This is why America is awesome. Would you ever see the Queen of England doing the Dougie? I think not. Go Michelle Obama!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
How a Fairytale Dashed My Dreams
Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock or lost on a desert island these past few months, you know this week is a big week in the name of love and Britain. That’s right. It’s Royal Wedding Week -- and even though we Americans are ferociously against aristocracy, we are still suckers for the commoner-meets-prince fairy tale. Thus, news of the grand affair is filling our airwaves and magazine racks.
For me, however, this week represents something a bit sadder than fairy tale endings. It represents dashed childhood dreams. When I was in ninth grade, I was sure Prince William would be mine. I knew all eight (or so) names included in William’s complete royal name and made everyone I knew call me “Princess Colleen.”
“How,” you might ask yourself, “did you still have friends after that year?” That is a good question. I do not know the answer myself, actually. I also don’t know how my parents endured this fantasy. I remember one evening my mom asked me to clean my room, and I responded with, “You know, British royalty never have to clean their rooms!!!” Hahaha. I was grounded.
Anyway, years past, William aged poorly, and I forgot about my teen obsession. Today though, I received the following e-mail from my old neighbor, and friend’s dad. Keep in mind, I haven’t talked to this man in years:
Colleen,
This must be a very tough week for you. I hope you are seeking help and support. Please accept my most heartfelt sympathy. I know it has been your dream since your were a little girl to be Prince William’s princess. This would have been your week! All the glamour, glitz and glory!
Actually, throughout all these years I have been quietly planning to attend your big ceremony in the Westminster Abbey. Surely, you would have invited your favorite old neighbor! Now, (sob) I didn’t get invited to this week’s festivities. This is kinda tough on me, too.
But, I guess it wasn’t to be. Keep your chin up. Don’t ever forget, you will always be a princess to your Dad. (There is something special about daughters) And, perhaps some gentleman more becoming to you will make you his princess.
Obviously, Prince William does not know what he is missing. Hey, wait. You do have a couple of days… Naa, it would be tough to get his attention now. I assume he has already had his bachelor party. Perhaps you could have made your move then. Probably too late now.
Take care of yourself during this difficult week and think of positive things. I know you will get through this. Just like the little choo-choo train said as it was climbing the mountain, “Yes, I can! Yes, I can!”
Thinking of you this week,
Al
Wow. I must have made a bigger fuss about it than I remember. Should I be embarrassed? Or should I pick up the habit again? After all, all hope isn’t completely lost...there is still one more prince left to marry. Perhaps, to England, I shall go...no?
For me, however, this week represents something a bit sadder than fairy tale endings. It represents dashed childhood dreams. When I was in ninth grade, I was sure Prince William would be mine. I knew all eight (or so) names included in William’s complete royal name and made everyone I knew call me “Princess Colleen.”
“How,” you might ask yourself, “did you still have friends after that year?” That is a good question. I do not know the answer myself, actually. I also don’t know how my parents endured this fantasy. I remember one evening my mom asked me to clean my room, and I responded with, “You know, British royalty never have to clean their rooms!!!” Hahaha. I was grounded.
Anyway, years past, William aged poorly, and I forgot about my teen obsession. Today though, I received the following e-mail from my old neighbor, and friend’s dad. Keep in mind, I haven’t talked to this man in years:
Colleen,
This must be a very tough week for you. I hope you are seeking help and support. Please accept my most heartfelt sympathy. I know it has been your dream since your were a little girl to be Prince William’s princess. This would have been your week! All the glamour, glitz and glory!
Actually, throughout all these years I have been quietly planning to attend your big ceremony in the Westminster Abbey. Surely, you would have invited your favorite old neighbor! Now, (sob) I didn’t get invited to this week’s festivities. This is kinda tough on me, too.
But, I guess it wasn’t to be. Keep your chin up. Don’t ever forget, you will always be a princess to your Dad. (There is something special about daughters) And, perhaps some gentleman more becoming to you will make you his princess.
Obviously, Prince William does not know what he is missing. Hey, wait. You do have a couple of days… Naa, it would be tough to get his attention now. I assume he has already had his bachelor party. Perhaps you could have made your move then. Probably too late now.
Take care of yourself during this difficult week and think of positive things. I know you will get through this. Just like the little choo-choo train said as it was climbing the mountain, “Yes, I can! Yes, I can!”
Thinking of you this week,
Al
Wow. I must have made a bigger fuss about it than I remember. Should I be embarrassed? Or should I pick up the habit again? After all, all hope isn’t completely lost...there is still one more prince left to marry. Perhaps, to England, I shall go...no?
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Bunny Cakes and Other Forced Traditions
Who here thinks it’s impossible to mess up boxed cake? Well, think again, and bring me in. The picture to the left is my attempt to make a bunny cake for Easter. Needless to say I failed, and seriously injured this longtime family tradition.
Let’s be real about “traditions” in my family. These days, they are are often forced. The bunny cake tradition began some time in the early nineties, and even though we are all grown now, my mom refuses to let the tradition go. Perhaps she holds on for the near-futile hope that one of us might actual have kids someday soon. Prols not gonna happen for awhile, mom.
The bunny cake isn’t the only tradition forced upon us year after year. Another one is called “Cookie Day,” and takes place about mid-December. Apparently, Cookie Day has been a Callahan family tradition for decades - and by decades I mean since 2005. In my recollection, Cookie Day began when I was 22 (yes, out of college) and my mom got sick of making all the Christmas cookies herself. Instead of just asking for help, she turned it into some longstanding tradition that I ostensibly didn’t remember for the first 22 years of my life. Who knows? The tradition of Family Spring Cleaning Day could begin this year!! So many options for forced traditions in our family!!
But back to the bunny cake. What I did wrong was put olive oil in the batter, instead vegetable oil. Apparently you can’t do that. How was I to know? It seemed like the healthier option! Alas, it was the option that brought silent doom to the bunny cake. So next time you don’t want to ruin a family tradition, remember this one piece of advice: vegetable oil never fails. Bake on
Monday, October 4, 2010
Found: The story of me finding an awesome hair product
Alas, I have searched the earth, far and wide, for hair products that deserve praise. I have finally found one, and it's only $11. Garnier should praise me for this shameless promo, but I'm not kidding, it works. I am wearing my hair down today, thanks to yesterday's infusion. If anyone knows me, you know that never happens. Unless I straighten it. Which never happens. Anyway it's Garnier Sleek and Shine Blow Dry Perfector. So awesome if you have at all frizzy hair. It even made me buy a blow dryer. I haven't ever owned a blow dryer. Times are changing my friends, times are changing.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Katy Perry & Sesame Street. Really?
Why would someone put Katy Perry on Sesame Street to begin with? I mean, I like her, but she's not exactly a performer for children...
Sesame Street Pulls Katy Perry Video
Sesame Street Pulls Katy Perry Video
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
On being filfthy rich
I just wrote this for a job application, so I decided perhaps I should share it with someone else too. Enjoy!
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I remember the first time it actually hit me - how filthy rich I was. I was taking a class on world development problems in graduate school, and the professor was categorizing humanity into three economic classes: under consumers, moderate consumers and over consumers. At the time, I subsisted on $1200 a month, generated from serving as a teaching assistant for the school. I quickly balked with pride. I could barely afford to live, I thought, I am definitely not an over consumer, that’s for sure. Besides half of the world’s population are moderate consumers, only 20 percent are classified as over consumers -- like I really fall into the elite percent.
My self-righteous pride however, was quickly humbled. My professor showed us a chart. “Moderate consumers,” he said, “have a per capita income of $700 - $7500 USD a year. Over consumers make more than $7500, have a diet of meat, packaged foods, soft drinks and consume too many calories. They drive private cars, dress in fashion-conscious clothing, and live in spacious, acclimatized shelters.” Wow. Way to describe me in a nutshell. I looked down at the H&M sweater I was wearing, and the Vitamin Water in my hand. Sure, I got it on sale for $14, and the Vitamin Water was $2 for two at the convenience store, but still...I was completely, unapologetically, an over consumer. I couldn’t believe I had even thought otherwise. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t witnessed true poverty before. I had been to Calcutta and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Still, until I heard my professor’s description, it never really struck me as so, well, widespread.
As my professor continued to discuss global poverty, the realities of the world became painfully clearer, but it also became clearer why my view of poverty was so drastically limited. “Nearly 24,000 children a day die from poverty-related causes,” lectured my prof. “And the saddest thing is, we never hear about them, because they die in the poorest communities in the world, hidden from the world’s gaze.” Apparently, the poorest of the poor weren’t living in Minneapolis, Minn., or, in any area inhabited by or in close proximity to the world’s richest.
While statistics like this can be discouraging, I find there is a little bit of hope in facts like these. Call it naivety, but I think, if the over consumers of the world really knew about the poverty sharing this globe with them, they would reach out to help. I mean, how many small towns put on huge benefits to help a local cancer victim stricken with medical bills in addition to his disease? From what I’ve seen in my life, a lot.
So that’s why I believe in the power of communication to relieve global poverty. We all have the ability to help out a bit, we just have to spread the word, and sacrifice a few finances ourselves. As I mentioned before, perhaps this is an idealistic view of the overwhelming problem at hand. But what do we have to lose? In the words of famed activist Margaret Meade, “Never doubt that a small, thoughtful group of people can change the world. Indeed, they are the only ones who have ever have.”
--------------
I remember the first time it actually hit me - how filthy rich I was. I was taking a class on world development problems in graduate school, and the professor was categorizing humanity into three economic classes: under consumers, moderate consumers and over consumers. At the time, I subsisted on $1200 a month, generated from serving as a teaching assistant for the school. I quickly balked with pride. I could barely afford to live, I thought, I am definitely not an over consumer, that’s for sure. Besides half of the world’s population are moderate consumers, only 20 percent are classified as over consumers -- like I really fall into the elite percent.
My self-righteous pride however, was quickly humbled. My professor showed us a chart. “Moderate consumers,” he said, “have a per capita income of $700 - $7500 USD a year. Over consumers make more than $7500, have a diet of meat, packaged foods, soft drinks and consume too many calories. They drive private cars, dress in fashion-conscious clothing, and live in spacious, acclimatized shelters.” Wow. Way to describe me in a nutshell. I looked down at the H&M sweater I was wearing, and the Vitamin Water in my hand. Sure, I got it on sale for $14, and the Vitamin Water was $2 for two at the convenience store, but still...I was completely, unapologetically, an over consumer. I couldn’t believe I had even thought otherwise. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t witnessed true poverty before. I had been to Calcutta and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Still, until I heard my professor’s description, it never really struck me as so, well, widespread.
As my professor continued to discuss global poverty, the realities of the world became painfully clearer, but it also became clearer why my view of poverty was so drastically limited. “Nearly 24,000 children a day die from poverty-related causes,” lectured my prof. “And the saddest thing is, we never hear about them, because they die in the poorest communities in the world, hidden from the world’s gaze.” Apparently, the poorest of the poor weren’t living in Minneapolis, Minn., or, in any area inhabited by or in close proximity to the world’s richest.
While statistics like this can be discouraging, I find there is a little bit of hope in facts like these. Call it naivety, but I think, if the over consumers of the world really knew about the poverty sharing this globe with them, they would reach out to help. I mean, how many small towns put on huge benefits to help a local cancer victim stricken with medical bills in addition to his disease? From what I’ve seen in my life, a lot.
So that’s why I believe in the power of communication to relieve global poverty. We all have the ability to help out a bit, we just have to spread the word, and sacrifice a few finances ourselves. As I mentioned before, perhaps this is an idealistic view of the overwhelming problem at hand. But what do we have to lose? In the words of famed activist Margaret Meade, “Never doubt that a small, thoughtful group of people can change the world. Indeed, they are the only ones who have ever have.”
Friday, June 25, 2010
Waiting
I am at a airport coffeeshop in Denver, CO. I'm here, staring outside at the airport's fake rendition of the Rockies (if you've been here, you know what I'm talking about), trying to kill three hours. I am headed to Orange County this weekend for a friend's wedding - and because I have no money, I could not afford a non-stop flight. Alas.
I have never been to LA, the city I am flying into. Tonight, thanks to the dealings of my friend Dan Edelstein, I am staying in the Santa Monica Motel. I know, it just sounds like the setting for a horror movie. The only reviews I read about it said, "I can stand cheap, budget hotels, but this place is just gross..." Ha. Should be an adventure.
So yeah. I am waiting. Waiting for my flight, waiting for one of the employers I've contacted to call me back. A lot of our lives our spent waiting. At least someone invented the Internet. It sure makes waiting a lot easier.
(Oh, and a special shout out to the Denver airport for having free wifi. Way to go.)
I have never been to LA, the city I am flying into. Tonight, thanks to the dealings of my friend Dan Edelstein, I am staying in the Santa Monica Motel. I know, it just sounds like the setting for a horror movie. The only reviews I read about it said, "I can stand cheap, budget hotels, but this place is just gross..." Ha. Should be an adventure.
So yeah. I am waiting. Waiting for my flight, waiting for one of the employers I've contacted to call me back. A lot of our lives our spent waiting. At least someone invented the Internet. It sure makes waiting a lot easier.
(Oh, and a special shout out to the Denver airport for having free wifi. Way to go.)
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Leaving everything, and graduating.
I am a selfish human being. And the other day, I had an experience that slapped my selfishness hard, revealing its raw stupidity.
I have a friend who was a refugee from Burma, she arrived in the U.S. two years ago, and we've been hanging out since. This past week, she graduated from high school. She asked me to come to her graduation, at the LEAP school in St. Paul. Of course I said I would go, but deep down inside, I did not want to attend a graduation ceremony. I was thinking of ways I could skip. How rude.
But alas, I do have some heart, so I went. And as soon as I got there, I realized that this experience was a gift. There they were, 56, students who came over to the U.S., barely knowing any English at all, graduating from high school. Their friends and families were there, so excited and proud. They had come to this new land with nothing, and now, one of their own was graduating from high school, in America. I mean, do you know what these kids had to go through to get a degree? They had to adjust to a new culture, a new language, override the temptations that come from rough neighborhoods, to graduate. I was honored to be in that gym at that moment. It made me realize how frustrated God is with us most of the time. I mean, he tries to give us good things, but we brush them off before we taste them, because shallow, selfish desires like spending time on ourselves seem more appealing.
The scene was a funny one, at LEAP school graduation. It was very typical of what I've experienced from my short times in the developing world. It was definitely not like a suburban high school graduation. For one, people talked throughout the ceremony, there was a constant conversational buzz. I would sit there and scream in my head, "listen to the speaker!" But alas, no one heard my inner thoughts. Additionally, most people came late, with balloons. What's time? Just a number. But even if they were whispering and answering phones throughout the ceremony, when their student walked across the stage they erupted in cheers louder than any you would have heard in Hastings.
Perhaps, its because, this student accomplished a greater achievement than most in Hastings. I mean, I had to go through a couple break-ups in high school (not to minimize those! man, those were rough), not submerge myself into a different culture a million miles from home.
After the ceremony, I went to see my friend. She was so excited and looked great in the cap and gown. This was the best graduation I have ever been to. Accomplishments mean more, the more there is to overcome.
I have a friend who was a refugee from Burma, she arrived in the U.S. two years ago, and we've been hanging out since. This past week, she graduated from high school. She asked me to come to her graduation, at the LEAP school in St. Paul. Of course I said I would go, but deep down inside, I did not want to attend a graduation ceremony. I was thinking of ways I could skip. How rude.
But alas, I do have some heart, so I went. And as soon as I got there, I realized that this experience was a gift. There they were, 56, students who came over to the U.S., barely knowing any English at all, graduating from high school. Their friends and families were there, so excited and proud. They had come to this new land with nothing, and now, one of their own was graduating from high school, in America. I mean, do you know what these kids had to go through to get a degree? They had to adjust to a new culture, a new language, override the temptations that come from rough neighborhoods, to graduate. I was honored to be in that gym at that moment. It made me realize how frustrated God is with us most of the time. I mean, he tries to give us good things, but we brush them off before we taste them, because shallow, selfish desires like spending time on ourselves seem more appealing.
The scene was a funny one, at LEAP school graduation. It was very typical of what I've experienced from my short times in the developing world. It was definitely not like a suburban high school graduation. For one, people talked throughout the ceremony, there was a constant conversational buzz. I would sit there and scream in my head, "listen to the speaker!" But alas, no one heard my inner thoughts. Additionally, most people came late, with balloons. What's time? Just a number. But even if they were whispering and answering phones throughout the ceremony, when their student walked across the stage they erupted in cheers louder than any you would have heard in Hastings.
Perhaps, its because, this student accomplished a greater achievement than most in Hastings. I mean, I had to go through a couple break-ups in high school (not to minimize those! man, those were rough), not submerge myself into a different culture a million miles from home.
After the ceremony, I went to see my friend. She was so excited and looked great in the cap and gown. This was the best graduation I have ever been to. Accomplishments mean more, the more there is to overcome.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Life of the Unemployed
I've decided to start blogging again, because I have a lot of time on my hands. Ah, the life of the unemployed.
The good news is that I just graduated with my master's degree. Woohoo. Just call me Master. Just kidding. The bad news, however, is that my last paycheck was last week, and now I am literally living on a prayer.
This is how bad it is, people. Last week, I went to Savers and scourged through the racks of jeans until I found five designer pairs that people oddly gave away. I then decided to sell them on eBay for some extra cash. My entrepreneurial initiative didn't go too well, I only sold one pair. Consequently, although I made $10 on that pair, it put my total losses at $20. Dangit. I'm going to have to put them up again, maybe lower the prices.
I do have a job babysitting Thursday and Friday. Yes. I have a master's degree and so far the only jobs I can get are the same ones I got at age 13. Let's not dwell on that fact.
I have been applying religiously for only a week now. So far, everything has slammed shut in my face. I have a feeling this is going to be a long road. That is not a fun feeling. At least I can sit by my parents' pool during the day instead of work. Looks like I'm going to be extremely tan, and bored, by the end of the summer....
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Ripped off!
Okay. Why don't I write for Glamour? They totally ripped me off (Ameera -- thank you for generously pointing out their plagiarism)! Ok, so maybe they didn't get it from me but they should have. Read this!
Friday, April 9, 2010
Things Married People Say to Singles
My roommate and I always joke about the things married people say to make singles feel better for being, well single. Though they have good intentions, in reality most of the advice doesn't really help. Don't stop giving advice however, if you have good advice to give. You will know that it's not good advice if it sounds at all like the following list I've compiled of "Things married people say to single people." If you find yourself spouting off any of these lines to your single friends, please, for the love of them, STOP.
1) You'll find someone if you just stop looking.
--Oh really? THAT'S why online dating sites are so popular and relatively successful. Because no one using them is looking!
2) You have to be happy with yourself before you can be with someone else.
--Ok while yes, you have to be happy enough being single that you won't go for any loser that comes your way, I'm sorry, it's relatively impossible to be like, totally happy about being lonely at night, or going on the umpteenth bad date of the year. The only reason married people say this, is because they forgot what it felt like. I'm convinced.
3) If I weren't married, I'd be totally happy being single.
--That is just false. False, false. You're married. How would you know? If you were really that happy single, you wouldn't be married. Just saying.
4) God has to be enough for you
--PLEASE! Yeah, in an ideal world. But God made us for companionship, plus this line makes me feel like I'm a horrible Christian for not wanting to be single my whole life. Don't ever use this line. Thank you.
Now I realize there is a some truth in all of the above lines. And no, being single is not all that bad really. But it will be if people continue to throw bogus lines at me. If I've missed any other lines, please let me know. I am eager to add them to my collection.
Peace out.
1) You'll find someone if you just stop looking.
--Oh really? THAT'S why online dating sites are so popular and relatively successful. Because no one using them is looking!
2) You have to be happy with yourself before you can be with someone else.
--Ok while yes, you have to be happy enough being single that you won't go for any loser that comes your way, I'm sorry, it's relatively impossible to be like, totally happy about being lonely at night, or going on the umpteenth bad date of the year. The only reason married people say this, is because they forgot what it felt like. I'm convinced.
3) If I weren't married, I'd be totally happy being single.
--That is just false. False, false. You're married. How would you know? If you were really that happy single, you wouldn't be married. Just saying.
4) God has to be enough for you
--PLEASE! Yeah, in an ideal world. But God made us for companionship, plus this line makes me feel like I'm a horrible Christian for not wanting to be single my whole life. Don't ever use this line. Thank you.
Now I realize there is a some truth in all of the above lines. And no, being single is not all that bad really. But it will be if people continue to throw bogus lines at me. If I've missed any other lines, please let me know. I am eager to add them to my collection.
Peace out.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Day My Hair Caught on Fire
Yesterday, my hair started on fire.
Yes. There were flames coming out of my head, and the smell of burning hair gel in the air.
Let me further explain.
Last night, I went to church by myself as usual. I walked in a bit late, so I settled for a secluded spot next to the wall. I sat down, and leaned back to survey the crowd and see if there was anyone I knew. All of a sudden, I spot a girl I know motioning to get my attention, "Colleen!" she yelled, and signalled for me to move. I was confused, and another guy I knew was motioning for me to come sit next to him. I got up, and all of sudden noticed something wasn't quite right. My head felt warm and there were sparks flying off of it.
"Omg," I thought, "my hair is on fire." The rest of the events are quite blurry, but I started patting my head to put out the flames. I succeeded in putting out the fire with my bare hands. Thank you very much. I then sat down, stunned. I was in the front, and the entire church saw my hair catch on fire. I began touching my head to get a feel for the damage. A chunk of hair fell out and my coat was sprinkled with ashes. I sat stunned. Stunned and laughing.
As soon as the worship began a woman I know who works at the church came up and got me. "I am so sorry your hair started on fire in my church!" she exclaimed. We went to survey the damage in the bathroom. Not bad. It just looked as if the front of my hair was pretty singed. "I owe you a haircut," she said. I told her not to worry about it. She convinced me to stay despite my embarrassed and I went back into the service, only this time, up in the balcony.
I did, however, leave early, since I was too embarassed to face everyone coming up to me and asking if I was okay.
Oh man. I cannot believe my hair caught on fire, in church, in front of everyone. Good story. When I got home that night I had to cut like major chunks off the end. With the right amount of hair product, it looks okay now.
Since it happened in church, maybe it was a holy sign. God has lit me on fire. I now bear witness with my scorched hair. Can I have an amen?!
Yes. There were flames coming out of my head, and the smell of burning hair gel in the air.
Let me further explain.
Last night, I went to church by myself as usual. I walked in a bit late, so I settled for a secluded spot next to the wall. I sat down, and leaned back to survey the crowd and see if there was anyone I knew. All of a sudden, I spot a girl I know motioning to get my attention, "Colleen!" she yelled, and signalled for me to move. I was confused, and another guy I knew was motioning for me to come sit next to him. I got up, and all of sudden noticed something wasn't quite right. My head felt warm and there were sparks flying off of it.
"Omg," I thought, "my hair is on fire." The rest of the events are quite blurry, but I started patting my head to put out the flames. I succeeded in putting out the fire with my bare hands. Thank you very much. I then sat down, stunned. I was in the front, and the entire church saw my hair catch on fire. I began touching my head to get a feel for the damage. A chunk of hair fell out and my coat was sprinkled with ashes. I sat stunned. Stunned and laughing.
As soon as the worship began a woman I know who works at the church came up and got me. "I am so sorry your hair started on fire in my church!" she exclaimed. We went to survey the damage in the bathroom. Not bad. It just looked as if the front of my hair was pretty singed. "I owe you a haircut," she said. I told her not to worry about it. She convinced me to stay despite my embarrassed and I went back into the service, only this time, up in the balcony.
I did, however, leave early, since I was too embarassed to face everyone coming up to me and asking if I was okay.
Oh man. I cannot believe my hair caught on fire, in church, in front of everyone. Good story. When I got home that night I had to cut like major chunks off the end. With the right amount of hair product, it looks okay now.
Since it happened in church, maybe it was a holy sign. God has lit me on fire. I now bear witness with my scorched hair. Can I have an amen?!
Friday, March 19, 2010
Crashing the St. Patty's Day Parade
This post is a few days late, but I had the best St. Patrick's Day ever. Hands down.
Let's just say that the day started out with me and three friends going to a St. Patrick's Day parade, and ended with Anna and I being in a parade. Holler.
So around noon on St. Patty's Day, a few of us headed to downtown St. Paul to check out the parade action. The parade action turned out to be people carrying banners that said family names like, "Mulligan," or something, with individuals dressed in green following behind. It was totally lame so we lasted like 10 minutes before heading to the nearest Irish pub. While drinking green beer at the pub, we discovered that Minneapolis was having a parade at 6:00 p.m. That's when Ana came up with the brilliant idea to crash the parade. Hey, if it was as lame as the St. Paul one, all we'd need to do to be in it was dress in green and sneak our way into an unsuspecting group. Armed with our idea, we headed back to Minneapolis to get more decked out in green and find the parade's starting point.
A green scarf and some facepaint later, we head to Brit's downtown to grab a few drinks and conspire. A half-hour before the parade we made our way down to its starting point, and nonchalantly began mingling with people, grabbing some of the free food and and a bud light at the bar.
Soon, Anna and I spotted our perfect crashing opportunity. We snuck into a group that was simply wearing green and singing some Irish song. We even got someone to give us one of the flags they were waving. So, waving our flags and lip-syncing the unfamiliar song, we paraded down Nicollet Avenue yelling happy St. Patrick's Day. I was laughing so hard I could barely pretend to know the words. At the end of Nicollet Ave., we got a bit bored and decided to duck out. We had left the rest of our group at the parade's start so we headed back that way.
I had never been in a St. Patty's Day parade before Wednesday. Ha, it was such a good time. I guess, on this St. Patrick's Day, I actually had the luck of the Irish.
Let's just say that the day started out with me and three friends going to a St. Patrick's Day parade, and ended with Anna and I being in a parade. Holler.
So around noon on St. Patty's Day, a few of us headed to downtown St. Paul to check out the parade action. The parade action turned out to be people carrying banners that said family names like, "Mulligan," or something, with individuals dressed in green following behind. It was totally lame so we lasted like 10 minutes before heading to the nearest Irish pub. While drinking green beer at the pub, we discovered that Minneapolis was having a parade at 6:00 p.m. That's when Ana came up with the brilliant idea to crash the parade. Hey, if it was as lame as the St. Paul one, all we'd need to do to be in it was dress in green and sneak our way into an unsuspecting group. Armed with our idea, we headed back to Minneapolis to get more decked out in green and find the parade's starting point.
A green scarf and some facepaint later, we head to Brit's downtown to grab a few drinks and conspire. A half-hour before the parade we made our way down to its starting point, and nonchalantly began mingling with people, grabbing some of the free food and and a bud light at the bar.
Soon, Anna and I spotted our perfect crashing opportunity. We snuck into a group that was simply wearing green and singing some Irish song. We even got someone to give us one of the flags they were waving. So, waving our flags and lip-syncing the unfamiliar song, we paraded down Nicollet Avenue yelling happy St. Patrick's Day. I was laughing so hard I could barely pretend to know the words. At the end of Nicollet Ave., we got a bit bored and decided to duck out. We had left the rest of our group at the parade's start so we headed back that way.
I had never been in a St. Patty's Day parade before Wednesday. Ha, it was such a good time. I guess, on this St. Patrick's Day, I actually had the luck of the Irish.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Inner Conflict
I just finished the most disturbing movie. So disturbing that everyone should see it. It's called the Stoning of Soraya M. It's about a woman in Iran who was wrongly accused of adultry to further her husband's adulterous goals, and thus stoned.
The whole movie has got me thinking again. I have always been passionate about furthering women's rights in the world. Especially in developing countries, or theocratic countries where the injustice runs deep.
How do I do that? How does anyone do that?
I'm currently looking for a job. The careers that interest me around here, and the ones I'm qualified for are mainly in advertising or public relations research. If I take a job in one of these fields, am I settling? Or, is there a way to do good for the world, no matter what your career is (well, obvious immoral ones not counting, i.e. murderer, Phillips-Morris employee, etc...)?
For the past few years, I have kind of wanted to be a journalist, because I've loved the idea of telling people's stories. But the true fact is, is traditional journalism is dying. Could there, however, be another way to tell truth, change the world, even if I don't work for the BBC?
I'm really wrestling with this at the current moment. Particularly because I'm really interested in advertising research. But how do I reconcile the things I'm passionate about, like women's development, justice, etc..., with a career in advertising research?
I feel like there must be a way. But maybe I'm just convincing myself of that. But maybe, changing the world isn't so much about the career you have. Maybe, it's about changing yourself, and standing up for truth wherever you find it. If anyone has any advice for me at the moment, I would gladly take it. Especially anyone who works in PR or advertising!
And back to the Stoning of Soraya M. Please, go out and rent it right now. It's a story that definitely deserves to be told.
The whole movie has got me thinking again. I have always been passionate about furthering women's rights in the world. Especially in developing countries, or theocratic countries where the injustice runs deep.
How do I do that? How does anyone do that?
I'm currently looking for a job. The careers that interest me around here, and the ones I'm qualified for are mainly in advertising or public relations research. If I take a job in one of these fields, am I settling? Or, is there a way to do good for the world, no matter what your career is (well, obvious immoral ones not counting, i.e. murderer, Phillips-Morris employee, etc...)?
For the past few years, I have kind of wanted to be a journalist, because I've loved the idea of telling people's stories. But the true fact is, is traditional journalism is dying. Could there, however, be another way to tell truth, change the world, even if I don't work for the BBC?
I'm really wrestling with this at the current moment. Particularly because I'm really interested in advertising research. But how do I reconcile the things I'm passionate about, like women's development, justice, etc..., with a career in advertising research?
I feel like there must be a way. But maybe I'm just convincing myself of that. But maybe, changing the world isn't so much about the career you have. Maybe, it's about changing yourself, and standing up for truth wherever you find it. If anyone has any advice for me at the moment, I would gladly take it. Especially anyone who works in PR or advertising!
And back to the Stoning of Soraya M. Please, go out and rent it right now. It's a story that definitely deserves to be told.
Someone Help Me Decipher Lil' Wayne
I usually don't read TIME magazine anymore because the cover's always have some version of "How to fix (insert health care system, the world, the economy, etc...)," and I think it's lame because if they really knew how to fix things, they would be fixed. Plus, come up with a headline that doesn't begin with "How to."
That is beside the point however. The point is I picked up the latest TIME because I was bored yesterday and had already watched four episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians. I turned to the quotes page and one by Lil' Wayne was highlighted. He was finally heading to jail after several delayed sentences, and his response was, "Law is mind without reason."
Um, ok, will someone please explain that quote to me. I've been racking my brain and I just can't seem to figure out how it makes sense. Essentially he's saying law is unreasonable. I guess? Not that I should expect literary greatness from someone who wrote "Lollipop," but I guess something that made sense would be good. If anyone has any insight that can explain this mystery to me, I would appreciate it.
Thank you for your time.
Me.
That is beside the point however. The point is I picked up the latest TIME because I was bored yesterday and had already watched four episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians. I turned to the quotes page and one by Lil' Wayne was highlighted. He was finally heading to jail after several delayed sentences, and his response was, "Law is mind without reason."
Um, ok, will someone please explain that quote to me. I've been racking my brain and I just can't seem to figure out how it makes sense. Essentially he's saying law is unreasonable. I guess? Not that I should expect literary greatness from someone who wrote "Lollipop," but I guess something that made sense would be good. If anyone has any insight that can explain this mystery to me, I would appreciate it.
Thank you for your time.
Me.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
My Unblievable Life
So I just got back from a lovely weekend in Florida/Alabama with my college roommates. It was beautiful, and is making me long for a longer warm-weather getaway.
The first night we spent at the Hilton on the ocean. Then, we drove down to no-man's land Alabama, where one of my old roomies lives with her baby and military-man husband.
It was such a good time, but it's sooo crazy how different my life is from theirs. I mean, five years ago, we were all in the same boat. And now, well, I'm in the same boat and they are both married with babies. Well, one is only pregnant, but the baby will come.
It was funny, on the way to the beach we were reminiscing about college and they were like, "ohh remember when we used to go out, sleep in late, yada yada." I was like, "ummm...I don't know what you guys are talking about but that is still my life. I go out somewhere like every night, and don't wake up until nine every day." They were like, "really??" Like they couldn't believe it. Haha. My life is unbelievable. I love it.
It did kind of make me realize however, that the single life is somewhat of a privilege. I mean, once I get married and have a baby there is no more jetting off to India, or even to the corner bar on a Friday night. So I might as well enjoy my freedom while I can. Sure, I don't want it for the rest of my life, but for now, I might as well live it up. Maybe being single is more fun than people make it out to be.
The first night we spent at the Hilton on the ocean. Then, we drove down to no-man's land Alabama, where one of my old roomies lives with her baby and military-man husband.
It was such a good time, but it's sooo crazy how different my life is from theirs. I mean, five years ago, we were all in the same boat. And now, well, I'm in the same boat and they are both married with babies. Well, one is only pregnant, but the baby will come.
It was funny, on the way to the beach we were reminiscing about college and they were like, "ohh remember when we used to go out, sleep in late, yada yada." I was like, "ummm...I don't know what you guys are talking about but that is still my life. I go out somewhere like every night, and don't wake up until nine every day." They were like, "really??" Like they couldn't believe it. Haha. My life is unbelievable. I love it.
It did kind of make me realize however, that the single life is somewhat of a privilege. I mean, once I get married and have a baby there is no more jetting off to India, or even to the corner bar on a Friday night. So I might as well enjoy my freedom while I can. Sure, I don't want it for the rest of my life, but for now, I might as well live it up. Maybe being single is more fun than people make it out to be.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Life Shower
I have a bone to pick.
I think that if you are still single by the time you turn 30, people should throw you a "life" shower. For this life shower, you should receive the wide-array of nice domestic items that married people receive for their weddings.
I mean, why should married people get all the fun & nice stuff. They already get the love of their lives, plus a stunning array of Williams Sonoma bakeware. For those who are single, it's like, "sorry, you have to be alone, and stuck with your grandmother's second-hand dishes from 1975. Have fun with that!"
I feel as if this is wrong. We no longer live in an age where people get married at age 22 as their starting out on their domestic lives. No, most of us are well-established before we get married, or rather, if we get married these days. Consequently, married people should not have all the fun!
If I'm single when I'm 30, I am throwing myself a life shower. I will make all my friends come. Yes, I will look pathetic roaming around Macys, little register remote in hand, by myself. And perhaps even more pathetic when the clerk asks me when I'm getting married and I reply, "I'm not." But, at least I will have the same hosting capacity as my married friends. Crate & Barrel dishes and all! So there.
Anyway, just an idea. And a rant. Onto another run (which is going great btw, weeee!).
I think that if you are still single by the time you turn 30, people should throw you a "life" shower. For this life shower, you should receive the wide-array of nice domestic items that married people receive for their weddings.
I mean, why should married people get all the fun & nice stuff. They already get the love of their lives, plus a stunning array of Williams Sonoma bakeware. For those who are single, it's like, "sorry, you have to be alone, and stuck with your grandmother's second-hand dishes from 1975. Have fun with that!"
I feel as if this is wrong. We no longer live in an age where people get married at age 22 as their starting out on their domestic lives. No, most of us are well-established before we get married, or rather, if we get married these days. Consequently, married people should not have all the fun!
If I'm single when I'm 30, I am throwing myself a life shower. I will make all my friends come. Yes, I will look pathetic roaming around Macys, little register remote in hand, by myself. And perhaps even more pathetic when the clerk asks me when I'm getting married and I reply, "I'm not." But, at least I will have the same hosting capacity as my married friends. Crate & Barrel dishes and all! So there.
Anyway, just an idea. And a rant. Onto another run (which is going great btw, weeee!).
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Five Stages and Magic Gear
Everyone has been so supportive these past few weeks. I cannot thank you all enough! Life is getting better ever since last week. I think there is a surefire "break-up" phase that we all go through. 1) consistent crying 2) consistent anxiety 3) consistent anger BUT mixed with acceptance 4) acceptance and 5) happiness and SOMEONE new!
It's been awhile, and I'm fairly happy. So let's hope #5 comes along soon.
In the wake of this minor tragedy - which will most likely turn out to be a happy miracle - I've decided to take up running. That's right. I am going to become an athlete. I have spent a significant amount of cash on new winter running apparel, and have signed up for the 100% Irish 5K in a couple weeks. I just received my new athletic wear in the mail the other day. I really think that it's magic. Seriously. I am not athletic, and I am never able to run around the lake (only 2.6 miles) by my house after months of inactivity and extra wine intake. Monday, however, I donned by new pink and black running gear and set off to conquer the lake -- and guess what -- I did. Yessiree, I ran the whole thing without stopping. This is a big accomplishment for me. I know you "runner-types" are laughing at my wimpy 2.6 miles conquest, but hey, 2.6 miles today 10 miles tomorrow! Well, let's hope anyway.
They say, whoever "they" are, that excercise is the best cure for lethargy. So I took 'em up on it. Also, my friend and I signed up for the 5K because of the party at Stella's afterwards. What is a 5k 100% Irish race without a little Guiness afterwards? Not 100% Irish let me tell you!
Ok, time to watch romantic comedies. Not sure if that is a healthy activity, but hey, I can't win 'em all.
It's been awhile, and I'm fairly happy. So let's hope #5 comes along soon.
In the wake of this minor tragedy - which will most likely turn out to be a happy miracle - I've decided to take up running. That's right. I am going to become an athlete. I have spent a significant amount of cash on new winter running apparel, and have signed up for the 100% Irish 5K in a couple weeks. I just received my new athletic wear in the mail the other day. I really think that it's magic. Seriously. I am not athletic, and I am never able to run around the lake (only 2.6 miles) by my house after months of inactivity and extra wine intake. Monday, however, I donned by new pink and black running gear and set off to conquer the lake -- and guess what -- I did. Yessiree, I ran the whole thing without stopping. This is a big accomplishment for me. I know you "runner-types" are laughing at my wimpy 2.6 miles conquest, but hey, 2.6 miles today 10 miles tomorrow! Well, let's hope anyway.
They say, whoever "they" are, that excercise is the best cure for lethargy. So I took 'em up on it. Also, my friend and I signed up for the 5K because of the party at Stella's afterwards. What is a 5k 100% Irish race without a little Guiness afterwards? Not 100% Irish let me tell you!
Ok, time to watch romantic comedies. Not sure if that is a healthy activity, but hey, I can't win 'em all.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Oh, Life.
I haven't written in awhile. Mainly, because my problems got a lot bigger in this past couple weeks than a pair of broken Uggs. My boyfriend and I broke a few weeks ago. Break-ups really suck. However, I'm trying hard to find the humor in my situation, which really does exist outside of the tears.
I mean, you should see my bedside right now. It's humorous. It's complete with a half-eaten chocolate bar, a broken wine glass, Benadryl, and a self-help book. I've woken up crying and unable to move so many days that my friend now has to regularly check on me around nine to make sure I've risen from bed. The first day, I couldn't even eat because that meant I'd have to stop crying long enough to shove food down my throat. I went home to stay with my mom for a night. When she got home from work the next day she found my lying in bed with the dogs, still. She said, "You have to get up. Do you want a new coat?" This tells you how desperate I looked. My mom does not regularly offer to buy me new coats.
Besides God's faithfulness of course, the one thing that gets me through horrible times like these is knowing that most people (including myself!) have gone through this before. It's amazing people's kindness when times get tough. Strangers buy me drinks after my friend's announce the reason why I look like I was just run over by a truck. Or maybe they're buying me a drink because I got a new haircut that looks hot. Hey, a girl can dream:).
Well, I don't really like to get too personal on this thing called the world wide web. However, I think there is humor in times like these, and that someday I'll be able to look back and truly laugh. Until then, I might as well have someone laughing at me. Forward march.
I mean, you should see my bedside right now. It's humorous. It's complete with a half-eaten chocolate bar, a broken wine glass, Benadryl, and a self-help book. I've woken up crying and unable to move so many days that my friend now has to regularly check on me around nine to make sure I've risen from bed. The first day, I couldn't even eat because that meant I'd have to stop crying long enough to shove food down my throat. I went home to stay with my mom for a night. When she got home from work the next day she found my lying in bed with the dogs, still. She said, "You have to get up. Do you want a new coat?" This tells you how desperate I looked. My mom does not regularly offer to buy me new coats.
Besides God's faithfulness of course, the one thing that gets me through horrible times like these is knowing that most people (including myself!) have gone through this before. It's amazing people's kindness when times get tough. Strangers buy me drinks after my friend's announce the reason why I look like I was just run over by a truck. Or maybe they're buying me a drink because I got a new haircut that looks hot. Hey, a girl can dream:).
Well, I don't really like to get too personal on this thing called the world wide web. However, I think there is humor in times like these, and that someday I'll be able to look back and truly laugh. Until then, I might as well have someone laughing at me. Forward march.
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