Everyone Loves a Boston Girl

My life as of late tends to be made up of a constantly re-filled tea cup, an endless flow of words both written and spoken, a sink (and counter) full of dirty dishes, and good, good people. Do you ever get to a point in life where you think, this, without a doubt, is it? Because that’s where I am right now. While I still have a long way to go in terms of wants, desires, and goals, I have absolutely everything I need right now. Content just doesn’t seem a strong enough word to describe it because content doesn’t explain any of the excitement, joy, and general awesomeness of it all.

My sister and her husband recently moved in down the street from me. Having never lived in the same general area as my sister since she went away to college (12 long years ago), I honestly wasn’t sure what it would be like. But, it’s been absolutely perfect. Though my parents live fairly close, there’s nothing like having family right down the road. And I had no idea I’d spend so many nights sitting on their couch or that they’d want to hang out with me and Chris so much. There’s really nothing better than having family you can also call friends. And there’s nothing better than having friends in your life that you can truly count on and who truly care for you.

I’ve been writing more than I’ve ever written in my life. And while freelancing is still a tricky little lifestyle, I realize that I would give up my right arm to get paid to write and it’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing. And can’t ever imagine not doing it. It’s funny because, while I’ve always been a writer, writing doesn’t usually come easily to me. I’m generally not one to just let the words flow. I’m more of a thinker, a reader, a re-thinker, and a re-writer. But part of why I love writing so much is for the challenge. And for coming up with something in the end that really means something. Even if it’s just to me. And even if I do spend an hour writing stories about Justin Bieber as part of my job. I’m still writing and that’s what matters.

The dirty dishes are there because I’ve been cooking more than I ever have before, too. I’ve managed to build a pretty good schedule for myself that lets me cook at least a couple nights a week. And the more I cook, the more I fall in love with cooking. And the happier I am.

Then there’s the tea. I’ll still drink a couple glasses of red wine any night of the week, but lately there’s been nothing quite like a cup of hot cinnamon tea (Harney and Sons, if I have a choice). And there’s definitely not anything like sipping it with someone. Someone who’s always there to offer to re-fill your cup.

And that’s where life is right now. And yes, I realize I’m not usually totally cheesy like this but sometimes I can’t help it. I promise tomorrow I’ll be back to my frivolous fashion wants and Boston living. In the meantime, I’m having another cup of tea. OK, I’ll stop now. For real.

My poor boyfriend got up this morning and went off to work. Only, when he got in his car, it wouldn’t drive. Why? Because, oops, on the passenger side, it looked like this:

Seriously? He lives in Brighton close to Cleveland Circle among mostly young professionals. This happened right outside his window on a busy car-lined street. It’s just plain scary. This comes a few weeks after someone hit his car and left a note on it. With the wrong phone number. Ugh.

At least I won’t have to do much convincing to get him to move to Brookline when his lease is up ( I know this can happen anywhere, but Brighton just hasn’t been very welcoming to him this year).

I’m the kinda girl who simultaneously has 18 bottles of shampoo in the shower. And a dresser FULL of beauty products. Like over-flowing OMG why do I need to dust my bedroom every day full of products. Not to mention, my closet and bathroom are both overflowing with it all. I don’t use nearly half of them (because it’s not humanly possible), but I love trying new stuff alll the time. Especially if it’s going to help me get pretty.

And here are a few of the things on my current list o’ favorites.

I’ve never paid that much attention to the differences between mascaras because I’ve never really noticed many differences. My eyelashes are OK and I like using mascara to lengthen, separate, and accentuate them, but I couldn’t notice a big difference between mascaras. Until now. And wouldn’t ya know it, the mascara I’m loving is $25. Obviously. It’s L’Oreal 24-Hour Lash-Boosting Power System (huzzah, that’s a mouthful!) and BzzAgent.com sent it to me to play around with. You put the clear stuff (lash boosting serum) on before bed and then use the 2-step mascara (with lash boosting primer during the day). Honest to goodness, my eyelashes look longer. Sometimes if I put my glasses on after the mascara, my eyelashes freaking touch my glasses!! I would never believe something like this would work, but I was pleasantly surprised. Annnd now I’m going to have to buy this every 2 months. Oops.

I used to be a John Frieda and only John Frieda kinda girl. You know, for my fake blonde highlighted hair. Highlights are expensive and I’ll do anything I can do preserve them and brighten up my hair a bit. And I love John Frieda’s Sheer Blonde like none other. But when I saw Pantene Blonde Highlighting Expressions on sale for $3.99 at Target, I had to try it out. And? I like it A LOT. It seriously makes my hair shine and sparkle and all that fun stuff. And it makes my hair nice and softy smooth too. I think I may be converting. I still have a soft spot in my heart for good old Johnny, but unless the throws some sales my way, I can’t resist Pantene.

On the same shopping trip to Target, I grabbed a bottle of Nivea’s Touch of Sparkle body wash? Why? Because IT CONTAINS DIAMOND POWDER. And why wouldn’t I want to slather my body in diamond powder? If you can think of a reason, please let me know. I was a bit skeptical because it’s called “cream oil body wash” and using oil to clean myself never sounds like a great idea. But it actually moisturizes sooo well and that is important, so I guess I do like cleaning myself in oil. Plus, IT CONTAINS DIAMOND POWDER.

OK, clearly I want to be a vampire or something, all sparkly in the sun.

So, if you know of any other beauty products that can help further my goal of becoming a sparkly vampire, please let me know ASAP.

I’ll probably never be an Olympian. I mean, I can say this with about 99.9% assurance. Given that I’m 27 years old and can’t think of any sport I’m particularly good at likely means I won’t ever exceed in a manner over most other people. But then, you never really know. After all, I’ve never actually tried curling or bobsledding, so throw me on some ice and I could end up being a champ. Stranger things have happened I suppose (though none are really coming to my mind at the moment).

I’m probably better off this way though because i get nauseous every time I watch an Olympic competition. For sheer nerves. I mostly close my eyes too. And if I was actually competing? This probably wouldn’t bode well for my chance at a medal. But sports scare me and the Olympics always remind me how spectacularly horrible I’ve always been at athletics. And that I closed my eyes a lot while involved in sporting activities back in the day too.

But maybe, just maybe if I had tried a little bit harder, it could be me at the Olympics. I mean, I was given all the opportunities as a kid. But the problem is, I don’t think I really knew what the Olympics were when I was young. Or else I may have tried to make it to them. Maybe, just maybe I would have opened up my freaking eyes and actually tried at sports.

I ice skated for about 5 years and I had a love/hate relationship with it. Ew gross cold. Ouch help falling. Ooh pretty ice skates. yay I can go fast. The problem is, one day they wanted to teach me all about jumps. Ummm no. You want me to actually pick my entire body up off the ice and just pray for the off-chance that I’ll land back on my ice on my feet? Not gonna happen. I tried a few little jumps with my eyes closed, but I was informed this wasn’t OK. So, bye.

Skiing? Been there, done that too. I never skied when I was little, so my mom enrolled me in lessons when I was in middle school. Pretty much a disaster. I mean, I made it down the mountain, but the chairlift scared me half to death. And closing your eyes getting off the lift? Not the best idea in the world. I also wore my white gloves going up the rope-tow and they turned black and everyone laughed at me. Then my jacket, snowpants, and school clothes were stolen from the lodge and I decided I hated skiing.

Don’t even get me started on the spring Olympics. You don’t want to hear my swimming story (but it does involve the Girl Scouts of America). And gymnastics? I already told you how I feel about picking my entire body up off the ground. I can’t even do a cartwheel.

The thing is, I don’t think I’m necessarily bad at sports and athletics, I’m just scared to death of them. If I fall of the chairlift, I’ll break my neck and DIE. If I fall on the ice, I’ll crack my head open and DIE. Sports might be fun, but dying is not.

So, that is why the Olympics scare me and why I’ll never have the pleasure of winning a medal. But really, go USA; just don’t die please.

(After I wrote this post, I remembered that Nodar Kumaritashvili really did die during the Olympics, so I hope you don’t think I’m being offensive. But now, this just compounds my fears of sporting events).

Do you ever feel bipolar? Not in a clinical sense, but more in a “omg life is awesome” one minute to a “what the hell am I doing?” the next minute sense. I get that way a lot. Some days I feel absolutely euphoric about my work. And others I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.

Sometimes I have a non-stop giddyness about being a freelance writer/community manager. There are so many things I absolutely love about it. But the second someone says, “You’re so lucky! I’m so jealous!” I get pissed. Don’t get me wrong, I do feel lucky. I know I’m lucky. I feel like the world is at my fingertips. I’m not stuck in an office and I can work from bed and wear pajamas all day. Life is good. But not exactly grand.

I guess I work for myself. But I also work for no fewer than 5 bosses. I don’t have to see them every day (or ever), but I do get constant e-mails, many of them thinking I work for them and only them and asking me to do things NOW. I work from 8 a.m.-11 p.m. most days, with some breaks here and there.

My schedule is flexible. I can go on walks, take lunch breaks, run errands whenever I please. I can go on vacation. But I can’t go on vacation and still get paid. I don’t get vacation time. I still have to ask for time off. And then I fear I’ll lose my job because of it.

Health insurance isn’t cheap. And I pay for it on my own. And I don’t take sick days because I don’t get them. I’m always looking for new work for fear I’ll be out a job and won’t be able to pay the bills.

Nothing is secure with my work. I realize no job is secure right now, but working for startups make everything even less so. When a simple e-mail can be sent saying, “thanks for your work, but we can no longer pay you anymore,” getting laid off is easy. Companies can shut down quickly. I know this from first-hand experience. Sometimes even my bosses have no notice. No severance, no unemployment, just a sorry and goodbye. Nothing is secure. And that’s scary.

But then, I’ve always craved security. It’s how I was brought up. It’s what I have in so many areas of my life. I’ve always done what’s comfortable; what’s safe. Ask anyone who knows me if I’m a risk-taker and they’ll laugh in your face. I don’t even go on roller coasters at amusement parks. Many of my friends have been in my life since I was 7. I keep my feet on the ground and my head is always level. Risks scare me. And the secure thing has always made me the happiest. Except when it comes to my career.

Maybe you’d argue a career isn’t exactly the thing to be taking risks on in the current economic climate. And you might be right. But it’s the only way I know to get where I want to be in life. I cannot wake up every day for the rest of my life knowing I could have done more; feeling trapped. No matter what happens I know I’ll be OK, I’ll make it out somehow. And some day I’ll look back and say thank God I took some risks. Isn’t that what life is all about?