My parents are away for the weekend, so my sister and I are "housesitting" -- if you can call it that when it's your own house. I'm currently sitting by the fire listening to Gregory Alan Isakov and Etta James on Pandora Radio (the first song that came on the station was "Sunday Kind of Love"...how fitting!) and enjoying the quiet of Sunday morning. Even though my apartment isn't in an aggressively urban part of Cambridge, the quiet is very different from the suburbs. There's always a garbage truck, cars honking, dogs barking, people walking by. In the boonies of Lexington, I'm surrounded by tall trees, empty streets, and the stillness of Sunday morning. It would be a perfect morning for a cup of tea, but I'm going to need a day or two sans tea.
For the March meeting of bookgroup, we went to a 3-D screening of Alice in Wonderland, followed by high tea at Upstairs on the Square, a fancy schmancy restaurant in Harvard Square. It is a pricey and indulgent afternoon, but the scrumptious treats and amusingly decadent and ostentatious decor are completely worth it. Just to set the scene for you, the chairs are awesomely gaudy gold with rich pink velvety cushions, the booths are zebra print with pink trim, the walls are pink and green. In short, you walk in and you feel like you've been transported to some thrillingly exotic and luxurious land.
Our books this month (yes, a two-fer! We're an ambitious bunch...) were Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol and Alice I Have Been by Melanie Benjamin. Benjamin's book is about the real Alice, Alice Liddell, who inspired Carroll's book. We take bookgroup and our books very seriously, so we all came dressed in theme complete with pearls. One member wore an utterly fabulous flowered pantsuit made with enough fabric to outfit an army, and on her head was a "topper," a miniature hat with a veil. Like this, but green with small spots and a lot more glamorous. Another member wore Wellies, a yellow raincoat, and brought a picnic basket to fit with the theme.
The five of us sat at a purple table and created our own centerpiece with a stack of about 8 or 10 different versions of Alice in Wonderland. For the first or second time in bookgroup history, we spent 95% of the time actually discussing the book (our average is more like 15%...). From the movie to Carroll's book to Benjamin's book, individually and as they related to each other, we had an overwhelming amount of material to cover.
Our three-tiered tray of savory and sweet treats arrived quickly, as did our personal pots of tea (I got rose-scented black tea). We slowly made our way through the savory treats, interrupting our discussion with "mmms" and "you have to try this one!": miniature cheese pastries, chicken salad sandwiches, caprese sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, date nut and cream cheese sandwiches, cheese tarts, and lox sandwiches. Eventually, the top two tiers were empty and we were ready to descend on the sweets. After some debate over how to divide the raspberry cupcakes and chocolate cupcakes, we plunged in.
I have to say that I'm a loyal chocolate girl and often scoff at fruity desserts, but shame on me! The miniature lemon tart had a creamy but light lemony filling, with a plump blueberry popped on top. Next, I had an eclaire, which came with just the right ratio of filling to pastry. Here, I took a break before diving into the remaining treats, and diligently sipped my tea. Over the course of the 2+ hours, I'm fairly certain that I consumed about 7 cups of tea, thus the need to be tea-free for a few days. Finally, I was ready for the mini vanilla cupcake with an elegant dollop of raspberry frosting. (Sidenote: I've realized that cupcakes are always pretty and photograph well, but they're just never quite as moist and satisfying as I wish they were.) The final two sweets made me swoon with pleasure, making everyone around me squirm with discomfort. There was a caramel turtle, filled with an unexpectedly coarse caramel paste. The texture was a little strange, but ultimately had more oomph than a normal caramel filling might have had. The last treat was an almond-infused chocolate cake/brownie. The almond flavor really packed a punch, and the cake's moist and dense consistency was right on the money. I'm going to have to track down some almond extract for my own baking...I think this may be the start of my Chocolate-Almond Baking Era.
I think that's enough food-talk. You can wipe the drool off your mouth and go track down some treat that will satisfy the craving you now have. More on our rockin' bookgroup later...
Happy Sunday!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Social Arithmetic
I blame it on the media. Thanks to our favorite TV shows and movies, we all think that our 20s will be nonstop Sunday brunch, happy hour drinks, and dinner parties with a cohesive group of friends. It's all lies.
If life were like "Friends," we would decide to get two apartments right across the hall from each other in a New York apartment building. None of us would need real jobs, and life would just be hunky dory all the time. Books/movies like "Bridget Jones" teach us that we'll have a friend family of 4 or 5 people, and we'll celebrate holidays together and meet up every night after work.
Let's get back to reality. The twenties are a rollercoaster that yanks us back and forth between feeling brilliantly on top of the world, and feeling completely and utterly alone. All of my friends -- whether they're engaged, single, living with friends, living alone -- seem to go through phases where they just feel heartwrenchingly depressed and confused about life. How is this possible? Most of us have a solid network of friends, a job that we love, and a pretty good (if not great) living situation. Really, we have nothing to complain about.
Never fear, we're human. We're pros at finding things to worry about and whine about. And I truly think a major part of it is that the media have misled us into thinking we'll have these close groups of friends. Except in rare situations, I don't know anyone who has that elusive cohesive friend group. Instead, most of us have strong one-on-one relationships with many friends who know one another as "the one I went to college with" or "the one I studied abroad with." Occasionally, when I feel wildly daring, I bring several friends together. It's a constant search for the perfect combination of friends that has the right dynamic, where no one overpowers anyone else, and everyone has enough in common that we can all contribute to conversations.
Since I think highly of Friend A and think highly of Friend B, then presumably, using a twisted version of the Transitive Property, Friend A should think highly of Friend B. The problem is that the mathematics involved in bringing together friends is a phenomenon straight out of the Phantom Tollbooth or Alice in Wonderland. Certain friends are never allowed in the same room together because the combination of their personalities might cause the northern hemisphere to implode. Other friends seem like the perfect combination in theory(music friend who I love, meet other music friend who I love), yet put them in a room together and you'll want to dropkick both of them. Rarely do you actually get to experience that magical moment when you feel like you've introduced a friend to The One (no, not The Romantic One, but The Platonic One) and you get so excited that you have a group of THREE for Sunday brunch from now on.
It would be so easy if someone would just write some theorems so I would know which friend combinations would make me want to shoot someone, and which would make me swell with pride at my ability to matchmake friends. I know my dream social mathematician is out there somewhere, so let me just give you an idea of what I'm looking for here:
Loud artsy friend + Loud artsy friend = 80% failure
Quiet, sweet friend + Loud artsy friend = 50% chance of awkwardness
Theatre friend + Theatre friend = 90% chance of instant excitement, with 80% chance of hostile arguing (same formula for intense music friends)
Old close friend + New close friend = 70% chance of awkwardness, followed by 80% chance of competition
Clearly, these are some sad statistics. Could someone find me some more uplifting numbers? Doctor the books, if you have to. Give a girl some hope!
I'm constantly searching for the perfect formula, and I'm not alone. No matter how fulfilling and supportive a one-on-one friendship is, sometimes you just need a friend family. The other night, I saw a photo on my roommate's bulletin board of 6 or 7 girls squished around a table, everyone in mid-laugh. Are these days gone?
These days, when I do gather a group of friends, I'm so distracted and worried about the group dynamics, I'm barely mentally present. Are we ever able to get back to those carefree group days? Now, there are always people who don't know each other, and someone's busy playing host and introducing everyone with conversation starters: "Madeleine, Laura works at a publishing company in NY and has her own jewelry business." My favorite nights were kitchen nights. We've all had them. You don't really have any set plans, so you have a few people over, and you end up just sitting at the kitchen table talking and laughing, and before you know it, it's too late to make it out to the bar before last call (note: in Boston, city of Puritans, this doesn't take much...1 am comes quickly).
Being the optimist I am, I'm pretty sure this will all get sorted out in our thirties, when we're not all in such drastically different places. Until then, if you have a friend family, please consider adopting me. I bake cookies.
If life were like "Friends," we would decide to get two apartments right across the hall from each other in a New York apartment building. None of us would need real jobs, and life would just be hunky dory all the time. Books/movies like "Bridget Jones" teach us that we'll have a friend family of 4 or 5 people, and we'll celebrate holidays together and meet up every night after work.
Let's get back to reality. The twenties are a rollercoaster that yanks us back and forth between feeling brilliantly on top of the world, and feeling completely and utterly alone. All of my friends -- whether they're engaged, single, living with friends, living alone -- seem to go through phases where they just feel heartwrenchingly depressed and confused about life. How is this possible? Most of us have a solid network of friends, a job that we love, and a pretty good (if not great) living situation. Really, we have nothing to complain about.
Never fear, we're human. We're pros at finding things to worry about and whine about. And I truly think a major part of it is that the media have misled us into thinking we'll have these close groups of friends. Except in rare situations, I don't know anyone who has that elusive cohesive friend group. Instead, most of us have strong one-on-one relationships with many friends who know one another as "the one I went to college with" or "the one I studied abroad with." Occasionally, when I feel wildly daring, I bring several friends together. It's a constant search for the perfect combination of friends that has the right dynamic, where no one overpowers anyone else, and everyone has enough in common that we can all contribute to conversations.
Since I think highly of Friend A and think highly of Friend B, then presumably, using a twisted version of the Transitive Property, Friend A should think highly of Friend B. The problem is that the mathematics involved in bringing together friends is a phenomenon straight out of the Phantom Tollbooth or Alice in Wonderland. Certain friends are never allowed in the same room together because the combination of their personalities might cause the northern hemisphere to implode. Other friends seem like the perfect combination in theory(music friend who I love, meet other music friend who I love), yet put them in a room together and you'll want to dropkick both of them. Rarely do you actually get to experience that magical moment when you feel like you've introduced a friend to The One (no, not The Romantic One, but The Platonic One) and you get so excited that you have a group of THREE for Sunday brunch from now on.
It would be so easy if someone would just write some theorems so I would know which friend combinations would make me want to shoot someone, and which would make me swell with pride at my ability to matchmake friends. I know my dream social mathematician is out there somewhere, so let me just give you an idea of what I'm looking for here:
Loud artsy friend + Loud artsy friend = 80% failure
Quiet, sweet friend + Loud artsy friend = 50% chance of awkwardness
Theatre friend + Theatre friend = 90% chance of instant excitement, with 80% chance of hostile arguing (same formula for intense music friends)
Old close friend + New close friend = 70% chance of awkwardness, followed by 80% chance of competition
Clearly, these are some sad statistics. Could someone find me some more uplifting numbers? Doctor the books, if you have to. Give a girl some hope!
I'm constantly searching for the perfect formula, and I'm not alone. No matter how fulfilling and supportive a one-on-one friendship is, sometimes you just need a friend family. The other night, I saw a photo on my roommate's bulletin board of 6 or 7 girls squished around a table, everyone in mid-laugh. Are these days gone?
These days, when I do gather a group of friends, I'm so distracted and worried about the group dynamics, I'm barely mentally present. Are we ever able to get back to those carefree group days? Now, there are always people who don't know each other, and someone's busy playing host and introducing everyone with conversation starters: "Madeleine, Laura works at a publishing company in NY and has her own jewelry business." My favorite nights were kitchen nights. We've all had them. You don't really have any set plans, so you have a few people over, and you end up just sitting at the kitchen table talking and laughing, and before you know it, it's too late to make it out to the bar before last call (note: in Boston, city of Puritans, this doesn't take much...1 am comes quickly).
Being the optimist I am, I'm pretty sure this will all get sorted out in our thirties, when we're not all in such drastically different places. Until then, if you have a friend family, please consider adopting me. I bake cookies.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sunday > Saturday
It's a beautiful, sunny Sunday evening, and I'm ready to write. My friend's birthday festivities kept me up until after 3 am last night, so my brain is a little addled. Consider that fair warning for what appears below.
This morning, my sister and I took a long leisurely stroll through the South End, down endless tree-lined streets with row after row of warm brick townhouses. We stopped in the Appleton Bakery & Cafe, a cozy spot with delicious bagels, muffins, including a chocolate chip / peanut butter treat that I might have to try on a return visit. The bakery has cool lime green walls, brick, and customers who casually chat with one another, giving the place a friendly, neighborhood-y vibe.
As we continued along on our adventure, we meandered through little parks filled with giggling children and passed the beautiful people sitting at small Parisian tables outside cafes. We stumbled upon a church that had a raucous choir singing the most soulful and rockin' melodies, and stood outside for a few minutes, captivated by their energy.
That's a Sunday for you, folks. No set schedule, exploring an unfamiliar neighborhood, and good company are the perfect recipe. I don't stress out about the coming week (mostly because I'm fortunate enough to have a job I love) and I don't worry about things I have to do. I'm happy to include friends who are of a similar mindset and who won't interrupt the Sunday peace with their own stress. Other friends can wait until Monday.
At this point, I think I'm ready to explain why it's a Sunday kind of life, and not a Saturday kind of life. think it's rooted in my childhood, when Saturdays were devoted to softball games, volleyball practices, Bar Mitzvahs, homework, and other activities that belong on a to-do list or a schedule. I felt like my Saturdays belonged to other people. Saturdays in my adult life are less stressful, but still include doing laundry, going grocery shopping, going to the gym, catching up with friends, and running errands. I've made an effort to get everything done on Saturday so I can really enjoy Sundays. They're my selfish days. There's nothing I "have" to do. I just let the day unfold and try my hardest not to make a schedule (coming from the most serious overscheduler, that's a big deal). Sundays are the one day a week when I can really recharge. I've already done everything I need to do to start the week, so I can just enjoy. Sometimes that means turning off my phone, unplugging my laptop, and having an alone day. Other Sundays are perfect for exploring new neighborhoods with a pal or two, scoping out new cafes, and lusting after clothes that cost more than my monthly rent.
It takes some practice to take that Sunday mindset and make it last throughout the week. It's small moments that make the biggest difference. After an exhausting day trip yesterday, my friend and I decided to treat ourselves to fresh fruit from Whole Foods. If you've ever bought produce at Shaw's, you can understand our utter elation at our feast. My nectarine made me swoon, and I still have a whole cantaloupe waiting in my fruit bowl. Moral of the story: Life is good. It's just a matter of appreciating the little things. It's about noticing the ornate antique door of an apartment, or enjoying the first real tomato of the summer.
Zest for life, people. Zest. I think I'm going to start peppering my sentences with the word zest because it just makes me feel...alive! (Okay, and completely dorky.) In college, one of my friends received an email from someone who closed her messages with the phrase "Have a lemon zesty day!" We endlessly made fun of the poor unsuspecting prospective freshman, but looking back, I think she unknowingly had a happier and healthier approach to life than the rest of usdid/do. So, lemon zest girl, props to you. Who knew that a 17 year old could be so very wise?
May you all have a lemon zesty day.
Okay, now that I've seen it in writing again, I'm remembering why we mocked it. I don't wish for any of you to be ridiculed, so I don't recommend closing your correspondence with that phrase, but I do think we could all use a little lemon zest.
Let's just take a moment to appreciate that it's still light out at 6:40. Heavenly.
This morning, my sister and I took a long leisurely stroll through the South End, down endless tree-lined streets with row after row of warm brick townhouses. We stopped in the Appleton Bakery & Cafe, a cozy spot with delicious bagels, muffins, including a chocolate chip / peanut butter treat that I might have to try on a return visit. The bakery has cool lime green walls, brick, and customers who casually chat with one another, giving the place a friendly, neighborhood-y vibe.
As we continued along on our adventure, we meandered through little parks filled with giggling children and passed the beautiful people sitting at small Parisian tables outside cafes. We stumbled upon a church that had a raucous choir singing the most soulful and rockin' melodies, and stood outside for a few minutes, captivated by their energy.
That's a Sunday for you, folks. No set schedule, exploring an unfamiliar neighborhood, and good company are the perfect recipe. I don't stress out about the coming week (mostly because I'm fortunate enough to have a job I love) and I don't worry about things I have to do. I'm happy to include friends who are of a similar mindset and who won't interrupt the Sunday peace with their own stress. Other friends can wait until Monday.
At this point, I think I'm ready to explain why it's a Sunday kind of life, and not a Saturday kind of life. think it's rooted in my childhood, when Saturdays were devoted to softball games, volleyball practices, Bar Mitzvahs, homework, and other activities that belong on a to-do list or a schedule. I felt like my Saturdays belonged to other people. Saturdays in my adult life are less stressful, but still include doing laundry, going grocery shopping, going to the gym, catching up with friends, and running errands. I've made an effort to get everything done on Saturday so I can really enjoy Sundays. They're my selfish days. There's nothing I "have" to do. I just let the day unfold and try my hardest not to make a schedule (coming from the most serious overscheduler, that's a big deal). Sundays are the one day a week when I can really recharge. I've already done everything I need to do to start the week, so I can just enjoy. Sometimes that means turning off my phone, unplugging my laptop, and having an alone day. Other Sundays are perfect for exploring new neighborhoods with a pal or two, scoping out new cafes, and lusting after clothes that cost more than my monthly rent.
It takes some practice to take that Sunday mindset and make it last throughout the week. It's small moments that make the biggest difference. After an exhausting day trip yesterday, my friend and I decided to treat ourselves to fresh fruit from Whole Foods. If you've ever bought produce at Shaw's, you can understand our utter elation at our feast. My nectarine made me swoon, and I still have a whole cantaloupe waiting in my fruit bowl. Moral of the story: Life is good. It's just a matter of appreciating the little things. It's about noticing the ornate antique door of an apartment, or enjoying the first real tomato of the summer.
Zest for life, people. Zest. I think I'm going to start peppering my sentences with the word zest because it just makes me feel...alive! (Okay, and completely dorky.) In college, one of my friends received an email from someone who closed her messages with the phrase "Have a lemon zesty day!" We endlessly made fun of the poor unsuspecting prospective freshman, but looking back, I think she unknowingly had a happier and healthier approach to life than the rest of usdid/do. So, lemon zest girl, props to you. Who knew that a 17 year old could be so very wise?
May you all have a lemon zesty day.
Okay, now that I've seen it in writing again, I'm remembering why we mocked it. I don't wish for any of you to be ridiculed, so I don't recommend closing your correspondence with that phrase, but I do think we could all use a little lemon zest.
Let's just take a moment to appreciate that it's still light out at 6:40. Heavenly.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Fortune cookie = genius
In my cleaning adventures today, I discovered this old fortune from a long-ago takeout meal:
"Learn to enjoy every minute of your life."
And the Learn Chinese word on the back? Spring!
And one of the lucky numbers? 33 (my favorite number is 3, so 33 is awesome)
I think it's a sign. This is going to be a good spring, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. You should, too. Now it's official.
"Learn to enjoy every minute of your life."
And the Learn Chinese word on the back? Spring!
And one of the lucky numbers? 33 (my favorite number is 3, so 33 is awesome)
I think it's a sign. This is going to be a good spring, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. You should, too. Now it's official.
The recovering overscheduler
I'm pretty sure whoever chooses the Reflection of the Day in the Boston Globe's G Section is a mind-reader. Last week, I stumbled upon one that was so in line with everything I've been thinking about lately.
"Happiness is the one thing in our lives others cannot bring." - Andre Acinan
In many ways, I think this quotation really says it all. You're responsible for your own happiness. You can't wait for other people to entertain you, and you can't rely on others to figure out what exactly you need at any given moment. It's all you. Even though I've only been living this more deliberate lifestyle for a week, I already feel so much more content and aware of what my mind and body need. It's a matter of taking control of your life.
Maybe it's just a natural part of being a twenty-something, but I often feel pressured to "live it up" and go out every night. I feel like a failure if I didn't go out to dinner, drinks, or music with friends. I'm not cut out for that life. Call me a grandma (as many of my friends do), but I really enjoy getting in bed at 10 and reading for a half hour, then getting my 8 hours of beauty rest. I like yard sales and antique stores, my bookgroup, gin & tonic, and I use anti-wrinkle cream. Staying out late every night and living an extravagant lifestyle simply isn't how I operate. The first part of being happier is figuring that out. That's easy enough. But then you have to actually follow through with that. I'm learning to develop the wherewithal to resist that pressure and to live a life that works for me.
For about a year after college, I was so enamored of my free time after work that I found myself perpetually overscheduled with social engagements. With no homework or club meetings, my time after work belonged to me, and I could spend it however I liked. I made sure I had plans with friends every single night, often double booking myself. Dinner with Friend A, then a concert with Friend B. After almost a year of that, I started to become a little more aware of how much I missed my "me time." As I waited a few minutes for a friend in a coffee shop, I would breathe a sigh of relief that she was running a few minutes late and I finally had five minutes to myself. That should have set something off in my head, but it took another couple months before I actually started addressing the problem. I was so caught up in doing, doing, doing, that I wasn't getting to enjoy any of it. Life shouldn't feel like a marathon, where you just keep chugging along uphill and can't seem to reach that nice flat straightaway.
I made a few changes -- one night a week with a book or a good movie as company, and I reserved Sundays for relaxing. Over time, I stopped seeing those "reserved" days/nights as wasted time when I was missing out on something more exciting. No matter how much I love and depend on my friends and family, I need those quiet moments in my life. I'm still learning the word "no" and training myself to stop worrying about what fun I might be missing out on, but I've made some serious steps forward.
I'm incredibly fortunate to have a solid network of friends from high school, college, and post-college in the area, but it's forced me to do some thinking and make some hard decisions. As hard as it is, sometimes you have to loosen (or even) ties with certain friends. The emotional vacuums who suck me into their drama and enshroud everything in an impenetrable lens of negativity just have no place in my life. Sometimes it's tricky to decide whether a friend is an emotional vacuum or is just going through a rough patch. The latter group needs you most, and no matter how challenging and draining it is, you have to be there for them. These people are true friends and will reciprocate your support when you need it most. However, this former group just drags you down, and you need to ease them out of your life. That can be really tricky, because you probably care about them, share mutual friends, and have a long history together, but it's worth it in the long run. I know that sounds cold-hearted, but you only live once. I've weaned myself from a few of my toxic friendships and I feel like an anvil has been lifted off my back.
At the other extreme, there is the really, really, really good friend. These people don't come along very often, and you have to do everything you can to hold on to them. They make you want to be a better person. They challenge and inspire you. They're your biggest supporters. They make you laugh so hard you cry. I have a few of these friends who I'm so in sync with that I can include them in my "me time," and their presence is a restorative comfort. Three of my favorite friends have just moved away from Boston at the same time (including one whom everyone has affectionately dubbed my "LP" - my life partner), and I feel like a part of myself is missing. They keep me grounded and stable, they tell me the hard truth when no one else is brave enough to, and they make me smile, really smile. Call me a drama queen, but I feel like there is a big gaping hole in my life now. I've never had three such dear friends leave me at the same time. Over the next few months, I know I'll be grasping on to several Boston friends a little more tightly than usual. I'll also break out my usual coping mechanisms -- High Fidelity (book and movie), copious amounts of new music (live shows and albums...watch out, bank account!), and my sister.
I've enjoyed a lovely day of cleaning, reading, and new music. Ideally, I could have another 7 days of that combo (okay, minus the cleaning, although that lysol/swiffer smell is so fresh and rejuvenating! maybe the fumes are going to my head...), but I think I'm ready to jump into a new week.
Peace out, cubscouts.
"Happiness is the one thing in our lives others cannot bring." - Andre Acinan
In many ways, I think this quotation really says it all. You're responsible for your own happiness. You can't wait for other people to entertain you, and you can't rely on others to figure out what exactly you need at any given moment. It's all you. Even though I've only been living this more deliberate lifestyle for a week, I already feel so much more content and aware of what my mind and body need. It's a matter of taking control of your life.
Maybe it's just a natural part of being a twenty-something, but I often feel pressured to "live it up" and go out every night. I feel like a failure if I didn't go out to dinner, drinks, or music with friends. I'm not cut out for that life. Call me a grandma (as many of my friends do), but I really enjoy getting in bed at 10 and reading for a half hour, then getting my 8 hours of beauty rest. I like yard sales and antique stores, my bookgroup, gin & tonic, and I use anti-wrinkle cream. Staying out late every night and living an extravagant lifestyle simply isn't how I operate. The first part of being happier is figuring that out. That's easy enough. But then you have to actually follow through with that. I'm learning to develop the wherewithal to resist that pressure and to live a life that works for me.
For about a year after college, I was so enamored of my free time after work that I found myself perpetually overscheduled with social engagements. With no homework or club meetings, my time after work belonged to me, and I could spend it however I liked. I made sure I had plans with friends every single night, often double booking myself. Dinner with Friend A, then a concert with Friend B. After almost a year of that, I started to become a little more aware of how much I missed my "me time." As I waited a few minutes for a friend in a coffee shop, I would breathe a sigh of relief that she was running a few minutes late and I finally had five minutes to myself. That should have set something off in my head, but it took another couple months before I actually started addressing the problem. I was so caught up in doing, doing, doing, that I wasn't getting to enjoy any of it. Life shouldn't feel like a marathon, where you just keep chugging along uphill and can't seem to reach that nice flat straightaway.
I made a few changes -- one night a week with a book or a good movie as company, and I reserved Sundays for relaxing. Over time, I stopped seeing those "reserved" days/nights as wasted time when I was missing out on something more exciting. No matter how much I love and depend on my friends and family, I need those quiet moments in my life. I'm still learning the word "no" and training myself to stop worrying about what fun I might be missing out on, but I've made some serious steps forward.
I'm incredibly fortunate to have a solid network of friends from high school, college, and post-college in the area, but it's forced me to do some thinking and make some hard decisions. As hard as it is, sometimes you have to loosen (or even) ties with certain friends. The emotional vacuums who suck me into their drama and enshroud everything in an impenetrable lens of negativity just have no place in my life. Sometimes it's tricky to decide whether a friend is an emotional vacuum or is just going through a rough patch. The latter group needs you most, and no matter how challenging and draining it is, you have to be there for them. These people are true friends and will reciprocate your support when you need it most. However, this former group just drags you down, and you need to ease them out of your life. That can be really tricky, because you probably care about them, share mutual friends, and have a long history together, but it's worth it in the long run. I know that sounds cold-hearted, but you only live once. I've weaned myself from a few of my toxic friendships and I feel like an anvil has been lifted off my back.
At the other extreme, there is the really, really, really good friend. These people don't come along very often, and you have to do everything you can to hold on to them. They make you want to be a better person. They challenge and inspire you. They're your biggest supporters. They make you laugh so hard you cry. I have a few of these friends who I'm so in sync with that I can include them in my "me time," and their presence is a restorative comfort. Three of my favorite friends have just moved away from Boston at the same time (including one whom everyone has affectionately dubbed my "LP" - my life partner), and I feel like a part of myself is missing. They keep me grounded and stable, they tell me the hard truth when no one else is brave enough to, and they make me smile, really smile. Call me a drama queen, but I feel like there is a big gaping hole in my life now. I've never had three such dear friends leave me at the same time. Over the next few months, I know I'll be grasping on to several Boston friends a little more tightly than usual. I'll also break out my usual coping mechanisms -- High Fidelity (book and movie), copious amounts of new music (live shows and albums...watch out, bank account!), and my sister.
I've enjoyed a lovely day of cleaning, reading, and new music. Ideally, I could have another 7 days of that combo (okay, minus the cleaning, although that lysol/swiffer smell is so fresh and rejuvenating! maybe the fumes are going to my head...), but I think I'm ready to jump into a new week.
Peace out, cubscouts.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
When I get my AARP card
I just got home after a relaxing evening at Toad, one of the coziest little music venues I've ever encountered. The crowd was mostly 50s and 60s couples, and they were having a rockin' time singing along to "Some Kind of Wonderful." My friend and I were impressed by these older folk's willingness to come out on a Wednesday evening and socialize like all-stars. They seemed like such joyful people that I find it hard to believe that their energy doesn't permeate the other parts of their lives. I know that's a snap judgment (albeit a positive one) to make after observing people for just a few hours, but if you had seen them, I just know you would agree with me. (Yes, I'm aware that that's another assumption...my fourth grade teacher would say that I've made an ass out of myself and you twice in just a few sentences.) I hope my life is as full of good friends and good music as theirs seem to be, when I am their age.
That got me to thinking about what really defines a good life. That's a little too deep and complicated for a late Wednesday night post, but I did conclude that I don't want my life to revolve around TV. I know work can be exhausting and sometimes all you want to do is curl up in front of reality TV or a cheesy sitcom. Here's something to think about, though: Have you ever felt really fulfilled by watching TV? Nope, I didn't think so.
I started thinking about how much TV I watch, and it disgusts me. It has become a main part of my evening routine with my roommates...we get home from work, pop on the TV, watch while we eat dinner, and then we sit in front of it in a dazed state until it's time for bed. (Most) TV doesn't inspire, or challenge, or stimulate me. Why, then, do I watch so much of it? Sure, I love Chuck, White Collar, Thirty Rock, and the Office as much as the next person. But I don't want them to be my primary post-work activity.
I've done an unintentional experiment with my roommates over the last few days. On Monday night, my roommate came home and enthusiastically announced that Law and Order SVU was on in just a few minutes. When I told her that I had decided not to watch TV that night, she was dismayed. Both of my roommates were a little taken aback by my shocking proclamation, but after the initial confusion, they decided not to watch any that night either. Instead, we ate dinner at the kitchen table (revolutionary!), had great conversations, and did some reading. By the end of the evening, I felt infinitely more restored and refreshed than I usually do after a night of zoning out in front of the TV.
So far this week, I've been sticking to my resolution to watch minimal TV, and I'm so much more relaxed. I'm going to keep to it as best I can over the next few months, but it will be tricky. Most of my friends automatically turn on the TV when they have friends over (apparently, conversation isn't sufficient). Anyone who doesn't watch TV is scorned and accused of being judgmental. I've garnered quite a nice little reputation for myself as being extremely judgmental, but I can honestly say that this decision is 100% judgment free. I feel better when I don't watch TV, and it's that simple. This is for me. If you unwind in front of the TV, then by all means, go ahead and pick up your remote.
I think I have my work cut out for me, but I'm going to do a lot more reading, conversing, and other good clean fun at night that doesn't involve anyone named the Situation or Ryan Seacrest. To all of you who are reverse judging me for judging your TV habits: I could never go without my beloved John Krasinski or Tina Fey. I'm not forgoing all TV; I'm just going to be a more intentional viewer. I'll be watching NBC on Thursday nights with everyone else. You can rest easy, now.
That got me to thinking about what really defines a good life. That's a little too deep and complicated for a late Wednesday night post, but I did conclude that I don't want my life to revolve around TV. I know work can be exhausting and sometimes all you want to do is curl up in front of reality TV or a cheesy sitcom. Here's something to think about, though: Have you ever felt really fulfilled by watching TV? Nope, I didn't think so.
I started thinking about how much TV I watch, and it disgusts me. It has become a main part of my evening routine with my roommates...we get home from work, pop on the TV, watch while we eat dinner, and then we sit in front of it in a dazed state until it's time for bed. (Most) TV doesn't inspire, or challenge, or stimulate me. Why, then, do I watch so much of it? Sure, I love Chuck, White Collar, Thirty Rock, and the Office as much as the next person. But I don't want them to be my primary post-work activity.
I've done an unintentional experiment with my roommates over the last few days. On Monday night, my roommate came home and enthusiastically announced that Law and Order SVU was on in just a few minutes. When I told her that I had decided not to watch TV that night, she was dismayed. Both of my roommates were a little taken aback by my shocking proclamation, but after the initial confusion, they decided not to watch any that night either. Instead, we ate dinner at the kitchen table (revolutionary!), had great conversations, and did some reading. By the end of the evening, I felt infinitely more restored and refreshed than I usually do after a night of zoning out in front of the TV.
So far this week, I've been sticking to my resolution to watch minimal TV, and I'm so much more relaxed. I'm going to keep to it as best I can over the next few months, but it will be tricky. Most of my friends automatically turn on the TV when they have friends over (apparently, conversation isn't sufficient). Anyone who doesn't watch TV is scorned and accused of being judgmental. I've garnered quite a nice little reputation for myself as being extremely judgmental, but I can honestly say that this decision is 100% judgment free. I feel better when I don't watch TV, and it's that simple. This is for me. If you unwind in front of the TV, then by all means, go ahead and pick up your remote.
I think I have my work cut out for me, but I'm going to do a lot more reading, conversing, and other good clean fun at night that doesn't involve anyone named the Situation or Ryan Seacrest. To all of you who are reverse judging me for judging your TV habits: I could never go without my beloved John Krasinski or Tina Fey. I'm not forgoing all TV; I'm just going to be a more intentional viewer. I'll be watching NBC on Thursday nights with everyone else. You can rest easy, now.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
A Sunday Kind of Life
I've been thinking about leading a Sunday kind of life for years. The seed was planted during the luxurious months I spent in London during the spring of 2007. I felt the call of the Sunday life again when I lived in a friend's condo by myself for three months. It's the kind of apartment that dreams are made of. The kind of euphoria-inducing apartment that fools you into thinking you can afford to throw cocktail parties every week, and makes you want to lie in bed soaking up the rays all day on the weekends. And then I had to move out, and my Sunday kind of life became a distant concept, something I would do again when I had time and money, achievable only in my dream 30-something life.
Ten months after leaving my friend's lovely condo, I am taking a careful look at my life. I was describing this concept of a Sunday kind of life to a friend the other day, and I noted that it's something that I would like to achieve in the next ten years. She asked me why I couldn't live this life now, and I couldn't think of a decent answer that wouldn't elicit a scoff from her. So here I am, determined to turn my 23 year old life into a lovely Sunday life. And you're here to hold me to it, to make sure I don't put it off for another year, five years, ten years. I've fortuitously (okay, intentionally) timed this so my plan kicks into action just as spring comes along. It's the most hopeful and idyllic season in Boston, the perfect setting for a Sunday kind of life.
Now, the only hitch in my plan is that I work for a nonprofit (which I adore) and don't have the time or bottomless trust fund to live the Sunday kind of life that I see in movies like "An Education." In real life, people have jobs and bills and responsibilities, but that shouldn't impede us from living our lives. I've decided that I can make this work with my 23 year old's limited resources and I will figure out how to feel indulged and content. It's a matter of small luxuries -- going to a fancy restaurant and getting an appetizer, or allowing myself to wander the floors of Anthropologie soaking up all the pretty things and taking away that pleasant feeling without actually spending a time.
Before I lose you completely, I suppose I should explain. What is this Sunday kind of life, you ask? It's a lovely life. It's really an attitude -- a certain joie de vivre -- more than anything tangible. Long city walks, interrupted by respites at scrumptious and cozy brunch places, lounging in the sunshine, record store perusal, and devouring novels about life in foreign countries or cooking. You know what I'm talking about. It's the kind of life and activities that simply make you say, "ahh" and inspire you to pepper your conversations with des mots de francais. It evokes the kind of emotion you feel while walking down the shores of la Seine, passing adorable families with children in berets, and listening to the crooning of a musician with his accordion.
The soundtrack looks something like this:
"An Education" film soundtrack
Preservation Hall Jazz Benefit Album
The Rat Pack
The National
Noah and the Whale
Sam Cooke
Otis Redding
If you're not sure where to begin, here's a quick fix: you can start by sipping an iced chai while sitting on a park bench, face uplifted toward the sun every few pages. Put on some jazz, and you'll begin to feel that irresistible urge to have a Sunday kind of life.
This idea of a Sunday kind of life is, of course, inspired by the song "A Sunday Kind of Love," which really epitomizes the whole concept. Of course, a Sunday kind of life is even more delectable if you have a Sunday kind of love to accompany it. I don't have the "love" part of it right now, but I have mastered the complementary aspect of it, learning to enjoy your own company. While friendships and love are requisite elements of this lifestyle,I've always thought it's important to value the time by yourself. I love meandering the streets of Cambridge by myself, or curling up with my bookgroup book and a ginger liqueur cocktail. This is a vital part of living a Sunday kind of life, because the whole concept is that you're living a lovely life. It's just for you. It's about allowing yourself to indulge in small luxuries and appreciating the beauty in everyday scenes. It's about knowing how and when to switch off all the technology (yes, I said it...turn off your phone, TV and computer!). I know that's terrifying, believe me. I was right there with you, freaking out, when Gmail was down a few months ago. But I find it much easier to get to that fulfilling state where I'm content when the technology is totally out of the picture. Just for the sake of complete honesty, my ipod is allowed to accompany me to my happy place, because it provides the jazz and quiet music as the soundtrack.
On that note, it's time for me to sign off and actually heed my own advice. Time to curl up with Alice in Wonderland (bookgroup, of course) and my ginger liqueur cocktail.
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