Welcome to Ye O 2011

I have to say that 2010 was a good, but hard year. The good kind of hard, the growing pains kind of hard, the wow I’m actually sleeping on the floor of my boyfriend’s sister’s living room for months at a time kind of hard. The acknowledgment of mistakes on my part and then everything that goes into fixing those mistakes kind of hard. And I am satisfied with that.

2011 is the year (I hope) for new beginnings. I’ve always liked the number 11, so symmetrical, and in some ways – because I’m all about anthropomorphizing things – a feminine number, graceful like a ballerina.

The Wedding will be this year (THIS year. I’m getting married THIS year), and with that comes other fun activities (bachelorette? honey moon? Yes yes). I’m hoping (fingers crossed) to start a new, better, broader, relevant career this year and with that comes a whole slew of new experiences (possibly a move? definitely a new apartment) and new challenges.

I’m planning on knocking off some Life List goals in the upcoming months. Grand Canyon? For sure. Tattoo? I hope so. Finding boots that fit me? God willing. It’s going to be an adventure, one that I need buddies for, cheer squads and devil’s advocates. I’m looking to you to keep me motivated (when I struggle at motivating myself), inspired (when I’m floundering), and surprised (because ya’ll have a knack for knocking my socks off).

So 2011! Let’s have some adventures. I have some plans, let’s see where they take me.

Little Purple Dress

Last year for Kamel’s company holiday party I wore my senior prom dress. Partly because the theme was “luxury cruise” and the dress fit the bill perfectly… and mostly because I had even LESS money than I have no and couldn’t afford anything new or snazzy. This year when I said outloud that I needed a cocktail dress for the party Kamel’s first response was “Don’t you already have something?” And then he got the look. The look that said shut up! This is my time to play dress up and you can’t take it away from me! Also, if by chance I would like to have a giant beer, there is nothing you can do to stop me.

I am a force to be reckoned with.

But – more about the party. This year the theme was Revel and celebrated the festivals of the world!

Oktoberfest was all about large beer, pretzels, mustard, and sausage. (My best friend, Claire, would have rolled around on the floor with pure JOY over this portion of the party.) Then there was Chinese New Year, some sort of mask ceremony from Africa, Carnival, Mariachis, and air games… but I’m not sure why.

Continue reading “Little Purple Dress”

2005 Lauren

I wanted to post an old blog post from a few years ago today, but I couldn’t find any that really tickled my fancy. So instead I found photos. My college roomate, Amy, (HI AMY!) and I playing in the snow in Illinois outside of our old apartment – probably my most favorite apartment to date, the last place I really felt like Yes. This is home.

Ohhh Illinois, you crazy crazy place. I still miss you.

Adventure-ing: Take More Fashion Risks

I am insanely guilty of being that guy who has a shit ton of “basics” and just rocks the t-shirt and tank top and jeans style 24/7. Get me into a work environment? Black/grey slacks, flats, white vneck under a snazzy Ann Taylor Loft Jacket. I like bright colors, and I know what fashion looks like, so I’m not a total boring dresser, but I often play it safe. Well I don’t FEEL safe on the inside! I feel like a renegade (a subtle renegade)! I feel like a dynamo! I feel like maybe I could own a few signature looks that people go “Ooo” and “wow!” when they see me. And in order to do that, I need to take more fashion risks. And last night, I took a baby step with Tights.

They were having a buy 2 for 20 bucks thing at The Gap. And I kind of needed some tights for a short dress I’m wearing to Kamel’s Holiday Party. I was thinking black. Because of course I was. But when I got to the tights area I saw patterns! and sparkles! and holy shit it’s the holidays let’s go big or go home!

Complete with bow shoes.

And then I reached for another black pair, this time with a herringbone pattern. See? I’m BRANCHING OUT. Except Kamel did not agree and he wanted me to get a matte purple pair. That kid is gaga for purple. I’m not such a fan… although most of my formal dresses in high school were purple, and the cocktail I just bought is a bright lavender-esque, go figure.

So I opted for the purple herringbone instead. Ba-Bam! A pattern AND a color. When will I wear these tights? I’m not sure. Probably with a dress? Because that’s how most tights are worn? Yes? I don’t think I can totally get down with the whole baggy shorts + tights thing because I think I’d look stupid. But maybe  a grey dress? or a black dress? or something?

The point is, I’m going there. I’m buying the purple, sparkly, herringbone tights. And buying them with purpose! And it’s up to you – faithful readers – to help me not forget about them in my sock drawer, to find outfits for them, and shoes (don’t forget about the shoes). I have a feeling this is just the fashion risk beginning.

Adventure-ing: Random Acts of Kindness

I’ve been trying to come up with fun projects that make other people happy and it’s hard! It’s hard because so often it requires me to have an excess in funds and/or time. Both things I am currently struggling with (did you KNOW that I have not even seen HP7 yet?! You should totally be appalled.). I actually was supposed to run through this project three weeks ago. But one thing lead to another, and I spent all weekend on the couch, leaking from my face, and kindness to strangers got put on the back burner. Thankfully it’s Thanksgiving week and I’m thinking some kind gestures go quite well will this time of year.

So Saturday afternoon I braved the downtown pre-holiday madness to stuff some lovely notes into ten of my favorite books. Two notes per title. I always got a kick out of the people who said they found postcards inside the post secret books they bought. I have two of those books but I always bought them off amazon, so I never got to partake. But now, there are 20 notes floating around a bookstore in San Francisco waiting to be discovered. I’ll never know who finds them, I’ll never know if they fall out or if someone from the store sees me on the security cameras and then runs behind me and takes them all out of the books, but I hope not! It’s just kind of fun to know that maybe I made somebody smile while they were reading Pride and Prejudice for their Junior Year english class and hating every minute of it.

I didn’t put my blog URL or even my name on the notes, just happy words and letting them know they were reading one of my favorites. But if you do happen to find one, let me know, cuz that would be kind of fabulous.

The list of books I folded notes into are:

Jane Eyre, Bronte
Oryx & Crake, Atwood
A Year of Magical Thinking, Didion (nonfiction)
Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neal Hurston
Pride and Prejudice, Austen
Tess of the D’Ubervilles, Hardy
Cat’s Eye, Atwood
The Time Travelers Wife, Niffenegger
Who Will Run The Frog Hospital, Moore
Blood, Tin, Straw, Olds (poetry)

Adventure-ing: Surf Lessons, Day 2

The second day of surfing started off with three advil and exhausted, puffy eyes. I woke up on Sunday and I cursed myself for signing up for the two day clinic. Even Kamel had lost his enthusiasm.

“Why did you do the two day again?” He asked.
“Because it was recommended…?” I said.
“Oh right, of course, because why would they recommend just going for one day when they could hook you for two…” His enthusiasm was obviously spent the day before.

I was definitely less apprehensive on Sunday. No jittery nerves, just a tiny bit of dread knowing I had to yank on a cold, damp wet suit again. But I was going to be in the salty surf! Riding the waves! And today was going to be so much better than day one. I was going to flex my muscle memory and rock the shit out of day two. I was ready.

And then when we got to the beach the weather was a little different. I noticed the waves where bigger, and more frequent, the skies were more grey, and the wind was a little stronger. It actually started to rain. Once I had my board and began pushing through the breakers, I realized it didn’t feel at all like the day before, it didn’t feel at all like how I thought it would.

I felt terrified.

Every time I saw a huge (huge being a matter of perspective as they were about 3-5 feet above my head and to non beginner surfers that’s a cake walk) wave come barreling toward me, I would brace myself to be absolutely swept away. It doesn’t help that I was holding onto a long piece of dense Styrofoam and trying to lift it above the break of the wave so it wouldn’t flip and send me flying backwards with it. Just trying to push out beyond the breakers to get to a point where I could time a wave, paddle forwards and attempt to stand, took me 20 minutes at least. Every time.

And then of course there was the time that I did get tossed by a wave, and pushed under the water, and my board flipped over and yanked my foot, and I had to try not to panic as the ocean turned me in circles and I paddled fiercely to the surface, choking on salt water, and reaching for the cord attached to my ankle to reel in my board so it wouldn’t get in any other surfer’s way. I stood up and expected people to clap, or ask if I was alright, but looking around nobody even noticed. And then I thought, I could straight up drown and no one would see me. Even with Kamel on the beach watching and taking pictures, I felt really alone.

The instructors spent a lot of time with me, trying to get me to consistently stand instead of go straight to my knees (instinct, I can’t help it). And when I confessed that I was really afraid, that the waves were scaring me, that today felt different, they told me to suck it up, mind over matter and all that. Really? You don’t think I’m trying that right now as another wave that just combined with another wave and another comes roaring towards me?

(is that not one of the saddest photos ever? oh the misery.)

And then an instructor set me up to take on another wave, and instead of gliding into shore, or trying to stand and then falling into the water, the wave crested funny and sucked me under immediately. I saw the water pulling the board down and me with it. And as I was sputtering, and trying to pull my self out of the water all while securing my board for the hundredth time, I couldn’t help but think, “fuck this. I’m sore, I have water in both my ears, I’m spitting up salt, and I’m tired of trying not to drown.”

You know what’s awesome about this experience? I actually did something that I’ve been wanting to do since I was a kid, and that I was surprisingly afraid of when the time came. That I stuck with it even when I was totally beat up, exhausted, and terrified, and that I stood on a surf board and felt the sensation of gliding on a wave.

I have to admit, I was disappointed to not be a natural born surfer. I’ve let my 12 year old self down a smidge. 25 year old Lauren is just not as cool as 12 year old Lauren had hoped. I’m also a little bummed to not absolutely LOVE something that I had on my life list, but I would never have known unless I tried, right? Adventures are a mixed bag, and without this one I wouldn’t know how awesome boogie boarding is. I think I’ll skip the whole need to stand up on a moving, floating, object, and just stick to riding the waves in warmer weather, and without the constant fear of drowning.

Adventure-ing: Surf Lessons, Day 1

A few weeks ago I thought “hey! why don’t I try and see if I can take surf lessons somewhere in the Bay Area?” huh, fancy that… and all this time I had it stuck in my head I couldn’t take surf lessons unless I was in Hawaii or something. And I live a few blocks from Ocean Beach… where there are surfer’s a plenty. What was I thinking? I think when it comes to my life list, I end up putting road blocks between me and some of the scarier or harder goals. I didn’t just make it “take surf lessons”, I created this whole scenario in which the surf lessons would happen – in warm water? on vacation? certainly not here. But I don’t want to just have a list! I want to live an adventurous life! And the list is just an avenue to that life.

A quick google search confirmed there were plenty of companies that gave surf lessons, and look! even one in Pacifica, just a 25 min drive from San Francisco, with reasonable rates, and an opening for the next weekend. Did I jump on it? I did not. I actually… sat on it. And twiddled my thumbs because it turns out that accomplishing big things (actually the FIRST big thing) from my life list is hard… and scary.

Suddenly I was faced with accomplishing something I have wanted to do since I was 12. In junior high I somehow got it stuck in my head that I wanted to go to surf camp. I blame the internet. I begggged my parents to send me to San Diego (I grew up in Seattle). The camp was for a week and was about $3,600. The answer was no. And it was the same answer I got the next year and the next year I asked to go. So now, as a grownup, I was actually capable of doing it. I was going to be taught how to surf. But what if it was really hard? What if I embarrassed myself? What if I didn’t wear the right thing? What if I was in a class full of 5 year olds and the instructors thought I was a total noob (hello, it’s a beginners class, I think that’s a pre-rec) and laughed at me? Surfing is only for cool people! Suddenly, I didn’t want to do it anymore.

But it was on my list. And so simple to complete. The idea of crossing something off eventually won out over my total anxiety-ridden neurosis. So I booked the closest weekend for a TWO day beginner’s surf clinic and the entire week before fretted over it. The whole night before my day 1 of surfing I had bad dreams, and then woke up at 6am and begged Kamel to not make me go. He was way, way, way more excited than I was. He’s an enthusiastic guy. And through his excitement I was coaxed into putting on my bathing suit, eating breakfast, and getting into the car.

And let me tell you… day 1 of surfing was really, really fucking hard. All morning I kept marveling at how similar surfing was to using a netty pot. The water shoots in, every thing else just kind of pours out. Salt water in my ears, my nose, my mouth, again and again and again.

See? Yeah, that’s me… eating it. Thankfully, Kamel was there on the beach with his zoom lens to capture the whole thing. He totally froze his ass off for 3 hours, while I was actually quite warm (via a thick wet suit) in the water.

Learning how to surf, is surprisingly hard work. I had muscles burning in my arms and back after that first day I never knew existed.

But even after all of my many, many wipe outs, I still couldn’t keep a huge goofy-ass grin off my face. Because surfing? Is really fun. Very salty, very tiring, but a total kick in the pants.

And when you stand up? When you finally lug your soaking wet, tired as fuck, body up and onto your board, it’s like I won an Academy Award or something.

This is a picture of the only time I really rode a wave for any substantial amount of time, and instead of paying attention to what I was doing, I took the opportunity to celebrate my victory. Plus, with surfing, I think you look equal parts ridiculous and awesome, so why not work it when you got it? When I got home from day 1 I was also equal parts thrilled to be going back for a second go, and totally worn out to the point of wanting to do nothing but sit, watch netflix and eat Doritos.

The happenings of day two …. tomorrow.

All Those Visitors

On Monday I had exactly 2,841 views on this here blog. About 2,741 of those views were from APW readers I had a flood (to me) of comments on both Monday and Tuesday, so if you’re wondering who those people were, they’re now my new, awesome friends.

On Tuesday I had a post up on APW, the first in a wedding planning series I’m doing over there, and I spent a huge chunk of my evening reading those comments and swelling, like a big red balloon, with so much joy and love and holy-shit-people-actually-enjoy-my-writing-ness, that I felt a little like I was floating. That, and I had to keep reminding myself to close my maw because, in the world of writing, you don’t get a lot of positive feedback. When you ask for feedback it’s mostly to tell you what you fucked up on and should change, immediately.

On Monday I was straight up overwhelmed with the number of visitors, with the increased followers on twitter, with all the comments, and then on Tuesday I was filled up to the brim with gratitude for all of those kind, finny, unique, gracious strangers. It’s taken me a few days to let it all soak in, and to gain a little perspective.

Since Tuesday my number have fallen back toward the place where my numbers were before Meg’s announcement and all of her benevolent linkage. The visits, though, are higher than they were before, so at least I have SOME retention.

The thing is, I’m a writer. Everyday I write, or think about what I’m going to write next. Sometimes it’s made up things, and sometimes it’s here, where I spill the beans about my daily life. And I don’t have a niche. I really don’t. I don’t cook, I shop like everybody else shops, I have a Life List but I wasn’t the first and I won’t be the last, and I write about wedding stuff because I’m getting married. And I definitely don’t write because I have all of the answers. If you’re here now and if you come back, it’s because I entertain you, I say things that you agree with, I show you parts of my life that you are curious about, I make you laugh, I (hopefully) make you think. I honestly don’t know if I will ever have the readership that APW has. But do I want it? Maybe. Having all of those readers and all of those comments was impressive and wonderful, but it also made me feel exposed. It raised the bar for the quality of writing here. Because, let’s be real, you all don’t stay for my looks. And that’s a good thing. I felt the challenge and I will meet it.

What I initially set out to say today, though this turned into something much large than I intended, was THANK YOU. Thank you for coming, and reading, and commenting. Even if you came just that once, thank you. Because you’ve pushed me to be better, write better, and entertain better – which really means living a more adventurous life. I really hope you stay to see the result.

Adventure-ing: Joan Didion

I have finally completed the second book, Where I Was From, in my “read all of Joan Didion” goal. And it was a lot like eating my broccoli. Good writing, smart writing, at times hard to chew and gag down. A small book (226 pages) took me… realistically… months to finish. But there is a good reason (many, many good reasons) why reading all of Didion is important to me. 1) she is, quite possibly, the number one biggest influence in my own writing. 2) she is a reader’s writer, a writer’s writer, the whole shebang. She uses amazing literary references to explore even her most personal and emotionally tragic moments (seen in Where I Was From and A Year Of Magical Thinking) and 3) she writes paragraphs like this:

Douglas had already, in 1993, moved part of its MD-80 production to Salt Lake City. Douglas had already moved part of what remained of its C-17 production to St. Louis. Douglas had already moved the T-45 to St. Louis.

(God, that’s so, so, so Didion)

It would be a while before I realized that “me” is what we think when our parents die, even at my age, who will look out for me now, who will remember me as I was, who will know what happens to me now, where will I be from.

Gagging down some of the dry non-fiction (for not all non-fiction is dry, my friends) was worth the gems I got out of this book, the moments of happy where I felt like I was visiting with an old friend, someone who I can exclaim “That is so you!” to, and the moments where she taught me, yet again, how to write a really fantastic sentence.

If you are from California, have any interest in the state’s social growth from it’s naming until now, any interest at all into reading theories on what makes California tick, I highly recommend it. I’ll always recommend Didion.

It’s Just Like Riding A…


No! A Bicycle!

It had been 11 years. ELEVEN YEARS since I had gotten on a bike. But we went on another weekend get away last weekend and the hotel we stayed at (Boon! You are amazing!) had free bikes for us to use for as long and whenever we wanted (as long as we were back before night fall as these did not have reflectors). On Saturday morning I donned my bicycle outfit:

The dress from our date night the night before (Dress had pockets, huge perk), sans decorative belt, and the addition of Kamel’s plaid shirt, rolled up sleeves and tied at the waist. I was ready.

The helmet made me feel goofy and accentuated my fat head.

But, you know, safety first.

In the beginning I was sure to come home with scraped knees, or at the least, having run into some sort of shrubbery. I also couldn’t completely touch the ground with my feet, and that freaked me out too. But by the end I was a speed demon! My poor little butt cheeks were nearly raw from over use and I had sufficient helmet head. It was a a success. Now I want to bicycle on all vacations, especially when cars are unnecessary and a general pain in the ass. I’m still afraid of traffic and cars and I’m a sweaty person so bicycling for my everyday (to work, etc) wouldn’t really work for me. But weekends? And for outdoorsy excursions? I think I’m in.