Are You Better Off Now Than Before?

With this election season come and gone the question 'Are you better off now than you were 4 years ago?' has been thrown around a lot over the past few months.

My grandmother passed away last August and so for the first time in 4 years John and I packed up the Jetta and headed down to Cape Girardeau, MO. Of course the focus of these few days in Cape should have been on Grandma and the funeral, and they were, however the conversation among my conservative family inevitably turned to politics. The points mostly being on how Obama hates small business, religion, and puppies. It's as if Rush Limbaugh is speaking the Gospel and they cannot get enough. In fact, one of the first things my grandpa asked John and me, after not seeing or speaking to us in 4 years, was whether or not we were better off now than we were 4 years ago. John looked him straight in the eye and said 'yes'. And it couldn't be more true.

In the past 4 years, it seems as if nothing but great things have happened. John has been at his current company and moved positions, I have been at my current company and been promoted. We also got engaged, bought a home in Lakeview, made some of the best friends that we could ever ask for, and got married in a nice little ceremony on Oahu. We have really started to make a life for ourselves here in Chicago. Personally and somewhat superficially, my professional pursuits have rewarded me with a growing collection of Burberry coats (my weakness), a shoe collection that I can't seem to stop adding to, and the occasional shopping trips to Neiman Marcus and Anthropologie. Not to even mention that for the first time since we both started working professionally that we have had the opportunity to travel enough to use up all of our allotted paid vacation time in 2012, which I consider an accomplishment to strive for every year from here on out.

Of course the economy (and maybe a bit of luck) has had something to do with this success. However, the real catalyst that set this crazy journey in motion was Christmas 5 years ago. John and I dutifully headed down to Cape Girardeau to spend Christmas with my grandparents. Unfortunately, this Christmas was not merry. My mother, who I have no relationship with, and who I had not seen in 10 years at the point of this trip was having her annual bout of crazy. Aside from the usual asinine comments and behavior from my grandparents such as:

1. The only redeeming quality John has is that his family took him to a Methodist Church. - Grandpa (They went to a church for about 6 months to sing in the choir.)
2.  You are living in SIN! - Grandpa (Yep, we had a really cute apartment in Roscoe Village at the time.)
3. You really should wear more makeup, you are not naturally pretty. - Grandma (Whatever.)
4. You will never get anywhere in life whoring around. - Grandma - (Sure.)
5. After work, do you go back to your 'room'? - Grandma (Um, I don't live in a dorm, thanks Grandma!)

The icing on the cake of this already shitty holiday, my Grandpa took it upon himself to pull me aside, without John my boyfriend of 3 years at the time, to tell me that it was my duty and obligation as a member of the family to support my mother. I had to sit there and listen to how much my mother did for me, most of which was a fabrication on my grandfather's behalf. When I tried to remind him that my mother is someone who dumped me, at 15 years old, in Cape Girardeau, MO; emptied out my bank account, stole what little jewelry I had from my other Grandma so she could pawn it out of spite, and then disappeared. Literally, I came home from school one day she was just gone. Over dinner the night she took off, my grandma told me "You know, we really don't want you, but we feel keeping you here is the 'Christian thing to do'." But with all of that aside while commiserating my future duties with Grandpa, if I refused to take care of my mother it showed how 'ungrateful' for everything my grandparents ever did for me. Especially extending the 'kindness' to take me in.

With that conversation, I went into the living room without saying a word to my Grandma and told John that in no uncertain terms that it was time to leave. So we threw our things in the car, leaving whatever Christmas presents behind and not saying goodbye and drove home to Chicago and had our own Christmas. The next day when I checked my email I was not surprised to find a nasty-gram from my Grandpa telling me how disappointed in me he is and that I was indeed 'disowned' from the family. That was the last communication that I had with my Grandpa prior to my Grandma's funeral. And looking back on this situation, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. If it wasn't for that Christmas, I wouldn't have finally realized that my happiness and success in life is not dependent on anyone but myself and nothing is worth putting up with people who have the ability to make me that unhappy because life is too short to deal with that bullshit. So yes, in short, I am infinitely better off than I was 4 years ago. Or maybe ever for that matter.

Whoops! You're Judgmental.

A couple of months ago, I had a friend accuse me of being 'judgmental'. I thought about it for a minute and came to the realization that everyone is judgmental because we all have opinions. Whoops, sorry to be judgmental and voice my opinion. Forgive me!!

Well anyway, in retrospect, I guess I should have apologized for processing the sad-sack, pathetic stories she would spew and formulate an opinion from my natural thought process. Oh wait, no, I will never owe someone an apology for being myself and having an opinion. And in retrospect, I should have told her from the beginning, exactly what I was thinking as it would have saved me a lot of future headaches. But I digress...

After all, I listened to her opinion that at 27 she deserved an apartment in Chicago with an in-unit washer and dryer, 3 bedrooms, jet-spa bathtubs, granite counter tops, and stainless steel appliances because at her age she felt that she should have things like while only working a part-time receptionist job. When they were forced to leave this apartment because they could barley afford the rent with her husband working and when he lost his job they could no longer afford the rent at all. I listened to her complain about her mean landlord who probably just wanted them to sign a lease or get out, either way, the fact is that the guy has a property business to run and her problems were not his. Sorry!

But I never said that...

When she chose to stay in a part-time reception job that 'she loved'. I stayed quiet as her husband lost his job and watched both of them struggle to keep the expensive roof over her head that she was so deserving of. Even as she threw out her back requiring paramedics to arrive and an uninsured stay in the ER, I said nothing. I listened to her complain how the doctor screwed them over for charging her for making rounds and doing tests and how they were denied funds from a hospital charity program that pays bills for people who are needy. I kept my opinion to myself that those programs are for people who are actually needy, not for those people who simply choose to not to work.

But obviously, the hospital was just as 'judgmental' as I apparently am...

When her lifestyle could not be sustained any longer, I listened to her complain that she had to get a full-time receptionist job. And how hard it is to work full time, and keep her house clean, and play on facebook, and keep food in her mouth, and take the L to work. In fact working full time is so hard on her that she has to take a nap on her lunch break. Answering phones and filing mail is so strenuous that she must steal away in a VP's office and take a nap on the couch, and if that office is occupied by the VP doing his job then she must pull two office chairs together in an empty cube to rest after such a hard morning. Never mind that I work 40 plus hours a week, have a home to keep clean, and a dinner to put on the table. Just like everyone else. She just couldn't understand how on earth that life is possible.

And as she became more and more resentful of her husband for forcing her into full time work, I still just listened...

I guess I should have apologized for taking her out for Brunch and mani/pedi's for her Birthday. And when we went downtown to do some shopping afterward, I never should have bought the two pairs of Tory Burch shoes that I wanted because I liked them. She didn't like them and couldn't understand why I would want them or why I would want to spend $600 on shoes when she buys her clothes from consignment shops. I guess I should apologize for how I spend my discretionary income and hide it from people who may be offended, or daresay 'judgmental'. I guess I owe her an explanation for my financial successes. No wait, I don't. I work at a very demanding job, that is also a career. I will spend my money at Bloomingdale's however I see fit and still have money leftover to put in my savings accounts and 401k or else I wouldn't be shopping.

So Fuck You.

When she complained about being fat, I listened and stupidly tried to offer advice. Not to bring her down, but to legitimately try to help her. That was a mistake. After all, she is not fat because she eats too much. She is fat because she contracted parasites in Mexico 7 years ago. You see, if you snorkel in the Caribbean and accidentally swallow the sea water, you will start to uncontrollably gain weight. It will have nothing to do with in one evening eating a full value meal from McDonald's then spotting a Hardee's order a second value meal and hoovering it like an emaciated African child. When I gently offered the advice of maybe trying to record what you eat for a week because she insisted she 'doesn't eat very much', I was met with the retort 'WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!'. I should have responded with a profound 'fuck you' and ended our friendship there, however, I didn't. And that was a mistake. I know she doesn't realize that in restaurants she is the only person that eats her full deep fried meal and everyone always waited patiently while she ordered and finished dessert. But, I'm sure it's the parasites, not the White Castle, fountain sodas, Doritos, or anything else she forces down her gullet in a day that makes her obese.

Cancun Parasites.. totally legit. 

I listened to her complain about her friend who got knocked up by some hillbilly who was controlling her in some cult-type atmosphere. She was planning on a caravan up to Michigan with her husband to rescue this friend from the evil clutches of hillbilly-dome. As I listened to this story, I nodded, and made profound statements such as 'wow', 'that's too bad', and 'it's horrible she got herself in that situation'. Well, with that I was met with a 'It sounds like you are judging my friend' dig. Well, I guess I was. But truthfully, I couldn't give two fucks about this girl or her situation. I was just listening to my friend drone on to be polite. Whoops. Was I supposed to just not respond in this conversation at all? What was the right answer here?

I guess I will never know...

I am happy that this friendship ended. Because it was never a real friendship to begin with and life is too short to deal with high school level drama in my 30's. My only regret is that this girl wasn't kicked to the curb before I pulled my work strings to help that leech fly out to Hawaii for our wedding. Because, strangely, she only let on how many issues she had with me and my being 'judgmental' afterwards.

Coincidence?

I do take away some valuable lessons from this situation. From this moment forward, I will work on trusting my instincts because I have learned:

1. Sometimes your first reaction and opinion of someone is the most accurate.
2. If you know someone who is constantly, 'getting screwed over' by someone, something, some company, some anything. Then that is probably a good indication that this person is quicksand and you may soon be the person who they are telling everyone that 'screwed them over'.
3. I know who my real friends are and you shouldn't have to work that hard to get along with someone.
4. You never have to apologize for who you are or what/how you feel.
5. That being judgmental only means that you have an opinion that the person you are speaking to doesn't agree with. And there is no shame in that.

You may not realize it from this blog, but I actually do love to write. I swear.

It has recently dawned on me that my life has been lacking in a certain area for me to become the prolific writer I could be in my own mind. Quite frankly, what stops me is that I really just don't have anything to talk about. I'm happy and my life is great. And who in hell wants to sit in front of their computer and read about how great I think my life is? However, something has recently re-surfaced in my life over the past month that has attempted to penetrate my happier-than-thou bubble. An annoyance so distinct that it can only be one thing: Drama. My life had, until recently, been drama free for years. 

Over the past two months friction has surfaced between myself and a friend and my grandmother passed away. You know, until these unfortunate circumstances I didn't realize how truly lucky that I have been these past few years. And what I realize is in the aftermath is that I'm still lucky in spite of this all and each of these situations has taught me something about life that either I already knew and until recently chose to ignore or that people can still surprise me, no matter how much I think I know.

Now that the dust has begun to settle and I am processing the events of the past couple of months, I am finally articulating what I want a new chapter in my life to contain. I have a clearer view on what I will strive to stand for in my life, what I will fight for and what I will let go. In all of this I have realized the importance of letting go of things (even people) that in the grand scheme of life are really of no importance, especially when all they do is make you want to stab yourself in the face to avoid their stupidity. Life is too short to live it in a state of annoyance. My life should be lived on my own terms, with my own happiness, and I will never apologize for my life and what I have worked hard for to make it become something that I wanted it to be.

I still want to use this blog to tell the stories that made me who I am today and document who I will become. But bear with me, as I just recently remembered that I actually do have a story to tell. And if I do say so myself, it's a good one. But where do I begin and how? There is so much to tell and I want to tell it all. I guess that is what I need to figure out. Stay Tuned... 

  

Shortly after getting engaged three years ago, I decided that I was finally ready to take the leap with John and purchase a home of our own. Buying a home was something John had held in high regard for years and I had quite a different opinion. I was scared, quite frankly, because I had just begun working at a job where I actually made real money and could spend it on frivolous items like Burberry coats and Kate Spade handbags. I really wasn't looking forward to being house poor just to live someplace, that in my opinion, would be just like our current apartment with nicer appliances.

So, after that great trip to New York City I consented and we began house hunting. First off, we made a list of requirements (Lakeview/Lincoln Park area, vintage rehab, on premise washer and dryer, etc.) and items that we could live without (like in-unit washer and dryer, central heat and air, etc). Naturally there were some things that were more important to us as individuals as well which we chose to factor into our home search:

The items that were more important to me:
 1. I didn't want to be so house-poor that I couldn't enjoy the remainder of my 20's.
2. The house, under no circumstances, could be haunted.

The items that were more important to John:
1. It would be a good investment.
2. We would want to stay long-term.
3. The re-sale value would be high. 
4. It would be a good investment.
5. Good investment, blah blah blah....
6. Outdoor space for a grill.

So obviously, I left John to do the heavy lifting when it came to working out the financials and choosing a property that would be a 'good investment'. While I was more concerned with the aesthetics and finding something 'cute'. Within a couple of months of intensive searching we found a realtor along with many places we just didn't want. Some were far too small, the layouts were awkward, the building just seemed janky, etc.

Until one day, I found it online. The cutest condo ever.... EVER! In our price range, vintage rehab (built in 1904 and renovated in the 90's and again by the previous owners), close to the L, in Lakeview (an awesome block no less), good space, big back porch (grilling!), on site washers and dryers, and central heat and air (major bonus since most vintage buildings still have radiator and window units). Could it be more perfect? No? So in a rush John and I called our realtor to check this place out, and we fell in love. After a brief negotiation, in our car driving down to So-ILL to visit friends, we agreed on an offer and begun the process of buying our first home.

I have to admit, being a homeowner is a lot more rewarding than I thought it could be. I absolutely love our place. I love decorating, I love the flowers on my back porch, and I love making the place ours. Hell, I even tolerate going to Home Depot which is a place that used to send me into a hissy.

So what could spoil living in such a great, nay perfect, place? Condo Associations. Condo Associations are the bane of my sweet little buildings existence and in hindsight there are so many things that we would have watched out for "If Only We Had Known Better (TM)". It is absolutely ridiculous that my idiot neighbors can affect the worth of all the units. From having renters that destroy the common areas to a unit in foreclosure, can completely screw the environment of the building. I mega-loath Condo Associations, especially one, of which I serve as the Treasurer. 

There will be more ranting on this topic to come...

 

Okay Pandora. When I created a new station entitled 'Smashing Pumpkins Radio', I did not mean for it to be an open invitation to play every single shitty song from the late 90's in addition to Pearl Jam's "Rearview Mirror" greatest hits collection and Nirvana's MTV unplugged album. All. Day. Long.

Granted, the Pearl Jam and Nirvana, I am happy with. But, do you consider the Smashing Pumpkins to be similar to Sublime and Cake? Eagle-Eye Cherry? Really? Aren't you supposed to be choosing other songs on a 'Sounds Like' basis? I guess if I had to pick a band with 'similar' sound to the Pumpkins I couldn't really do it since they did have an eclectic sound. So, is your decision based solely on the 90's Alternative genre? In that case, then why the onslaught of 90's one-hit wonders? Hello Third Eye Blind!

Perhaps, you are trying to mock me Pandora? Are the mid-90's suddenly passe and we are currently only nostalgic for the 2000's? Or is it the 80's that are still cool? Are you saying my taste in music is that of some average 90's teenager who only liked Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and shitty songs that I could drive my beater car around my one-horse town trying to alleviate the boredom of my high school days? Well, if that is the case then you may be partially correct in that assessment. However, I also liked Aerosmith.   

Furthermore, the Pumpkins have an entire catalog of music beyond 1999. They came out with at least 2 maybe 3 albums that I cannot remember the names of, but they were released! On CD and maybe even iTunes at some point. And I'm sure somebody out there listened. I also read somewhere recently that the Pumpkin's are releasing a new album sometime soon. Where are the songs from that?! The article stated that Billy Corgan is now in his mid-40's and still cranking out the hits with his unique brand of teenage angst with a self-indulgent grown-up twist. No? Still not interested?

Then, fine. I give up and will go back to my Beatles Radio.

 

Day Drinking Diversions and Dangers

My weekend was an unusual one. Normally, I tend to keep myself pretty busy but this weekend I found myself with nothing to do so I was left to meander aimlessly around the city with no plans. And what happens to me when I find myself in situations of extreme boredom? I go bat-shit crazy.

Friday night, my husband and I on a whim invited some friends to go to Fish Bar down the street from our condo. Unfortunately, Fish Bar is pretty popular and since the idea was last minute we were not seated for a table until 9:30pm. Which, actually is fine for me since I am accustomed to eating later. However, for one friend, this wait time was not quite so acceptable and Polly Piss-Pants came out in force. Granted, my husband and I are the few in our crew with a regular 9 to 5 and most of my friends need to work early on Saturday and Sunday mornings. It also didn't help that we were told that the wait for a table would be 1 hour at the least so we wandered across the street to Vaughn's for a beer only, as we found out as we stumbled back to the restaurant, that our name was called, and passed, several times. But on a positive note, the Lobster Roll was still awesome.

After dinner, our friends departed back to Logan Square so they could get up to work in the morning and my husband and I were left to our devices and full stomachs. Naturally, he passed out within minutes of hitting the couch and I was left alone. And to while away the hours until I was finally tired, I broke into a bottle of wine, hung out on my back porch and googled randomly until 4am.

The next morning, i.e. 2:30pm, my husband wakes me up and bribes me with brunch. So I bolt out of bed and jump in the shower. I get dressed in record time, if I must say so. Either I was hungry, or I just really enjoy breakfast cocktails. Since it was truly a weekend without a plan, we discussed our normal brunch locations like Deleece or La Creperie, and finally settled on trying something new so we went to Kanela up on Clark St. A mixed green salad and two glasses of wine later, we were still discussing how to spend our day. A walk up to the Spice House in 90 degree heat? Continue day drinking? Go to the beach (and continue day drinking)? Since the possibilities seemed daunting and entirely endless, and all including some form of day drinking, I decided that the best way to kill some time would be to go up to Walgreen's and get my passport photo updated. Mind you, I'm wearing my favorite brunch outfit. A green strapless cotton sundress from J. Crew, some gold necklaces, giant Prada sunglasses, and my hair is in a top knot. Perfect for brunch. It turns out, not so perfect for a passport photo.

Buzzed, I wander into Walgreen's and make my way to the photo counter. I sit down for my picture and begin to wonder if a tube dress is the smartest ensemble to be wearing when I am having a picture taken from the shoulders up. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, and reasoning that my passport is really just for foreign countries, most of which have a more accepting stance on nudity anyway, to proceed with my picture. Pleased, that I actually got something done on a Saturday, we made our way home to spend the remaining afternoon on our back porch with another bottle of Charles Shaw Merlot and to send off the form and picture to have my last name on my passport updated.

Now today, as the weekend buzz is a couple days removed. That in a few weeks when I get my passport back. I WILL LOOK NAKED!! DAMNIT!!! 

 

Today having been an unusually slow Wednesday, I decided to actually take a lunch break today and walk up to State Street and do some window shopping. Normally when I make this trek I almost always end up at the Block 37 Anthropologie and come back to work ashamed of that fact that I probably spent more than I could have possibly made that day. But today, I went the other direction and decided to stop into Nordstrom Rack. I almost never dare to walk in there, if only for the simple fact that the first floor of the place always looks like a mob scene and the line is almost out the door. Personally, I don't really like department store shopping that much. I don't care what place it is from Neiman Marcus to Bloomingdale's to the real Nordstrom, I just feel like it is over-whelming and crowded. But today, it didn't seem so bad, so in I went, and all I can say is WOW! All of the great Nord's clothes like Free People, Juicy, Splendid, Theory.... it was ALL THERE! And the Jeans Department! J Brand, Seven's, Joe's, Citizen's, racks and racks of jeans! Wide legs, skinny, cropped, and shorts and in a size 26!!!

I could not believe my eyes. Why on earth have I not discovered this place before? Why at 31, is it the first time that I have ever moseyed in here to look around? Could this be the great discovery of the year? Last year, at 30, it was my real shoe size. Don't ask the details, but it turns out that I'm actually a size 7 and not a 7 1/2 like I previously thought and it has totally revolutionized my ability to walk in pumps and high strappy sandals. Is 31 the year that I finally realize that I can buy the same $180 pair of Citizen's at Nordstrom Rack for a mere $90? Why would regular Nordstrom even still exist? It's right up the street. Are people that excited to drop twice as much cash on the same pair of jeans? Nordstrom is a racket I tell you! Shop Nordstrom Rack!

And the savings makes the shopping bag walk-of-shame back to work so much less shameful...

I'm Back and Arguably Still Bitter...

It's been a long time since my last post. And I'm happy to say after several prodding messages from well-meaning friends... and my own self-deprecating pep talks, I am ready to re-commit myself and questionable talents back to blogging. Also, mere moments ago, I logged into this account for the first time in over a year and realized to my horror the absolute crap that I had previously posted. So, I've deleted the rushed and ill-thought out posts of the past year and am ready to start anew, with more rushed and hopefully more slightly well-thought posts.

Cheers!