Advice and how to give it

Have you ever had a friend who you thought made a huge mistake?  Like massive?

I'm not talking about a bad haircut that makes your sophomore picture horrible.  I'm talking life-changing, marrying the wrong man, making a move that should not be made.

I have a friend who moved to Europe the summer after we graduated - she had lived in this city before and was desperate to get back.  So after graduation, she got in touch with her old boss and took a job teaching.  The first year was okay, but my friend did not have any education experience.  She was not an education major in school, she hadn't really taught any classes before, she basically went into this job blindly.  The first semester went fine, but the second one apparently went horrible, so after the school year started, she decided to give her two weeks notice and move back to the States.

That, I think, was the big mistake.

I can understand wanting to leave the job - she had basically been told that no one in the upper managerment cared about her problems, so she should just shut up.  To anyone in the building.

But to leave the county, especially when she was so desperate to get back there?  Find another job - pinch and save and stay there as long as you can because you loved that place. 

I don't know how to approach her about it, but it's probably too late because she's been back in the States for about a week now.  Complaining.

Complaining about living on her parents' couch.

Complaining about not having a car.

Complaining about not having a job.

Complaining about being home.

Still complaining about this old job.

I love this girl.  I do.  I know it sounds like I'm her frenemy, but I'm not really.  I just don't know how to handle her sometimes.

Any suggestions?

Re-centering

I try to follow different blogs.  I have a few cooking ones I enjoy and I have two friends from school that are travelling on Semester at Sea this semester, so I'm keeping up with them (shout out to F and J - still on my shit list J ;-) ).  I also follow one by this guy named Chad Bauman, who is the Director of Communications at Arena Stage about Arts Marketing.  Because that's what I want to do.  Arts and marketing.  And sometimes I forget that. 

Since I've moved to this city, I've worked on three shows - well, really two and a half.  I jumped into my first show two weeks before the show actually went up.  Their stage manager had quit and C, who was the costume designer, was going to have me dress it anyway, so then she volunteered me to be the stage manager when they needed me.  No big deal; it was a crash course in reading music, Italian, and Puccini (I was a theatre major and she is totally into opera.  By like totally, I mean she wants to be the next Maria Callas [whoever that is] and I'm more Idina Menzal). 

Then I went back to the company and did The Marriage of Figaro for them, which I had kind of talked about before.  But here's the thing: it wasn't fun for me towards the end.  Between three people (the adorable assistant director M and my fabulous assistant, K) we were doing pretty much the work of 15 people.  On a huge show.  At some point during this production, each of us had a meltdown.  Mine happened multiple times, and thankfully, M was there each time to hand me a tissue, help me off the floor, give me a hug, and smack my ass on the way back to work (the last part is figurative, but you get the point).  Those two girls made doing the show worthwhile, but only to an extent. 

Chad makes an excellent point in his last post about re-centering yourself and realizing why you're doing what you're doing.  And that's honestly what I had to sit and do.  Why was I spending all this time and energy and stressing myself out for this one production?  But it wasn't for that one production, it was so I can have the experience and I can look at another company who will make my time worthwhile and say "I've totally got this and here's why." 

I love theatre.  I love seeing it come together over 3 months or 3 weeks.  Hell, I've seen some really great shows come together in 24 hours (no lie, it was about explosive diarrhea and it was HILARIOUS. That's right - that show deserves bold face, italics, and underlines).  And I remember having so much fun being part of the Three Witches in Macbeth (can I type that, does it still cause bad luck, do I have to turn around counter clockwise three times, spit over my left shoulder, and swear now?) and having a blast with my girls because we were the Dream Girls of Scotland.  At least that's what we considered ourselves.  I also love knowing that when I'm the stage manager, I rule this shit.  That it's my responsibility to make sure it goes up without a hitch.  To some people, that may be terrifying, but I've been told by many people that I'm fucking good stage manager (sorry, that was actually a direct quote by my best friend).  And I love that. 

So, Chad, thank you for help to remind me of why I do what I do.  To quote a family friend, some are for the meal and some are for the reel.  And most nights, especially when I'm at rehearsal, they're for the reel.

Tonight, I'm going to talk about books.  Specifically hard cover versus soft cover.  And here's how this popped into my head.

Last night, I finished Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen.  I love a good Sarah Dessen book.  I'm 22, but give me a good YA book and I'm happy.  She's such a beach-read kind of author.  But I digress.  Because I purchased the books mere months after it was published, I have it in hard-back.  Not many of my books are in hard-back.  I'm a read first, purchase later (except for Harry Potter #6 and #7, but really by that point, you kind of knew...) kind of girl.  Which means that the majority of the time, my books are in soft-back, which I prefer and here's why.

I can sometimes get distracted quite easily.  My hair looks pretty.  I haven't checked up on this website in a while.  A door slams outside.  I think my phone makes a noise.  Anything, really, unless I'm deeply immersed in something.  I can also get distracted by the rat-a-tat-tatting that my fingers make on hard-back books.  Not cool.  Who wants to get distracted by their own fingers?  Stop, don't answer that, I'm trying to keep it clean here kiddos.

This may sound a little strange (but this is me, so really, you should expect it...) but, to me, hard-back books just seem more aloof.  You can't roll their cover around to make them a bit easier to hold, you can't play with their corners very well, they don't mold to your back like a soft-back does.  Plus, they kind of remind me of textbooks and while I love school, when I'm reading for pleasure, I'm reading for pleasure.  Books are supposed to be your friend and be intimate with you and know your deepest thoughts and touch places you normally don't think about it.  Hard backs just don't do it for me.

Now a soft back book can grow with you. 

This is Anne.  Some of you may already know Anne, but not like I know Anne.  I was first introduced to Anne when I was 8 years old by my aunt.  She came wrapped to me in Snow White paper, all nicely boxed up with her 7 other stories (well, really only five others were hers, but you know...).  However, Anne and I didn't really mesh until I was about 10 and then, oh, how we meshed.  Anne because my best friend.  You can see a bit how Anne has been treated by me, but oh, it's been a lovely time.  Her cover has been taped back on not just once, but twice.  The box that once so neatly bound her and her other stories together disappeared about the time I turned 12.  Anne has been many places with me.  Many trips to my dad's over weekends.  Many different summer camps, both the stay away and day type.  She has also been to London.  That's right, I've taken Anne overseas with me.  The first book I purchase when I eventually get some type of e-reader - that's right, Anne of Green Gables.  Because Anne has grown with me over the years.  And she is a soft back.

Other books that have grown with me and are soft backs:

- all my Shakespeare's.  Now, I have quite a few (I was a theatre major), but those few are all well loved and have been marked up with monologues and notes to their little play hearts content.

- Harry Potter.  Now Harry Potter holds a special place in my heart because in reality, Rowling got me at just the right time.  I first read Harry when I was 11 or 12.  I literally grew up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  I believe that Ron was my first real book-crush that has lasted through the ages.  And by through the ages, I mean, I still fight people for him.  I mentioned that the last two I have in hard-back and sometimes I wish I didn't.  However, I'm glad I got them when I did (meaning, the day they were release, or in #7's case, I was the first one out of Borders with it :-D).  But to me, it's a little harder to love the last ones as much because it's harder to see the love, so to speak.  You can't see where I've broken the spine a little bit from opening it one-handed while eating lunch or breakfast or dinner.  You can't see where the cover accidentally got folded up by one of my textbooks while it was smashed into my backpack.  In other words, you can't really see all the places it's been with me because it doesn't tear as well.

In the end, however, I try to love my books all equally.  However, like I'm sure any dotting grandparent or aunt or uncle does, I have my favorites and they tend to fall into the same category...

I'm not ignoring you, I promise.  But suddenly, there's this guy named Figaro who has appeared to take over my life.  Not that I'm really complaining, because he's a nice guy and all, but I miss my other guys.  Like Alexender Belov (if you can figure out who that is, you are my new best friend.)

But, guys, I came down with a mean case of the Mean Reds Tuesday afternoon.  It was bad.  I cried in semi-public.  By semi-public, I mean, someone could've walked in on me, but didn't (whoo - wipe the sweat of my brow) - I don't like to be seen crying - I'll admit that.  It bothers me.  I couldn't even tell you why I was crying.  And it wasn't really crying, just that choking sobs, with the occasional tear.

But then something wonderful happened.  I went grocery shopping at Aldi's.  And, unfortunately, the quarter I typically keep in my car for shopping trips to Aldi's had been spent on a semi-spontaneous trip to Sushi Boat down on Oakland Avenue (if you haven't been there, go.  Love their Philly rolls.  Actually, I love anyone's Philly rolls - haven't met one I don't like.  But I digress..).  So I debate walking somewhere and getting change for the dollar in my purse or driving home for a quarter.  But then I decided to walk up to the women unload her buggy and ask if she had change.  And she just gave me the cart.  It's a quarter, but still, it's a really generous thing, in my opinion, to do.  You go to Giant Eagle and over the cart to someone and they look at you like you have a disease.  Multiple times at Aldi's, this has happened to me. 

But I decided to pay it forward.  When I was checking out, I was unloading and a lady steps behind me.  She has two items; I have 20.  I let her in front of me and she says, "Oh, thank you.  I've had such a bad day; thank you for the gesture," or something to that affect.

And I could totally relate.  If that nice lady hadn't given me her buggy in the parking lot, I'd probably still be here in my living grumbling about having to sew these damn capes because it's kind of frustrating working with the material.  But I'm okay with it for now (because after all, how can working with any kind of fabric after 9p be anything BUT frustrating).

But for now, I'm going to go visit with Mr. Belov for a while and then fall asleep. 

And as Anne always says, "Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes.  Isn't that a nice thought Marilla?"

I have had quite the weekend.  No lie.

Friday night, I went to see Jekyll and Hyde downtown.  Both C and I agree it was one of the best shows we've seen.  If you can see this show live, do it, but I don't know that it will compare with the one I saw.  It was incredible, amazing, insanely good, and any other word that the Thesaurus has to go with incredible.

However, getting there was a trip.  Literally.  I got a flat tire.  No big deal, I've done that before.  I'm an old pro at it - I know to have my emergency brake on when the mechanics get there so they don't get their hand flattened by my gas guzzling Jose (that's right, my car's name is Jose Durango.  My mom named him.  I was originally going to him Connie, but Jose's a boy, not a girl.).  I know that there's no reason to panic - it's a flat tire.  However, when the mechanic pulls out the object that flattened your tire and says, "Holy crap - let me get my phone so I can take a picture of that," it's a weird night.  No lie.  See for yourself on the left.

Saturday, early morning, I went to the flea market with some friends for The Marriage of Figaro props.  It took much longer then we thought, but it was so worth it.  We got so much cool stuff.  I then had to go on to a work event, where I ate more Eat n' Park mini cookies then I should have.  Then back on to my house for fifteen minutes before driving to my aunt's apartment (where I had already spent the previous night) for my younger brother's birthday dinner.  My little brother turned 21 yesterday - though he isn't quite so little.  We always joke that I'm the short one in the family.  And at 5'7", unfortunately, it's true.  Sad, but true.

I woke up for church this morning, exhausted.  I really didn't even make an effort to get ready.  But I'm glad I went.  I always feel a little bit more peaceful throughout the week when I go to church on Sunday.  I've gone two or three weeks without going and it just ruffles my feathers.  I like my church, I like that Sylvia and Jerry have taken me under their wings, always introducing me to people.  I joke that she's my sponsor, which isn't too far from the truth probably.

But now, I'm just slowly getting my energy back.  I will partake in a late afternoon shower, which in my opinion, are the best.  You feel like you're accomplishing something, but it's also a deliciously lazy, indulgent thing to do, taking a shower in the afternoon.  Or anytime later than you really would have.  Then I might scrapbook sometime this afternoon.  The last thing I scrapbooked was my trip to London in May of 2009 - I'm so behind.  Or I might finish taping up the cuts for Figaro.  Or I might just decide to curl up in my reading corner and read a book. 

How was your weekend?

This is a non-ramble post...

Okay, this may offend some of you and if it does, well, too bad.

There was an article on CNN's Belief Blog today that I whole-heartily, 100% agree with.  Here it is.

I am pro-choice.  I firmly believe that nobody has the right to tell me what to do with my body.  There was a Minnesota (I think) senator who made a speech about gay marriage where he said something to the effect of "I'm Jewish and I don't eat certain things.  But I'm not going to turn to someone who's not Jewish and say because my religion mandates that I eat this way, you have to eat this way too.  Even though you aren't Jewish."  It may have been a speech about gay marriage, but it applies to so many other things in our world today.

I am also very pro-adoption. 1) I think it's a very eco-friendly thing to do.  Think of all the diapers you've saved yourself by not having a baby.  Of course, you'll spend twice as much, if not more, in adoption fees, but you've saved the production of diapers.  2) My youngest siblings are adopted.  They will be here five years (!!!!) this summer and it amazes me how well they've adapted (they weren't babies; he was 9, she was 7) to everything.  I can still vividly recall meeting them the first time at the amusement park in my hometown and my younger sister just clinging to me the entire time.  They were the oldest in their family, but they have quickly learned how much fun (and profitable) it can be to have older siblings.

I've also seen the issues that come along with adoption and I will not hide them from people who ask me about them.  My brother has some very serious issues that deal with living in an orphanage.  This is partly why I am pro-choice.  I've always been pro-choice, I've always felt it was my body, but now I also see it as a way to prevent a child from feeling unwanted, unloved, and generally feeling like they don't belong anywhere.  That is something I wouldn't wish on anyone.  I look around at all the pictures I have of my younger brother and sister and I am so thankful that they are in my life - I would have a  naked refrigarator if it weren't for my little sister.  But there are children out there who aren't as lucky as my siblings are. 

I also don't understand the need some people have, when discussing adoption, to claim that they want "their own child."  To me, that just doesn't make sense.  How often do teenage girls claim that this person is their "sister," when they have no blood relation to each other?  How is adopting a child really any different?  You find a child and you fall in love with them.  You bring them into your home and they become yours.  It's the same with best friends.  You meet them, fall in love with them, and suddenly they're yours and it's like you've never been without them.

I think more people need to really examine how they feel about it - are you really willing to let even just one child sit in a room and feel unloved because you want a child that's "from your body." 

I feel like I haven't properly explained myself and it's turned into one big ramble fest anyways, but I also feel like I've made my point.  Adopting is just as important an issue as any other in family matters and needs to be discussed.  By everyone.

This blog will have rambles.  They may not make much sense. 

One day they may be about the amazing Chocolate Peanut Butter Pretzel Brownies that are sitting on my stove, cooling.  (Recipe courtesy of Joy the Baker.  Gotta give credit where credit is due.  She's great - hilarious really.  You should meet her.)  But seriously, I may have to dig into those before the 30 minutes I'm supposed to wait.

The next day (or the next paragraph as the case may be) may be about the book I'm currently busting my way through (Juliet by Anne Fortier - currently receiving 2 stars and 4 stars - more about that later)

Some things about me:

I like to swear, but I promise to try and keep it to a minimum here.  Now that I have a big-girl job, I've been self-editing myself in the dire hopes of not swearing in front of my big-girl job boss.

I love musical theatre and I'm starting to like opera.  I blame my friend C.  She pulled me into one she was working on and now I'm stuck.  I almost thought of looking up the original cast recording of The Marriage of Figaro, but then I realized that unless I pulled an H.G. Wells (The Time Machine.  Look it up.  Or not.  2 1/2 stars in my opinion.  But Goodreads doesn't let you give half stars - poo on that), I wouldn't be able to do that.

I set up a reading corner in my apartment yesterday with above mentioned friend, C.  I've included a picture for you.  That fancy print of London I got at Ross Dress for Less.  Get one for yourself.  Or get one of a place you want to go and use it as inspiration to turn that account that you've only saved $4.01 to go visit a friend into something that could actually pay for a plane ticket.  I will.

You will learn about my friend C a lot.  She's my best friend.  I'm hers (I hope - we haven't had that 3rd grade conversation about best friends yet.  But we did have a sleepover Friday night that included sushi and Harry Potter.  And then we spent three hours Saturday morning talking about boys in our pajamas before going shopping.  It was a good best friend day.).

So that's me for now.  I'm going to go back to Juliet, which I interrupted to make the most amazing smelling brownies and write this for you.

Introduce yourself.  Don't be a stranger.  I like new people.  They're fun and they make life interesting.

And as I always tell my friends - breathe.  It's good for your soul.