are completely out of the loop about your imminent departure, and therefore unintentionally throw themselves onto the list of people who cannot survive another day without seeing before you go. This makes the goodbye slightly awkward in nature; for example, when said dinner, lunch, or playdate comes to an end and they suggest that you "Do it again sometime soon," your response is--"Well actually, I'm moving away forever, so we can't do it again anytime in the near future...but I had a great time!" I've found it's best to make a speedy exit afterward and leave them wondering if they heard you correctly.
4. The Movie Goodbye- An integral part of any tragic romance is the climactic farewell scene between two lovers. Parting words range from “I’ll never let go Jack” to “Here’s looking at you kid.” You should be well versed in any and all movie goodbyes, lest someone try to pass off cinematic genius as their own. For example, if you were to ask a friend how best to keep in touch with them while you’re gone and they respond, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” you should either A) run away in tears or B) embrace your inner Southern belle and respond, “After all, tomorrow is another day.” And then embrace your friend for being as big of a movie geek as you are.
3. The Dramatic Goodbye- Most common among close friends, parents, and ex/current boyfriends, this is the kind of goodbye that should come equipped with a box of Kleenex and a cocktail. The cocktail to steel your nerves and actually get on the plane after such an emotional farewell, and the Kleenex for when you spill your drink after being chased by airport security for attempting to bring an 8 oz. plus container of liquid on a plane. Naturally.
2. The Drunken Goodbye- What better way to send off a dear friend than to buy her a drink for every year you two have been pals? I feel a solid night of binge drinking is in order anytime someone leaves the country; not only does it make for good wholesome entertainment, but there’s something to be said for the intoxicated farewell. Feelings you never knew another person harbored suddenly come gushing out as the alcohol flows and by the end of the night, everyone has mended old wounds and rekindled friendships. That is until the hangover sets in and the photos wind up online, but with any luck, you’ll be thousands of miles away by then.
1. The Unspoken Goodbye- What's worse: boarding an airplane to a foreign country for 9 months in a fit of tears after saying everything or maintaining some semblance of control over your emotions and saying nothing? I can tell you this much, one involves a lot more dwelling and over-analyzing than the other...you be the judge.

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous" --Ingrid Bergman

In honor of the upcoming holiday (Singles Awareness Day...har har har), an homage to one of the most written about signs of affection--the kiss.

The Top 5 Best Kinds of Kisses (or at the very least, my own top 5)

5. The First Kiss- No matter what the circumstance, any girl today could tell you the who, what, when, and where of her first kiss. Heart pounding, throat tightening, butterflies in the stomach; all of these feelings can be summed up in the final moments before the first time your lips touch with someone new. Maybe it's excitement, maybe it's hormones, but whatever the case, The First Kiss remains rooted in the top 5.
4. The Nose Kiss- There are probably hundreds, no, thousands of places on a girl's body to kiss that ignite a veritable fireworks display of giddiness, but for me, it's the tip of my nose. Just a simple little peck and boom, I'm a goner. There's probably no quicker way to make me smile, unless you crack a Helen Keller joke.
3. The Intimate Kiss- There's something to be said for the kinds of long, drawn out kisses that fall under the Intimate Kiss category. Boyfriend or not, these are the kinds of makeout sessions that become burned into our memories, and ususally signify the start of something new.
2. The Surprise Kiss- This is a simple combination of two things most girls love--kissing and surprises. What woman doesn't want to be kissed Gone With The Wind style by a dashing Southern gentleman? If she's saying no, it probably means yes, yes, oh yes. Unless she says it several times and attempts to push you off of her. Then you should listen lest you wind up in jail.
1. The Reunion Kiss- Boys. Rent "The Notebook." Follow these simple instructions to execute the perfect Reunion Kiss.
One- Spot girl from across a sizeable amount of distance i.e. large grassy field, airport arrival gate, etc.
Two- Run/jog 20% to her 80%, as she has shorter legs and will take longer to reach you.
Three- Bend knees slightly and open your arms. Ready your body for impact.
Four- Wrap your arms around her and lift.
Five- Commence awesomely public makeout session of joy.

You can thank me later for these tips.

"Why didn't they have mobile phones in the 1920s? Think how many misunderstandings in the world could have been avoided." --Sophie Kinsella

Hate to disagree with you Soph, but I think we could learn a lot by taking a hint from our ancestors and giving our thumbs a rest.

5 Reasons Why Text Messaging is Pointless, Irritating, and Utterly Reprehensible

1. The Mass Text- Back when email was the new and hip form of communication, there was nothing I dreaded more than a sickeningly sweet chain letter. Ranging from Bible verses to animated farm animals, these messages were intended to brighten your day, lift your spirits, and put a smile on your face...until you read the subtext at the bottom, which stated that if you didn't forward said message to every damn person in your Address Book, your grandma would drop dead and you would be cursed with syphilis. While The Mass Text doesn't come with the aforementioned threat at the end, it's still just as annoying, if not moreso. Every holiday I dread the flood of messages to my inbox, wishing me "Merry Christmas! xOxO!" from people I haven't talked to since middle school. Next I'm faced with the stress of choosing to respond or not, (as you will learn below, my biggest pet peeve is The Unreturned Text), and if I respond, what I should say. Surely a simple, "Thanks!" should suffice, but sometimes this opens up the floodgates of communication, followed by the obligatory, "We should catch up sometime!" text that I now feel guilted into seeing someone I really have no interest or desire to see much less converse with in person. In summation, I hate your mass text. Stop sending them to me.
2. The Booty Text- Any living, breathing member of the undergrad category has both sent and received The Booty Text. Whether drunk or sober, we are human, and sometimes our needs must be met. However, The Booty Text lacks all the romance and mystery that has fueled some of the greatest love stories of all time. What if the ending of Casablanca was not summed up in the words, "Here's lookin' at you kid," but "Hey Ilsa, gr8 2 c u, whut r u doin l8r?" Pick up the phone and call me dammit; I'll be more likely to respond to that and not a message asking me to watch a movie at 3 am. I'm not retarded.
3. The Mass Booty Text- One of the most inexcusable offenses in the world of texting is receiving a message, exchanging in flirtatious banter, then realizing the other person has no idea who they're talking to. If this sounds familiar, you have been a victim of The Mass Booty Text. I'm pretty sure the concept was invented by guys, because I like to think we females are slightly more selective in who we slut around with, but it's fairly simple--send an innocuous "What's up?" text to every girl in your phone and see who responds. From there, you can pick and choose which ones to pursue, even multitasking lest one girl falls asleep, flakes out, or God forbid, has her period. Just one more reason why anytime I receive what I suspect to be a Mass Booty Text, my textbook response is, "Just finished delousing my pubic hair, you?"
4. The Guilt Text- Everyone has those certain friends who seem to be drawn to drama like frat boys to beer. A shitty day at work, relationship woes, swine flu--you name it, they got it. And just as quickly as they are to piss and moan via paragraphs upon paragraphs of cell phone diarrhea, they expect an even faster response from you in the form of the dreaded Guilt Text. Nothing goads me more than a sympathy digger; not only do I have to pretend to feel sorry for you, but I have to sell it, because just like sympathy diggers are wise to the well practiced game of bullshit, they can smell it just as easily. Easily the fastest way to piss off a writer is to demand bullshit on command--we may dish it out, but that doesn't mean we like it, and that doesn't make it an acceptable text message practice.
And the worst of all...
5. The Unreturned Text- Day or night, rain or shine, my cell phone is always within an earshot. I could be sleeping, going to the bathroom, or performing open heart surgery--if I receive a text, I am well aware of the fact. That's why The Unreturned Text is Numero Uno on my short list of Things I Cannot Stand. I understand the various reasons for not responding to a message in a moment's notice; life exists outside of a cell phone, and most certainly out of a few lines of written text. However, after 24 hours have elapsed, a girl could start to think something has gone wrong. Maybe you've been kidnapped by terrorists and I should alert the Department of Homeland Security. Maybe you've fallen into a well and I need to fetch Lassie lest you get eaten by Samara. At any rate, not responding to a text message says several things, the most important being that I was not important enough to respond to.

So here is what I'm going to do. I am going to take my own advice and give my thumbs a rest. As for the rest of you, well...you know my number. Call it.

5 Signs that Preschoolers Know More About Life than We Do

As a teacher aide, I am privy to some of the most witty yet insightful comedy in the South Bay. Sure, they may be three years old, but they know what's up.

1. A standard preschool practice for children is the grand announcement that they are going to the bathroom. They march off to the toilet, do their business, and return in a flurry of pride, energy, and excitement--the result of an empty colon. One little boy was particularly pleased to inform me that he could "wipe his butt all by himself." I can't understand why more people don't brag about that skill on their Match.com profiles.
2. Lunchtime has long been considered an opportunity to enjoy food with colleagues, but in the preschool world, it is so much more. Upon learning that another little girl or boy has the same Capri Sun as you, a loud declaration is made for the rest of the lunchtable to hear--"Now we can be friends!" Heaven forbid they both have Goldfish, or apple sauce, or strawberry kiwi flavored Gogurt (which, by the way, is completely lukewarm at this point...ice packs are a thing of the past apparently). The second item sets their companionship in stone, at least until they wear the same colored leggings--then they're soulmates.
3. The socially unacceptable practice of genitalia comparison is quite popular among the three to four year old crowd. On more than one occasion, I have unintentionally stumbled upon a pair of preschoolers giving each other anatomy lessons in the bathroom. And despite our scolding, they remain eerily aware of the one vital difference between boys and girls. Not that it deters them from going potty in front of opposite sex or asking me to me to button their pants post pee-break with a sly grin on their face.
4. While "nails on a chalkboard" is a commonly used term to symbolize loud, obnoxious noises, it seems that preschoolers have perfected the art of hitting the kind of pitch akin to a dog whistle. Whether it be a Lincoln log dragged slowly across a table or a dry marker scratched rapidly on paper, these sounds result in instantaneous reactions from teachers to their delight. These outbursts are merely symbolic of the pubescent hell in years to come when these adorable rascals hit high school and a Lincoln log turns into a bong.
5. The formulaic "boy meets girl" story, though commonly viewed as a coming of age tale, is prevalent among teenagers and preschoolers alike. Similar to comparing food to friendship, boys and girls of the toddler persuasion are equally likely to compare playmates to relationships. While we have several couples who are going steady, I have seen everything from love triangles to full on catfights over boys who couldn't even wipe their own bottoms post poo. A favorite little boy of mine happened to be looking particularly glum one day; when I asked him what was wrong, he confessed that he had been dumped. I did my best to scale down the pearls of wisdom my elders had bestowed upon me, reassuring him that I was sure she'd play with him in the sandbox tomorrow. Tears welling in his eyes, he solemnly nodded his head and as a parting sentiment, proclaimed "I don't understand girls."

Amazing how much older and wiser we claim to be, and yet somehow the simplest things are only visible through the eyes of a toddler. Though we may grow up, the same complications plague our lives, and while he may be nineteen years my junior, we still have something in common--the neverending saga of the "boy meets girl" tale.

I scratch your back, you scratch...nothing

Reciprocity. In the simplest of terms, reciprocation can be broken down into the following--you do a favor for someone and they do a favor for you in return. Whether it be covering for a coworker, visiting someone, or comiscerating with a friend over a recent breakup, we all do these little things in life not only out of love, but out of the understanding that the other party would do the same for you. However, what happens when things start become one sided?

I seem to find myself in this situation time after time. Putting the needs of others before my own might seem to be a redeemable quality, but only in moderation. I happen to be an extremist when it comes to doing things for the significant players in my life. Girl's night with champagne, cookie dough, and Kleenex after your fifth breakup? My treat. Ride to the airport at 2 am? No problem. Need an extra set of hands to move you into your apartment in the peak heat of summer? Sure, I could use the exercise. And while I wish I could say these were dramatic exaggerations for literary purposes, sadly that is not the case.

With all these one-sided relationships in my life, I've started to think about when reciprocity became such a foreign concept. Am I that much of a doormat that people think this is an acceptable way to treat me, or is it something else? Has society ingrained such a heavy reliance on others that as a result, I rely on no one?

A concept that goes hand in hand with reciprocity is independence. I spent the majority of my young adult life in an unhealthy relationship based on my physical and mental dependence on my boyfriend. When I was finally able to break free, it took a long time before I felt I was capable of being on my own. Since then, I have been involved with several people, but have maintained a strong sense of indepedence. Could it be that the lack of reciprocity in my life stems not from my friends' unwillingness to give help, but my inability to ask for it?

I may not be able to depend on others is some parts of my life, but when it comes to relationships with friends, co workers, and the opposite sex, a little reciprocity goes a long way.

Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

Something every person seems to hope for on the verge of the coming new year is change. Change is a pretty broad term to use, but when we find ourselves at the end of a decade that marks the most formidable years of our lives, it's the only word that comes to mind.

So rather than waxing existentially about change in terms of other people, I'm opting for some personal insight about what I'd like to change in 2010.

1--Fashion throwbacks to the 80s. Really, I'm quite sick of the so called "hipster" subculture that has emerged over the past three years. Leggings as pants is just as socially unacceptable now as it should have been in 1986. Neon does not look attractive on anyone. Feathered hair should be limited to Farrah Fawcett and the rest of the Charlie's Angels. And you know the only reason sane women find Michael Cera attractive is because of his certain alt indie appeal.
2--The monogamy trend. I know I'm repeating myself, but the category of single men in their early to mid twenties is shockingly non existent. How is a future trophy wife supposed to snag a beau when everyone already has a date to the 34th Annual Newport Beach Clam Bake? How is an aspiring soccer mom supposed to meet her soccer dad when all the coaches are taken? Your twenties exist for a reason--to continue where your college years left off and have a good time. In a grown up way, of course.
3--Female empowerment. Something I've been encountering during my interactions with the opposite sex is the idea that women and men are suddenly "equal." While I'd like to say this is true, I have seen too many instances of inequality in both professional and social environments. However, the idea of "female empowerment" is something that men have suddenly picked up on, and rather than abolish it, they exploit it. Since when is a date a date if a man expects you to pay for everything? Why am I expected to open my own car door and buckle my seat belt too when I'm just a weak little female? I get lost walking down the street, why do I have to drive? Give me the days of 'ole where my only expectations were a clean house and a hot meal at 5 pm. And child bearing hips.
4--Romantic comedies. This film trend has been on the rise ever since "Jerry Maguire" became a hit in '96. You know what I would like to see more of? Zombie movies. Give me a hacksaw, blood, and the undead anyday over the "You complete me" bs spilling out of Tom Cruise's mouth.

The Facebook Deletion Taboo

Maybe you did it in a fit of rage. Maybe you had one too many rum and Cokes. Maybe you were unsure what the side effects of blocking a person were. At any rate, it's safe to say that Facebook friend deletion has become the new social taboo of our generation. Not only does it signify the end of secretly stalking that person (which, by the way, both women AND men are guilty of...just ask if the title "Undie Run Album" means anything to them), but quite possibly the end of your friendship in real life. There's nothing like sitting down at your computer with your daily bowl of Cheerios in front of you, only to realize that you've been brutally deleted from someone's life. When did social networking replace actual human interaction? Why have Facebook relationships replaced those based in reality?

Facebook has become a means of legitimizing our rung on the social ladder. After all, what's more exciting about getting a new beau--the fact that you have a boyfriend, or the fact that you get to declare it to 35 million people via your relationship status? Posting photos is not just an easy way to share pictures with friends, but a prime opportunity to sell yourself to thousands of horny undergrad males just dying to show off albums of you in your underwear to their friends.

Yet again I'm being entirely hypocritical, for not only do I post obscene amounts of photos, I also committed the taboo. I deleted someone off Facebook. Admittedly this was done under the influence of alcohol, but I don't use that as an excuse, simply an explanation. However stupid and childish it may have been, I never expected the reaction that this friend deletion garnered, and it's made me think about the values we place on Facebook relationships over real ones. Does it honestly matter if we're friends on cyberspace if we're friends in real life? I didn't think so.

Ultimately, I realized I made a mistake and re added my friend, but imagine my dismay when I learned they had rejected my request! If Facebook has truly replaced the actual ties of friendship with another person, then maybe it's for the best...after all, I have 871 more people on my friends list to keep me company.

The Curious Case of the Ex Boyfriend

Everyone has them. The former prince charming, love of your life, can't-be-apart-for-more-than-30-seconds ex boyfriend. These are the men from our past-- the ones who cheated, lied, and significantly fucked us up for any and all future relationships we dare to embark upon. There are some who choose to make a clean break, severing ties on and off the internet (though I must admit, Facebook deletion is the ultimate slap in the face). However, there are a few brave souls who choose an alternate route when it comes to the infamous exes, and that is the pathethic and ever disappointing stab at post breakup friendship.

I personally happen to be one of the crazy people out there that actually believes friendship with an ex is possible. With time, however, I'm slowly coming to learn that true to Billy Crystal's word in "When Harry Met Sally," men and women cannot be friends.

There are several factors that taint male/female friendship without the added complication of a prior boyfriend/girlfriend status, but the number one reason is sex. No matter what people claim, sex is the driving force in most 18-26 year olds' lives. This is the primary reason why friendship between men and women is inevitably doomed to become tainted by either a one sided or mutual attraction between parties. In summation, sex kills friendship.

Back to the ex factor. To quote another celeb, look to songstress Whitney Houston for the ever poignant and straightforward 90s ballad, "I Will Always Love You." The title says it all. No matter how many years have passed or how many bottles of tequila have been consumed whilst cursing the day they were born, there will always been a part of you, no matter how infinitesimally small, that still loves them. And though you will date and fall in love with many others, all it takes is that one song or that one place or that one stupid scene in Love Actually with the guy and the flashcards and the "To me, you are perfect," bullshit for you to think of them.

Which brings me back to my original query--why stay friends with exes when you're basically dooming yourself to future of misery?

I'd say that within my short lifetime, I've had about 3 significant relationships with men and have maintained friendships with all of them. However, what I'm starting to realize is that one of the reasons I keep them as friends is to remind myself that once upon a time, things were wonderful and easy, and the reason these friendships don't work is because I am constantly reminded of how one-sided they have become. Once a person shifts from girlfriend to friend who's a girl, her level of importance changes. Even the term "significant other" connotates a sense of the place this person used to hold in your life. However, once a "former" is stuck in front of the term, things change.

So while I'm not about to cut ties with the men of my past, I'm not going to prolong the rut of nostalgia between us either. After all, there's a reason they didn't make it to my future.

Archaelogical Dig of Desk Drawer Circa 1997 and Beyond

Date: December 1, 2009
Time: 2:45 pm Pacific Standard Time
Place: The desk drawer of an adolescent Caucasian female, aged 11-18 years old
Artifacts found: One, "All About Me" scrapbook containing photos, memorabilia, and random insightful sentences such as, "My favorite clothes are bellbottoms and baby tees," and "The thing I like most about myself is my hair."
Two, box of rainbow pencils emblazoned with the name "JESSICA"
Three, assortment of newspaper clippings and computer printouts of strange child with glasses and a lightning bolt on his forehead wielding a wand (Note--nearby sticker proclaiming "I'm a Gryffindor" may or may not be related).
Four, collection of wallet size high school dance photos, seemingly gathered from subject's friends (Note--awkward positioning of male behind female with arms positioned around female's stomach).
Five, piece of scrap cloth with phrase, "Cheer Up Emo Kid" printed in ink on the front, possibly intended for usage on clothing.
Six, empty Trojan latex condom wrapper.
Seven, Angeles Girl Scout Council card.
Eight, typed interaction between two parties, one "geniegirl" and other "capupURass27"; selections include, "I just think yer hott" and "Well yer ass is nice."


Oh nostalgia. You're a cruel bitch.

Ode to my Onesie

There comes a time in every girl's life where she wakes up one day and realizes something is missing. "What could it be?" you might ask. Is it a new car? Is it a sparkly diamond? Is it a sweet piece of man candy by the name of Brad? No, my friends, the answer is oh so much greater than Brad--it is the onesie. Known to some as "footie pajamas," this classic sleepwear look was worn predominantly in our childhood, to the delight or disgust of others. They have graced sleepovers and Christmas cards alike, making a bold fashion statement to anyone daring to be seen with a child forced into a onesie by their parents. As the years passed and our sleep attire has become more and more scandelous with age, it's time we take back our youth with this fleecy delight.

As the onesie market is severely limited to children under the age of 14, size and color selection are imperative in executing this classy throwback to our yesteryears. Whilst perusing the children's clothing section at my local Target, I was shocked to find an overabundance of designs in the little boy's aisle. Dinosaurs, rocketships, racecars...essentially the trifecta of cool in terms of prepubescent men.

While the choice was not easy, I settled on a black design adorned with glow in the dark skulls for several reasons--
1. Skulls are badass. Naturally my goal is to look as cool as humanly possible in a onesie.
2. Guys dig chicks who glow in the dark. And naturally, my other goal is purchasing a onesie is to pick up guys.
3. It unzips down to my foot. This opens the door for endless amounts of inappropriate fun.
4. I can listen to Avril Lavigne and Sum 41 while wearing it and feel even MORE punk rock than I already am.

So friends, if you're wondering what exactly it will take to fill that gigantic hole in your life, put down the bottle of Jack Daniels and get yourself a onesie. You can thank me later.

Wear Sunscreen Part Deux

After my last post, it has come to my attention that I was being slightly hypocritical in my rash judgement of the "autopilot" group of my colleagues. Yes, it's true that I judged them for judging me, and at the same time, passed judgement on their actions as well. After a complete overuse of the "j" word, I've decided to add an addendum to my aforementioned statements about the autopilot-ers.

Since I'm such a fan of groups, I'm going to break down my categories of the class of 2009 even further, starting with the ones who know what they want to do in life. Among those people, there are two kinds--the passionate and the passionless. Let's talk in terms of romantic relationships for example. I can't count the number of couples I know who are together simply for the sake of "having a boyfriend." I don't know when having a significant other became the status quo, but take it from me, it is far less common to be a single independent 22-year old these days than to be quoting love songs in Facebook statuses and declaring their love for one another via Twitter. When asked why they stay with this person, they give a plethora of reasons, such as "What if something better never comes along?" or "I need a date to my cousin's bat mitzvah in 6 months." These are the passionless people to which I am referring to when I speak of the "autopilot" group. By basing their life decisions solely on the expectations of others, they limit themselves to becoming a stereotype of American society.

The passionate, on the other hand, may fall underneath the same broad category of knowing what they want to do in life, but differ from the passionless in the sense that they do so with conviction. In relationships, the passionate are confident, self assured, and aware that with or without their beau, they can stand on their own two feet just fine. The passionate take this same attitude into work, friendship, and life in general. The only problem I have encountered with this group is the expectation for me to be just as self assured in my decisions as they are. This mentality has been the rock in my shoe ever since I decided my life path was going to be undecided. What I dislike about this group is the type of people who feel the need to validate their decisions through judging mine. I may not be on autopilot, but I'm just as passionate about life and all there is to experience as those who know exactly where their lives are going.

Wear Sunscreen

"Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t." --Baz Luhrmann

You know what they say about a woman's intuition? That's bullshit. My intuition is about as trustworthy as a bum selling homemade cookies to children on the streets. One minute I'll think I've chosen the perfect direction for myself. Job, location, everything seems to be falling into place. But then once I take a moment to step back and actually look at this so-called perfect direction, I've come to realize something--I have absolutely no idea what direction my life is going.

For the first 22 years of everyone's life, we are on autopilot. Starting with kindergarten, we are on the fast track to success up until high school graduation, where for some of us, the option to enter the real world is thrust in our faces. For the lucky few of us who reside somewhere in the category of "upper to middle class families," we don't have that choice, it's off to a four year university to take classes on subjects we have nothing but weak to mild interest in, simply to gain a sheet of paper validating the $40,000 a year our parents just shelled out.

So here's where things start to get scary--during what some people would consider to be the culmination of 17 years of education, graduation comes and goes in a blink of an eye, and all of a sudden, we are stamped with the "grown up" label and thrown flat on our asses into the real world.

Now the class of 2009 can be divided into two very simple categories: the ones who know what they want to do and the ones who don't. For the ones who do know, you can turn the autopilot switch back on, because here is the Cliffnotes version of how your life is going to go--you will find a somewhat appealing job that may or may not relate back to your college degree and inevitably, you will end up hating it, but continue to work at it because it's a lot easier to complain and do nothing than to quit and make a positive change for yourself. You will meet your future husband or wife, and find him or her somewhat appealing, but not exactly the sort spouse you had envisioned for yourself. You marry anyway. 2.5 kids, a dog, and a minivan later, and you are living the American dream. Are you happy? No. Are you successful? Not really. But hey, you've got everything you're supposed to have in life and maybe that's enough.

Going back to the categories, now we must discuss the ones who don't know what to do with their lives. Rather than hop on the bandwagon post graduation, they choose to explore their options a bit, perhaps moving back home temporarily in order to do so. For this group, anything and everything is an option, whether it be a teaching job in Istanbul or a permanent vacation in Australia. As a result of their pseudo bohemian actions, they get slammed by family and friends with colorful adjectives such as "lazy," "unmotivated," or "crazy," in some cases. But take a step back and notice for a second that the group labeling are the ones on autopilot and the group that doesn't know what they want still has the freedom to turn that switch off.

Naturally, I consider myself a member of the latter group, and as half cocked as it sounds, there are some days I look at plane flights to far off places and think, "What if I bought a ticket right now, left, and never came back?" And while I may not know where I'll go or what I'll do, I know one thing--I will never be a person who lets other people make those decisions for me. So if that means quitting my job and joining an indigenous tribe in Africa tomorrow, you can call me crazy, but I'll call you boring, because I'll know I've lived my life more fully in one day than you will for the rest of yours.

10 Reasons Why Thanksgiving is the Best Holiday of Them All

1. It provides a legitimate excuse to sit around and eat carbs all day. As if I need one *cue laugh track*
2. It prefaces Black Friday, also known as day of crazed soccer moms flocking the malls to save 1.99 on Bratz dolls and other skankafied toys for their over indulged children. Also an excellent opportunity to sit back, sip a peppermint latte, and judge random strangers as they flood Del Amo Mall.
3. Zero romantic connotations. Is it too much to ask for a simple holiday sans the lovey dovey shit we get shoved down our throats every other month of the year? November 26th is last call before Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, etc...so grab a beer and a turkey leg and enjoy it while it lasts.
4. Political turmoil. Nothing screams 'holiday' more than sparking a spririted debate between the Liberals and the Conservatives in the family! Lucky for me, I'm the designated black sheep of the Hooper clan and will be sporting my Obama button with pride (or disdain, in my grandmother's opinion).
5. Football. "Nuff said.
6. Crafts. As a preschool teacher, I'm well versed in the area of children's crafts, and while I do see my fair share of complicated art projects on a weekly basis, nothing says 'classic' like a good old fashioned hand turkey.
7. The endlessly entertaining political correctness battle between 'indians' and 'native Americans.' Honestly, I'm not putting a feather in my hair and sporting a paper bag vest covered in arrows and moccassins to be politically correct, I'm doing it to have a good time. And besides, I think the indians (OOO I SAID IT) could care less what we call them as long as they got their land and their culture back (too soon?)
8. The ridiculous assortment of food only consumed on this one day out of the year. Cranberry sauce for example. On what other occassion is it socially acceptable to show up at a fancy dinner party bringing only a can of red goo? Other nonsensical food items include candied yams and sweet potatoes topped with mini marshmellows. Or cornucopias. But that's just a fun word to say.
9. 3 words--Thanksgiving.TV.Specials. Macy's Parade. Charlie Brown. The classic Friends episode. The list goes on...
10...did I mention carbs?

The best thing to hold onto in life is each other

I was discussing this with my mother about a week ago, but ever since graduation, I have noticed that the list of people I miss continues to grow with age. Leaving home for college requires the elimination of the safety net you've had since birth, something that was easier said than done for me. Four years later and the tables are turned--suddenly you are forced to leave behind your college family in exchange for the return to your old one. My feelings on this are mixed; while I am happy to "return to the nest" so to speak so I can rekindle past relationships, it saddens me to leave behind my new family, one that has been there and seen me through some of the most formidable years of my life.

So on this particular afternoon, which held no special meaning or significance, I found myself peeking out of the upstairs window to catch a glimpse at the fading sunset and thinking about the people in my life that I miss. There are those from my past whom I miss, whether as a result of distance, choice, or death. And there are those from my present whom I miss, but who can say which group holds more importance? Admittedly there are those I miss more than others, but the important thing to realize is that to the ones who matter, the ones who do care, the number of miles between us is just that, a number. And as for the ones who don't care, well, I believe it was Marilyn Monroe who once said, "Do not worry about people from your past, there's a reason they didn't make it to your future." I couldn't agree with her more.

Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars

When faced with an empty blog and virtually endless amounts of topics to write about, I've decided to stick to my guns and write about what is presently on my mind--Peter Pan. After spending close to an hour attempting to create a witty yet personal title for my blog (embarrassing, I know), my thoughts drifted to my favorite childhood tale. Yes, Peter Pan was and still is a favorite of adults and children alike, for who can deny their inherent love of pirates, fairies, and adventure? But as most of us come to learn with age, life is not the fairy tale we are taught to believe from birth. Still, Peter Pan presents us with a viable alternative to growing up--why not fly away to a land where children never age and your most formidable opponent you face is a bumbling old man with a hook for a hand?

Therein lies the appeal of J.M. Barrie's timeless protagonist. Not only does Peter represent eternal youth, but also the idea that while our childhood may have ended, the adventures we imagined for ourselves don't have to.

So while I find myself faced with the usual assortment of life challenges befitting a recent college graduate, I know that no matter what happens, Neverland is still out there.