Day Seventy Four: Eyelashes

I have pretty eyelashes.

This is not actually something I can see myself, but I have been told several times that I have very pretty eyelashes. Because they are on my eyes and because I don’t really pay that much attention when I look in the mirror, I can neither confirm nor deny that my eyelashes are pretty.

But what I would like to say on this point is that sometimes I can be very bad at taking compliments. We all can. I don’t know why, but it seems to be habit for us that when someone says “You have nice eyelashes” for us to immediately backtrack and do the whole “Oh stop it” bullshit. Sometimes you just need to smile and nod and feel good about yourself because, damn it, you do have nice eyelashes!

It’s important to remember that we should love even the smallest things about ourselves. That’s why I have decided that I love my eyelashes, especially when Madison compliments me on them.

Challenge to my Readers:

Humility is nice, but honesty is better. When someone gives a compliment, smile, accept it and give them one back.

Day Seventy Three: Responsible (online)

I am responsible about what I post online.

Excluding the usual emo posts that every thirteen year old did when they first discovered the internet (thanks Gaiaonline) I’ve always tried very hard to be responsible about what I post on the internet, especially on Facebook. Weirdly, sometimes I see the crap other people post and I feel a twinge of pride knowing that I wouldn’t post that kind of crap.

This is kind of a sore spot for me lately because I work in the very public theater that is education. Yesterday I opened Aol News like I do every morning only to find that a high school I used to work at was in the news again. This time because a twenty three year old math teacher was getting reprimanded because she was posting stuff about her being high and drunk and other mildly inappropriate things. While she posted this stuff outside of school hours, the school still deemed it necessary for her to receive disciplinary action that might result in her firing.

This particular case is close to my heart because I have worked in this school and I know the kids that go there and I know the kind of crap that this school has been through in the past three years. This place has had scandals with the principle, the newspaper, gun violence, drug issues and poor testing problems. It’s time that someone gave this place a break so the kids can focus on their education, not on which one of their teachers is most likely to get fired next.

I know a lot of people are screaming that the woman did nothing wrong, and I agree that in a legal sense she was well within her rights to post whatever she felt like. However, outside the law is this little thing called common sense. If you are posting stuff about behaving inappropriately where young people can see you doing it, you have already dug your own grave. You shouldn’t have done that; you just shouldn’t have been so careless.

Everybody is guilty of posting stupid things. Like that kid who got caught by the cops because he posted to Facebook that he was driving drunk while he was doing it. I’m all for freedom of speech and that crap, but honestly, don’t post stuff that is going to get you in trouble and then act all surprised when exactly that happens. Don’t post about your gun collection in a society on high alert for gun violence. Don’t post about your drug/alcohol/sexual exploits where your family can see it. Don’t post inciting political and religious remarks with the sole intent of pissing people off and then act offended when people call you out.

The internet is no longer a sounding board for real life. It is a part of our daily life and if you do something stupid on it, I can promise you that everyone will know by morning. Also, if you post a majority of vague and depressing statuses, get ready to be unfriended (now a word in Websters) because, like I said at the beginning of this blog, I’m cutting the poison.

Challenge to my Readers:

Before you post anything ever again, stop, pause and think it over. Will your four year old appreciate your explicative riddled movie review of Latest Bad Movie? Will your parents love the fact that instead of studying this weekend you “were holed up at that A$$hole’s place, playing Mass Effect and eating Doritos?” Do you think I’m going to respond well when you insult my religion, my diet, my life style or my friends?

For our sake and for the sake of all that is humanity, don’t leave a trail of stupidity for our posterity to see.

Day Seventy Two: Writer (Part Duex)

I am starting to take this writing thing seriously.

Remember my graduate professor who told me that the only career I need to take seriously right now is my writing career? Well, I’m taking his words to heart and finally starting to treat this thing as more than just a hobby.

I’ve always been an avid writer, but the writing I really excelled at was doing school work. A lot of people out there are giving me the crazy stink eye right now, but I seriously work better with deadlines, pressure and grades. Okay, maybe not the grades, but the first two for sure. But the other thing I’ve realized is that I need to start diversifying my writing. I need to write more than just fiction and fantasy. I need to work on scholarly stuff too.

So my boyfriend and I came up with a schedule:

·         Every Monday I will present a proposal for a scholarly article. It will be finished by Friday and edited by Sunday.

·         Every Tuesday I will update my sci-fi serial on Reddit, Radioactive.

·         Every night I will do my daily blog.

·         And each week I need to write at least three pages in my novel, the sequel to Cornerstone Café.

It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it really is. Especially doing academic related writing without having any academic basis for it in the real world. This is like asking a high school kid to write a book report over the summer for funnsies.

But I am going to work my ass off until I am a respected writer.

Challenge to my Readers:

There is something in your life right now that you love and consider a hobby, but secretly wish was something you could spend all day doing. Start working on it seriously. Even if it seems silly, if you treat it with dedication it will flourish. Like my friend Amy, who once knit a pair of tiny socks every day for a year.

Day Seventy One: Healthy

I am trying to be healthy.

My roommate pointed something out to me the other day that really struck a chord with me. Madison, sweet and wonderful Madison, said “You know what’s good is that a doctor told you you’re sick and now you’re taking care of yourself and doing something about it. You’re being healthy” (Paraphrasing because Madison swears like a sailor and is sporadically interrupted by my puppy trying to kiss her to death.)

She is referring to my diagnosis of Crohn’s disease and my decision to take it seriously. Aside from the medication I’m on (which you will hear me bitch about endlessly) I am also now partaking in a mildly sadistic diet. 

When I tell people I’m starting a diet, they get that scared look in their eyes and I can see the word Anorexic? floating around their heads. Yes, I know that at the moment I am functionally a size zero. I am not happy about this. I have to maintain a weight for the medication to work and I am currently almost ten pounds underweight. This is because my body doesn’t process food and nutrients properly.

(Oh my god she’s complaining about being too skinny! How horrible for her! Hey, I have an easy way for you to lose fifteen pounds of useless fat.)

Thus the diet. It maximizes foods my body will be able to process for energy, muscle building and general health. It minimizes things that are hard for my body to process, decrease function and cause my stomach to be upset. Sadly, this means strictly limiting dairy, glutton and fructose. For those of you who don’t know me, I drink milk every day, I adore pasta and Coca-Cola is my main comfort food.

But like Madison said, I am trying to be healthy because I would rather like to keep my colon, thank you very much. I don’t like the idea of pooping into a bag attached to my hip for the rest of my life because I wanted to eat what I want. I haunt the forums for Crohn’s patients and I’m a little surprised at the number who are unwilling to let this disease change how they live. I am horrifically shocked at how many protest that they can still smoke after being diagnosed. While I’m all for people moving forward with their lives after this kind of diagnosis, that doesn’t mean anything if you’re eating, drinking and smoking yourself into an early grave.

I’m going to try really hard to be healthier to keep myself in good shape. Not because of vanity but because of necessity.

Challenge to my Readers:

Be healthy. Listen to your doctors. Go get a physical or a well-woman exam. Thanks to today’s medical technology, if we catch a disease early enough, we can cure it. Sitting on your ass saying “that happens to other people” will not help you.  

Day Seventy: Challenge

I like to challenge myself to learn new things.

Tonight I spent two hours learning how to fold origami fish out of dollar bills. My friend’s mom gave me some attached to a pretty scarf as a graduation present and I’ve been obsessed with teaching myself to make them. So far so good. I’ve actually managed to make a couple, although apparently I’m doing a completely different technique from the one my friend’s mom uses.

But I’m learning.

Teaching myself new skills is one of my greatest joys. Whether it’s cooking or drawing or a new cake decorating trick, I like to add them to my long list of random things that I know how to do. Need someone to rewire your house. I know how. Need someone to make balloon animals and do face painting for a children’s party. I’m your girl. (Actually, I hate children, so I might not be your girl.)

I like to learn and that doesn’t just extend to reading and languages. I like little things. Too often we see something cool and think to ourselves, “Hey, I’d like to be able to do that.” And then we never try.

I wanna try. And I want to keep trying.

Challenge to my Readers:

Find something small, anything, that you can learn today. Teach it to someone else. 

Day Sixty Nine: Dirty Jokes

I am the queen of dirty jokes.

I’m not even joking about this one (ha, get it?) I once won tickets to a comedy show for having the dirtiest joke in the state of Colorado. I’ve gone toe to toe with bar tenders, bull fighters and bag boys and come out on top when it comes to know the most and the most horrendous jokes.

It’s pretty bad.

The worst part? I learned them all in Catholic school. A lot of them, I picked up from the priests. I don’t know if they got them from the confession of the guys who write for South Park, but those Catholic priests know their raunchy comedy.

Supposedly, according to my mother, being able to make grown men blush with my humor is not something I should be proud of. But as a young woman, I’ve been taught all my life that the boys are supposed to know the bad jokes and I supposed to giggle and act offended. I’m really not offended at all. Yeah, some of these jokes are super inappropriate, but what fun is life if you take everything too seriously.

And I have offended people before with my humor, but that’s why they invented the phrase “my bad.”

Challenge to my Readers:

Google a dirty joke. Prepared to be disgusted. Commit it to memory. Whip it out the next time the audience is appropriate. Or inappropriate. Whatever suits your fancy. 

Day Sixty Eight: Crisis Management

I’m cool under pressure.

Okay, maybe not exactly cool. The last few days have been pretty rough with all the car issues we’re having. Because our apartment is cursed or maybe because I haven’t been to church since Christmas, but right now my roommates and I are living in one of those Murphy’s law situations.

Everything that can go wrong will go wrong.

And everything that will go wrong will go wrong in a spectacular fashion.

We’re currently down a car and my boyfriend and I have jobs practically on the opposite side of the state from each other. First world problem, I know. But the important thing, is that I was the one who got his crappy old car to the auto shop, and then got it back. But not without the incompetent friends of AAA.

When I called AAA this morning, I was told that they would be more than willing to pick up the Nissan and tow it back to our apartment because we couldn’t afford to fix it. They told me I had an hour to meet the tow truck at the shop. This worked out because that gave me an hour to go find my mother’s car and borrow it in order to meet the tow truck. Fifteen minutes later, while I’m in route to my mother’s office with my aggravating little puppy in hand, the tow truck driver calls me and tells me he’s at the shop and where am I? And when I tell him that I have an hour, he says that I should have been called and told twenty minutes.

I didn’t take that well. This was crisis, like, fifteen of the day, so I did the girl thing and cried on the phone until the tow driver decided to wait for me. When I finally reached the shop, he was a total asshole the whole time and behaved as though this were all my fault.

But, at the end of the day, he’s the sucker because the car is back where it belongs, towed for free by AAA and I’ve got what I want. Am I proud of the means I had to resort to in order to achieve it, not so much. But I got it done.

Challenge to my Readers:

Be assertive the next time a challenge arises. Use everything in your arsenal to get what you need and get the hell out. Then forget it ever happened, because you don’t need to dwell. 

Day Sixty Seven: Ingenuity

There are days when I am brilliantly ingenious.

Okay, maybe not whole days, but there are times when I’m pretty good at figuring out what I need to do and finding a simple way to do it. Traffic instructions and directions, not so much, as Taylor will tell you. Dog parks; I got that down.

Today, Ecco needed a place to run around. There isn’t a dog park within walking distance of my new apartment. Hell, there isn’t really one within driving distance without it taking a substantial amount of time to get there. However, there is a high end apartment complex across the road that has a little dog run. It isn’t much, it would be a place where I could let him off leash and feel safe about it.

Well, I don’t live in the high end apartment.  I live in the drastically cheaper place across the road. After scouting the perimeter (military family, remember) I discovered several holes between the fence and the landscaping. Yes, I had to lie on the ground and roll under the fence and then Ecco had to army crawl after me, but we got in.

I’m not too concerned about getting caught because I don’t think the tenants really care if I use the little doggy park. As long as I pick up the poop Ecco leaves behind, I think I’ll be okay. But the important thing is that I’m not scared to break a few rules to get what I need for someone I love. Ecco needs a safe place to play and I found him one. Did I have to trespass onto a property I neither rent nor own? Yes. Do I really care as long as my puppy is happy and safe? No.

Ingenious, simply ingenious.

Challenge to my Readers:

In life there is frequently the simple way, the hard way and the way you are not entirely sure is illegal. Assuming that what you need doesn’t require the commission of a federal crime, go ahead and try number three. Steal furniture from a dumpster. Walk up and down the aisles of Whole Foods snacking until you’re full. Jump the turnstile at the metro. 

Day Sixty Six: Stuffed Animals

I have a ton of stuffed animals and I love them

Most people would be a little embarrassed to admit this, but I have always loved stuffed animals. Especially sheep. I love my little collection of stuffed sheep.

When I was a kid, I had a lot of trouble sleeping. The only way I could fall asleep was in a little nest of stuffed toys and blankets. Growing up, whenever I felt uncomfortable, I took comfort sleeping with all my little animals. Even today I keep several around because they just make me feel better.

It might be silly, but I’ve had the same teddy bear since I was very small and I still sleep with him every night. Even though I’m an adult, that part of my childhood will always remain with me.

Challenge to my Readers:

Next time you feel down, cuddle up with your favorite buddy. Also, keep in mind the children who can’t fall asleep with their buddies and donate to a local charity.  

Day Sixty Five: Smile

I have a very nice smile.

To be more accurate, I have been told many times that I have a very kind smile. While I am not entirely sure as how one expresses generosity with a smile, I assume that this must be somewhat true because I have heard it from multiple, unrelated sources.

I like to smile. I think everyone should like to smile. I think sometimes we go out of our way to be sad and angry because when you start smiling too much, you feel like maybe your life is just a little too good. Being displeased and upset and constantly stressed and worried is a sure sign that you are doing something with your life, even if you are not enjoying it.

I like my smile because it not only succeeds in making me feel good, but it makes people around me feel good. Oh sure, there’s always that asshole who comes into my shop and is all “What are you so happy about?” But let me tell you: I have a roof over my head, I can afford food and clothes and to go out with my friends on occasion, I have a boyfriend who adores and supports me and a family I can moderately tolerate. Also, I have a puppy. Why wouldn’t I smile?

It’s easy to get caught up in all the tough stuff and forget to smile. But being happy doesn’t always make things easier. My smile isn’t going to shrink my bills or make my disease go away, but it is going to make everything more tolerable. And at the end of the day, that is what we most desire.

Challenge to my Readers:

Smile.

Day Sixty Four: Schedule

I am a damn good scheduler.

This kind of goes back to my conversation about planning. I’ve always been good about scheduling not only my own life but also other events in order to make sure that they run according to the path of least resistance. Any party planner will tell you that no schedule is perfect and that is nearly impossible to make an event that runs seamlessly, but I have gotten pretty damn close.

This gift has recently become very integral to my life because I am once again doing the schedule at my shop. Creating a schedule that fits the needs of not only the company and the owners but also of the employees is never easy. Some people want more hours, some people can’t work mornings, etc, etc, etc.

I go back again to the story of the Weasel. You’ll remember this asshole from an earlier conversation about how I adhere to an internal moral compass. The Weasel was in charge of our schedule for a short time before he left. The little shit-for-brains piece of dog poop decided that since he made the schedule, he got to take all the good shifts. So, Monday through Friday he took the opening shifts, even though there are three people other than him who could have opened the shop. Just to complete the holy hell of disorganization, he refused to work weekends because, and I quote, “that was his time.” Finally, he made the great error of all scheduling errors and didn’t listen to his employees. I need Tuesdays off for many reasons, and he made me work every Tuesday. When I emailed him about it, his defense was “I didn’t make you work every Tuesday, just the next three weeks.” (The schedule only goes out three weeks.) When I told him I was completely unable to work Tuesdays, he took the shift away and gave it to someone else without replacing my shift, effectively knocking me down to two shifts, less than ten hours or work, a week.

I almost killed him.

Almost.

So, the moral of the story is, I’m good at scheduling. I do the schedule now at work and I like to think everyone is pretty happy. I try to give everyone the days off that they asked for and I try my best to work around personal schedules and make it pretty even between opening and closing for everybody.

So far, so good.

Challenge to my Readers:

Next time the opportunity comes up, be the person in charge of the schedule. Take the reins for the family reunion, for the staff meeting, for the sports season. See if you’re any good at it. If you aren’t, figure out a way to improve.

Google docs is a start. 

Day Sixty Three: Waiting

I'm am comfortable waiting for the right path.

Recently I had breakfast with a few old college professors. They were grad students when they taught me in undergrad. All of them have now received their master's degrees in various useless forms of English. Of the three of them, one of them has a job in an actual field. She's an adjunct professor at a school in Boulder right now. She told me she barely makes enough for rent.

One of these professors works at a coffee shop. He and I takes a little about what it feels like to have a master's degree and still be working for minimum wage. He told me this: "As much as I want to jump into a career right now, you have to be comfortable waiting for the right path. I've known too many people who took the first job offered to them when they left college and always regretted it."

At this point, I think I would take any job offered to me that gets me out of this stupid ice cream shop. I told him this and he said "that's because you're sick of ice cream, not because you're necessarily ready for your career. The only career you really needed to work on right now was your writing career.”

Can’t argue with that. But they’re right. I know a lot of people who are in careers or beginning careers they don’t want. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not using this waiting thing as an excuse as to why I don’t have a real job yet. I know exactly what I want to do with my life. Unfortunately the position of Editor in Chief of Cosmo is taken and the education sphere doesn’t deem creative writhing significant enough to let me teach six periods of writing. But I’ve started to realize that working as a cake decorator and caterer isn’t as bad as it could be and I am at least somewhat happy right now.

When I find my dream job, I will get it. And until then, I get to make people happy for nine bucks an hour.

Challenge to my Readers:

Examine your career or career goals today. Even if you are sure that you love the field you’re in or that you will love the field you one day hope to go into, examine it anyway.  Ask yourself if there is room for floating, for balancing between career and life. Ask if it really makes you happy.  

Day Sixty Two: Movies

I have good taste in movies.

Screw those Oscar people, I know what makes a good movie. I love movies, I have since I was a child. My father introduced me to Westerns at an early age and by the time I was in high school I had seen every, and I mean every, John Wayne movie in creation. Even the racist ones (of which there are many.) My father instilled in me a love for classic movies: The Day the Earth Stood Still, Rope, the Marx Brothers. From my mother I received an avid love of holiday movies. Every year after Thanksgiving we embark to watch all our versions of the Christmas Carol (of which there are many.)

Movies are a very important to my personal culture. I love going to see them in the theater and seeing them with friends at home. Those of you who know me, I dare you to think of a time I took us to a bad movie or selected a bad movie to watch. (First person to say Skyline gets punched. That wasn’t my fault.)

Having good taste in movies is hard to come by, So many people would much rather let popularity and reviews dictate what movies they decide to see or decide to care about. Everyone wants to let their friends see it first to see if it’s any good. A movie is just a movie; if you step in, it isn’t going to bite your foot off. While public opinion might be a good place to start, it takes some savvy to really be able to find something that people can enjoy.

I love movies and I am really good at finding a good movie. Next time you plan a date night, give me a text and I can tell you exactly what to go see.

Challenge to my Readers:

Find a movie that you would never think about watching, something hidden deep in the queue of your Netflix, and go ahead and watch it. Even if it’s stupid, you should at least try to see something outside your comfort zone. 

Day Sixty One: Storytelling

I am an exceptional storyteller.

I’ve already mentioned my writing and how much I love the work I do with it. But this was one brought up by my roommate and my boyfriend. Madison told me that I’m the most wonderful person to experience things with because later when I recount the tale, I apparently do it quite well.

Recently I have noticed that being able to tell a story at the party is a rare and appreciated talent. I have a friend who, while her stories are always entertaining, it’s hard to take her out because she takes so long to tell the story that it’s like listening to a five year old explain their day. “And then we went outside…well everyone but Timmy ‘cause he’s allergic to grass…but we played Frisbee and…” She also behaves as though her conversation deserves more attention than the conversations of others and refuses to give up a subject once we moved on. She’s that annoying person in class who fifteen minutes ago raised her hand to counter a point and didn’t get called on until just now, starting her comment with “Well going back to what Becky was saying…” While useful in some context, the ability to drag a conversation back to a subject we finished twenty minutes ago with a fart joke.

Long story short, I like to tell stories. All kinds. Some of them even get written down.

Challenge to my Readers:

I know a lot of people who would rather sit quietly during a conversation or party rather than saying anything. The next time you get the opportunity, take the chance to speak up. 

Day Sixty: Networking

I love to network.

I like to gather connections in case I ever need to use them. Specifically I like to gather connections that have nothing to do with jobs and everything to do with ordinary things.

Here’s an example: When I was a freshman in college, a bunch of my girlfriends and I went out to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory downtown for a friend’s birthday. It was a pretty fun until we were on the tram home and we realized that the birthday girl had left her phone in the restaurant. This was before the time of internet phones, so it wasn’t as easy as just googling the number for the restaurant and calling them. But luckily, I had a friend who worked at the Cheesecake Factory at Park Meadows. While still on the tram, I called her, got the number for the other restaurant and called the place where the phone had been left. Disaster was averted and there was much rejoicing.

The moral of the story is that you should never make fun of the girl who has over two thousand contacts listed in her phone because she might just save your ass one day.

Challenge to my Readers:

Believe it or not there will be a time when you won’t be able to google a number you need. The next time you go to a mall, write down the number for their security (it will be posted near an exit of the mall.) Write down the number for a company’s catering section in case you go to a wedding and the caterer bails, you’ll have Taco Bell on speed dial.

Day Fifty Nine: Self Sufficient

I am a self-motivating go getter.

At least I’m learning to be. Slowly, but steadily, I am practicing at becoming self-reliant. Personally I find it to be a pretty big deal, but until today I didn’t really understand to the entirety of what it meant both for me and those around me.

I’ve already talked a little bit about paying my own rent and being financially functional and how I run my shop and keep the cakes from making out with the catering charts and so on. I’ve also previously mentioned my Crohn’s disease and will probably mention it several more times before the end of this blog. (You go get a debilitating illness and try to be casual about it!) And as you know I also have to stab myself with needles full of gunk twice a month which means I am self-reliant on the subject of self-torture.

But I also have to order my own medication.

For those of you who have never had to deal with specialty pharmacies, you’re going “yeah, so what? No big deal.” Let me tell you, ordering from one of these pharmacies is not like calling Walgreens and hoping the idiots there can manage to find the time to toss your pre-packaged birth control between gossiping and generally not doing their jobs. (Bitter much?) No, these pharmacies take incompetence and inconvenience to a whole new level.

To begin with you can’t even get to a human being unless you know exactly what options to select. There isn’t a “Please disconnect from GLaDOS and give me a person” option at the start menu. Once you find your way to a person, you aren’t even actually talking to a pharmacist. That would be like assuming that you were talking to a computer expert when you call Geek Squad. (Still bitter…) You’re actually talking to a human computer who is doing input data and such, asking you the same string of questions they asked the caller before you regardless of your actual condition.

And then they really punch you in the gut with “I have to ask why you need this medication.”

I have called these people three times in the last three days and given them my name, ID number, confirmation number, doctor’s name and number, phone number, birthdate (which you give them twice) and a statement about my medication all three times. I understand their need for security and all that, but it can be really frustrating. It sounds like it’s frustrating on their end too because apparently the issue with my refill had to do with needing three notification codes and only having two.

Long story short, you cannot live with a disease like this and not learn how to be self-sufficient when it comes to getting what you need. This means patience, practice, calm and sincerity, especially with those poor people on the other end of the line.

I know what some of you might be thinking: “You figured out how to get your medication, so what?” Well, it’s a big deal to me even if it isn’t a big deal to you. If I actually cared what you thought, I would be doing a celebrity fashion blog or something.

Challenge my Readers:

Do your own thing. I mean it. Tonight, buy your own drinks at the bar. Order your pizza on the phone, not online. Do your own laundry instead of making your mother do it.  Boil your own eggs. Paint your own ceiling. Do something for yourself and feel proud that you did it, even if you screw it up.  

Day Fifty Eight: Pale

I am pale, pale, pale white Irish.

Let me get this straight right off the bat: I am not saying I’m proud of being white as in that I think I am of a superior race, but rather that I a fan of the actual pigment of my skin. I like that I am white, I am indifferent to the fact that I am White.

Growing up, especially in middle school, I got teased a lot for being really pale. I mean, really pale. I’ve had people ask me if I’m Scandinavian or if I’m albino. I kid you not; people have actually suggested that I go to the hospital because I’m so pale I constantly look like I’m slightly ill. I don’t tan at all, not even a little bit. I jump straight to burn and it only takes about five minutes of direct sunlight for me to turn into a lobster. When I go shopping for makeup, I usually have to buy the palest shade of foundation that they make and for some brands, even that is slightly too dark for me.

But my skin color comes from my heritage. Much like my blue eyes, being pale represents my family history. I think this is true about all skin colors, and rather than separating ourselves because of the shades, we should celebrate the traditions and history that they represent.

Because of the Crohn’s disease and the medication I take, I have an extremely high chance of developing skin cancer when I’m older. Coupled with my white, white Irish skin, it is pretty much a guarantee that I will have some form of the cancer before I turn forty. I’ve come to accept this as a part of myself and it has only driven me to take better care of myself. This was the first summer that I didn’t get a really bad sunburn.

Stay out of those tanning beds. They’re just death traps for stupid people.

Challenge to my Readers:

Take care of your skin, no matter what color or shade. Even people who don’t believe they burn (like my boyfriend) can cause serious damage to their skin by going out without sunscreen or insufficient coverage. This isn’t just true for the summer. Reflected light in the winter from snow and cloud cover can cause just as much damage as a sunny day.

Learn more from Cosmo’s Practice Safe Sun campaign. 

Day Fifty Seven: Grammar

I have decent grammar.

Recently I’ve been addicted to this website called “Facebook Fails.” Ninety percent of the cite is people saying like “Your dumb” and someone writing the subsequently witty reply of “*your” as though they alone are the guardians against poor grammar on the internet. I would like to point out the fact that these people are neither intelligent nor unique. In a way, they are as stupid as the original poster in that they think anyone on the internet actually give a damn about what they say.

I have decent grammar and for that I am proud. Notice that I don’t brag about my impeccable grammar or my supreme skill with sentence structure. I’m an English major, I know better than anyone else that the language used by people is a constantly changing organism. I’m not going to let my students get away with writing “this book were good” in their essays, but I also have more valuable things to do with my life and time than tracking people down on Facebook for using the wrong form of their.

 I guess what I’m really proud of isn’t that I have proficient grammatical skills, but that I don’t let lesser grammar annoyances bother me. Besides which, I would be the pot calling the kettle black considering that I have atrocious spelling.

Atrocious.

Challenge to my Readers:

The next time someone on Facebook writes incorrectly in a post or someone text “hey, R U ready?” resist the urge to punch them in the throat and move on. You will be surprised at how much easier your life is if you let stupid people be stupid and you don’t sink to their level. 

Day Fifty Six: Pet Parent

I am a damn good pet parent.

I take very good care of my little boy. He is probably the most important thing in the world to me next to my boyfriend. He is the light of my life, even if he sometimes drives me absolutely crazy. I love him so much I can hardly believe that he’s mine.

Being a good pet parent is about more than just loving your pooch, it’s about taking very good care of them. I try to make sure my puppy’s meals are carefully balanced with the number of snacks and treats he gets and I pass everything by his vet before I even consider letting him eat it.

I also studiously pick up his poop.

Seriously, a guy the other day thanked me for picking up my dog’s poop because no one else in our apartment complex seems to care enough to pick up theirs.

Ecco also goes to puppy school and I try to limit the hours he’s alone and not being entertained. He is a puppy after all, and has a lot of energy. I would hate to stick him in a cage day after day and never get to see him.

It’s a lot of work to look after a growing puppy. I’m sure a lot of parents would disagree with me, but having a puppy is a little bit like having a child. The only difference is I can leave Ecco in the kennel for a few hours if I need to get stuff done. Although, you can take your baby into a store, so I guess there’s that.

Day Fifty Five: Sports Fan

I am a sports fan.

Today is a good day for this blog considering that as I write this, the Denver Broncos are in the playoffs against the Baltimore Ravens. We’ll probably win. Dear god I hope we win, because I cannot deal with a bunch of mopey Denverites for another year of failure. Denver is pretty used to loss: The Rockies royally f-ed up their first time to the World Series, the Nuggets start off great but end up falling behind,  and the Broncos have been on a losing streak pretty much since Elway left us. (We have other teams too, but no one really cares about lacrosse, soccer or god forbid hockey around here.)

But tonight is a night of redemption. For all those people who said we couldn’t make it, the Broncos are out there in ten degree weather playing their best. If they win, we’ll move up in the rankings. If we lose…several refs are going to be sleeping with guns tonight.

I love being a sports fan. The Rockies are my team and I root for them every year despite losing almost every game they play. But the best part of sports is the way in which it brings people together. People who hold no creed, care or political party the same come together on game day with a common hero and a common enemy.  It is an amazing thing to watch. (Except for Raiders’ fans, who should just stay home.)

I love sitting on the couch and watching a game with people I love or sitting at the bar and watching the touch downs between rounds of trivia. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in whether our team wins or loses that we forget that sports isn’t about victory, it’s about friendship. In that moment when the quarterback drops a pass, everyone in the bar groans and shares a sentiment with their fellow man.

Besides, chicks who dig sports are totally hot.

Challenge to my Readers:

Watch the game tonight and revel in the bond you share with everyone around you. Tomorrow, win or lose, talk about your team with the highest of accolades, even if they f*cked up. At least for a day. The day after you can go back to slamming their stupid interceptions. 

Day Fifty Four: Thrifty

I am thrifty but not cheap.

As I write this, I am sitting on the couch in our apartment. The couch we found at the ReStore. The couch we bought from the ReStore for twenty five dollars. Yeah, hella awesome. Sure, you say, we could have gotten a couch off of craigslist for free. (We tried that. See my post about Adventure.) But going to the ReStore ensured that we didn’t get a couch with a wombat living inside or show up at the house of some creeper wearing  leotard. Instead we got to go to a store that promotes recycling, social action…and they clean and fumigate the couches, so I knew it was a good one.

Just so we’re clear as to why I’m proud of this, the ReStore was my idea.

I am thrifty. I’m good at finding good things at cheap prices. My dad wanted a CD/DVD set on the internet that was selling for a disgustingly high price. I phoned in a favor and got it for thirty five dollars. Most of the furniture in our apartment is stolen from my parents’ house. So is all our silverware.

So yeah, I know a thing or two about being a starving artist. I know where I can find things for cheap or free without having to abuse the internet. I won’t sacrifice quality for cost; what good is finding it cheap if it’s a piece of shit? Call it Goodwill Hunting, call it what you like, but I am one thrifty girl.

Challenge to my Readers:

Considering moving? Need new furniture? Check out Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore instead of going to a warehouse. Find something that someone else has loved that you will love too. 

Day Fifty Three: Driving

I am a damn good driver.

I have always had this secret dream of going to professional driving school and learning how to be a stunt driver or something. I really like driving my car. Those of you who have ridden with me can attest that behind the wheel I am erratic but competent.

I have only gotten two speeding tickets and both times were from one of those van people with the cameras, so they were dismissed. I feel that traffic camera tickets are such copout because if I’m gonna get a ticket, you damn well better get off your ass and chase me down!

Anyway, driving is a very zen activity for me. It can be very, very frustrating sometimes, but I have been learning to ignore bad drivers and turn on country music instead. Because it is physically impossible to be angry while singing along to Taylor Swift.  (Let the stream of angry naysayers begin.)

Challenge to my Readers:

Enjoy your drive today. Feel good about getting from point A to point B without causing a major accident or without spilling your coffee in your lap. 

Day Fifty Two: Artistic

I am an artist.

I’ve been working on saying this for a while, but it is actually true. I have decided that it is so. You have probably heard me say before that I am not an artist because I cannot draw worth a damn. I was lying. Not really, I can’t draw anything useful, like people, but I make pretty swirly designs that make me very happy.

I owe this revolution to two people. The first is my friend Tony who gave me a beautiful leather journal for Christmas. In it he wrote me this long note about how I had been saying I wasn’t an artist. He told me I was wrong that that he believed in me and a whole bunch of other stuff that makes me cry every time I open the journal. (Thanks, Tony.) Having someone believe in my art makes me happy.

My boyfriend, Taylor, is my other support system. He caught me doodling in my notebook again and told me he thought it was beautiful. He said if I didn’t believe him he would post it on Reddit and make people look at it, which I feel is a double edge sword. But like Tony, he believes in me.

My swirly drawings are just part of my art. My main artistic medium is my writing. That is what truly brings me joy. That is the craft I have worked on for years to hone and develop. Now I’m finally taking it seriously (because a college degree wasn’t serious enough for me) and I’m going to try and get published this year.

So be on the lookout for my next piece of art.

Challenge to my Readers: Pull together all those scraps of paper that you have been doodling/writing on and admit that you are an artist. I think we all are in some fashion or another. 

Pictures of my art are forthcoming. My phone is being a brat.