Trickle-down Showdown!

As Spring turns to Summer

2008-06-04T01:10:00.000-07:00

I found my first silver hair. Sigh. That is all.

29 Ways to Say 'I Love You'

2008-06-02T22:46:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, after several hours passed in the Seelye basement computer lab, I took a break from a psych paper or a take-home government final by clicking on an e-harmony ad. Whatever friend I was with thought it would be fun to see if we could be matched according to the 29 dimensions of my personality with someone, anyone really. (The pushy friend might be something I fabricated to console myself a year or two after the fact.)

Twenty minutes and 100+ questions later, I learned that I was unable to be matched. One of 4% of the people* in the world that were a hopeless cause. Once in awhile I remember this, think I must have made a mistake. Certainly I accidentally asked for a strict Christian with a high sex drive, who drinks daily, and close to my height (5'2") so I take it again, a little more slowly to see what comes of it.

Five years and a mixed handful of relationships later, I'm finally compatible with local strangers. The only downside is that I am not exactly single and even if I were, I don't think I'd date a boy that wanted to find love on that particular corner of the web. Regardless, I still feel relieved that Dr. Warren finally views me as worthy of a partner.

*The eharmony sample excludes anyone searching for the same gender and anyone who isn't single. I assume that they are also excluding those without internets.

Lost in a Dream

2008-03-23T21:57:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been playing a lot of beach volleyball and running away from monsters in the middle of the night. I tell the cute doctor that he's an asshole and wake-up right before something really scary happens in the jungle.

During my run-in with a sinus infection a few weeks ago, I found that 'Lost' re-runs helped to pass the time. At that point I blamed the dreams on the ny-quil and fever, but for awhile now, I have been at a healthy 98 and mostly sober when I finally do fall asleep. Since I've run through the past three seasons in less than three weeks, I need to think long and hard about the next show I pick as my nightly recess.

I'm fairly sure that I will miss the beach sports and howling clouds of smoke, because work these days generally leads to dreams of me sitting around making an 8:30 reservation for a party of two at Le Bernardin. During my brief career as a payroll accountant, I would wake-up in a cold sweat reciting invoice numbers, frantically checking my phone to make sure I had the correct sequence in my handheld computer.

Perhaps I should just renew my mlb.com membership and spend all of my free time fielding grounders with Davey and Scott in Toronto. If I'm lucky, Daniel Boulud and Jin Kwon will stop by to cheer us on.

You can take the Girl out of the South, but...

2008-01-29T15:55:00.000-08:00

Wow. I thought I lost my southern accent back when I was a teenager. If I didn't leave it in Arkansas, I certainly left it someplace out at Smith. I listened to my calls for the first time at work, and I was floored by how gentle and southern I sounded. Hmmmm. I need to do some gutteral exercises.

Regan update:
I enrolled in a non-fiction book proposal class at a workshop center downtown. I am excited about the next 9 weeks of hardcore workshopping. Come April, I'll have a complete proposal that has been edited and pulled apart endlessly. We'll see if I can get any money out of this whole thing.

Banjo Tuesday

2008-01-22T16:34:00.000-08:00

It is still very cold here in Boston so I protested a bit today by wearing summer clothes. I think this is sort of like when I refuse to bring an umbrella when it's overcast, hoping that my choice will keep the rain from falling. I did have to pile on a few layers in order to make the commute, but I'm certain that it made me a bit happier throughout the day. Although I slept in 10 minutes later than I usually do, I somehow managed to leave the house 15 minutes earlier than every other day, so I was far more relaxed than usual.

This put a lot of spring in my step in the morning, but I definitely got more excited when my train pulled into Downtown Crossing at the exact moment that a blind man started picking along on his amplified banjo. His guide dog was chilling out next to the change case and didn't seem to mind when I almost tripped over his giant paw. The day only got better after I bumped into a young guy in a suit picking away at his own banjo in my office building on my way home from work. I think I've heard more live banjo music in the past 12 hours than I've heard in the past five years.

Rooting for the Home Team

2008-01-17T16:13:00.000-08:00

As most of you know, I was practically born in a Cardinals jersey. My parents' home is littered with pictures of three blond-headed pale children in bright red shirts. From Ozzy Smith to Tom Pagnozzi, it was never hard for me to find a favorite player that helped me to concentrate my love for the Red Birds. I was an avid softball player, so I was one of the few girls I knew that cared a lot about baseball (at least before I went to Smith and met all of the Red Sox girls).

Sigh. Needless to say, I am really not OK about the recent roster changes in St. Louis. I know that last season wasn't the best, but Christ, can't they get rid of the riff-raff before the meat. First it was Eckstein, then Edmonds, and then OH MY GOD they traded Rolen.

David Eckstein was impossible not to love. The shortest short stop in all of baseball, he was the heart of the city and you couldn't help but love the guy. Watching him play was like watching a little kid jumping in the arena with the lions. In the 2006 WS, he was able to shine and prove just how important his never-give-up attitude was for the team. (Also, I have a thing for good ole boy blonds.)

Jim Edmonds had become a staple in St. Louis. He was a little bit country, but I don't really care with skills like that. He's my brother Patrick's favorite, and he was always a reliable guy for the optimistic fan.

Then we have Scott Rolen. Scotty-too-hottie, be still my heart. I was a third baseman in my best softball years, so I naturally gravitated toward the gold-gloved Rolen. A graceful player with the physical stats of a linebacker. His wife is pretty effin hot, but I still could dream that he might spot me from the upper deck and fall in love.

Three boys left for me to love: Molina, Duncan, and of course, Pujols. Molina is my age and one of the best catchers in the league. His poor English almost melts my heart, and he is from one heck of a gene pool (two older brothers also in the Majors). Duncan is young and about the size of Rolen. He's a great batter, but I must admit that I am a sucker for the infielders, so he hasn't quite won me over. Because his father is the pitching coach, I have a feeling he'll stick it out with the Cards...but it's hard to tell since his brother is with the Yankees. Puggles requires no explanation.

Really....heart-broken.

The Greatest Gift of All

2008-01-17T16:09:00.000-08:00

I think I should make a bit of a living out of the industry of gifting. Within a few months I could theoretically become the most thoughtful and creative gift-giver that I know; however, I doubt that I'll find enough disposable income to dive very deep into that hobby.

I Can Haz Plus-Size Fashion?

2008-01-13T22:19:00.000-08:00

It's 1am and I can't sleep. After skimming through my favorite blogs, I linked up to some of the 'I Can Has Cheezbuger' cats. After 12 pages or so, I started to realize that the only advertisements that were popping up were for plus-size boutiques. I am guessing this is someone taking a stab at the average obsessive cat owner...but after two glasses of wine and my sleeping pill kicking in, I can't really tell at this point. I did take a peek at Lane Bryant and Catherine's since I wasn't sure of the difference. Before too long, I realized that LB was the more fashionable of the two, just in case anyone was curious.

Learning to Fake It

2008-01-12T21:59:00.000-08:00

The new job is going very well and I'm pretty excited about my future with this firm. I am doing high-end, global concierge work, and since I am more of a mid-level gal, it means that I have to learn how to fake it.

The first week of training consisted of how to read menus of French restaurants, memorizing the details of the best restaurants in Manhattan, and an intro to the ins and outs of schmoozing with rich, successful, and important people. Before long, I'll be able to discuss wines and vacation villas and easily offer the five best alternatives when you aren't smooth enough to grab a table at Nobu or Buddakan. Luckily, I do have an up when it comes to club recommendations in Vegas [thanks Rachy!]. Also, before long I'll be buds with the Maitre D's at fancy places so I can impress my friends when I invite them along.

I am pretty excited because I think that familiarizing myself with some real world and marketable things will help me out in my freelance writing endeavours. And hell, if you're going to sell your stuff for money, it helps to sell it to the publications with wealthy subscribers.

And now, for my favorite-NY-restaurant-even-though-I-will-never-buy-a-$500-meal: 21 Club. Sure, I can most likely afford the 3-course option, but the 7 course in the basement sounds like a date!

These Icicle Tears...

2008-01-03T13:44:00.000-08:00

It's official. I took down the Christmas tree, hid all of the dinosaur ornaments, and managed to wiggle the roommate's puppy out of his Christmas-sausage costume. The holidays are over and I am probably a little too sad about it. I do have some presents coming in the mail still, so I suppose that's a small something to look forward to. I think more than anything, I will miss the exciting lighting options afforded by Christmas decorations.

December was eventful. I was given a teaser job in accounting at my temp agency. They took that away and I only needed two weeks to shake the feeling of being dumped. It ended up being not so terrible because they managed to find me a real job at a real company where I can show up for as long as I like, complete with benefits and paid vacation and several other grown-up essentials. Starting Monday, I will work down the street from the Fed, so I am sure that I will skip out of work early sometime and take the basement tour where they show you the duffel bags full of quarters. When the weather gets warm, I can sit by the water during my lunch and watch the boats float by.

My family cancelled Christmas, so I was able to choose my own adventure for the week. I picked the warm weather, amazing Tex-Mex, and much needed couple-time options all provided down in Texas. Sigh. Four super days of Austin just made Boston seem that much colder and depressing. Oh yeah, winter in New England really sucks.

So now I'm sitting in a living room no longer littered with glitter and stockings. It's the coldest day of winter and the sun went down sometime after 4pm. I'm in 13 layers of warm clothing and my fingers are still a little numb. I think the poem from Amanda's mom sums it up best:

WINTER
a poem by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre

Fuck!

It's cold!

Just what the world needs: another lawyer.

2007-12-29T07:55:00.000-08:00

Law School always seemed like the correct step for me after college. I can't remember exactly how I reached that conclusion, but it probably had something to do with my high school debate coach as well as my extended family. I took all of the Gov and Econ courses that sounded like decent prep for my future, and I even gave Princeton Review and Kaplan about $1.5k over the past 6 months.

I got the score back, spent a few days flipping through the few catalogues, and put the final touches on my personal statement. As I was filling out my few apps, I realized several glitches in my plan.

On Law School:

1) I am not very studious. I rarely did my reading in college. I always liked the dirty essays for my Politics and Sexuality course (40 something bear prof seducing his twink student). I also didn't mind the Russian Lit or Religion reading. I disliked the Political and Legal theory, and I think that might pose a major problem in LS.

2) I don't like the average law student. I know these people. I debated through high school and a bit in college. I took almost every American Gov class at Smith and spending three long years with that student didn't really interest me. That girl who thinks everything is racist or sexist or that boy who drops postmodern philosopher names in every observation (he likes to observe things out loud). When it comes down to it, these people were the ones who pushed me from the Gov department to the Econ department by sophomore year.

3) By now I'm starting to seriously second guess the law school thing. Law school is expensive. If I have some breakdown by year two, I'm stuck with one very large bill.

On Lawyering:

1) I am not very studious. 80 hour work weeks? Really? I know that it is possible to work more reasonable hours, but I know that my competitive side would kick in and I'd want to be a good little lawyer and work all the time. I promise that I am not a lazy person, it's just that lawyer work doesn't seem to be that engaging and I get bored far too easily.

2) Lawyering is boring. The temping gig allowed me to work at several Boston firms, and it doesn't seem like a way I'd like to spend all of my hours. Phone tag with clients, phone tag with other lawyers, phone tag with people within your firm. Faxes, affidavits, yelling at your legal assistants. Gross. If I'm going to skip naps and time with myself doing what I want with whomever I want, I'd rather skip it for something more enjoyable than drafting the 3rd letter to some little old lady that has trouble with her slumlord. I know that there are different types of law to go into and that not all firms are the same, but as Leila reaffirmed, all the fun ones are just as busy and have even smaller pay.

3) I don't like lawyers. I know these people. I've met them. I've met the future generation of them. I don't really care to spend the rest of my life working with these people. I like myself much more than those people.

So now what?

It's hard to tell, really. I want to work for myself with something I can really love. I want to feel productive and fulfilled. I want my labor to be for my bank, not for another's bank where I'm promised a cut. I suppose everyone wants that kind of set-up, but the kicker is how to land that gig.

I'm looking into a few Professional Writing MA programs. I imagine the MFA kids are the kinds that kept me away from the English classes at Smith. You know, the girls that wear capes to class and come back from a semester in London with an English accent. Reading poetry in the quad with a bunch of emo-hippies is hardly my dream. And as far as technical writing is concerned, I'd rather go to law school.

Sure, one can break into the freelance life without any sort of degree, but I'm not one of those people. I need a paid mentor with some letters behind his name to tell me that I'm worthy and able. I want to try my hand at several different things under the supervision of professionals. If you're reading this blog, you can see that I still have a lot of learnin' to do before I can convince people to hire me. I want the bank to pay my rent and put gas in my car while I fail inside of the classroom in front of other amateurs. I might be spectacular at greeting cards and terrible at magazine writing. These are all things I would prefer to figure out sooner than later, so I decided that a graduate program would be a decent place to start.

Wait until the end of the Spring, and I'll let everyone know where I'm headed. If anyone needs LSAT prep material, just email me!

What else did you expect?

2007-12-29T07:39:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time I kept a blog that I willingly shared with friends and accidentally shared with family. After rambling on far too long about canned meats, sex, and a really pitiful professor crush, I decided to lay that blog to rest. Since then, I have started a few more public blogs, but I either forget the password or accidentally delete it all.

So here goes. In the spirit of Trickle-Down laws, this (soon to be) amazing blog to be tempered through the fires of time and failed start-up attempts.

Is our children learning?

2007-12-29T07:36:00.000-08:00

No. Not at all. Not one bit.

Upon moving to Boston, the thought of another endless job search overwhelmed me. When I heard that a staffing group could get me a job in a few hours, I quickly applied with several and before the end of the day I was securely employed for both a nine-to-five and a weekend gig. It wasn't long before I realized that companies make temps put up with the shit that regular employees would never tolerate: ninety hours worth of data entry or twelve hours of being locked in a room with nothing but a dictaphone and a typewriter.

On Monday I was placed at *Simmons College where I have been inputting all the information from prospectives into a very antiquated computer. Their endowment must not be that impressive, because half of the time I have to crouch down at the keyboard with only a footstool to sit on. My seven hour hell each day allows Simmons to send a few hundred lucky girls a sports bag with their applications, but I can't complain because once every few hours they let me stretch out my legs while I file folders for the 5,000 applicants. The task of filing became much more exciting after I worked up the nerve to peek into the folders before putting them away on the wall of shelves.

First there are the unfortunate last names: McLeany, Hinnie, Hineski, Ojbakmalishmar, Vagimal. Then there are the unfortunate first names: Shawnee, Rondee, Franka, Redue. Next come the planned majors: weather, x-ray technology, animals, hair and nails. The planned majors baffle me for two reasons. Obviously, it's silly to imagine an ambitious yet under-accomplished high school girl planning to attend a competitive, private insitution for a vocational degree at the low cost of $18,000 per semester. But what is a bit more disturbing is how boring most of the choices are. Sure, radiologists make a lot of money, but planning to spend 40 years reading pictures of people's insides is pretty dull.

I still can't figure out if it's depressing or uplifting that people apply to a school that is so very far out of their reach. Yesterday I overheard a debate over if it was acceptable to return a girl's application check when her SAT score is in the triple digits. On the one hand, she has absolutely no chance whatsoever of being accepted and therefore it won't cost anything to process her application since it's going to be marked with a giant X. On the other hand, the school can't even afford real office chairs, so they shouldn't be terribly picky about such a gift.

Today I started to glance at the email coorespondence at the top of the files. "Hi, Iam rachel Simon and I mailed you my stuff last week. Can yuo please check it? Let me kow, thanks." Sigh.

*Apparently there's another decently ranked women's college in the Boston area other than Wellesley. Sadly enough, I never realized that Simmons was a women's college. On a more pitiful note, it took me over 4 hours of inputting dozens of girls' names and walking around the campus center to realize that Simmons doesn't allow boys.