Yes, this happened:

Up For The Challenge

I've encountered many people in life who question & challenge everything they hear. I am NOT one of them. If you tell me a breaking news story, or an improbable fact, odds are I'm going to believe you. Some might consider it naïve, but I prefer to think of it as sort of romantic, or fairytale-like. I think there's a charm about taking something for face value, instead of automatically discrediting it or feeling compelled to research it.

I was in a position last summer, though, to consider something I had taken for face value since I was young: Superstition. More specifically, walking under a ladder.

I was on my way to a Patriots game, and needed to stop at the atm. My beau pulled over nearby one and I intended to make a quick trip in and out. Propped up against the building that I needed to enter {between me and the door} was a ladder. Without even thinking, I skirted around the ladder and into the door to the bank. While withdrawing some cash though, it occurred to me: was I even superstitious anymore?

It was something I grew up knowing, yet had never challenged. And in fact, I hadn't ever considered it in years. I resolved that on my way back out, I would walk under the ladder, defiant of my young beliefs. I did so without casualty, and didn't suffer any notable bad luck.

It was a silly happening, but it made me wonder: What other beliefs have I been hanging on to?

Who, Me?

People with tattoos have always fascinated me. I feel like in order to do something so permanent, you have to really, really know yourself well. I think a part of my problem is that I could never make up my mind enough to get one. I seriously don't even like stickers for that fact that you have to choose where to put it, and stick {pun intended} to that decision. I had a whole collection of stickers when I was little that were still in the package.

I'm very much a people pleaser, so when I'm in a relationship with someone, it's like I lose a little bit of myself. I'm so focused on what they're doing and what they want, unless I'm with someone really disciplined, nobody is focusing on me.

I'm also a big believer in horoscopes. {I'll pause here for an eye roll...} I know some people don't even know their sign, and some people take it too far in the other direction and won't date certain people because of their sign. I lie somewhere between the extremes. I do check my horoscope daily, and feel encouraged when it aligns with my life at the moment. There was a time a few years back, where I felt so in tune with myself and everything around me. Every day my horoscope reading was accurate. My sign, Leo, is notorious for being able to sense what people around them want, and what will win them affection, attention, etc. For this reason, I'm very intuitive around people, especially those I'm close to, but I'm also in danger of forgoing what I want and losing myself.

I suppose it's a matter of finding the balance, but it makes me wonder why some people know themselves better than others. Does it come down to the way we are raised? Does having a boyfriend or girlfriend with a strong influence over us at a young age do it? Or is it something that just kind of thing that ebbs and flows over a lifetime?

Owl.

It's 10pm. I should go brush my teeth and start getting ready for bed. The whole reason I stayed in tonight was to get to sleep early. I've stayed up late / slept badly all week, and I need to stop feeling tired at work. I should go brush my teeth.

BUT

I just got slammed with a craving for Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Filled Pretzels. And if I'm going to indulge {which I am} then I need another half glass of wine to wash it down. And if I'm having wine, I'm not going to turn off my music just yet. And it's Thursday tomorrow anyway, almost the weekend.

This is why I have barely made a dent in the new book I'm trying to read, and why I have baggage eyes by the end of every week.

Sweetdreams.

And I'm Not Ashamed to Admit It.

Not only do I use Dryel at home for all my dry cleaning...

... I also cut the sheets in half so they last twice as long.

Namaste-Away

I recently started going to yoga. I wish I could say regularly, but 4 times in 2011 probably doesn't count. I wish I could say that I'm motivated to go every time, but it's actually because of a friend of mine dragging me that I've gone as much. As an exercise, I actually really do like yoga. I love its similarity to dance, all the stretching, and {let's face it} any exercise that requires me to lay on a mat is scoring major points with me!

The unfortunate thing about yoga, is that there are other people in the class doing yoga. At first I thought it would be a great opportunity to meet friends {because post-college is tough} but after a few classes, I don't think I have much in common with the die-hards. I also find a room full of people very distracting. The teachers stress the importance of being present and experiencing what's going on with your body instead of letting your mind chatter away. However when the guy behind you is panting, the girl in front of you keep nearly kicking your face, and there's a guy in the corner who just smells, it's hard to tune into yourself.

I took a different type of class yesterday, one which I had been really excited about trying. The class was clearly more serious and advanced about yoga than I am. I can keep up easily from all my dance training, I just don't have all the pose names memorized. There was a lot of ego in the class, which is annoying because that's generally the opposite of what yoga is supposed to be. And there was one incredibly distracting woman in the class who with every breath let out a moan.

Not a groan, a moan.

Don't get me wrong, yoga feels great. But it doesn't feel THAT good. And if you're seriously that close to orgasm with each new pose, you need desperately to get laid.

A Rant of Sorts

Dear Starbucks,

I love you, I mean how could I not? You meet all my needs – cappuccino for when I'm feeling {like impersonating a} European, decaf for when I'm feeling anxious, white mocha for when I need warming, iced caramel macchiato for my milky-sweet cravings, and peppermint mocha for my winter insulation {aka 5 pounds I gain every Christmas while this beverage is in season.}

Sure, I love South End type cafes and bakeries, but you're closer by and you do still have a community vibe that I dig. I tend to be “that guy” whose drink goes missing, but it's generally quickly & easily remedied. I do have one extreme pet peeve though, about your shop. And it's this:

When I ask for coffee cake, I want coffee cake. Do not ask me which kind of coffee cake I want. If I wanted blueberry coffee cake, I'd ask for blueberry. If I wanted reduced fat, I'd ask for reduced fat. If I ask for coffee cake period, give me classic coffee cake.

It's simple really, but I've had more altercations with a barista over this than I care to mention. It generally escalates into a shouting match until a “Classic” coffee cake is thrown carelessly into a ripped bag which is then slid across the counter along with a passive-agressive “have a nice day.” Then I leave feeling like an asshole, and I hate that because, I'm not.

So let's resolve this difference. From the way the question is usually stated, I have a feeling that I'm not the one who experiences this problem. It's not that I'm not willing to bend, I just don't think I have to. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, because let's face it – we know my kitchen cabinets hold little more than wine glasses.

xxoo

Amy

A Sweet Story

There's a cute old man who works at a parking lot that I always walk by on my way to work. He's usually the first person I talk to every morning, which may sound strange, but I think it's kind of neat. I don't even know his name.

I haven't seen him in a few days, but this morning when I was passing by, he quickly made his way over to me. He then gave a big smile and said, "I missed you Monday" and handed me a heart-shaped lollipop.

{The best part was that the wrapper was kind of tattered, as though he had been carrying it around in his pocket until he saw me again.}

What he doesn't realize, is that this piece of candy means so much more to me than a Valentine's Day treat. It's a measure of kindness a stranger can extend, and a reminder of the impact one seemingly unrelated life can have on another. Use it wisely, use it kindly.