Seventeen Spoons

"This I Believe" - Thomas Friedman Op-Ed

2009-12-02T13:49:00.001-08:00

I was at the gym last night during the presidential address.

Confession: I didn't actually know that Obama was scheduled to speak. I just happened to be on the elliptical, sweating up a storm and trying not to breath too hard in an attempt to avoid scaring the guy next to me, when all of a sudden the four TVs mounted on the wall in front of me (previously displaying various channels) all switched to an empty stage and hundreds of West Point Cadets.

There were about 15 cardio machines in front of me and probably another 5 behind me - all of them had personal TV screens. And I kid you not - every single person on each cardio machine turned on their personal screen, turned off their iPod, plugged their ear buds into the socket and listed for Obama's introduction.

Two things occurred to me:

1. I live in a country where it is normal to have nearly 25 TVs in one room; and

2. I live in a country where we demand news from our leaders, have almost unlimited access to their national addresses, and have the freedom to say, write, and feel whatever we want to say, write, and feel about what we hear.

Obama is a talented public speaker. He commands attention, he chooses his words wisely, and for the most part, I believe he says what he wants to say, without strong filters or censors.

There is another man I greatly respect: Thomas Friedman. He is a talented writer. He also commands attention, chooses his words wisely, and definitely says what he wants to say, without strong filters or censors, in the New York Times Op-Ed pages.

Both men inspire me. Both men rely heavily on historic analysis, hope for the future, and an incurable belief in America and the American people.

I don't pretend to know enough about the crisis in the Middle East to pass judgement on whether or not we should be investing our resources there. I don't want to make decisions about how many soldiers to send or when to bring them home or how to support, but not be a crutch to the Afghanistan and Pakistan governments. So while we all complain about our government, last night, for at least 45 minutes, I was overwhelmed with gratitude towards the Obama administration, the Senate, and the Congress - republicans, democrats... people who choose to be in the business of trying to make the right decisions for our country.

And yes. The government screws up on all sides, all the time. But that's not what this post is about.

I'd like to share a few of my favorite quotes from Friedman's most recent Op-Ed piece in the New York Times entitled, "This I Believe." For the record, Friedman does not support Obama's choice to send 30,000 more troops to Afghanistan.

"Given our need for nation-building at home right now, I am ready to live with a little less security an a little-less-perfect Afghanistan."

"My own foreign policy thinking since 9/11 has been based on four pillars:

1. The Warren Buffett principle: Everything I've ever gotten in life is largely due to the fact that I was born in this country, America, at this time with these opportunities for it's citizens...

2. Many big bad things happen in the world without America, but not a lot of big good things. If we become weak and enfeebled by economic decline and debt, as we slowly are, America may not be able to play its historic stabilizing role in the world...

3. [The Arab/Muslim world is a] context dominated by three things: a deficit of freedom, a deficit of education and a deficit of women's empowerment...

4. One of the main reasons the Arab-Muslim world had been so resistant to internally driven political reform is because vast oil reserves allow its regimes to become permanently ensconced in power, by just capturing the oil tap..."

"Hence, post 9/11 I advocated that our politicians find sufficient courage to hike gasoline taxes and seriously commit ourselves to developing alternatives to oil."

"People do not change when we tell them they should; they change when their context tells them they must."

"To now make Afghanistan part of the 'war on terrorism' - i.e., another nation-building project - is not crazy. It is just too expensive, when balanced against our needs for nation-building in America, so that we will have the strength to play our broader global role. Hence, my desire to keep our presence in Afghanistan limited. That is what I believe. That is why I believe it."

Throw Me a Bone in This Graveyard, Already!

2009-11-18T21:00:00.001-08:00

I met my girl Sarah for some drinks tonight up on Capitol Hill. She's the marketing genius behind some very cool things happening at Whimsy Home Decor, so I went to check out the shop and later, we grabbed a glass (or three) of wine at Poco Wine Room.

Two things that never fail to nag my brain after visiting Capitol Hill:

1.) Why do I not venture to that glorious Seattle neighborhood more often? Shops, coffee houses, bars... I love strolling by all those privately owned small businesses. I should support them more.

and...

2.) ARE THERE NO STRAIGHT MEN LEFT IN SEATTLE?

My GOODNESS! Has there ever been a place more gay dense than Capitol Hill? I have never felt less noticed by and more invisible to the male species than I do when I'm on Capitol Hill.

And really, I love it. I'm surrounded by clean cut, fashion forward, well mannered men... none of whom have the objective of getting in my pants.

Now, that's not to say that when I go to a bar in Belltown or Ballard that men are falling over each other trying to buy me a drink - that doesn't happen either. But come on ladies, we all know that sandpaper-on-skin feeling when we've just been thoroughly undressed and had by a dude standing 10 feet away.

Heebie. Jeebies.

But Capitol Hill? Sweet Moses - that neighborhood got hit so hard with the gay stick it created a force field that repels straight men.

And I hope I'm not offending any gay people - I could just as easily say that Belltown got hit so hard with the jock stick that it repels anyone who doesn't measure 18 inches around the bicep.

Or what about Fremont? If that area doesn't scream, "I'M 21 AND LOOKING TO GET DRUNK," I don't know what does.

So really, I'm not picking on Capitol Hill. In fact, for women like me who are about ready to impose a six-month-single rule on themselves, Capitol Hill and its fabulous gay men are a pocket of fresh air amongst a generally polluted environment.

Really, my point is that SEATTLE IS A DATING GRAVEYARD. All I see is tombstones reading "Into Men" or "Into My Workout" or "Into Being 21" or "Into Being 29 and Acting Like I'm 21."

So you might say, ladies, that we're in a graveyard full of skeletons, but no one is throwing us a bone.

Thankful for a Change

2009-11-15T15:33:00.000-08:00

I've always been a strong believer that we aren't here on this earth to live "happy" lives. I think that, in general, life is hard, and it's people - relationships - that make us genuinely happy. The value of the human spirit, yes?

And of course it's all relative - for me (a "wealthy," healthy, young American woman) to say that "life is hard," looks like complete blasphemy when compared to the life of those parents who lost their sons at Ford Hood. Or when compared to those people who lost their homes and businesses in the Greenwood arson. Or when compared to families destroyed in Haiti by a completely curable disease like TB. Or when compared to a single mom loosing her seven-year-old daughter to Leukemia.

So yes, if we're talking "relativity," there is nothing - nothing - hard about my life.

But one thing I've learned is that relativity isn't always helpful. The fact that someone is suffering more than you doesn't make your suffering any less relevant. Or any less painful. Or any less real. We're all struggling. And life is hard. For everyone.

And I know this post is going to seem somewhat out of place, considering 1.) I haven't been blogging much, and 2.) I haven't ever been big on the "feelings" posts, but I realized this grey Sunday, sitting at my kitchen table with an old, old, friend, that I am happier today than I have been in long time. And I'm kind of shocked by my realization, because I would say that the past four or five months have been an unhappy time in my life.

I think that change leads to discomfort, and discomfort often leads to unhappiness. And there's been A LOT of change in my life over the past four to five months, especially relationally (family relationships, friend relationships, relationships at work, romantic relationships... I'm pretty sure there's been change in every category).

So there was change... and then there was discomfort (quite a bit of discomfort, actually)... and then there was unhappiness, which I'll define in this case as emotional exhaustion coupled with abnormal (for me) amounts of stress.

And during this time, there were a few relationships that deteriorated. Relationships I didn't have the emotional capacity to maintain. Relationships that made life harder in a time that was already hard. And there were other relationships - friendships that came out of the woodwork. Friends that realized something was "off." Friends that made an extra phone call, sent an extra email, checked in a little more frequently than usual. Friends that talked me through things. Helped me get out of my own brain long enough to rest a little bit. Friends that were a deep breath.

So although it was a time of change and discomfort and unhappiness, it has also been a time of tremendous support and honesty and grace. And I am FULLY confident that this is not the last bunch of months that I will feel unhappy - in fact, I actually expect to feel like "life is hard" quite frequently. Life is hard for a lot of people, a lot of the time.

But my point is that today, this afternoon, I'm coming off a week where I have felt genuinely happy. And I want to be thankful. Thankful for friends. Thankful for family. Thankful for those people in my life who influence the immeasurable wealth of meaningful relationships. As long as those special people are by my side, I'm happy to be unhappy. And I'll weather the unhappiness to come out on the other side more thankful and more aware of how blessed I am.

So, thank you. :)

Hump Day

2009-10-21T08:53:00.001-07:00

I wish I had something funny to post to get us over hump day... but nothing comes immediately to mind.

The "big things" in my life right now - the things I would normally blog about - are either work-centered or a little too personal for posting. First, I refuse to write about work except in the very-few instances where I'm not compromising the company I work for or my job (my job most importantly... let's be honest). Second, although I've over-shared with you on MANY occasion, lately I've decided to keep the emotional word vomit on lock down.

So here are a few things I'm excited about. And hopefully a few things that will provide good blogging material:

- My new copy of "The Brothers K." It was a gift and I can't wait to read it.

- The two "companion" passes (and consequential pending trips to South Carolina... and maybe Chicago if I can find a travel partner) I received through my credit card... much love, American Express.

- Erin comes home for Christmas in eight weeks.

- My mom joined Facebook. (Friend her!)

- I'm carving pumpkins tonight with a yellow lab and three chickens... and some pretty cool ladies too.

- I'm having my first official "gathering" (more than four people) at the condo on Friday night before Nectar's MICHAEL JACKSON VS. PRINCE PARTY. Rest in peace, MJ.

- Sarah Palin is going to be on Oprah (GUAR-AN-TEED blogging material)

Three Sisters

2009-10-05T12:02:00.000-07:00

Before my sister Erin left for Abu Dhabi nearly three weeks ago, my family went to see "Wicked" at The Paramount Theater.

We had a great night - "Wicked" is maybe my most favorite Broadway production besides "Chicago." And I don't want to de-value the experience by telling this story, but it's just too good to let go.

I think it is a perfect example of how different my sisters and I are.

It's intermission. So of course everyone b-lines for the bathroom, including my oldest sister Erin who is notorious for her small bladder. Morgan and her husband, Ben, b-line for the beer line instead, and I stand to the side of the lobby with my mom.

Erin has been waiting in the bathroom line for about ten minutes when I realize she's nearly up to the bathroom entrance: she's getting close. By this time, Morgan and Ben are standing with my mom and I and I say, "well, maybe I should go." Morgan agrees, and we head over to get in line next to her.

We've been standing in line with Erin for less than five seconds when I hear, "Oooo I'm gonna pee on you!"

I turn around to find a 5'2", skinny, grey haired woman wearing Keens and an interesting sack-dress. I look at her and say, "Excuse me?"

"I'm gonna pee on you!"

I turn to Erin for confirmation that yes, in fact, a woman half my weight is threatening to urinate on me. In public.

Morgan ditches us and heads to the back of the line.

I then say to Erin, "Did she say she's going to pee on me?" loud enough for KeenSackDressLady to hear me. I then say, "is she for real?"

Erin says to me quietly, "Who cares! Just stay here."

I turn to KeenSackDressLady and say, "Are you serious?" then turn to Erin and say, "I don't have to pee that bad and this certainly isn't worth it."

So Erin is alone, again, in line for the bathroom.

I get back to my seat and I'm RILED. A 50+ year old woman threatened public urination ON ANOTHER PERSON because she didn't want someone to "cut" in line?

And I guess I'll stop my rant to say this: the way each of us Heston daughters handled the situation was SO TRUE to our personalities.

Erin: Doesn't stir the situation up but ultimately does she wants and disregards the outlandish remark.

Morgan: Diffuses the situation by removing herself from it. To her, standing in a bathroom line for an extra five minutes is better than getting in a minor confrontation.

Me: Point out the OUTLANDISH thing this woman said, give her a disgusted look, let her know that I think she's a FOOL, and walk away, heated with high blood pressure.

Conclusion: Erin does what she wants, quietly. Morgan is a people pleaser, especially in situations where her "sacrifice" is relatively small. And I'm a hothead - if you threaten to urinate on me in public I'm going to get pissed.

Bevis and Habeeb Get Married in Danville

2009-09-29T21:20:00.001-07:00

Sophie is one of my oldest friends. We met in middle school - seventh grade. We were 12. That's 12 years of history, people. It seems natural to say that she's one of the most important people in my life - but then somehow that statement doesn't do her justice. For lack of a better word... we're kindred. She is my kindred. And she got married on September 12, 2009.

The girl that I used to take mascara-putting-on-lessons from got married. The girl that I sang along with to Joan Osborne's "Right Hand Man" (before we understood the meaning of "right hand man") got married. The girl that was there through my parents near-divorce. My handful of so-called-heartbreaks. My first job at Domenico's Deli where we both has obscene amounts of attitude and loved every minute it. Poloma and Chumaca. Two peas in a pod. The girl that played a huge part in forming who I am today now belongs to another kindred. And he is wonderful.

One day I started calling Sophie "Bevis." I don't know why. It had nothing to do with Bevis and Butthead. But it just stuck. And then one day, many years down the road, she told me that sometimes she called her fiance "Habeeb." So now, Tim (her wonderful husband) will be nothing but Habeeb to me from here on out.

And the wedding? Perfection. It was in her backyard. With all her closest family and friends. And it was beautiful. And I was asked to read something during the ceremony.

Now I know I'm not known for being short on emotion. But I honestly thought I would be able to keep it together. And if it hadn't been for her dad's writing and one of her best friend's reading, I probably would have been fine (Damn you, Steph!). But I had to follow a father's written word told by a best friend's spoken word... so excuse me if I was a little choked up.

But, painfully choppy, I read this from "Gift From The Sea," by Anne Morrow Lindbergh:

"When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits - islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides."

And part of why I'm writing this is because I want to remember that I was introduced, during the ceremony, as "The Scribe from Seattle," (which frankly is one of the best things I've ever been called) and the other part is because I want to remember how simply happy my friend was on her big day. Joy. Contentment. Happiness. An almost calm resignation to and rejoice in her forever love.

To Bevis and Habeeb: I love you both. And I wish you all the joy and love one can wish. Happy marriage.

Free Advise from My Dad to You

2009-09-29T21:07:00.001-07:00

I went to Las Vegas this past weekend. Me and three girlfriends took Friday off to spend time quality time in the sun with alcohol enhanced slurpees. And although there are many things I could say about Vegas, I think I'll leave the defining advise to my father. Prior to my 10:40AM departing flight, I receive this voicemail from my dad:

"Meguire. This is your dad. Be careful and be smart in Las Vegas. And you don't have to be very smart to be smarter than the average person in Las Vegas. So. Have a good time. Enjoy yourself. But, be aware of the assholes." *click*

My father. A man of few words but a man well worth listening to. I only hope one day he can tell he granddaughter to be, "be aware of the assholes."

Twixters: Long time Coming, Part III

2009-08-14T10:45:00.000-07:00

Are you tired of this topic yet? I am.

Today is the last quote and then early next week I’ll wrap this up. I considered dropping it entirely but 20 years from now I’d like to look back and know how I felt about it…

“Twentysomethings are also inundated with constant but mostly empty communication, as the increasingly primary social sphere exists online instead of real life. Nothing could be more alienating to someone in the midst of a crisis than a tool like Facebook. Says James, ‘All sorts of half-forgotten acquaintances and abandoned friendships reappear in this spreadsheet of potential reasons to feel terrible about yourself. If you’re as petty as I am, you spend a lot of Facebook time gauging your own feelings of inadequacy in direct relation to other people’s success. All these people you couldn’t give a shit about a couple of years ago are now these omnipresent benchmarks and counterpoints to measure against whatever you have or haven’t got going on in your life.”

I was discussing this topic with one of my good friends and this is what she said:

“I feel VERY lucky to have a lot of really, really good friends. But, I do feel like (even in the past year or two) that we (me and my friends) talk less and less about important, meaningful things. We are in CONSTANT communication (e-mail, Facebook, bbm, etc.) but where is it getting us? I think we all still feel very isolated and lonely.

And, Facebook has created this way for us to compare ourselves to people in EVERY way. Even people who we haven't talked to in six years.

AND...being in our mid-twenties means that people are in vastly different areas of life. It is often hard to know where I fit into the mix when my closest friends run the gamut from MOM to extremely SINGLE. What am I supposed to be doing?”

Okay. First off – I totally agree that Facebook can play a huge role in how we judge “where we fall” in life. You know everyone’s “business” all the time, even if you don’t care. You see pictures of people smiling, having a grand old time, living a life that looks more perfect, more exciting, more meaningful than yours.

BUT, and this is a big BUT, as far as I’m concerned, Facebook is not an accurate reflection of your state of life. Facebook is a way for all of us to feel like a mini celebrity in our own reality TV show. We’re the star, the director, and the editor.

We pick and choose what we want other people to know about… and generally, we’re selfish, so we want everyone to know just HOW COOL we are. We post our status of where we’re vacationing, which party we’re going to, a new purchase we just made. But tell me, have you ever seen the following things on your Facebook thread:

“I gained five pounds in the last week.”

“Broke up with my boyfriend two months ago and still feel like complete shit.”

“Low on money and rent is due in a few days.”

“Lost $10,000 in the stock market today.”

“Just found out I have cancer.”

“Parents told us after 25 years of marriage they’re getting a divorce.”

Need I keep going? My point is that IT ISN’T REAL. We are only seeing what people WANT us to see … and generally you don’t want people to see the grimy, dirty, dark things that human beings deal with on a daily basis. Instead, we present this airbrushed, significantly filtered, inauthentic version of ourselves.

And I should stop and note: I’m a huge advocate for social media applications. And the value of Facebook and it’s related family should not be underestimated. But for the purpose of this argument, for the purpose of understanding the role Facebook plays in how we value our “self”, I probably sound rather critical.

Here’s my bottom line: you don’t need Facebook to compare your life to someone else’s.

If you’ve decided to determine your self value, self worth, success, fill in the blank, based on OTHER people, you’re competing in a competition that you will never win. In my opinion, it’s a mindset, not Facebook.

Sure, without the right perspective, without some self discipline, Facebook has a HUGE potential to make us all feel like we’re drowning in a pool of other people’s wonderfulness, completeness, and general FABULOUSNESS.

But I would argue that you don’t need Facebook to loose the “comparing” competition. Pick up a magazine and compare your body to that of the woman on the cover. Talk to you older, wiser, wealthier sister or brother. Cross paths with a woman (who’s your age) who’s pushing a stroller that hosts a two-year-old and a new born. Interview someone who has a higher education than you do.

The problem is that we’re valuing ourselves based on other people. And I, for one, am guilty of doing this every single day, Facebook or no Facebook.

Twixters: Long Time Coming, Part II

2009-08-11T15:19:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in posts. I haven't had much time to sit down again.

I've chosen two more quotes to work through and I already have notes on what my concluding thoughts will be. I'm not super inclined to do a conclusion but the last thing I want is for you guys to read my rants and raves, get to the end, and think, "so what?"

If you need to catch up, read this post for links to the articles and this post for my first "quote of choice."

My second quote of choice:

"Part of the Quarterlife Crisis is a kind of malaise that the end of your youth is really the end of fun. And that you're never going to have any fun again, because you have to work. You're never going to have sex again because you're going to get married. Your life is over.' So why bother? Literal and figurative fucking around is infinitely more appealing to men who are still sorting out what they want their lives to look like."

Um... excuse me. Peter Pan? I know you’d like to go back to Neverneverland, but it looks as if you’ve misplaced your map. I think you need to look for the third star on the right...

Are we serious here? Listen. I can totally sympathize with not being entirely thrilled about working 40 hours a week. And LORD HELP the person who thinks that marriage is full of rainbows, flowers, and fabulous sex. But do we honestly believe that a young-adult-life full of meandering, twiddling our thumbs, and dragging our heals is more appealing than... oh I don't know... actually growing up? Taking responsibility for our lives?

In my opinion, the whole argument behind this quote is ultimately a question of definition. How do you define, "youth" and "fun"? If living at home with your parents, eating their food, driving their vehicle, not looking for a job and not caring about getting a job is your idea of fun, then yes, you're right, growing up means the end of fun. But if your idea of fun involves independence, and figuring out what you believe and why, and rich relationships, then isn't the fun just beginning?

I know. Totally corny and I threw up a little bit in my mouth as I wrote it. But I think it's TRUE.

But I guess if we step back, it's not that easy. While young adults definitely do their fair share of "literal and figurative fucking around", we've also seen a lot of people get "fucked."

Let me explain. I think part of the malaise (or the part I can relate to) comes from the fact that we've seen our parents "grow up" and "fuck up" – the “fuck up” is a direct result of the action of the “grow up”. And I think our fear of ending up like them is sometimes so debilitating that we get stuck twiddling our thumbs. It's safer to not engage in real relationships, because then they can't fail. It's safer to go back to school and get a graduate degree because then the company that finally hires us has less of a reason to fire us. It's safer to try on a bunch of different outfits (jobs, people, fill in the blank) because then by the time you finally "purchase" something, you know you've made a good choice.

I get it, okay? We've seen our parents grow up, get married young, buy the house, work for the same company for thirty years. They had a vision. As the article puts it, they had "a life plan about how to move from Point A to Point B."

And now, as young adults, we are finally at the age where we can examine their lives critically, and what do we see? They're divorced. If they sold their house lately, they lost a lot of money. The company that employed them for 30 years just laid them off. Their plan didn't work out so well. And their "Point B" has gone through so many drafts that it's now "Point V" - in fact, they can't even remember what "Point B" originally looked like.

So if our parents did what they were "supposed" to do – they had a plan of getting from Point A to Point B -- and if they ended up the way they did, WHY THE HELL would we follow in their footsteps?

I think the bottom line is that we all have this noble ideas of leading a life of purpose. A life of happiness and fulfillment. Which is HONORABLE and ADMIRABLE. But my fear is that we're actually undermining our own goal by letting the pendulum swing too far in the opposite direction, leaving us static, careless, passionless, indifferent, and ambivalent. With out a plan. And without a plan to make a plan.

Thoughts?

Twixters: Long Time Coming, Part I

2009-08-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

Okay – where to start? I struggled with the starting point because there is just so much I want say about this. I might break it up into posts, so that you’re not scrolling and scrolling and scrolling and half way through think, “Wait, what am I reading?”

(If you’re confused about what the topic is, reference the short post from Wednesday, August 5).

I think the most direct (and most logical) way for me to work through this is to pick “hot quotes” from the EYE WITNESS article and respond to them – quotes that made my face red and my lips purse. To limit my ranting, I’ll start with one and go from there. I’ll probably do a total of three and then a conclusion… look for them in the following days.

Let’s get it.

"When a contemporary 25-year-old’s parents were 25, they weren’t concerned with keeping their options open: they were purposefully buying houses, making babies and making partner. Now, who we are and what we do is up to us, unbound to existing communities, families and class structures that offer leisure and self-determination to just a few. Boomer and post-boom parents with more money and autonomy than their predecessors has resulted in benignly self-indulgent children who were sold on their own uniqueness, place in the world and right to fulfillment in a way no previous generation has felt entitled to..."

Let’s break this up because it’s a big one.

First: I couldn’t CARE LESS if, at my age, my parents were “buying houses, making babies and making partner.” Let me say this: I’d rather not buy a house now with money I don’t have and foreclose on it three years later, sending my credit into a toilet full of poop and putting a serious rain cloud over my ability to own another home down the road. (Did our parents face that issue? No.) We’ll touch on the “baby issue later” so hold your breath. And the “making partner” bit – can I please see some concrete evidence that our parents were “making partner” at 25? Because honestly, I don’t think it’s out there (even lawyers don’t generally make partner until after 30, right?). Sure, there are always exceptions to the rule. And perhaps I’m biased because I reference my parents as examples… but I think BY AND LARGE, our parents’ generation started at the bottom and worked their way up the ladder. Slowly. Surely. Stayed with the same company for 30 years – something my generation would NEVER consider, according to this article.

And why would we not consider it? According to the EYE article, we wouldn’t consider it because our “post boom parents with more money and autonomy than their predecessors” raised “benignly self-indulgent children who were sold on their own uniqueness, place in the world and right to fulfillment in a way no previous generation has felt entitled to…”

In short, we wouldn’t start at the bottom and work our way to the top because, “we just DESERVE more than that, damn it.”

This notion that, “I went to school! I have a degree! I’m capable of so much more than mail merges and licking envelopes!” irks me. I can’t tell you how many college acquaintances I know that have worked more than three jobs since they graduated two years ago simply because they “didn’t like” their current job.

Similarly, I can remember countless conversations (that I fully participated in) after graduation talking about what we “would” and “would not” tolerate as a starting salary. Why? Well, because we are SMART. And CAPABLE. And, need I say it again, WE HAVE A COLLEGE DEGREE. All completely logical and legitimate reasons to throw the $50,000 figure out there like we know what the hell we’re talking about, right?

And I guess this irritates me because this sense of entitlement, this belief that we can quit something simply on the grounds that we don't "like" it, this idea we're more special, more important, more "gifted" than everyone else, it leaves absolutely no room for STRUGGLE, and HUMILITY, and LIFE EXPERIENCE. If we think we know it all, how can we be open to learning the tough, important, wonderful lessons that life has to offer us? If we're always looking for more, always looking for what we DESERVE, how can we ever see, appreciate, be content with the blessings in front of us?

Needless to say my starting salary at the firm I still work for was less than $35,000. After I got off my “I HAVE A DEGREE, DAMN IT” high horse, I realized that good insurance and a good budget made working for “less” (I would now argue a more “appropriate” starting salary for someone with little to no professional experience) make more sense. It sure made a lot more sense than staying in my waitressing job that probably paid just as much but with NO insurance and NO potential for professional growth.

Sometimes I want to step back and ask my 20-something cohorts: so you really think that, at age 25, your job should be (to use the words in the article) “engaging” and “creatively fulfilling” and interesting and cater to all your unique abilities AND pay you $50,000 a year when you have no substantial experience in your industry of choice?

If you’re answer to that is yes, I’d like a little more explanation behind your deep sense of entitlement. I’d also like to know when and what your first job was. And then I’d ask you what you’re definition of “work ethic” is.

We haven't even hit the big issues yet. More to come…

Twixters: Long Time Coming

2009-08-05T13:05:00.001-07:00

About a year ago I read an article entitled, "Twixters - Grow up? Not so fast." My friend Emily had referenced it a few times and her position on the issue intrigued me. I printed it off, read it, and filled the margins with my thoughts.

Today, while reading one of my favorite blogs, I came across another article entitled, "Welcome to Your Quarterlife Crisis."

Two articles, written over three and a half years apart, addressing the exact same issue: the existential crisis of 20-something-year-olds.

Needless to say, the topic interests me. I've already spent about three hours trying to formulate my thoughts on the matter (it stands at two pages currently) but I'm not totally satisfied with my approach. I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts and the writing doesn't flow like I'd like it to. And I think it's an important issue so I want to get my position solid (until someone sheds some light and my assumptions and makes me question my entire stance). :)

In the meantime, I thought I'd encourage you to read one, or both, of the articles.

More to come tomorrow, probably.

S Rated

2009-07-20T09:25:00.001-07:00

This morning I was driving to work when I saw a licence plate that read: "SRATED." And in my head I went, "Q. R. S... oh I get it. He's rating himself more lewd than an R-rated movie."

The guy (shaved head, HUGE watch, elbow propped up on his window, fingers flattening an imaginary mustache) was driving a newer black Jeep Cherokee with tinted windows.

His plate probably should have read "DBAG" instead of "SRATED."

The Proof

2009-07-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

I’m hoping that you gathered from my last post that I burnt my arm on the oven.

I was making biscuits (for myself) for strawberry shortcake. When I went to pull them from the oven, I opened the oven door with my right hand, reached in with my right hand, and that’s when the oven started to close to my right arm.

The biscuits bake at 450 degrees.

So, today marks Day Three of walking around with an ACE BANDAGE on my right arm. Seriously. An ace bandage. I don’t think I’ve worn one of these since I was 11 and thought it was cool to “have” a sprained ankle.

The following is a timeline signposting the life of my burn:

Monday
9:00 PM: Burnt my arm.
10:30 PM: called my friend Rebekah (who is a nurse) to see if I should go to the doctor. She said I could wait until the following day, but that, yes, I definitely needed to go.
11:00 PM: Try to fall asleep with a seeping, oozing, throbbing arm. In my state of concern, I LEGITIMATELY thought I saw a man standing in the corner of my apartment. This made me panic – my blood pressure raises – and I can feel my heartbeat in the open sore on my arm.
11:03 PM: Work up enough courage to sit up in my bed and confront “the man” (with my massive Mag Light within an arm’s reach so I could clock him upside the head if necessary) only to find out it was the two lights that hang above my TV coupled with an awkward shadow from my usually-closed-but-open-at-the-time curtains. Phew.)
11:04 PM: Closed my curtains.

Tuesday
7:00 AM: Wake up and immediately check out the damage: the sore is greyer, redder, and pussier. Ew.
7:15 AM: Skip the usual morning shower for fear of getting the burn wet.
8:30 AM: Call the doctor’s office and make an appointment with Dr. Freidman.
11:10 AM: Sitting in a exam room when Dr. Freidman walks in, looks at my burn, scrunches up his nose, flattens his lower lip against his face to bear his teeth, and says, “Ooough. That’s not good. When was your last tetanus?”

*Note: I have NO IDEA when my tetanus was. I’m 23 (almost 24). I’m guessing my last tetanus was before high school, but I suggested to the doctor that I COULD CALL MY MOM to check.

11:15 AM: Dr. Freidman slops… and I mean ssslllloooppps some white cream (antibiotic?) on my burn, covers it w/ one of those medical pads, tapes the pad to my arm and proceeds to WRAP MY ARM IN AN ACE BANDAGE.
11:20 AM: Dr. Freidman loads me up with bandages and medical tape (which made my $15 co-pay seem worth it) and tells me to stay put because the nurse is going to come back and give me a tetanus.
11:22 AM: The nurse comes in, prepares the shot and says, “Okay, so you’re arm is really going to hurt tomorrow. And probably for a few days after that.” And honestly, I don’t mind shots, and I can’t remember the last time I had a tetanus so obviously I can’t remember if it hurt or not, so I’m thinking, “Yeah lady. Okay. Whatever. I’m pretty tough.”
11:25 AM: Leave the doctor’s office with a bandaged arm, extra bandages for later, and the most recent copy of “Food and Wine” magazine. Booyah.

Wednesday
7:00 AM: Wake up to two burst blisters, dead skin hanging from my arm, and a THROBBING left shoulder (from the tetanus).
7:01 AM: Pull off the dead skin… which was like pulling chewed gum off your shoe.
7:10 AM: SARAN WRAP my arm so I can take a shower.

*Note: Please just picture trying to SARAN WRAP YOUR OWN ARM. It’s not that easy. And it’s a strange feeling: butcher shop slash surgeon slash WHY DO I HAVE TO LIVE ALONE?

And I’ll spare you from the rest of this timeline and just add that it is quite difficult to shampoo hair with one arm. I’ll also say that it’s fairly common for the white bandage covering my burn to turn a NASTY shade of yellow around the 3:00 PM hour. Yum. And finally, my left shoulder STILL HURTS. My burn doesn’t hurt anymore, but that damn tetanus does.

And just in case you don’t believe me, here are some photos for your pleasure:

It doesn't look that bad in this photo... but I assure you. It is not pretty.

Now you might not be able to see it because it's camouflage, but there is a band aide on my arm that is covering the injection of the tetanus shot. Please excuse my six chins.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Using an Oven

2009-06-30T08:52:00.000-07:00

Ovens are commonly used in all households across the world. They bake cookies, melt cheese on nachos, and heat up the frozen dish of your choice. Here are some helpful, general guidelines on how to use an oven:

1. Set oven to appropriate temperature.
2. Once oven reaches said temperature, place food inside.
3. Bake food as long as instructed.
4. Take food out of oven.*

*Note that this step can often go arye. Avoid letting the oven door retract against the inside of your forearm, as this will most certainly result in a large burn prone to yellow-toned blisters and grayish-red sores and an inconvenient trip to your family practitioner at 11:10 during the work day

FML

2009-06-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

I can't access fmylife.com from work... but if I could, this is what I would post:

"Today I tried to return light bulbs at Bartell's with a Walgreens receipt. FML."

Three things:

1.) Correct. I bought light bulbs at Walgreens on Wednesday night. And then I tried to return them at Bartell's today.

2.) No. I genuinely did not realize what I was doing.

3.) You might ask, "But why return light bulbs, Meguire? Why not just keep them around..." And I would answer you by saying that I bought the "daylight" bulbs instead of the "soft white" bulbs - meaning my apartment lit up like a BMW halogen headlight.

Why don't we go ahead and use this example to theme my entire week.

Tonight, I will drink to next week.

Bill O-So-Wrong

2009-06-17T15:22:00.000-07:00

A little light that shines for me in during my bogged-down Wednesday afternoon: Bill O'Reilly proven wrong.

Thanks NPR.

Seattle Dog Examiner?

2009-06-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

BRIDGER THE YELLOW LAB

Named for: Bridger Mountains in Montana

Known for: Using my paws like human hands

Wags: Sailing, fishing, skinned tennis balls, chuck-it, cat food

Tail-tucks: Tummy aches from cat food

Last Known Offense: Stealing food from Wrigley, my huge chocolate lab friend. Wrigley usually nibbles at his food, so he has it available to him all day. And I usually inhale my food, so when it's left out, I can't help but eat it. Sorry, Wrigley.

So I'm thinking of applying to be the "Seattle Dogs Examiner." I heard about the opportunity through my friend Sarah, author of One Rainy Day and now Seattle Street Style. I thought I'd try a test post on my own blog before taking it to the Examiner. Still thinking about it... anyone who knows me knows I stop and talk to any dog I pass. We'll see...

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

2009-06-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

Palin and Prejean On Next GOP Ticket

Washington DC - Sarah Palin and Carrie Prejean announce their plans for a President/Vice President partnership on the 2012 GOP ticket. Rush Limbaugh, Ted Haggard, and Anne Coulter are rumored to be financing their efforts.

Both Palin and Prejean were featured on separate segments on The Today Show Friday morning. Palin spoke eloquently about the recent David Letterman debacle, while Prejean defended her position on gay marriage and discredited the alleged events leading up to her loosing the Miss California crown.

At the beginning of The Today Show this morning, Matt Lauer announced a breaking news item: Palin and Prejean appeared split screen and announced in uniform voices and smiles - "We are the future of the republican party!"

Both women featured wardrobes provided by Saks Fifth Avenue.

Political analysts predict that the Palin/Prejean team would do well in Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia, the Carolinas, Virgina, Texas and other states that do not teach evolution in public schools or provide birth control to unmarried women.

"Mmmmare you kidding?" says Rush Limbaugh. "Anyone who can call themselves Christian has to vote for these mmmmmmwomen. And they aren't mmmmbad to look at either!"

When confronted outside of a Starbucks in Los Angeles, Perez Hilton lifted his Gucci sunglasses and yelled, "Someone needs to put a muzzle on those bitches!"

"We're not worried," said Jon Stewart, speaking on behalf of democrats. "The gays, pregnant teenagers, Jews, and individuals with common sense outnumber the extreme evangelicals and plumbers."

President Barack Obama plans to hold a press conference later this afternoon to weigh in on the Palin/Prejean ballot. He released this statement this morning: "Look. These are tough times. But the country by and large knows that Alaskans and Californians aren't real Americans. We're also working on a government-sanctioned rebranding of the Christian religion. Central intelligence tells us that God is finally considering having a second son -- one who's name hasn't been tarnished by ignorance and intolerance."

Greetings from Photo Enforcement

2009-06-10T14:48:00.001-07:00

I received two notable emails today. The first was from one of my sisters, reminding me that I haven't blogged in six weeks and that in blog world, I might as well be dead.

The second email was from my father. If you know my father, you will understand why this is so funny. If you don't know my father, you should probably find it funny anyway.

Note: My dad "owns" my car (the Cougar) and therefore it is registered under his name and all car-related mail goes to my parent's house.

Subject: Greetings from Photo Enforcement

I just got a little love package from Seattle addressed to me!

It shows a picture of the Cougar going through a stop light at 15th & 80th.

They would like a donation of $ 125.00 sent to them by 6/20.

WOULD THIS BE YOU?

Something tells me he was asking a rhetorical question?

The Walgreen's Adventure

2009-04-29T13:51:00.000-07:00

There are three things I'd like to discuss today:

1. Flatulence
2. Flatulence in the card aisle at Walgreen's
3. The card aisle at Walgreen's

First, why oh why is there a "polite" term for an act that can never be done politely? Let's consider some other terms for flatulence: fart, rip ass, poot, cheese, break wind. These words are quick, abrasive, forceful... much like the act itself now that I think about it. To say that you're experiencing bad "flatulence" is like trying to put a flower on top of dog poop -- you're not covering anything up.

Second, I had about 20 minutes to kill before a presentation last night so I stopped in Walgreen's. I never actually got a birthday card for the Muchacho and we're celebrating next weekend, so I though I'd check out the card aisle. I'm standing there, rummaging through the endless, poorly written, funny-but-not-really-funny cards when all of a sudden I hear something that resembles the low growl of a bull frog - if bull frogs could growl. I pause, staring blankly with raised eyebrows at the card wall in front of me, and slowly turn my head to see some Grandma about five feet away leaning on her walker, reading cards, r i p p i n g a s s.

Seriously, you guys, I have NEVER heard farts like this before. And that is saying A LOT coming from me.

It's not that they were terribly loud... they were actually quite understated... but they sounded like a low growl... except more bubbly. Words can't describe.

Once I figured out there was not, in fact, a growling bull frog at my feet, I turned and walked down the length of the card aisle as to avoid walking through the fart. Please don't think I judged this woman - I'm actually quite envious of her. When will I reach a point in my life when I can just blow ass in public and not have a care in the world if anyone hears me? Still... I'd rather not walk through her gas cloud.

Moving on.

Finally, I'd like to discuss the "greeting card" industry. And by "greeting card" I mean any kind of card, even blank ones. Birthday. Anniversary. Mother's Day. Thank you. Condolences. Anything.

I was raised with the standard that a hand written note (whether it be to say, "thank you" or "happy birthday" or "congratulations") is an absolute necessity in important relationships. If you care about someone, you best be sending them a note every so often.

And while I usually spend a solid five to ten minutes in the card aisle before I find The Good One, it's been a while since I've had to buy a "honey" card.

And can I just say, the selection of "honey" cards sucks. I wish I could meet someone who writes for these cards and ask them what the hell they are thinking when they start a sentence like, "Someone as special as you deserves a little something special from me..."

You know what I'm thinking when I read that? I'm thinking about Justin Timberlake's "Dick in a Box" song.

They have to be joking.

Now before you all tell me I'm a cold hearted cynic, let me say that a candid expression of how you feel about someone can be wonderful. Everyone wants to be loved, right? I mean, I'm the girl that still has a tattered business card on my fridge: I was a freshman in college and my dad was probably sending me a New York Times article. He wrote, "I love you and think of you often. Love, Dad" on the back of his business card and put it in the envelope. I don't remember what article he sent me, but that business card note has been on my fridge for six years.

It's those kind of notes that make your heart so big it might bump out of your chest. I can't say the cards at Walgreen's have the same effect. Needless to say, I'm still looking for a viable birthday card.

In sum, I have three main points:

1. Flatulence is an unnecessary word in English vocabulary.
2. It's quite acceptable for older folks to fart in public.
3. Walgreen's has a terrible selection of "honey" cards. I'm not incapable of expressing my feelings, but I'd rather not do it with ribbon, glitter, bows and the words "I cherish your loving heart."

Peace.

Friday Funny

2009-04-17T11:06:00.001-07:00

I posted this on my Facebook page, e-mailed a link to my friends, and tweeted it on Twitter. Nonetheless, in case some of you missed it, this may be my most favorite commercial to date:

Happy *&%#ing weekend, *^@$*#bag.

Seattle Neighborhood Eats

2009-04-13T11:50:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I love good food. And it just so happens that I live in a fabulous city to love food. Between Wild Ginger and the mini-doughnut man stand in the Market; between Serafina in Eastlake and Roro's BBQ in Fremont; between the The Dish and Portage Bay Cafe, Seattle is set to satisfy any pallet, any time.

But over the past two months, three restaurants have stood out to me in particular. I've been to one multiple times and the other two were first timers that left stars in my eyes. So if you're looking for a great place to go with your man, lady friend, old college roommate, or parents, I'd suggest the following:

The Crepe Cafe and Wine Bar, Ravenna, 2118 NE 65th Street, (206) 527-7147, www.crepesandwine.com: I have my dear friend Cat to thank for this gem. I've been there for dinner three times and each time I'm surprised at how delicious (and filling!) crepes are (especially at dinner time). But be warned: the cafe is teeny tiny... and if there is anyone already waiting for a table when you walk through the door, you're likely to be squished up against the wall or forced into the back of someone's chair. If you have a reservation you'll get seated right away by a smiling waitress who won't waste any time getting your wine selection. My favorite crepe to date? It's a difficult decision, but I'd have to go with "Heaven's Crepe": black forest ham and swiss topped with their own bechamel sauce and fresh asparagus. Go here.

Eva Restaurant & Wine Bar, Greenlake/Tangletown, 2227 N 56th Street, (206) 633-3538, www.evarestaurant.com: My interest in Eva first peaked when I was playing around with the Muchacho's iPod Touch. He has some application that randomly suggests restaurants in a specified neighborhood. I tried to get us a reservation on a Saturday night to no avail - they were totally booked. A few weeks later, Carly and I were trying to decide on a "Three for $30" restaurant. I saw Eva on the list and suggested we go there. It. Was. Fabulous. Fresh everything - bread, lettuce, seafood, chicken... you name it, it was fresh fresh fresh. And the chef was creative with flavors: they put things together that you would never suspect to see on the same plate -- and it worked. Great food, twinkle light ambiance, and attentive, non-stuffy staff. Go here.

Stumbling Goat Bistro, Greenwood/Wallingford, 6722 Greenwood Avenue N, (206) 784-3535, www.stumblinggoatbistro.com: By far, the best date, to date. Locally grown food, organic, fresh, and so so delicious. The Muchacho ordered roast chicken with potatoes and I had home made pasta with bolognese cream sauce. Heaven. On the plate. In my mouth. And I have to say, hands down the best service I've ever had. Our waiter was jolly: there's no other way to describe him. He was passionate about the food, passionate about the wine, checked in often but not too often, and provided excellent guidance when we couldn't decide what to order. The restaurant is pretty romantic too -- and we weren't even going for that (I mean, I was wearing converse and fleece). But the lighting is soft, and the tables are super private - it was perfect. And I'll end this recommendation the way we ended our meal: with the BREAD PUDDING. I'm a huge bread fan. Not such a huge pudding fan. But this bread pudding was the best dessert I've ever eaten. In. My. Entire. Life. So get in there and get the bread pudding (and other fabulous food) before their seasonal menu changes. Seriously. Go here.

Come again?

2009-04-10T08:37:00.000-07:00

Frequent readers of this blog are familiar with my tendency to make a complete ass of myself every now and then at the office. It's rare. But when it happens, it's always bad bad bad.

Part of my job description is to manage and process proposals to potential clients. I recently did one for a company whose acronym starts with a "P", has an "N" in the middle, and ends with an "S." I don't want to give you the entire acronym because I think that would most definitely violate my rule to "never divulge any important details about my job or workplace." But come on people... if it has "P", "N", and "S"... what do you think of?

PENIS.

Correct. So, I was working with one of the partners on this and in my haste to avoid taking up too much of his billable hour (especially at this time of year), I asked him, "so what's the status on the P-fill-N-the-blank-S prop?"

Which I realized sounded remarkably like, "so what's the status on the penis prop?"

Now I realize we are all adults, but forgive me if I'm not totally comfortable saying "penis" to a firm partner.

After I said it, all I could think was, "Say something else. Say something else." But I couldn't think of anything else to say so I just stood there, my eyes getting wider and wider in disbelief of what came out of my mouth.

Thankfully, he broke the silence by answering my question, at which point I turned on my heel and b-lined it back to my cube with my hand shielding my face, which was no doubt the color a of red-delicious apple.

And this entire experience made me remember my sixth grade teacher making the entire sex-ed class yell "PENIS PENIS PENIS, VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA," at the top of our lungs and me being the only one out of 30 kids who couldn't stop laughing .

I'm so mature. I know.

This is a crosswalk!

2009-04-09T10:36:00.000-07:00

This morning, while I was driving to work, some pedestrian decided to give me a short lesson on driving.

I had been stuck behind a F-150 towing a trailer, so when I had the opportunity to pass in the right lane, I took advantage. But of course, the light ahead of me turned yellow just as I was accelerating, meaning I had to hit the breaks fairly hard.

This stop light I got stuck at happens to be on a diagonal. You know the kind - a diagonal stoplight with a diagonal crosswalk; each lane has to stop a little farther back than the lane next to it.

Well, I misjudged a little. The hood of my car was probably a foot into the crosswalk. No big deal. Definitely not something to get upset about. But this man who was crossing the street, in the crosswalk, had nothing better to do than waggle his finger at an otherwise law-abiding citizen. At 8:05 in the morning.

Is that really how you want to start you day, buddy?

So here's what happened: As he's approaching my car he looks at the front of the hood and puts his hands out to the side like, "what the hell are you doing?" Then he mouths to me, over enunciating each word so he looks like a cow chewing cud, "T h i s i s a c r o s s w a l k !" Motioning back and forth with his fingers kind of like a flight attendant pointing out the "aisle illuminating lights" on an airplane.

Give me a break guy.

So I throw up the peace sign and give him the biggest closed mouth smile I can - forcing my cheeks into my eye sockets. My goal was the give the look that says, "Oh-ho-kay, dude. Thankssssss."

Another prime example of me having the opportunity to take the high road and choosing to drive a sea level.

Cheers.

GMAT: Getting Mad Answering Them

2009-03-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a prep course on the GMAT. I shoveled over a significant amount of money to relearn things that I'll never need to know again... again.

The entire idea of the GMAT frustrates me: not only do you have to know the material and concepts being tested, you also have to know how to manipulate the test and scoring to your advantage.

My friend Adrienne is also taking the GMAT soon (although she's not taking the prep course) and she likes this philosophy of manipulation. But that's because she's one sly fox.

Me. I'm not so sly. I'm a big fan of straightforwardness... so if you want to know something about me, or if you want to test me on something, ask me a straightforward question. I'll give you a straightforward answer.

I'm sick of this "take-the-longest-way-possible-to-your-destination" answer.

But the real thorn in my side is my failure to hide the bright orange, 832-page GMAT REVIEW book (the "official" guide, mind you).

I cart it around with me in the hope that one day I will actually open it (outside of class time) and study. I take it to work with me thinking that in my downtown, instead of posting a quick tweet or checking who's doing what on Facebook, I might get it out and go over a few "real" GMAT questions. This has yet to happen.

But sometimes I need to rummage through my purse for a quarter or my chapstick and I consequently have to take the book out of my purse and leave it on my desk. Eight times out of ten I remember to put it back in my purse.

But when I forget - when I fail to shove the bright orange book back into my purse, it is guaranteed that four out of five people walking by my desk will see the book and stop to ask:

"Oh... are you taking the GMAT?"

No. I'm not actually. I just thought I'd so some lite reading.

Then the questions follow: "Where do you want to go to grad school? What do you want to study? When are you taking it? When are you going to grad school?"

And the urge to pick up the nasty orange book and slam it across their face is almost more than I can resist. Okay I'm kidding... I don't feel that strongly about it. But at the same time, I'd rather not divulge my unresolved future to coworkers I barely know.

So usually my answer is, "Yeah I'm studying for it! I don't know where I want to go to school, but the scores are good five years so I figure now is a better time than any."

And most of them, unsatisfied with this answer, close their mouth, press their lips together in a friendly frown, shrug, and walk off. At which point I put the book back in my purse.