A Day in the Life: January 2014

Hello friends!! Today's post was prompted by Manda over at the Break the Sky.  She's hosting a monthly link-up, where bloggers can share a peek into their everyday lives. I had fun documenting my day!
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Tuesday, January 14, 2014

 // 8:00 am - alarm

In which I opened my eyes, saw no conceivable reason for arising at that moment, rolled over and went back to sleep.

// 9:00 am - alarm #2

In which I opened my eyes again. Decided there was no conceivable reason why I should still be in bed, and got up.  Pondered life's questions in the shower.  Admired the monochrome color palette in my favorite corner of my bedroom.

(I had a sparkly gold starburst mirror hanging over my bed but it fell down one night and stabbed me in the head while I was sleeping so that mirror is in timeout until I'm done being angry with it, so possibly forever.)

// 9:30 am - breakfast

In which I consumed Raisin Bran, a clementine, a pot of earl grey tea (in my ADORABLE Anne of Green Gables teapot), and the daily crossword.

// 10:00 am - hair

In which I spent an amount of time (that normal people would ready themselves entirely in) attempting to copy a hairstyle I saw on Pinterest. 

Not bad, self.

// 10:30 am - dress

In which I admonished myself for having wasted most of the morning. 

If we're talking about fashion plates, I'm the blue plate special. I've got J. Crew tastes on a Target budget. #thestruggle

Button-down: Old Navy

Tshirt: Hanes

Jeans: Old Navy

Flats: Gap Outlet

Bag: ShoeDazzle

// 10:45 am - work-ish

In which I procrastinated by searching work exchange programs in Europe and then tweeting about it.  And then when that was done, I fiddled about with my resume, followed up on job applications, wrote some emails, and applied for more jobs. Finally gave in and updated my SitterCity nanny profile because desperate times, people. 

// 1:00 pm - lunch

In which I ate turkey, avocado, lettuce, and mustard on multigrain. I forgot to take a picture but it was just a sandwich so I trust you know what that looks like.

// 2:00 pm - crafts

In which I finished a couple of birthday cards and took some photos of a project for an upcoming DIY post. 

(Not sharing those because you'll see them on the blog on Friday.)

// 3:00 pm - errands

In which I stood in line at the post office for approximately 6 days, was treated to a rendition of "Endless Love" by a gentleman in sweatpants at the Dollar Tree, made it to the bank before realizing I left my check at home, and a stop at the grocery store where I discovered that I'm secretly 80 years old.

(Gluten free crackers, goat cheese, two boxes of tea, two cans of soup, a package of chicken, and FiberOne granola bars. All that's missing is the prune juice.)

// 6:00 pm - supper

In which I ate baked chicken in a salad with a roasted sweet potato half.

// 7:30 pm - Starbucks

In which I stopped by for a bit of hot chocolate, reading, planning, and hipster-y Instagram pictures. Also to distract my friend Kimberly while she was working. We may or may not have planned an entire party while she was on break. Yes we did.

// 10:00 pm - bedtime stories

In which I answered the day's question from Q & A a Day, reread parts of Relish: My Life In the Kitchen (super cool graphic memoir/cookbook), and studied Ezekiel 3.

// 11:30 pm - sleep

In which I turned out the light and thought about pleasant things so I would have good dreams.

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Tell me, what did January 14th look like for you? I'd love to hear!

'Tis But A Flesh Wound: A Love Story

 My father and I are alike in many ways, to the point of irritating each other and everyone around us.  It makes sense, as I have half of his DNA.  We both have strong personalities.  We expect a lot out of the people in our lives, and this can make both professional and personal relationships difficult at times, but we give as much as we get.  We struggle with change and not having a plan for the future but are the type of person that is reliable, trust-worthy, and prepared.  We both have a great sense of humor, but one that can get us into trouble occasionally.  We are good leaders, principled and hardworking.  We have little patience for things that irritate us and our feelings are usually written all over our faces.  (We would make terrible poker players.) Also, we both become lactose intolerant during periods of great stress. (TMI? Not sorry.)

Yet in certain ways we are vastly different. If Dad is the very photograph of a type A personality, I'm more of a painting.  There's a thin layer of type A, but it is obscured in places by great swirls of types B-Z.
I may have made those types up, but I stand by my analogy.

My dad is the most organized person you will ever meet, the inventor of the Do It Now Rule.  In the land of Time Management and Life Preparedness, he is king.  Last night I asked him if there was ever a situation in his life, large or small, for which he was unprepared.  He had to think very hard.  Only one answer came to mind and I'm not sharing because it's an embarrassing story that involves hiking a mountain with me and my extreme night blindness.

Anyway.

Here are a few ways in which we differ: I am organized more in theory than in actuality.  For example, my clothes are always arranged by color, type, and season in my closet
...when I've actually bothered to hang them up.
My car is always clean and clutter-free
...except for a small army of Cheerios that are forever wedged between the edge of the driver's seat and the middle console.  
I see things that need to be done and I do them
...when I've exhausted every method of procrastination.
I always make decisions based on logic and not emotion
....except for none of the time ever.

The point of all this is to say I felt our differences most keenly last Tuesday night when I received stitches for the first time ever.  I immediately compared it to when my dad got stitches this past summer. He was cutting pieces of siding and got a little too close to the saw.  I was out at the time, but according to my brother, he came in to the house, cleaned his wound, made himself lunch, took a shower, combed his hair, filed his taxes and who knows what else before driving himself to the clinic, finger flapping in the breeze. Meanwhile, my brother was home the entire time, willing and able to take him immediately but Dad refused.  He came home, carried on with life, and six days later removed the stitches himself like some sort of fearless renaissance man.

In my case, I cut my finger while slicing an avocado.  As usual, I employed the Ellie method of "Act Now, React Later".  By this I mean I stuck my hand under some running water and then wrapped it in a paper towel. I sat calmly in a chair and asked my mother to please finish the guacamole for me.  But over the course of the next hour, the pain set in as the bleeding refused to stop and I started to panic. "WHAT DO I DO?" I wailed to Dad when he walked in the door, "DO I NEED STITCHES? I'VE LOST TOO MUCH BLOOD, I FEEL FAINT." He told me to get ahold of myself.  Overcome by his lack of compassion, I retrieved a blanket, laid back in a recliner and weakly requested some orange juice to regain some strength. My mom said she would take me to a clinic to get stitches but decided to eat first.

As I watched my family leisurely enjoy dinner, I muttered crossly to myself, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm not in mortal peril. I wondered if I casually started to bleed on the carpet, would they hurry up? Heaven forbid THE BEANS GET COLD before I receive MEDICAL ATTENTION."
Just before my twenty-eighth birthday, they finished eating and Mom took me to the clinic.

That in and of itself was an ordeal.  They admitted me almost immediately but I languished in a patient room for quite awhile until a PA came in to stitch me up. "No need to make a fuss at this point. Time has already healed my wound," I grumbled to myself.  Nevertheless, she gave me a tetanus shot and proceeded to practice what could only be described as award-winning embroidery.  If you look closely, a tiny Mona Lisa appears in my stitches.  Ok not really.  But seriously, it was an unnecessary amount of needlework for such a small cut.

I'd share a picture but this is a family establishment and I don't condone the sharing of photos of one's injuries.  Ain't nobody need to see that.

I then proceeded to go home and vigorously Google the side affects of the Tdap vaccine.  With great bravery, I made peace with my life-altering disability and fell into a troubled sleep.  A day later, a stitch fell out of its own volition.  Within forty-eight hours, I removed the others without much struggle.  All that ruckus over what ended up looking like a mildly irritated paper cut. 'Twas but a flesh wound.

So what did I learn from this? A number of things, in fact.

1. I would never make it through childbirth.

2. This moment of my life would not make it into the Lifetime biopic on my life.

3. Never cut an avocado while holding it in your hand. 

4. Despite evidence to the contrary, I'm quite pleased to share some of the qualities of my father and there is still a need to learn more.  While I will never ever ever ever ever see the need to rake leaves more than once a season (why does no one understand that waiting until they all fall is the only way to do it?), I could use a larger dose of rationality and mental fortitude. Also I should probably vacuum up those Cheerios in my car.

I love you, Dad.

Goodbye 2013

Happy New Year's Eve, my darlings. I'm sure you're all out sending off 2013 in your favorite way but I couldn't let the year close without one more post. 

I know I've lots to catch you up on but as has been my habit lately, I'm currently traveling. I haven't had proper access to a computer in awhile, in fact I'm pecking out this very post on my phone in the backseat of a truck. (It's quite tedious and I won't be making a habit of it, in case you're wondering.)

After two days on the road, I've had loads of time to think about my year. It has not been an easy one and I confess, I was all set to write it off. In an effort to be more positive, I thought I'd put together a little photo collage of my favorite moments. As I was scrolling through my pictures, it wasn't long before my attitude was adjusted. It wasn't the snapshots of flowers, cupcakes, or pretty scenery that I liked (though there were plenty of each), but the faces. Faces of friends, family, coworkers; all the people I've interacted with this year that have improved my life in some way. 

And so my photo collages got a little out of hand. 

I could write an individual post for every person pictured here but in an effort to be concise, thank you. (If it's your child that is pictured, they represent you. But squeeze your kids for me because I love them too.) Each one of you helped me through difficult days, in ways large and small. You may not even have known it at the time, but you did.  Be it a kind message, wise counsel, a funny joke, a listening ear, or even a particularly charming smile, you made my day. More than once, probably.  Thank you for that. 

There are barrels of other people to whom I owe my thanks so if you're reading this and don't see your picture, don't despair. The main reason for that is because we either haven't been together in person this year (i.e. my dear friends in other countries & those who I only know via this blog) or I do not have a picture of you on my phone. (I'm not joking, I've been in the car since yesterday morning and this post in its entirety was created on my iPhone, including the pictures.). In fact if you're reading this at all, you get my thanks, because you care enough to read about my life. 

(Or you just got lost on your way to the internet store that sells incense and Tibetan prayer flags. It wouldn't be the first time, friend. That particular site is hitherandyon.com.  Carry on!)

So if you see your face (or in your case, a cartoon dachshund, Courtney), if you're reading this, or if at the very least you've never called me "treacherous swine" (I'm looking at you, Spencer), then THANK YOU. From the bottom of my stomach. Because that is much deeper than my heart, let's be real.

2013 was not a year of great accomplishments or any groundbreaking personal discovery. But I will not remember it in measurements of tears or disappointments. I will remember it as the year I came to more deeply appreciate the value of a friend. 

Now if you've got the time, what did 2013 hold for you? I'd love to chat. 

The Anxiety Ferris Wheel

(Source)

Friends, I've been a very bad blogger. It's been nearly five months since my last post.  It feels rather self-indulgent and dramatic to keep referring to my situation as my "quarter-life crisis", so I will simply say I have been adrift, personally and professionally, for a rather large portion of this year.  Because of this I have felt blocked when it came to writing.

After quite a few months of feeling like I had a handle on my anxiety disorder, it slipped out of my grasp and came at me in full force like a mythical hydra.  Going to battle against this beast, I'd successfully cut off its head only to have two more appear in its place.

It is a terrible thing to fear one's own mind. It is so hard to explain the way it works to someone who has never experienced it.  I described what it's like to have a full-blown panic attack in a post from back when it all started.  What I wish so very dearly is that I could tell you I'm finally on the other side of the mountain, but I'm not. I've realized over the past two and a half years that this is not something that I can go through, get over, and then put away neatly in a box.  There are some people who can, and have conquered their anxiety and live with complete confidence.

But I've come to accept that being anxious is a part of my nature.  At its core, generalized anxiety disorder is a manifestation of the fear of losing control.  It is such an amorphous fear, because no one has control. Not over the weather, not over the actions/attitudes of others, and most especially not over the future. So I become obsessed with the things that I can control: my mood, every thought, action, and reaction to every situation. Consequently, I try to orchestrate the perfect environment in which I am least likely be anxious, so (in my mind) where I go, what I do, and who I'm with are extremely important.

For example, I hate being surrounded by lots of people so I try to avoid any place with a large crowd. This rules out festivals, amusement parks, concerts, airports, and stores during the holidays, among others.  Secondly, I try to avoid spending too long with someone who doesn't know, understand, or I feel would not react well should I have a panic attack.  The unreasonable train of thought attached to this is that if I can't keep control of myself, at least I'll be with someone who can either help or won't judge me for it.  Thirdly, I try to avoid any place or situation where I do not have a clear or viable exit strategy. This is because feeling trapped is a major trigger for me.  The major consequence of all this is that I end up missing out on a lot of good opportunities if my tightly wound brain perceives a "threat" to my peace of mind.

It is utterly fatiguing to be so consumed with oneself.  There are two tracks playing constantly in my head, one being the normal chatter of every day living (i.e."Where shall I go, what shall I do, what will I eat?") and the other being a nervous and bitter critic (i.e. "Don't eat that, you'll make yourself feel ill. You can't go there, there will be too many people. How useless you are today!"). I end most every day with a physical weariness that originates from the marrow of my bones, as though my blood is produced as two parts hemoglobin, one part enervation.

A well-meaning psychiatrist labeled this particular state as major depressive disorder, as though it were a giant steak dinner and the anxiety only a complementary side salad.  Perhaps it is;  the two are so intertwined, it is hard to separate them out. I know that when I am deeply unhappy, I am far more prone to be anxious and vice versa.  But I strongly resist labeling myself as "chronically depressed".  Yes, I have days and even weeks when even the act of getting out of bed takes Herculean effort, but I've never gone to a place too dark to come back from.

At my core, there is a quiet joy in the privilege of simply being alive, of having all my wits and limbs about me.  The mental and physical ability to experience, to feel, life in all its forms and ways is a vastly underappreciated state of being.  It is a beautiful gift that was just handed to me at birth, I did absolutely nothing to deserve it.  This is to say that even in the bleakest hours or moments of incredible inner turmoil, there is always something within that leads me to level ground again.

I could have been born a bird.
Or a hedgehog.
But what a basic and mindless existence that would be.
Instead, I am human. Made of earth, water, and soul. And the ability, nay the vital responsibility, to discover and follow after a higher purpose is what makes makes it all worthwhile.

There is a masochistic intellectual in me that on the very best days is glad that I struggle with anxiety. "There is a reason for this madness. You may never fully understand it, but at the very least, it drives you to keep bettering yourself," the voice whispers.  As much as I hate to admit it, there is wisdom in that thought.  Anxiety will never allow me to grow complacent about my life.  It's like an unwelcome visitor that pops in at always wildly inconvenient times to ask uncomfortable but well-meaning questions: "Are you happy in this job? Are you headed in the right direction?"

Obviously I usually want to scream "GO AWAY YOU INSUFFERABLE COW. I JUST WANT TO EAT ICE CREAM AND NOT WORRY EVER AGAIN." But the visit gets me thinking and gradually prompts a change. Usually for the better. And then the anxiety recedes for a time.

So that's where I am now.  On the weirdest, most frustrating ferris wheel of life.  I quit my job in September and have been taking some time off to think and travel and reconnect with people in my life that I've neglected.  Where am I going next? I still don't know but I'm trying to swallow my fear of the unknown and explore the possibilities.  The grandest part of all this has been the incredible support of my family, particularly my mother who has quite literally held my hand through the worst bits.  I owe them so much.  I love you guys.

Anyway, this is a wordy and serious post but I felt like I couldn't jump back into regular blogging without putting all my cards on the table.  If only to make myself feel better.  If you've made it this far and still want to read my ramblings, I say thank you, friend. Thank you for your patience and for your listening ears.

I feel amazing after letting this all out.
*assumes lotus position and immediately ascends to higher plane of understanding*

Now take some time to fully appreciate yourself and everything you've been through in your life.
I'll be back soon with pictures and stories.
xx

Happy Weekend

Hi my dears. How have you been? I’ve been busy. The recent heat wave kicked things into high gear at work, which is good because a mild summer doesn’t bode well for the air conditioning business.  On a personal level, I’m glad it’s been so breezy and beautiful.  High temps and extreme humidity are not my friends.

Do you have any fun plans this weekend? I’m heading south for a weekend with a friend and I’m looking forward to catching up with her.

 I know my blogging has been extra spotty lately and for that I apologize, but today I’m back with another links post. It’s been awhile since I’ve done one so there are extra links for your viewing pleasure.

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+ Mmm...ice cream. Speaking of, here's an interesting profile on the owner of the Van Leeuwen ice cream trucks in NYC. (via Garance Doré)

+ Homemade poptarts. Can't go wrong here.

+ A super fun gold sequin heart tutorial. You know, for all your giant wall bling needs.

+ A recent study on the full moon's effect on sleep. Call me crazy, but I fully believe the full moon plays a role. I am always more anxious around a full moon. (via NPR)

+ Another cool DIY: turn a giant t-shirt into a cute tshirt dress.

+ Loved this article in National Geographic on the tradition of painting elephants in India.

+ I'm not a belt person but if I was, I would totally wear this one.

+ I can't get enough of these Pantone stairs. I would love love to do this in my future house.

+ Did you know that Anthropologie has a blog? Check out their post on a short history of the monogram.

+ "Miracles" by Jeremy Messersmith


Have a good one, friends!
xx
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Ice cream photos: (1) / (2)