Hello, Old Friend

It’s been a while since I’ve written (on this blog, at least). I’ve abandoned this themeless mess of a blog to pursue something with a little more direction: my three sixty five blog. It’s so much easier to write when you have to (or tell yourself you have to) write every day — even if there’s really nothing to write about.

I’d really love to have a blog that people would want to read. Something with a theme. I may take a page (like, literally) out of Lesley Arfin’s book, Dear Diary. I’ve never read it, but it seems like an interesting concept — including funny diary entries from my adolescent years and blogging about them. Unless I don’t want people to know just how fucking weird I really  was am.

I tried creating a Cleveland-themed blog but only got as far as registering and designing a header. It’d be useless to make a beauty blog because let’s be honest, no one would take beauty advice from me. Do I even have any? No. And I don’t know much about anything else except how to be really lazy and self-depricating. So there.

Dedication

I always sound like such a broken record in my head, making promises to myself that I never keep. Like working out at least three times a week, eating healthy, and not spending so much money on shit I don’t need. And as if my body and bank account weren’t harassing me enough, there’s that sad little “I’m part of Post A Week 2012″ icon glaring at me from the right side of this blog. If I could personify it, I’d imagine it’d be wondering why I’m such a liar.

Flashback to January 1, 2011 when I took my first picture as part of my ambitious “365 Project” — one photo every day for a year. My three-month-old Canon DSLR had already been collecting dust like a forgotten photo album because I had no reason to use it. Or I did but didn’t feel like carrying the bulky thing around. Either way, I was neglecting my newest possession and needed to do something about it.

My first “365″ photo, taken on January 1, 2011

The “365 Project” wasn’t just because I hadn’t been using my $500 camera; I also felt as though I needed to set a goal for myself. If I can do one simple task every day for a year, I’ll consider myself accomplished. That was my logic.

So why did I only last 180-some days? A few reasons, I think:

• Life. I wasn’t always home because I was working and taking classes.
• My photos became monotonous, as it was difficult finding new original subjects and scenery for my photos. (I live in Cleveland, after all.)
• I wasn’t putting in enough effort. My creativity was half-assed, which is probably why I became bored and eventually gave up.

Now, nearly two years later, I’ve decided to stop making excuses. It’s time that I make a plan and stick to it, which is why I’ve decided to embark on yet another “365″ project. I really don’t know why it’s something I feel like I have to do. It benefits no one, and I think it’s an ego issue if anything. But mark my word: I will either write or post a photo every day for a year. And if I don’t manage to make it all three hundred sixty-five days, I hope I can say it’s because I was too busy working out and eating well.

Halloween For Twenty-Somethings

My first Halloween as a gypsy whore

One of the saddest parts of adulthood is that today is just another Wednesday … and it also happens to be Halloween. I’ll refill my coffee mug throughout the day and bank on someone bringing in donuts or candy in lieu of my breakfast. Tonight, during my few spare hours of not working, I’ll probably drink a pumpkin-flavored beer or three, watch the tele, and prepare for Thursday. That’s just life, though — understanding we have responsibilities and that we can’t just throw on a costume and ask strangers for candy. 

I miss the days when my to-do list consisted only of making sure I dressed as the pink Power Ranger. No, Mom, the red one is a BOY. I miss trick-or-treating and the part when you grab your candy-filled pillowcase from the bottom, spill it onto the floor and sort through the chocolate and sugar, disposing of the raisins and pretzels while silently cursing whoever handed them out. This is not candy.

We’ve come a long way from those childhood simplicities, and it’s normal to feel nostalgic. The real world may have taken pieces of us we’ll never get back, but the beauty of Halloween as a twenty-something is that we can still enjoy it on the weekends. We go to parties and wear funny or sassy costumes, we make spiked cider and get drunk. We bake Pinterest-inspired Halloween treats à la stay-at-home moms. And we have an excuse to eat candy for breakfast.

Happy Halloween, kids, and cheers to being young forever.

Just Thoughts

- One day (god willing) when I’m old and my bones hurt and the better half of my life is behind me, I really hope I’m not as awful and ornery as many of the elderly folks I encounter nowadays. Maybe I don’t know enough good-natured old people.

Lady Gaga in a meat dress

- Will anything surprise me anymore? I mean, in a world where celebrities wear dresses made of meat and children can take pole dancing classes, could anything really, truly be shocking? Maybe that’s why some old people are so crotchety.

- I’d probably be much better at communicating with people if I didn’t blame my social awkwardness on the fact that I’m better at writing than speaking. Or simply saying “it’s because I’m a writer.” Baloney. I’m just awkward.

- What did Lady Gaga’s meat dress smell like?

- Twitter is today’s AIM Away Message for young people. Can someone say passive aggressive, overly dramatic tweets? It makes me cringe to think I used to be like that.

- The old when life hands you lemons metaphor: where did that come from? Why lemons?

Not me

- I’m kind of fascinated by death and body piercings, which by stereotypical default, might make me gothic and/or emo. But I’m neither of those things.

- Now that I’m in the process of moving out of my childhood home, I’m beginning to understand hoarders’ tendencies. My emotional attachment to intangible objects is kind of ridiculous. But just because I can empathize with some of the individuals on TLC’s Hoarding: Buried Alive doesn’t mean I don’t think most of them are just lazy slobs.

Necessary?

- I wonder if anyone else (whether you’re a fan of the NFL or not) thinks it’s so silly that several men dress in suits and ties and get paid to have serious and thorough discussions about football. It’s all so elaborate and so funny to me, and I’m not sure why.

Apartment Hunting Woes

During the past few weeks I’ve been looking for a home for my boyfriend and me. Although I could probably tolerate another couple years in the comfort of my parents’ house, I think it’s about time to claim my independence. I don’t know, I guess there’s just something momentous about creeping up on the ripe old age of 25 that makes you reevaluate where your life is going and whether or not it’s acceptable to be a college grad with a full-time job living at Mom and Dad’s.

I’ve been frequenting Craigslist on the regular, hoping to find that proverbial diamond in the rough — a one or two-bedroom apartment in a Cleveland neighborhood called Tremont. Some of Cleveland’s best bars and restaurants are in the area, and it’s home to a lot of young professionals because rent is reasonable and it’s trendy and stuff.

After looking at only two places, I decided apartment-hunting is a lot like Black Friday — or at least similar to a situation where you’re trying to obtain the same thing as someone else and you both know there can only be one winner.

The owner of the first apartment I looked at held an open house, and for whatever insensible foolish reason, I thought I was the only one who’d show up — WRONG. There were about seven other people there, not including the people who were leaving when I got there. The landlord requested we email him if we were interested in applying. By the time I did, the apartment had already been snatched up. So that doubled as a bummer AND a waste of my time.

The second place I looked at was a unique three-story loft, one of just four units in the building. When I arrived, a male (presumably my age) showed up to view it. He seemed like a nice guy. But I immediately didn’t like him and the fact that he wanted what I wanted. It almost felt like a job interview. I could feel him eyeing me and couldn’t think about much else other than how silly it was that we were trying to outdo each other.

This guy bragged about where he worked and how like, totally awesome it’d be if he could live here … in MY apartment that I already claimed (in my head).

In the midst of all this apartment-hunting hoopla, I managed to successfully avoid a Craigslist scam. A woman who says her name is Maria Garcia posted an ad for a newly renovated four-bedroom house in a great location for just $800 a month. I was a bit skeptical, but I inquired anyway. She responded via a long, grammatically incorrect email that basically said she’s a “KID’S DOCTOR” working in Alabama and she’s not charging for any utilities. The “application” for the house was typed out in the body of the email and included questions that read like statements: Do you have the payment with you and How soon can you pay the deposit.

She then proceeded to text me.

I’m not really sure what gave it away — if it was the sketchy text messages or when she told me to ignore the sign in the front yard and NOT call the phone number on it. Hmm … It turns out, this house is actually on the market via a realtor (thus the sign) and goes for $1400/month. Not $800. And after I called her out for being a scam artist (or lack thereof?) she reposted the ad and lowered the price to $750. Some people.

When you’re on a budget and in a constraint in terms of location, I suppose it’s more difficult to find a decent place to live. But WHO KNEW this many people want to live in Cleveland? Cold, gray, ugly, fat Cleveland.

UPDATE: We’ve ultimately decided to stay in the boyfriend’s current apartment indefinitely because right now it makes the most sense and saves us both headaches. And whenever we decide to take on the animal that is apartment-searching, we’ll remember two things: be aggressive, and if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

 

On Country Roads, Detours and Friendships

The best thing about college (besides the booze and irresponsibility, of course) was being in close proximity to all my closest friends. It didn’t matter where we came from because for four years, we occupied the same small town and walked the same brick streets.

But after graduation it became clear that seeing some of those close friends meant having to make travel plans, some of which kick our bank accounts while they’re already down. Others require only a tank of gas and good company.

I hadn’t seen my friend Addie in over two years. After graduating, she moved to Spain to teach for a year then settled down in Charleston. Krista, another fellow English-major-turned-close-friend, invited me along on a day trip to visit Addie while she was home visiting family.

We began the three-hour drive in the morning, heading west to Ottawa. It’s easy to forget how rural Ohio is when coming from the ‘burbs of Cleveland. We may be a part of the Rust Belt, but there are definitely more than enough corn fields to make you think otherwise. Maybe it was the warm sunny day and anticipation of seeing an old friend, but being away from familiarity and commercialization was (dare I say it) quite liberating.

There was a time during my last month of college when I thought I could somehow manage to visit all my soon-to-be long-distance friends in their newly established dwellings: San Francisco, Chicago, Pittsburgh and Spain, to name a few. Sometimes I still think I can do it all. But even with sufficient funds, it’s time that I’d have to battle. There are only so many PTO days and holiday weekends in a year. And there’s life. It gets in the way sometimes. But it’s a beautiful thing when the stars of money and time align and you’re able to dedicate a day or two or three to visiting old friends. So far, my 2012 track record has been pretty good. I went to Chicago in June, and I’m headed to San Francisco next month.

It’s always refreshing to see familiar faces and realize the people behind them haven’t changed a bit, especially when factoring time and distance into the equation. Just like my friends in Chicago, seeing Addie was no different than it was two years ago.

The three of us talked about our busy post-college lives while we took a walk around Addie’s parents’ property. Our limited time together didn’t allow for all the details, but it was just enough time to catch up, laugh and discuss plans to reunite.

Driving home was an adventure in itself for Krista and me, as the trusty iPhone and its GPS capabilities gave us directions much different from how we got there. We ended up taking back roads for the majority of the ride home. Miles and miles of corn fields made the drive seem eternal, but something about driving through the farmland of western Ohio while the sun was setting was serene and almost movie-like.

The trip became symbolic in a couple ways; we encountered two detours which added about an hour and a half to our time, thanks to the inconvenient reroute. But on the other hand, it gave us more time to enjoy the barren beauty of small-town Ohio — something we don’t see every day.

It all made sense to me on that drive home when my thoughts centered on country roads, detours and friendships.

Sometimes you have to go out of your way.

Roasted Tomato & Feta Fusilli

Before college, I’d never experienced cooking for myself (aside from the occasional grilled cheese or scrambled eggs). I enjoy cooking, I do. But time and money and life often give me excuses not to, and it’s only one bad or busy day before I’m sitting in bed with a bowl of Kraft Mac & Cheese.

When I have a rare bout of culinary inspiration, I stop in the Whole Foods right down the street from where I work. This is what I did yesterday after Whole Foods tweeted this recipe.

Simple, inexpensive and delicious.

In typical me fashion, I tweaked the recipe a little, so the following is my version of the dish. See the previous link for the Whole Foods recipe.

1/ 2 lb. whole wheat fusilli
2 tsp. extra virgin olive oil
salt & ground black pepper
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/2 cup chopped basil
1 zucchini, grated
2 tbsp. lemon juice
5 Roma tomatoes, quartered 

Preheat your oven to 400°. Arrange the tomatoes on a parchment-lined baking pan. Drizzle the extra virgin olive oil over the tomatoes and season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle some of the feta and the basil on top and roast in the oven for about 20 minutes. In the meantime, bring a pot of salted water to a boil and add the pasta. Cook until al dente, 10 to 12 minutes. Drain and transfer to a large bowl. Add zucchini, lemon juice and roasted tomatoes. EAT.

It’s as simple as that. What’s NOT simple, however, is grating zucchini. There’s probably an easier way to do it than using an old-fashioned grater. The Whole Foods recipe calls for two zucchinis or squash (squashes?). After grating about half of one, I said OK THIS IS ENOUGH. It seemed like a little too much zucchini, anyway.

When I shopped for ingredients, I was banking on already having the Parmesan cheese that Whole Foods’ recipe calls for. Of course, I didn’t. But I got over it once I realized I had feta to work with because I love feta and think it has more flavor. It worked out so well, in fact, that I added additional cheese crumbles to the finished product.

I’d recommend looking into a more efficient way (if there is one) to grate your zucchini or squash. That was really the only pain in making this dish. Otherwise, very easy and delectable (and relatively healthy, assuming you don’t pile on the cheese like moi).