Posted tagged ‘life lessons’

Did You Not Read The Memo?!

March 1, 2010

I got this memo today while at work.  Apparently it’s kind of a big deal.  It was on company letterhead and everything.

So make sure that all of your friends named “Don” or “Donald” know that they are among the coolest people on earth. Give them a high five, a fist bump, a butt slap, or whatever you crazy kids do these days.

They’ve earned it.

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Oh, To be Young and Stupid

February 16, 2010

Sallie Mae posted my monthly payments schedule.  And while I would love to whine and complain about what a soul sucking, money hungry leech she is, I can admit that I did this to myself. 

At the height of this repayment plan, I’ll be shelling out $630 a month for oh.. about.. EIGHT POINT FIVE YEARS. The other 11.5 will be lower monthly payments, but still enough to make me depressed.

Here’s to making stupid financial decisions.

I’m Still Waiting on that Autograph

January 30, 2010

After the Red Wings game, I had it in my head that I needed an autograph from Zetterberg for my jersey.  Unfortunately I couldn’t get to the hockey game early since I was working, so I planned on catching him after the game.  

I took my time getting out of my seat following the game so that the Red Wings would have their chance to shower and get dressed and whatnot and I could catch them on their way out.  I walked slowly around the Xcel Energy Center, hunting for the locker room exits so that I could “accidentally” run into them as they left to go to their hotel for the night.  I even took a bathroom break to extend the amount of time I was creeping around the Center. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find their exits, so I asked an employee what my best bet was to find them.  She told me that she actually didn’t know where the best spot was to catch the hockey players was because they usually leave after she does.  I kind of stood there with a big sad pout on my face, and she told me that, before the game, a lot of the time people will usually stand outside to wait for the visiting hockey team between the Center and the hotel that they usually stay at. 

And that is how I learned where hockey players sleep at night. 

So I mosied on over to their hotel lobby and I asked the hotel desk clerk if the Red Wings were in fact staying in this hotel and if people ever waited here for them.  She told me they weren’t staying there (I think she was lying), and kind of hinted to me that yes, that kind of thing is very much creepy.  Against my will, Dan dragged me out of the hotel and back into the skyway so we could walk home — waiting in a hotel lobby for a hockey team is too creepy for him to handle.  And I was bitter because I thought that by next year I would be too old to stalk a hockey team. 

And that story leads me to my point for this post.  Sometimes I forget that I’m only twenty-two years old.  Sometimes it slips my mind that I’ve still got a couple of years of good, solid youth to do stupid things without feeling the resonating consequences. 

Once in awhile I’ll get caught up in the fact that I don’t have my own little family, my dream job, a business of my own, and a mansion on top of a hill overlooking a city right next to a lake.  Sometimes I think it’s too late for me to go back to school for a Masters degree because I’m too old.  And sometimes…  sometimes… I think I’m failing at life because I don’t own the world.

Newsflash to me:  I’m not too old for anything except riding those little people rides at Disney World.  Real life is still beginning.

And I am certainly not too old to stalk a hockey team.  And I hope that none of said hockey players ever read this because that would just be really embarassing.

The Addiction to Appearance

January 26, 2010

It takes me about an hour to get ready every morning.  My morning routine goes something like this:

  1. Take the dog out to do her business (and in the winter that requires about 5 minutes of putting on/taking off sweatpants, sweatshirts, boots, and coats (one for me, one for the dog))
  2. Take a shower
  3. Put product in my hair and scrunch it until most of the water is out
  4. Blow dry my hair
  5. Moisturize – especially in the winter
  6. Get dressed (it takes me forever to figure out what to wear)
  7. Put on makeup
  8. Scrunch hair again to get rid of any crispy curls
  9. Wander around my apartment to gather everything I need
  10. Mirror check to fix anything that doesn’t look quite right
  11. Leave

And this morning, as I was getting ready for the day, I was thinking about all of that time I spend in the bathroom getting ready for my day.  One hour a day.  That’s seven hours a week.  That’s about 28 hours a month (already more than an entire day gone!)  Three hundred thirty-six hours a year – or fourteen days – or two entire weeks.  Wow.  If I lived for 60 more years, over two of those years will be spent in the bathroom drying my hair, putting on makeup, and getting dressed.  It will take me over two years to get ready for the other 58 years of my life.  That, my friends, is a lot of time.

And while I would like to sit here and announce to you that I am changing my ways and vowing to never spend an entire hour in the bathroom ever again, I am not able to.  I can’t say that I won’t spend ten minutes trying to get my hair just right.  I know I will never be able to choose the perfect outfit on the first try every day for three days, let alone a week.  With all of these lipstick colors, I can’t guarantee that the first one I choose will be complimentary to my skin tone and the colors that I am wearing.  And even though I know that I am wasting an entire hour of my day just getting ready to go shopping or putz around the apartment, I don’t necessarily want to change that.

When I look good, I feel good.  I’m more productive with my time.  I’m more sociable.  I’m friendlier.  I feel smarter.  A lot of the time, my happiness is directly affected by my outward appearance.  And when I am unhappy with myself or the way that my life is going, I cheer myself up in the beauty aisles at Walgreens.  I buy makeup, lotions, conditioners, and any beauty supply that I can get my hands on and believe that I might need one day.  If you were to open up the cabinet beneath my bathroom sink, you would see the results of these splurges fall out onto the floor because the cabinet can barely contain them.

So where did this need for beauty in a bottle come from?  Today’s magazines, newspapers, and blogs emphasize the importance of natural beauty.  Magazine covers are being chastised for photoshopping their covers – I even posted a video showing how our definition of beauty is the direct result of these maneuvers.  Newer, more natural models are making their debut in advertisements.  And yet here I am, feeling the need to perfect the way that I look before leaving my apartment just to take my dog on a walk.  Why is that?

And the funny thing is that you can tell how I am feeling about myself that day by seeing the amount of makeup caked onto my face.  Typically I am on the lighter side, but sometimes (when I’m feeling depressed or unhappy) it’s as if you can’t see a hint of real skin underneath all of that foundation.  And although I know that wearing all of that makeup is unnatural, I can’t help myself.  To take it off would leave me unhappier than with it on.  Because the thing is, no matter what is going on around me or what kind of situation I find myself in, I can at least control the way that I look.  Because to look beautiful in a crappy world, even if that beauty is artificial, is better than facing it looking hum-drum.

Perhaps the saddest part of this is that I know I am not the only woman in the world with this complex.  There are millions of us that choose to drop hundreds of dollars on beauty products that we will only use once.  Others might choose to physically harm themselves.  Others might starve themselves to achieve that perfect weight.  Others might stay in abusive relationships.  On second thought, maybe I should consider myself lucky that this is my addiction because, lets face it, it could be far worse.

Lately I have found myself a little more confident with my “natural” face since I have sworn one day a week to not using anything at all, but I still feel stares.  I still feel less respected.  I still feel like other people have decided that I am not worth their time.  And on days when I am feeling low, my usual “head up” posture turns into a slumped back with my eyes to the ground.  And of course it’s foolish and of course it’s nonsense, but it is something that I struggle with anyway. 

I would like to think that we all have our own comfort blankets that we cling to.  It helps me to know that everybody needs to fit a certain mold when they are feeling down so that they can feel better about themselves.  It could be anything — dressing great, laughing a little louder to make up for it, or feeling the need to prove yourself through your ideas.  You know… something that gives status so that we know we’re not just dirt on the ground. 

Is anybody willing to share with me theirs?

I Don’t Know Where I’m Headed, But I’ll Know It When I Get There

January 22, 2010

Today, my desk-neighbor Erick had a question for me.  “So what are your big plans?” he asked.  “Are you staying here?  Are you looking elsewhere?  Where is Ms. Heather headed?”

I gave a little smile because I had been anticipating this question.  It has been on my mind a lot lately, and I am sure that many of my posts reflect that.  “Well..” I replied.  “I want to do something to help humanity, so I am looking for work that will help me down that path.” 

Erick’s response was something along the lines of, “You will grow out of that.  I used to want to do that, too.”

Personally, I have a lot of trouble understanding why I need to grow out of anything.  Since when is grow out synonymous with grow up?

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10 Years of Wisdom Packed Into 22 Bulletpoints

January 18, 2010

10 years ago I was 12 years old.
10 years ago I was in 7th grade.
10 years ago I didn’t shower regularly.
10 years ago I probably didn’t wear deodrant (it was middle school — what do you want from me?).
10 years ago I would get in trouble by my mom for always leaving my hair down because it was a mess.
10 years ago I lived with my parents.
10 years ago I was very, very quiet.
10 years ago I began my very first blog on OpenDiary.

Today, if I were able to talk to myself 10 years ago, I would give the following advice.

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whatever. i could totally take franny in a fight.

January 11, 2010

I FIGURED IT OUT!

I believe I have pinpointed the source of my frustation over these past few months.  I have had a lot of trouble accepting my life as it currently stands, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t like the direction my life was going, the career choice I have made, or relationships with people around me.  But last night, during one of those “Hey babe, are you still awake?” conversations, the reason was unearthed. 

I need some competition in my life.  And I probably need to win.

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