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JUL
02

San D after 2

After celebrating my two year mark, here’s what I’ve come up with:

 

Cons

Buying a home (and really accumulating savings in general) is a pipe dream (-25)

Sunburns (-5)

Mysterious yeast-based skin condition (hypothetically) (-20)

Traffic (-50)

No plastic bags at grocery stores (-3)

Lots of black widow spiders (-10)

Drought (-7)

Lots of Golden State Warriors fans (-12)

Total: -132

 

Pros

No snow (+30)

The ocean (+25)

Disneyland proximity (+20)

Family proximity (+35)

Sunshine (+40)

Sparkly job (+18)

Ideal temperature range (+50)

Sports/Oscars not on late at night (+5)

Total: 223

 

Some might say I have screwy priorities. I say, I think I’m doing alright.

OCT
29

Remembering Sandy

b2ap3_thumbnail_crane2.jpg

I say this as if I experienced some sort of hardship, some great loss or personal struggle because of the impacts of Hurricane Sandy. Which, of course, I didn't. True, I was here. In NYC. Not yet a New Yorker myself, I was on a trip with my then-boyfriend for his birthday. And while we had to deal with inconveniences like all our events being cancelled, no way to get anywhere, and nothing to eat other than the small bag of groceries we had the sense to purchase, really the only reminder of our predicament (other than being forced to survive on Macaroni & Cheese from a box) was the damn crane a few minutes from us that they kept showing on the news.

But I do remember being scared about the unknownness of the storm. Going to bed that night amid the howl of strong wind and having no idea what the state of things would be in the morning. It's a sensation I had never experienced until living in the east. (Yes, I consider Cleveland to be east. And NYC is even *easter*.) The power of forces like hurricanes and tornadoes, the relentlessness of lightening during a lightening storm, the sheer volume of snow and depth of cold. You don't get any of that out west. It just rains.

Maybe it's the fact that you just don't have a prayer when up against a natural disaster, maybe it's that I now live in such a large city, but I find I'm much less tolerant these days (read: not at all tolerant) of movies that depict the fictional destruction of entire cities. In this day and age, doesn't that just hit a little too close to home? In any case, it's been 2 years. That's incredible. So is the rebuilding we've seen. So are the progress, expansion, and triumphs still to come. Almost nothing amazes me more than the resilience and strength of the human spirit. That is what I'm toasting to tonight.

JUN
02

June 2, 1997

Today is the 15th anniversary of the day I wrecked my parents' new car. It's all in the book, so skip to about page 60 if you haven't gotten there yet, and sometimes I wonder why I even put it in there. It remains the most traumatic thing I've ever been through. Not because of the event itself, I mean, people wreck cars every day, but because of my status in life at that point in time. I was fifteen, was just finishing my first year of high school, and (as always) I was very aware of anything that could affect the way my peers perceived me. So showing up at school with a disgustingly bashed-in face and armed merely with the explanation that I had driven my car into a ditch didn't exactly help improve my image among the in-crowd.

But the good thing about growing up and becoming an adult is that perspective kicks in and things that used to mean everything to you eventually come to mean almost nothing. In short, you get over it. You get over the failures and humiliations and horribly misguided outfits. You get over the friends you never had, the opportunities you never got, and the boys that never liked you. You don't forget, mind you, but you get over it. You get so over it that you may even turn all these experiences into a book and let the whole world in on just how unglamorous your early years were. So, yeah, you get over it. It just might take 15 years.

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