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.

someday....

I can't wait until someone feels this way about me... the most beautiful girl on the street.... depending on the street :)

An Excess of Zen

After months of having no real direction, plan and feeling an overall disappointment in people (with a few fabulous exceptions of course) and my life in America in general, its time for one of those life and mind transformations I've always talked about but never done.  Ok, so maybe Peace Corps kind of counts as a life transforming change, but this is more of a mindset/attitude adjustment than a move half way across the world kind of thing.  That won't happen for another few months :)

To start things off, I have taken up an ancient hindu discipline aimed at training the consciousness for a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility.  And for those of us non-pretentious creepsters, I started taking yoga.  While its does the spiritual insight, be one with the mat, embrace your third eye (thats what she said?) kind of stuff, I like it mostly because it keeps my mind from wandering, has built in meditation to my day and lets not forget, most importantly, maintains the beauty of my jaayfunde.  I always remember some random VH1 show I saw as a kid, where in some video Sting was practicing yoga where he folded himself into a pretzel-esque position.  No, this was not what made me want to start, Sting and I are not in fact the same person.  For some reason, unknown to me, I just don't want to be a middle-aged bendy man yodeling about desert roses.  Awkward quoi....

Half dressed women in mirrored rooms heated to 100 degrees F, glistening in the heat like dew on flower as they fold themselves into dancers pose, standing splits and downward facing dog.  Glamourous right?  Actually, yes we are half dressed and in mirrored rooms heated to 100 degrees, but you're more likely to find us flowers drenched in sweat, black make up running down our exhausted faces, considering most of us have come right from work, doing downward dog, standing splits and dancers pose (thats supposing your body isn't too sweaty to grab your foot).  Still kind of sexy right?  Wait until that little goddess you've had your eye on, drops down into frog pose.  A sitting squat, legs apart that is supposed to aid in digestion.  Sexy? Awkward? You want to go running as far as possible from her?  I guess meeting someone at yoga class is out of the question, and thank god for that.  Hello sweaty man I just saw in happy baby pose (on back, grabbing feet with bent knees and spreading your legs wide apart), could you and your moose knuckle please take me to dinner this weekend?  No thanks.

Going for a full body makeover and cleanse, I've started a month long, maybe more, intensive vegan diet.  Its going really well so far.  For my lunch this week I made myself a pizza with tons of veggies and soy cheese.  Ah-mazing.  I actually really like tofu and organic, vegan foods and restaurants so its really not that hard of an adjustment for me.  Although, I do miss brie.  Already.  In day like 3.  A friend of mine, fellow veggie and foodie, goes with me to the different vegan-friendly restaurants around the city and we have a grocery shopping date set up for sometime soon.  She also shares my passion for "cheesecake" at the Chicago Diner, which is an immediate bonding point and necessary for friendship. :)

Even though this has only been my new life for a few days, I can already feel a radical change.  The things that have plagued my mind for the past few months seem to be falling away with ever bite of cheesecake, while every downward dog and ridiculously sweaty pair of workout clothes that I have to wash reminds me of the beauty in life and in me that seemed to be buried in my Snowmaggedon of a life.  I'm excited to see how things will have changed after this month, considering there have been some crazy ones already this week.  Bottom line, right now, life is good, I am happy and once again, your eternal optimist.

The inescapable allure of Daniel Cleaver, eternal bad boy and dreamboat extraordinaire

If any fictional character of the romantic comedy/chick flick genre were to act as the doppelganger equivalent of myself, none other than Bridget Jones could embody the sheer sass and sarcasm that overwhelms my daily life.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm watching Bridget Jones's Diary right now, drinking copious amounts of wine (on a tuesday) and occasionally pausing to have an impromptu dance party to the musical stylings of Chaka Khan,  Lily Allen or Pat Benetar.  Maybe its because sometimes I do actually feel, in my over-dramatic emotional times of womanhood that "unless something changes in my future, my only major relationship would be with a bottle of wine until I finally die fat and alone, and am found later, half eaten by a pack of wild dogs," - Bridget Jones.

Spinster-hood: in Medieval times, women who were unmarried and childless by menopause were considered spinsters.  Other sources say that its a woman who remains single past the conventional marrying age.  Who says whats conventional?  In Senegal, I may have well been a leper!  Twenty-four year old girl, unmarried, flitting about Africa unaccompanied by choice?  Spinster.  Weirdo.  Crazy American.  What does that make me now?  Despite the inevitable anxiety that ensues whenever the subject of marriage is brought up, I can still remember, through drunken haze of a 21st birthday celebration, being visibly upset at the prospect of being almost 30.  Crying to my college boyfriend about this and claiming that the only thing left to look forward to in life being retirement seems almost humorous now that with only a few short months left to turning 25 and being able to rent a car, retirement really is the only true milestone left in young adult life.

Anyway, as it seems now, Bridget and I have more in common than I could have ever realized.  Sliding down firemans poles (get your mind out of the gutter) in miniskirts and awkwardly falling on our faces while stepping out of cabs post cocktails with the girls seem to be only a small portion of what makes these films my favorite chick flick.  Besides both of us being journalists and having a knack for the sarcastic, overdramatic, mid-twenties style writing that keeps me sane we seem to have the same taste in men.  Considering that most of my blog entries tend to deal with the men and love (or the lack there of) in my life, you'd think I'd relate more to the characteristics of Carrie Bradshaw, relationship "expert" and socialite.  But no, she doesn't have nearly enough personality :)


For anyone who has seen the movies, the number one New Years Resolution is: "will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts. Will especially stop fantasizing about a particular person who embodies all these things."  But like most women, she runs, open-hearted, under-dressed and unintentionally naive to Mr. Daniel Cleaver, the human equivalent to all things she swore not to be involved with, because he flirtatiously pays attention to her.  I don't blame her at all! Hey, he's hot!  And to be honest, who am I to judge it, I did the exact same thing!  I gave up the opportunity to work in my dream city, all to come home, move to a city I never thought I would, and see how a relationship with my personal Daniel Cleaver would develop.  Being five of the previous characteristics (i'll let you take your pick) plus womanizing (obviously), its no wonder I ended up broken hearted and man-hating.  Why is it that we feel the need to change these slimeballs when our Marc Darcy's, who are in no need of changing, are waiting just around the corner?


Perhaps it is because I have yet to meet my Marc Darcy, maybe its because I'm angry that i've been screwed over by too many Daniel Cleavers, but my impatience seems to be getting the best of me.  I've always gotten bored easily and right now, I want nothing more than to leave this town, bring my best girl friends with me and travel the world, leaving behind all of this man-drama BS.  What can I say "that's not enough for me, I'm still looking for something more extraordinary than that."