Twenty-Six

In three days I will turn 26. How did that happen? Wasn't I just writing about how scared I was to turn 25? Like yesterday?

I'm not as panicked about 26. I don't know why. I don't think I accomplished anything this year I should be especially proud of. We've sort of half remodeled our kitchen. I've half written a play. I got a pretty substantial raise at work this summer that I'm not totally sure I deserved. But really, I've done nothing.

I'm at a weird place right now. I need a project (as if play-writing and kitchen-remodeling aren't enough!). But not a project like that. I need something personal--like an exercise program, or a writing class, or grad school. I need something that will make me better. Because right now I feel like a need a 10-day nap.

Along these same lines, I decided to dye my hair a few days ago. I needed a change. So I bought a cheap box, and now I look like this. This is what happens when I fall into this weird place.

Like nearly everyone around me, I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Basically, I'm SAD because it's so dark and cold all the time. I haven't spent any time outside, in actual sunlight, or breathed any fresh air in months. Because if I were to step outside, my skin would literally melt off my body from the cold (or something like that--I don't know the science behind frostbite, but I know there's been cold advisories pretty much every day for the three months).

I'm exhausted in the mornings, dragging myself to work where I stare, slightly dazed, at my computer screen for several hours. Then I go home. I make my way to the couch, curl up in blankets and sit there until I can crawl into bed.

I feel meaningless.

Maybe it's because I'm not coaching or directing right now. Those activities at least make me feel connected to other people, and feel at least a little bit like I'm making an impact on those kids. Maybe its because I'm eating garbage all the time and not exercising, so I know I'm putting on weight and hating the way my body looks. Maybe its because I'm just so tired of being cold all the time. Maybe I'm just ungrateful.

Brett and I are going on a date tonight. We'll brave the snow and the terribly-plowed roads because I need to get out of the house. I can't stand sitting at home watching Netflix for another night in a row. It's a weeknight, and we're going to go out and enjoy our lives.

Plus I turn 26 in three days. I might as well accomplish something this year. Even if it's only eating a nine-ounce steak in one sitting.

Kitchen Remodel Part I

So you want to remodel your kitchen? You think it's a pretty good idea, right? Especially since your house was built in the 1950s, and the cabinets are all original. Not only does your kitchen not function well (there's no lazy susan or upper corner cabinet, so the corners are unusable space), it's also hideous. The shelves in the cabinets are too close together, so modern products don't fit standing up. The sink is WHITE acrylic, so it absorbs everything and is constantly stained and filthy looking. The microwave takes up half of the the already-limted counter top, and the fridge is tiny.  Oh, and the cabinets have about six inches of nasty tan PAINT on them, and the "accent" color is officially called "Baby Poo."

Basically, your kitchen looks like this:

No? It doesn't? Your kitchen is actually awesome? So it's just me? Well, this is likely not going to interest you then. Because this post is all about how I'm in the midst of remodeling my kitchen on the smallest of budgets.

Kind of. Actually, that post will be forthcoming. Like when I'm actually done remodeling my kitchen. Right now, it's a giant mess, so I will not be posting photos of my kitchen looking like a giant mess.

This post is about how I've been so busy with this remodel, that I've basically done nothing else with my life. Like, my play is still largely unedited. I haven't hung out with friends in a month. I keep getting sick because I'm running myself ragged. Plus, my DVR is so full of things I need to watch, I don't know if I'll ever catch up! (I'm just kidding about that...I've been pretty good about the important things, like making sure I'm totally caught up on Parks and Rec and Intelligence--and of course, I've watched the Golden Globes and SAG Awards. I'm just in the middle of a remodel; I'm not a monster!)

So, to sum up--my kitchen was hideous and in desperate need of a face lift. I promise I will write a full post some day about everything we did (since we mostly did this ourselves...and by "we mostly did this ourselves," I mean my dad did almost everything) and approximately how much it cost us. I would just like to prove to HGTV that it does not take $75,000 to redo a kitchen. Our remodel was probably closer to $5,000-$7,000--including all new counter tops, appliances, and cabinets. So Hilary Farr can take her $95,000 budget and barely finish one room, and I will scoff at her. And then snot will come out of my face because I've had a sinus infection for the last three months.

But life is good!

New Year

Well, friends, I suppose I should take the time to wax eloquently on the closing of the past year and the beginning of a new one, as it is my first post in 2014. I'm not going to do that, however, because it is January 9. I haven't written here in a very long time.

I have a list of excuses of why I haven't written in a long time if you'd like to hear:
- The holidays - isn't that enough? We only had four Christmases this year, but it was plenty. We were constantly shopping, since we didn't plan well, we only shopped for the Christmas right in front of us, leaving us feeling like we were never going to catch up. Plus, we were involved in our church's Christmas cantata, attended a New Year's Eve party, in addition to work festivities.
- Kitchen remodel - that should also be enough. We tore out the old cabinets, replaced with new ones that we stained and varnished, tore down the old tile backsplash, re-plastered the walls, mounted a new microwave over the stove, bought a dishwasher, replace our faucet, put the old countertop and old sink back in. We are waiting for our dishwasher to come in (should be tomorrow) and install that, our new countertops will arrive in early February and we'll install them with a new sink, then put in a new backsplash and purchase a new stove. So we're about 2/3 of the way done--but we did all of that work between Christmas and New Year's. We were exhausted.
- Work has been busy. Mostly because I was out of the office for 10 days while remodeling our kitchen, so I'm still trying to catch up. It's been fun things though--new design for this year's theme, revamping our solicitation letters, and discussing our office building remodel.
- General laziness. It's been cold. Like double-digit-negative-degrees cold. That has left me mostly huddled in blankets on the couch, and not wanting to do anything that involves getting out from under those blankets. Did I mentioned I've gained like 30 pounds over the holidays?
- I've been writing elsewhere. Not only do I write for work everyday, I've also finished my play. It has days and days of editing left, but it's done. Plus, I've been blogging on another platform recently, and this little blog has been neglected a bit.

So there's my list of excuses. Not exactly the inspirational list of New Year's Resolutions you were looking for? If that's what you were expecting, you may want to check any other blog that exists. You won't find that here this year.

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Our house is decorated for Christmas, and now my cube at work is too.

Today kicked off Christmas Fun Week at work, and we had a workspace decorating contest. Most people brought in their extra Christmas knick knacks and decorations from home and lined their cubes with plush snowmen, lights, garlands, etc.We have barely enough Christmas-y things to decorate our living room, so I didn't have anything left over to bring in.

Thus a new idea was born. I would make my cube look like it was something Christmas-y, without actually using many decorations. Without further ado...here's my creation. By the way, it won second place in the contest.

Swimming the Stream

Tonight I'm having Thanksgiving at my parents' house. Because my sister works retail and always has to work Black Friday, she can rarely join us at my Grandparents' house for the actual holiday. Thus the celebration a week early.

I'm excited to see her, eat turkey, eat pie. My dad makes the best pies. Now that he's retired, I'm sure he's cooked up something amazing for us.

We missed the Lighting of Central Park last night and the lighted parade. We planned to go, but when I got off work yesterday it was freezing rain, 12 degrees, and super windy. I knew I would be cold and miserable the whole time. Plus Brett refuses to end basketball practice early just to go with me to the parade, so he ends up missing half of it, while I stand freezing by myself at the corner of the park.We should have sucked it up and just gone, but since it was before Thanksgiving, I wasn't in the holiday mood yet. I usually love going because it's around December 5...the perfect time to get into the Christmas spirit. It's a great way to kick off the season. But I'm not ready for the season--I want to enjoy Thanksgiving first. I should take that up with the Chamber.

I'm hungry today. Like really hungry. I don't know why that happens sometimes, but I wake up starving. I suppose that's a good way to go into a Thanksgiving meal though...

I have no reason for this post, other than keeping this blog alive. I've been blogging somewhere else recently, but here I'm not anonymous. Sometimes it's good to be yourself.

Speaking of...I think that's the theme of my play: Be yourself. Who knows? I still have a looooong way to go.

Writing About Writing (Again)

There were certain topics that were off-limits for us at Northwestern in our writing classes. One of them was writing. We were pretty much forbidden from writing about writing. And it makes sense. We've all been there--the writer's block that makes you think a little too hard, and suddenly the block itself becomes a formidable villain. And why not? That's the evil that's preventing us from accomplishing our noble task of finishing the essay or poem. It's a "man vs. self"-type conflict, but with the added anguish of inner turmoil from outside pressure.

I am never more creative about the writing process than when I'm staring at a stark white computer screen, vacant page before me, cursor taunting me with its incessant blinks. I am a valiant knight, writer's block is my dragon. I type a few words--maybe they fit, maybe they're nonsense--but I just need to get something on that page. I can't stand the way they look. I backspace. That white void of a page is there again. My mind is empty. I have nothing to say. Sometimes I spin really fast in my chair, hoping to jar something loose. Maybe a thought will escape out my ear in the process and attach itself to the empty page.That never happens.

I tie my hair in a big knot on top of my head. It's my "thinking hair." I let it back down. I don't want to get ponytail bumps. I kick my feet against the floor. I only do this a few times. It sounds obnoxious and I don't want to annoy the people around me. I stare at my fingers. They're cold. They're always cold. I spin my ring around my finger, examine my fingernails. I crack my knuckles--now they hurt and I don't want to type anymore--not that I've typed anything in hours.

This is me in college. With "thinking hair."

This is what my life looks like. This is what my nights looked like in college, every time I sat down to write something. This is what my days look like at work. This is what my evenings look like at home while I'm trying to finish this play.

Where did all my good ideas go?

When I was a kid, I had an endless string of story plots running through my mind at all times. I worried there wasn't enough time left on earth for me to finish everything I wanted to write. Some were definitely stories. Others were books. Sometimes just a line or two, but with a little more effort a poem would emerge. Even a few plays rattled around in that little blonde head of mine. What happened to that girl?

People told her her ideas were dumb. That she couldn't be writer. That she didn't have the talent to get her work published. That her plots were "drizzled" and her characters weren't "round" enough and her settings weren't "defined."

And somehow, that creative little girl turned into a Writing Major, then a Sports Reporter, and then a Communications Coordinator. I churn out press releases and newsletters without needing to spin in my chair. Mostly, I copy and paste, recycle nonprofit jargon, slap on the mission statement at the end, and go home. I stopped "pushing my diction" and "staggering my breath units." It hardly seems necessary. Parataxis defined my college essays...now my supervisor always adds an oxford comma and an "and" when editing.

This play. It's making me crazy. It's the first creative thing I've attempted in years. I'm struggling with it. I'm having flashbacks to all-nighters in Moyer 12. Making a second pot of coffee at 11:37 p.m. because the one I made at 7 just isn't going to cut it. Begging my roommate to pick me up a smoothie and a giant bag of gummy bears from The Nest. Sprinting down the sidewalk in front of the dorms to print in the Student Center, knowing the essay I'm printing now is at least two drafts away from being complete, but I need a hard copy to edit. My eyes just couldn't even look at a screen anymore. Texting Jordan "Help? Christianity and Writing. Riley Lab, 30 min?" and being physically relieved when he texted back, "Yes. Good. Done."

We used to try to scare people when we went to the Stud to print. I don't remember why.

Also, this happened in the Stud. This was my roommate's boyfriend at the time. We were not friends. But he was a germaphobe, so I tried to make him as uncomfortable as possible. At all times.

I'm so thankful that I was able to be in such a competitive and difficult writing program. I am immensely grateful to my professors who pushed me, my classmates who challenged me, and Jordan who pitied me. I'm even more thankful I'm done with that.

These people, my fellow writing majors, were all geniuses. Also, please ignore what I'm wearing. I was really weird.

And now this play has resurrected all these horrible feelings of insecurity and self-doubt and left behind when I threw my graduation cap in the air.

Twenty pages to go, a few character arcs to tie up, and a plot seam to close. I'm close.

But that blank page and cursor sure is taunting me.

Some Stream of Consciousness

I hit a low point last night. Like, really low. I was eating frosting out of a can with a spoon.

It's been a rough few weeks. The last time I felt healthy was Oct. 9, and everything has just spiraled out of control since then. Weird cold/flu haunted me for over a week, and eventually led to a bladder infection. The infection was "treated" with antibiotics that caused a yeast infection. And of course, all of this came to a head while I was attempting to coach a state volleyball tournament--where my setter was out after an emergency appendectomy and my all-conference outside hitter was suffering from fluid on her knee. These were bad circumstances, but no excuse. I was not a good coach. I wasn't healthy, but more than that, I was distracted, and I was off my game. I was anxious about other personal things, and the stress was only making me physically sicker. I needed the season to end, because I need the big change that comes with that. I need some time away. I wish I would have recognized my shortcomings earlier, and I wish I had been a better coach for them that weekend. I still feel badly about how I handled everything.

I somehow talked Brett into doing Jillian's 30-Day Shred, since he wanted to get in shape before he started coaching. And in a moment of what I can only describe as memory loss, I agreed to do it with him. Since I was sick so much, I only did four days of level one, but rejoined him yesterday for level two. That was a mistake.

It's almost winter, snow is threatening. Halloween is on Thursday, and I promised the kids we'd hand out candy if they come trick-or-treating. 

Thanksgiving is closing in quickly. I wish we'd put our outdoor Christmas lights up already. It's getting cold, and I'm losing motivation to stand outside. We were ambitious last year, getting it done early. But we were so excited to have a house of our own, and I guess some of that has worn off. We still haven't done a thing to our cabinets. They're lying in the basement with a single coat of stain on about half of them...maybe once dad retires?

I need to return to writing my play if I have any hope of finishing it. I'm 60 pages in, stuck in a corner, and unsure of where to go next. I want to finish it...I just really don't know how. The kids are excited about it. Maybe I shouldn't have told them--but I was hoping they're excitement would motivate me to write. So far, no luck there.

I want to make applesauce tonight, but I have no motivation to cut up all those apples.

I had an existential crisis earlier today when I couldn't figure out how to spell "graham crackers."

I finally bought a mustard cardigan. It's everything I dreamed it would be. I wear it constantly.

We had a staff potluck yesterday where I had maybe the best cake of my entire life.

We also watched cat videos on Youtube during our potluck. Sometimes I love my job.

I admit, I use this blog as a place to complain. But it's my blog. You are not required to come here. I do not, however, use Facebook as a place to complain. Because you have to see that, even if you don't want to. All that to set up this. My thoughts on people who complain CONSTANTLY on Facebook: