Daydream Believer

Like most other little kids, when I was growing up, as soon as the bus dropped me off in front of my house, I'd burst through the front door, throw myself into my mom (or dad's) arms, tell them about my day and wait for them to unpin the note on my shirt sent home by my teacher.  Oh wait, is that not normal?  I guess I can say that got in trouble a decent amount.  Of course, it was never my fault though... of course.  So the question is: What had Sarah done today?  Was she triple-dog-dared to hit someone in the head with a stick?  Had she kissed another boy under the desks during a movie?  Did her kindergarten boyfriend, Randy Peterson, beat someone up for flirting with her again?  For the record, all of these things happened.  What can I say, my "maneater" tendencies started at an early age.  But alas no, it was nothing nearly as scandalous this time.  The story my parents prefer to tell about my daily note jewelry, for obvious reasons, is about daydreaming and holds true to this example.  I barely paid attention in class because I was constantly in my own little world dreaming about how wonderful life would be if my mom would just buy me lunchables, or if I had a pet sloth - whatever it is that five-year-olds dream about.  From an early age I've been a dreamer.

The thing I like most about day dreams is that you can control exactly what happens, who they are about and your overall happiness isn't questioned based on whether a man has that douchebag gene or not.  Because let's face it, in my daydreams, the men always sweep me off my feet before rubbing them, there is a bottomless bottle of wine and I can eat as many frango mints as I want without worrying about swimsuit season.  If only.  Where it gets a little bit tricky is with your actual dreams.  Some people claim that they don't remember their dreams, or they don't dream.  I am not one of those people. 

Usually, my dreams are very vivid and relatively life-like, save a few random details.  For example, I once dreamed about getting ready for a trip with an ex-boyfriend and his family.  Everything was normal, except when I looked at him, he had a ridiculous widow's peak that came down to right in between his eyebrows.  Talk about getting over an ex!  He was immediately unattractive, to both dream Sarah and real life Sarah.  Another time, I dreamt that I was swimming with whales with some guy (assuming a boyfriend) on the set of Deep Blue Sea.  Unfortunately, Samuel L. Jackson was not there.  Now, generally I would think this was really cool.  Add in the dream aspect that the back of said boys legs were covered in pubic hair and there was a giant fish food container for the whales that was filled with babies, that doesn't seem like such a fun date anymore.  A normal woman would wake up and think "what a horrible dream!  Those poor babies were being eaten by whales!  What is going on in my subconscious?"  Myself, on the other hand, a woman who reads entirely too much into the meaning of, well, everything thought "women are supposed to shave their legs and that guy can walk around like that?  And, why was there a baby in my dream?  I must be pregnant."

Reading into this way too much, per usual, I looked up the meaning of hair in dreams.  Apparently, "to see hair in your dream signifies sexual virility, seduction, sensuality, vanity, and health. It is indicative of your attitudes."  Well hello hello, I will certainly be creeped out in my dreams if this is what it means!  Anyway, the reason I started thinking about this is because last night I had a really vivid and crazy dream and was curious to see what it meant.  The themes, after looking them up, stay pretty close to what is currently going on in my life, and apparently my subconscious is taking it all pretty hard.  In short I found that the nature of the dreams represent feelings of betrayal, dishonesty, severed relationships and parts of my life that I'm trying to eliminate.  Pretty heavy dream if you ask me.  Now that I know that the creepy hair aspect of previous dreams is actually a good thing, I kind of wish it was present here!


It seems as though my daydreaming as a child has continued on into my adult life, as I am thinking about this dream and what it means in my waking life throughout the day.  However, I'm pretty sure (at least I hope) that my boss isn't going to pin a note on me at the end of the day and ask for it to be signed and returned in the morning.  Sorry early education teachers, I hate to break it to you, but apparently those notes and attempted lessons didn't work on this girl.  Such a waste of paper.

Passion: Not for the timid

I can remember dreaming, when I was in my pre-teen or early teenage years of all the milestones and special events that I would experience on the road to becoming a woman.  Its funny to think back at my 15-year-old self being completely grossed out, but still somehow spinning, over my first kiss.  Now, having lived it and being much more experienced in the idiocracies and cluelessness of teenage boys and sometimes twenty-something men, I would tell little teenage me that a bad kisser is just not worth it.  Especially one that leaves you wondering if you licked an ashtray or got hit in the face with a water balloon.  Lessons we must learn throughout time though, I suppose.  Either way, the first step was memorable and learned from - I.E. the Aussie.

But, lets fast-forward a few years, skip baby's first love, her first heartbreak, first "want to punch that d-bag in the face" moment and focus on the present.  One of my best friends has recently moved back out to the suburbs and for her housewarming party decided to have the girls over for a housewarming 'passion' party.  However, I'm not sure if "baby's first passion party" is one that should go in the book.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it's a party, usually with just girls or a few fun gay friends, where everyone can talk about their experiences in the boudoir and buy toys, lotions, candles etc.  I think that all women should attend one of these parties at least once in their life as it is the ultimate stop sign on the road to lady-hood.  If not to experiment and learn about new things, then to laugh at the one friend who giggles anytime someone says 'nipple' or laugh at the person who forgets which arm is for smelling and which is for licking (testing edible lotions and powders vs. pheromone perfumes and oils).  Classic.  I went to one of these parties in college, but I didn't know the girls too well so it ended up being a bit awkward.  This was quite the opposite.

Friday after work, the ladies and I hopped on the train to make the trekk out to Downer's Grove to see Ms. Ali, bottle of champagne in hand.  In Chicago, drinking openly on the metra train is not only allowed, but I can't remember a time being on the train where I haven't seen someone drinking.  So we popped open the bottle, poured it into our classy plastic champagne flutes and popped a phallic jello shot into our mouths.  Upon arrival, we were greeted with treats and Caramel Apple Martinis.  As our consultant began to set up, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the babysitter had to cancel and Ali's son, Selby, came home to a house filled with.... well.... not quite the toys he's used to seeing around.  Scarred for life, is my guess.  Anyway, the martinis were flowing and the fun began.

Ali, being the host, immediately recieved a soy candle that was safe to pour the wax on your partner in a very "Ricky Martin - Livin' La Vida Loca music video" type way.  So yes, the night was a success to say the least.  Four martinis, a bottle of champagne and a few jello shots later, we all made our purchases and headed home.  I actually had to be picked up by my parents since I was puppy-sitting for the weekend, which proved to be pretty entertaining.  Between the high-school-esque awkwardness of being picked up, the bag of extremely inappropriate jello shots that would soon make its way to my parents refridgerator and trying to lick the remaining chocolate flavored shimmer powder off my arm in the backseat, I wonder what they must have thought.  Either way, I couldn't remember what I bought.

One week later, almost, I felt like a kid on christmas morning.  My box had been delivered and I had NO idea what was in it.  I anxiously awaited 5:00.  Now, I'm not going to get into too much detail, as a woman must have her secrets, but amongst the peanuts and box stuffing I found a feather (just one), a chapstick called "nibblers," said chocolate shimmer powder and a certain something that I really think will give me mixed emotions whenever I see a butterfly, oh my!  Result? A pleasant surprise to the majority of the contents and a slight confusion to the feather.  Couldn't I just go to Michaels?  Or maybe chase a bird around for a while?  Whatever.  And I am currently wearing the "nibblers" because it makes my lips all tingly and I feel rebelous wearing it at work :)  Anyway, I strongly recommend that ever group of girlfriends do this, it was tons of fun!

Culinary Creations

So, in this fall well, I decided to be domestic and make comfort food :)


Appetizer: Jalapeno Mac and Cheese (pre-baked)

Din din:  Vegan Lentil Chili (NOM!)

Dessert: Pumpkin Spice Latte Cupcakes with Espresso Whipped Cream (oh. my. GOD!)

Need a smile?

A few things that have made me think, smile or bust out laughing awkwardly in a silent office :)

1.  This actually made me spit my water out on my desk.  This is totally me!

 2. Newly developed clumsiness

3. Ok seriously, what the hell is this?

4. Definitely!

5.



 6. Truth:

7.  Again, with the laughing inappropriately loud.  But seriously, I will remember this the next time I have a bad day.



9.  And.... the grand finale, you cannot find anything better than this to make you smile.  It. Is. AH-MAZING!

Knights in shining foil

"Ever notice how 'What the hell' is always the right answer?" - Marilyn Monroe

And so the story goes, boy meets girl, boy is normal, they fall in love and live happily ever after.  Well, this may have been the case in 1952, but in 2011 the male ego can not allow for normalcy in any sort of romantic behavior.  Apparently.  I never thought it'd be this difficult to date and get to know someone.  Perhaps men these days believe that if you start "dating," as in calling someone your girlfriend, it automatically has to be so serious, thus resulting in marriage and babies... tomorrow.  God forbid you get to know someone before making that decision.  Naturally, there would be some wining and dining involved in this process.

Lately, the story goes more along the lines of boy meets girl, girl is smitten and falls down, gashing her knee, boy tries unsuccessfully to stay the night (I am classy), boy disappears off the earth.  My only guess is that he has passed away, may he rest in peace.  His memory will live on in the scar on my leg.  I should really look up where to send condolence flowers.  "I'm sorry for your loss.... Me."  Seriously, "What the hell!"

To say that I am frustrated would be an understatement.  I guess since college, my attempts to have any
relationship where I can actually relax and feel comfortable have failed miserably.  Over and over, I seem to be fooled into thinking that the men I am attracted to are somewhat sane, and then out of the blue I seem to be dating Houdini, magician and escapologist.  Some say that he died from a ruptured appendix, others (me) believe that he passed away by disappearing way too many times.  So beware men, rumor has it that disappearing may be fatal, so think about that next time and just be normal for once.  I'm starting to think I am a weird/emotionally unavailable dude magnent.  Where did that gene come from, and how do I get rid of it?

We are a generation raised with the idea that the relationships in Sex and the City are completely healthy.  Carrie got her Mr. Big in the end.  Why can't we?  He turned out to be an alright guy and loved her; an alright guy who broke her heart not once, but twice, marries another woman, makes her the "other woman" and then leaves her at the alter.  I guess its hard to tell if she's settling or if he's actually just that charming.  And lets face it, Mr. Big is pretty damn charming, so who knows.  But either way, she got her knight in shining armor.

However, despite knowing that Carrie Bradshaw and Big are fictional and learning from the painful lessons in heartbreak that are doled out on a regular basis, why is it that women still find themselves falling asleep or waking up thinking about the one person who is ALL wrong for them?  Its interesting to see that even when men treat us badly, we think/hope they will come around eventually.  I suppose I should keep reminding myself that Peter Pan doesn't grow up at the end of the story, houdini died and sometimes the ones we think are our knights in shining armor turn out to be just idiots wrapped up in tin foil.  But until someone comes around that doesn't look like a leftover in my fridge, I will keep entertaining my friends with my dating adventures... dateventures... datures? Boom.

Looking on the bright side

I've always felt that people who name their children things like "Grace" or "Chastity" are destined to live a life caring for a child who is accident prone or well, lets face it, doesn't value chastity in the way their parents may have wished.  But what happens when you opt for less of a jinx and name your blue eyed baby something like, oh I don't know, Sarah Louise?  One would think that she would not be cursed to a life of stumbling on invisible bumps in the sidewalk, fall down stairs randomly or trip in fall at very inopportune times such as right before a date, therefore being forced to play that damsel in distress role while being bandaged up in her bathroom by said gentleman.  I guess that part wasn't too bad :)

In the past month these instances of extreme grace have multiplied ten-fold.  Perhaps I have forgotten how to walk?  Maybe my feet are too small to allow me to balance (suggested by my wonderful lady friends)?  Personally, I think the sidewalk, street and basically any element of nature is actually jumping up from the earth to bite me.  Regardless, I seem to have found myself covered head-to-toe in bruises and in an emergency room waiting for stitches.  Luckily stitches weren't necessary this time though.  There is really nothing better than walking out of your gate with your leg covered in mud and blood just as you're supposed to go to a brewery.  Insert mortified Sarah here.  Seriously.  Amy tells me that my newly developed clumsiness is quite endearing.  Lets hope so.

Its funny, the ER doctors automatically assumed that since it was early on a Sunday morning, that this happened while intoxicated.  Sorry Dr. Not-McDreamy, I was completely sober.  Instead of stitches, I was bandaged up with surgical tape, gauze and an ace wrap.  I found the ace to be a little unnecessary and it actually made it harder to walk.  A giant bandaid, decorated with a smaller mustache bandaid, works just fine if you ask me.  So I started thinking.  What sorts of things can I do with this ace wrap?  With Halloween just around the corner, costumes were already on the brain.  Here were just a few ideas I came up with:

1.)  The Lingerie/ Creepy thong diaper.

2.) Somewhat inappropriate bra

3.) Coffee Drinking Mummy

4.) Work out/ Stretching tool

5.) Should I ever find myself somewhere that I need to scale a wall... boom, ace wrap.

 

At least, despite my inability to walk, I can always find a way to entertain myself and even more often, laugh hysterically through the embarrassment of cracking my leg open in front of a cute boy.  Oh well.

A little bit of summer fun

Amy's first night home after 5 weeks in Europe

Just your average women... save the mustaches

Gibbs

Deliciousness at the Signature Lounge

Summer birthdays are the best

Vineyard-ing 

the "awww, lets talk about boys" face :)

You can't have a summer without at least one wedding

Matisyahu concert

11:00 Patio day at the Sox game.  Too bad it was cold!

Good guys wear black

The single girl vs wedding season

Its a strange feeling when your friends start getting engaged, and crazier yet, actually getting married and having kids.  Before now, I've only known one close friend, from high school, who got married during our senior year of college.  We all made the long trip down to Georgia for the wedding festivities and a brief goodbye to her single life.  Ok, that part was just done by us single ladies after tequila shots and a little drink called "jet fuel."  Still to this day, I'm not sure exactly what was in it.  Perhaps it's because I don't see her anymore, other than through facebook, but I never really saw that as a huge impact on my life.  And I guess to be fair, when friends get married, it really doesn't effect my life at all. 

Now, with two friends recently engaged and a wedding to attend next week, my life is swirling with poofy white dresses resembling pastries, stories of bride/mom-zillas that usually end in tears and the horrifying question dreaded by singletons everywhere: Do you have a plus one?  A simple, yet necessary question.  But for those of us who's love life is quite comical most days and/or prefer not to take wedding photos solo/ with your parents or with your arm around a martini (I cringe at the thought), what is a polite response (other than a gasp)?  Simple.  To avoid an awkward situation by asking someone who is perhaps interested, perhaps not (its hard to tell), bring the best friend.  At least there is someone to take goofy pictures in the photo booth with and to excuse yourselves to get another martini at very opportune times such as couples dances and personal relationship questions.

Last night, while researching invitations for a work event, Hannah came across probably the best bridal website on the planet.  Filled with dresses, flowers, garters and honeymoon lingerie, I've never seen camouflage look so romantic.  My fear in someone picking this theme, and obviously not the only one, would be the very concept of camouflage.  Isn't that supposed to make you blend in to your surroundings?  "Sure honey, you can marry me, but you'll have to find me first."  I picture a scared looking, shifty-eyed woman sitting in a tree or shrub, face smeared with dirt and some twigs and leaves sticking out randomly from her tiara-ed hair. (http://camo.simplyformal.com/index.php/wedding/bridal-gowns.html)

But, as I looked through this surprisingly large selection of camo-gear, I was intrigued.  What other kind of bizarre and outside of the box weddings have people actually had?  Let me just say, I am in awe.  I've always known, by the absolutely ridiculous amount of wedding shows, that people can get a little, well, crazy, about their "big day."  But never in my life, has walking down the aisle dressed and painted green like Shrek and Fiona ever crossed my mind.  Ever.  I would think that if you were going to go for the whole fairy tale wedding idea, the ogres wouldn't be at the top of the list.  To each their own I suppose.  I expected to find your typical cult classic weddings: Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, etc.  And while I did come across a few of those, I was more surprised/terrified/insert shocking verb here at the other themes that came up on multiple occasions.  For example, nazi wedding.  Wow, really?  What the heck did that reception look like?  I really hope to god they made sure their guests were not minorities of any kind.  Granted, as I read further, it turned out that this was a WW2 reinactment wedding, but still.

Another option, for the free-spirited nudists of the world, is a body paint wedding.  This was actually a double wedding.  So, the brides painted white dresses on their bodies and wore white tutus, while the grooms were in painted tuxes.  Only.  Now, I'm a pretty open minded girl, but the thought of walking down an aisle to a free-balling hubby, just doesn't really sound appealing.  I feel like that would make the reception extremely awkward as well.  Naked dancing, hmmm.  It made me wonder, is everyone naked?  Or just the bride and groom?  If the whole wedding party is naked, I'm not okay with that.  Never, would I ever, want to have my dad walk me down the aisle that way.  That's just creepy, and disturbing and oh my god, I never what that thought in my head again!  Moving along...

Probably worse, and Hannah's worst nightmare was the clown wedding.  I don't think I need to say too much here, just think about it.  Pennywise wedding, so romantic!  But, I did come across some crazy ones too, not just disturbingly creepy and bizarre ones.  One couple decided to get married while in a shark cage in the water with great whites.  You know, nothing says love like impending death.  I guess everyone has their own preference for their big day, but if any of my friends decide to celebrate with anything as creepy as mentioned here, I will be terrified.  And to be honest, I don't think I could taunt sharks willingly, Deep Blue Sea was a scary movie and my name is not Samuel L. Jackson.  Although, if I bring someone to a theme ceremony, it would make for a much more interesting afternoon provided that I actually have a +1.  Bring it on wedding season!

American African: The adventure never ends

One year ago, on July 13th, 2010, I boarded the plane unsure of whether I should be crying or celebrating (I did both). As I said good bye the country that I sometimes loved, sometimes loathed and above all called home, I took one last look at out the window as the sun came up.  I had hoped to see the Mosque on the beach, one of the islands or even the early stirrings of my favorite markets.  Instead, I was sent off with one last view of that god-awful, ugly statue given to Senegal by North Korea.  The Renaissance Statue, given in exchange for a portion of Senegalese land, was originally a tribute to the struggles of their ancestors, but it came under a ton of criticism.  Between the accusations of idolization, unnecessary expenses and Wade comparing it to Jesus, I really have no idea what it signifies.  Needless to say, with an eyeroll and an "Oh my god," I flew out of Africa.  (This is legitimately, the last picture from Senegal that I have, ridiculous)

A year into my service over there, I was, most often, listening to year old music, drinking g-sap (gin and bissap), probably eating my kool aid drink powders out of the pouch instead of actually mixing it with water and finding myself amazed at how much I prefered my little village, without electricity or running water, to being in the city.  The funny thing is, last weekend when I went to Maxwell Street Market in the South Loop, I actually found bags of bissap!  I bought a pound.  My friends were amazed at how quickly I was able to spot it, grab my cash and buy it.  I swear it was less than 10 seconds for the transaction.  And to be completely honest, I don't listen to the radio so I still don't know what is popular right now, I still prefer to read with my headlamp as I am too lazy to get out of bed to turn out the light once I'm comfortable and I actually just poured drink powder into my hand and ate it.  At work.  Yea, they think I'm pretty strange.

I met a bunch of newly returned peace corps volunteers the other day.  It was really refreshing, but at the same time sent me in to a bit of a panic.  It was nice to have such an immediate connection and understanding with people I had just met.  But I really started thinking about what I was doing, what I want to be doing and how I can get there.  I have this overwhelming urge to just go to some random country and be a badass for a while again.  As much as I would love to go fight malaria in Kenya for 6 months or teach English somewhere for a year, I'm nervous that doing something like that would set me back.  Living in another village battling mosquitos with my bare, deet and/or neem-infused, hands really wouldn't move me forward in my dream to work in gender and youth development, despite my experience in anti-malarial initiatives.  Also, the Peace Corps paycheck wouldn't help much in paying off my student loans.  Teaching abroad might be okay though.  Eh, who knows.  I'll have to think about exactly how I want to be involved in women's rights and development.  Journalism side? Or activist side?  Or both?! 

But even with these questions, so much has changed in the past year.  For one, my tan is actually a tan.  Its no longer me thinking that I'm tan, taking a shower, and realizing that its just dirt.  So that's a good thing.  I don't use acronyms to describe every aspect of my my life, friends included (unless I'm with other RPCV's.  Oh crap I just did it).  Goats don't eat my clothing and trees, scale my hut, sleep on my pillows, taunt me endlessly, etc... at least that I know of, sneaky little things.  I haven't had any mango flies, creeping eruption infections, parasites or heat rash in over a year.  Over all, I'd say that this year has been a success.  I am sad to say though, that Maffe (unless I make it myself) is very hard to come by.  As is millet and unpasteurized milk.  Apparently there is some kind of rule that says drinking it is unhealthy.  Also, I can't have a weave in America without looking absolutely ridiculous.  I like to think that I pulled off the white girl weave with amazing style.  I've never looked sexier.  And, perhaps most of all, I do wish I could still take bucket baths.  It was a great excuse to walk around outside naked.  If I try that here, I might get arrested.  Unfortunate.  Either way, I guess America isn't so bad ;)  But, I will say, I am ready for a new adventure.

Looks like not that much has changed.  :)  Just a different climate.  In the snow picture, I had just stepped off a ledge without knowing before I was covered, waist-deep, in snow.  The picture on the right, I had just been stung by a scorpion.  I think I like the scorpion one though, I look really hardcore haha!

The fantastic four go on holiday

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a tiny..... tent?  I'm just kidding, the tent was huge.


While New Yorkers have the Hamptons and Southerners have Hilton Head Island when they want to go on a "holiday, "Chicagoans have, well, I guess Wisconsin.  What better way for four city girls to enjoy a weekend while proving their badass-ness, than to go camping up in the dangerous wilderness?!  If you ask me, there is nothing more terrifying than entering a state of Packer fans and staying the night just outside of the Dells.  For the entire week before our trip, we planned our menu (yes, camping can be gourmet), who would bring our gear and whatever else we would need.  While I think Ally's ideas may have been a bit more rational, a few days before, I sat at the kitchen table with Amy and stated, matter of factly, "Well, we're going to need a jug of liquor... And dryer lint."  It proved to be true.  Our jug of liquor came in the form of "Jarvis," a good-natured, mild-mannered and delicious watermelon that we filled with vodka.  Try transporting that guy!  It takes skill.  The dryer lint?  Well, I think that goes without saying.  It was for the fire FYI.

At 4:00 A.M., two morning girls bounced around the apartment drinking coffee, making breakfast, packing the car with goodies and listening to music, while I (not a morning person) gave dirty looks to anything possible: the lamp for making my eyes hurt, the speaker for playing music and hurting my head, my phone for waking me up, myself in the mirror for being awake... told you, anything.

But sure enough, 5:30 A.M. after picking up Miss Tiffany, the fab four were bright eyed and wilderness bound. 5:35 A.M., all but Ally, who was driving, were sleeping.  Sorry girl.  Upon arrival, we set up our tent, and it started to rain.  So, we passed the afternoon playing cards and making drinks in the tent.  Once it stopped, we decided to go on a nature walk and explore the grounds.  Also, to see who we would be keeping awake all night with our ridiculous antics.  I never would have guessed that there would be a trail name the "time warp" trail.  To be honest, it was like stepping into one!  No, Frankenfurter and the rest of the Rocky Horror crew weren't there.  But, on one side of the sign, everything was flowering and green, then immediately on the other side of it, it was like land of the dead trees.  It was like a horror movie for nature lovers and tree-huggers. 

Snacking on chips and guac (and of course Jarvis) we prepared our gourmet meal.  Green chili with pork tenderloin and purple jasmine rice.  It simmered all day to make it perfectly spicy and delicious!  Plus, what could be more fun than purple rice!  Completely stuffed, there could only be one thing left to do.  Eat smores and drink champagne!  Ok, I guess thats two.  We decided to go with the monster size jumbo marshmallows, probably the size of our heads.  What can I say, bigger is always better ;) I'm talking about marshmallows of course!  Creeps.

Anyway, a few bottles of champagne, an extremely well planned game of charades that was never actually played and a couple of goofy stories and pictures later, we were snoring in the tent.  The girls seemed to think it was me, but if I didn't hear it, it never happened.  I'm just going to go ahead and blame some sort of animal for that.  Dogs snore right?  So why can't raccoons?  Or the ticks maybe....

The next afternoon, we decided to spend the 90 degree sunny day on the lake and try our hand at canoe-ing.  In case you didn't know, canoes are not meant to go straight down the river, but rather to zig-zag from bank to bank at an extremely high speed.  Amy and I could give you a demonstration if you are under the impression that this is not correct.  I assure you, it is.  It was sad to leave, and I'm sure we could have all stayed for another day or eight, but we had to come home and work, like real grown ups.  Lame.  I'm sure we will go again towards the end of the summer.  Stay tuned for updates.

Oh crap, I think I grew up!

  As of last Thursday, I officially entered my mid-twenties.  Scary thought!  When I was a kid, I had this timeline that I thought I was supposed to follow, and despite knowing that a life plan according to my eight-year-old former self is pretty unrealistic, it sent me into a bit of a panic right around my birthday.  I basically canceled my birthday party and kept it to just my close friends, because I was so stressed.  I didn't see the point of celebrating a year that was so crappy.  I was very overwhelmed by life and extremely underwhelmed by people.  As it turnes out, I'm still underwhelmed and disappointed in people, but I'll survive.  And once I looked at it as celebrating the END of 24, I cheered up.  My girlies were great!  They candled and tinfoiled my cake for the second year in a row, I danced to reggae music with a creepy African man (much like last year) and was asked where I got my butt.  Answer: target?  I can ask for nothing more in a birthday party!

 

However, Sarah Knight: export documentation specialist, single, sassy and 25, though it sounds very interesting on paper, goes against said plan (except for the sassy part).  I used to tell my parents that I wanted to get married around 26, ha!  With 26 just one short year away, eight-year-old me is going to be very disappointed.  Not that I would want to next year anyway.  With my dating repertoire of the past year, I'd just assume stay single forever!  Or at least for the summer ;)  Which I plan to.  Although, looking back, I wonder if all of that wedding/life/girlie crap planning wasn't just a ploy to look more girlie.  My sister, I'm convinced, was born with pom poms in her hand and was a cheerleader her whole life.  I wanted to be just like her (I even asked for glasses and braces on my Christmas list when she got them).  But while she was at cheer practice, I was playing softball, climbing trees with the neighbor boys and looking under rocks for a rolly polly bug to be my friend for the day.  Tom boy, what can I say.

Living in an African hut, waging war against evil goats and trapping giant spiders (they terrify me to this day) under tupperware for my brothers to kill was definitely not in the life plan.  Regardless, I wouldn't change that experience for the world.  But, I would have thought that volunteering for two years would have helped me to start my career upon returning and embrace my passion for human rights.  I feel almost behind other mid-twenty somethings sometimes.  And yes I know, all comes to those who wait, and I should just be patient.  But, for any of you who know me, patience is not my strong suit.  Thats putting it lightly.  In reality though, I've discovered that Chicago just does not offer the career path that I am looking for, which is okay, I will continue looking.  I did apply to a job in New York that would be absolutely amazing and embrace everything that I am passionate about.  So keep your fingers, toes, eyes, legs and whatever else crossed for me.  Hell, just make yourself a pretzel!  In the meantime though, I keep myself busy, and relatively happy, by volunteering and planning benefits for non-profits.

Anyway, I'm looking at this year as a new start (phew!) and letting go of all the BS from last year.  Wish me luck!

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." - Marilyn Monroe.

La vie Chicagoenne: the good, the bad and the really freakin' weird

I used to think that my life in Senegal was filled with the weirdest experiences and everyday occurrences possible.  And that once I came home I would immediately fit right back into my place as cute, little urbanite and non-awkward human being.  False.  Turns out, I came back a completely changed person and can't ever be quite the same.  Not that this is a bad thing, I'd never want to change my experiences.  This being said, it makes American life interesting, to say the least.  Everyday is a new adventure to find something good, bad or just outright odd.

THE GOOD

When you are working in a job that is, let's just say, less than stimulating, its the little things in life that come to be the highlights of your day.  For example, breakfast number two at 930, lunch at 100, my extremely inappropriate conversations about men with Amy and Tiffany throughout the day, and my personal favorite is my el ride home on Wednesdays.  I suppose this could go in the "really freakin' weird" section, but its such an awesome thing that it has to go with the good.  Every week, during rush hour, there is a little thing called commuter theater that goes on.  Its in between the Sedgwick and Armitage stops on the brown line and the first time I saw it, I couldn't be sure if I actually had, or if I had just had some weird subconscious fantasy that was being oddly acted out in the form of a non-mefloquine hallucination.  As I gazed out the window, mentally preparing myself for hippie yoga class and hoping that a glass of wine would magically appear in my hands as soon as I stepped into my apartment, into my line of vision came a giant cardboard cut out of a shark.  And it was attacking a guy who was visibly distressed by said shark attack.  I glanced around the train.  No one seemed to have noticed.  Seriously guys?!  I was a little freaked out and somewhat offended that no one else acknowledged my subconscious activities, but to be honest I kind of enjoyed it.  A few days later, I had forgotten about the whole thing.  Until, the next Wednesday, squished against the door of a crowded train, my actor friends were back.  With a giant smile, I watched as a giant, roaring bear chased someone around the roof.  Again, no one noticed but me.  This past week, my absolute favorite, and the one that made me burst into awkwardly loud and uncontrollable laughter,  both men stood on different levels of a parking garage, dressed as gnomes, and licking big cardboard popsicles.  I couldn't control it, I laughed all the way to yoga.  Got some seriously weird looks, but whatever, I've seen worse on the el.  I am convinced that I am just the newest member of a large underground cult following of these popsicle-licking gnome-men.  Keep it up guys!  You're making this girl's week!


THE BAD

Now, considering I've spent the past few months as frozen as that cardboard popsicle mentioned earlier, you'd think that the worst thing I could think of that happens in this city is the weather, or should I say frigid arctic tundra of death.  However, I grew up around this area, I knew what I was getting into, but yes, I am ready for it to be over.  To be honest, while I totally want to ride one and chase people around on Belmont, its segways that are the most ridiculously bad thing in Chicago.  We've all seen it, the giant group of segway-ers riding around Millenium Park and Navy Pier fully equipped with nalgenes and helmets.  Because leaning forward on wheels is so labor intensive and dangerous.  On multiple occasions I've heard people talking that it should be the pedestrian's obligation to throw something in front of or at these athletes.  I don't want to get on one now out of sheer terror that someone will throw an apple at my head, or a stick in front of my wheels like in Big Daddy.  Maybe that's why they wear the helmets.


I mean, can you imagine being pulled over by a segway cop?  Or worse, getting a ticket from one?  What if you were getting arrested, instead of ducking your head into the back of the cop car, would he piggy back you all the way to the station?  Or is there a side car?  Either way, its an embarrassment to humanity and I disapprove.  I mean seriously, shouldn't it say something when even the company owner dies by riding his segway off a cliff?  This being said, if anyone wants to have an awesomely BAD day with me, I'm totally down for a helmeted segway excursion, provided I can chase someone with it and do jumps like on skateboards.  If not, forget it.

THE REALLY FREAKIN' WEIRD

I remember a few years ago, I think when I was in high school, so probably more than a few, there was this huge ordeal about someone seeing the Virgin Mary in their grilled cheese sandwich.  Personally, my grilled cheese never stays around on my plate long enough for me to decide if it looks like a biblical figure or not.  But here in Chicago, the Virgin has made her appearance on more than just a tasty sandwich and after multiple graffiti attempts, it seems as though she is here to stay.  Under the I94 overpass on Fullerton avenue, a shrine has been made to a very special salt stain.  Thats right, even our winter drip marks are holy.  Every time I drive by, the candles are lit, the flowers are fresh and that friendly hobo seems to be looking more and more blessed.  Who was the first person to say that it looked like the Virgin Mary.  I've seen this salt stain, and in my opinion, it could just as easily look like one of the minions from Despicable Me.  Like, really.   But then I don't think anyone would go see, except Hannah and I.  Its just very bizarre.  But again, if anyone wants to go, I'm game.  I'll even bring the candles, and perhaps some wine?  Is that legal?

City life never ceases to surprise me, but I'm learning to love it.  With ridiculous experiences and a soon to be new roomie, I'm sure things will just keep getting more interesting.  We went shopping for things at target today and I nearly fell down laughing in the middle of the vacuum aisle, so it should be fun.

Smart girl

My friend Tiffany reminded me of this quote last night.  It touches on everything important in a woman's life.  Marilyn Monroe was a pretty smart girl :) So, I'm dedicating this quote my best friend in the world Miss Banana.  Love you girlie <3


" This life...is what you make it. No matter what you are going to mess up sometimes, it's a universal truth. But the good part is, you get to decide how you're going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends - they'll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything - They're your true best friends. Don't let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they'll come and go too. And babe, i hate to say it, most of them - actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can't give up; because if you give up, you'll never find your soul mate. You'll never find that half who makes you whole. And that goes for everything; Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself. Because if you don't, then who will sweetie? So. Keep your head high. Keep your chin up. And most importantly, keep smiling. Because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about." - Marilyn Monroe.