It’s so hard to write anything meaningful lately, and I don’t know why. I struggle all the time with it – I can’t and don’t want to let go of this place, but I’m also not happy with the way it’s going (or… not going). I miss having this place be a true outlet and place for feedback and laughs and advise… you know, that whole community thing.

Is it because I’m happy (e.g. my life is boring)? Perhaps. While I’ve got a ton of stuff going on, there is little to no drama involved. It’s all cool new projects, brunch and happy hours with friends, coffees with potential business partners, traveling to attending and speak at events. It’s a blast, but let’s face it – the best writing comes from angry/sad places, and I just don’t have any of that going on. (And um, lest y’all start throwing things – this is not a complaint!)

Drawing from above, it is simply how utterly, ridiculously busy I am? Definitely in part. But I used to write every morning on the bus on the way to work. That time’s still there, but I’m not using it. Instead I’m flipping through Twitter and Instagram, opting for real time conversations over the investment of a blog post.

Perhaps, as evidenced by my Gen-Y attention span, I just like the immediate gratification of the short-burst platforms better. With Twitter, Instagram and Facebook, people instantly like, respond, comment. Blog posts take a lot of work, and there’s no guarantee it will even be read. If I tweet something hilarious but no one reads it, life goes on. I only wasted 20 seconds or so. But if I spend an hour on a post and no one gives a shit, well, that hurts.

And the way I used to write (back when I was REALLY writing)… I edited over and over and over. For me, it was the telling of a story, and I needed it to be perfect. That’s not where I am anymore – I want to get back to writing honestly, and raw, if there’s anything left in me like that.

I’m going to try and dig it out. I miss it.

Mama said share.

Monday was, to put it mildly, not a good day.

It was a day of bleak, of gray, of complete and utter desolate-ness. It was a world where unicorns really don’t exist, where kittens never play patty-cake, where you do shoot your eye out with the BB gun.

In sum, I woke up that morning, after a glorious five day vacation, and was physically ill at the idea of going back to my sad, dreary little cubicle, where I spend 40 hours a week with very nice people… that I have nothing in common with, while doing nothing that I love.

Old news, I know. And nobody likes a whiner.

So- after I whined a bit- I finally reached down, deep inside myself, and found my get up and go shut up and keep plodding along.

Because yes, the job hunt is hard. It’s exhausting. It’s disappointing and demeaning and UTTERLY SPIRIT-CRUSHING, at times.

But. If I know anything to be true, it’s the fact that pouting in a corner isn’t going to change a damn thing. (Insert “nobody puts Baby in a” joke here.)

And while many of you have gone above and beyond in your kind words and encouragement regarding me and my talents and whatnot (seriously, bearhugs’nstuff), I think it’s about time I started, oh, what’s that corny phrase again? The one in Pixar movies and fairy tales and Rocky sequels?

Oh, right. “Believing in myself.”

(Is there a way to add glitter to that sentence?)

I just google-imaged "believe in yourself" and this was the only picture that didn't make me want to hurl.

So. It’s time for a little self-love, since I didn’t get any of this action when I went through TSA last week.

REASONS WHY I AM AWESOME
AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY HIRE ME

(Or tell your boss to hire me.)

(You know, if you actually need someone in the Social Media/Digital Marketing department.)

(Or the “pet the kitties” department. I’d be good at that too.)

1. Since I was ten years old,  I’ve been training to be the brain-storming champion of the world. Ever hear of a little thing called Odyssey of the Mind? No? That’s okay, no one has. But know this: while you spent your childhood playing soccer and selling Girl Scout Cookies, I was off strengthening my creative muscles to be somebody’s idea (wo)man in a 2.0 world someday.

2. I can work unicorns into the conversation at ANY time to diffuse an awkward or uncomfortable situation.

3. I am beyond “plugged in” to the 20- and 30-somethings culture; in some circles, I might even be called a pillar of it. And I dare you to make a pop culture or internet meme joke I won’t get.

4. My degree may be in International Politics and Psychology, rather than Communications. But everything that I’m skilled at- social media, event planning, marketing, writing, networking- are all, in this day and digital age, hopelessly intertwined and (I believe) learned intuitively, by doing, and by possessing a natural inclination for them- more than any Communications degree could ever accomplish. (And hey, MTV doesn’t come knocking on just anyone’s door to be their first Twitter Jockey.)

5. I’m ready for a company and career that I can truly devote myself to, and when I give, I give BIG. Take my heart, now. Go on… take it!!!

6. I’m not just good with people; I can truly talk to anyone or anything. Seriously. Leave me alone with your wall for an hour and I’ll be a bridesmaid at its wedding. Oh, you didn’t know it was dating the couch? Don’t feel bad- we’re just close like that.

7. I’m actually really, really good at this social media/digital marketing shiz. And it’s not just my mom saying so, because she doesn’t understand most of it. So there.

8. And finally, because every office needs their very own Liz Lemon.

Come on, now. How you gonna turn THIS down?

So feel free to pass my LinkedIn profile along. Click that “share” button below and send this post here, there and everywhere. Add it to your email signature, perhaps, or include it on your holiday cards. I’ve always liked your family.

You’ve brought me so far, my beloved interwebs. Let us conquer this one last hill together, you and I. Someone grab my bootstraps and pull, y’all. I feel my nine hundredth wind coming on.

All I want for Christmas… is a SHINY NEW JOB.

(that I love.)

Mama said share.

Okay. So. I’m literally sitting here, forcing myself to put e-words on the e-paper, because I have so much going on right now- not good, not bad, necessarily, just crazy- that the idea of writing a normal blog is totally and completely freaking overwhelming. I have so much to say but none of it ever, you know, finishes.

Twss.

(Some things never change, eh?)

But… I MISS you guys.

I miss making you laugh, I miss knowing what’s going on in everyone’s lives, I miss being a part of the interwebby community.

In an effort to get a job doing what I love, (instead of working a job I hate and doing everything I love in my free time), I am basically doubling said spare-time (NON-PAID) efforts to get more experience, while I continue to hunt for the right job, the right place, the one who will take a chance on me. I know it’s what needs to be done, but I. Am. Exhausted.

I love everything I’m a part of- Events Chair for the Social Media Club DC, Events Admin for 20 Something Bloggers, Social Media volunteer at a local non-profit, Contributing Editor at DCBlogs.com (check out my round up today, what what!)- and oh yeah, my own Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn and the IITGI site and that Twitter, and a couple new tumblrs and the website design stuff and that whole applying for jobs thing that is so vital to the whole “Getting a New Job” process… resume changes and cover letters and salary requirements, oh my.

And, you know, trying to be healthier and occasionally see friends and call my mom every now and then and oh right, all that usual day-to-day stuff you have to do if you want to be considered a functional adult.

(OVERRATED.)

The main problem is, I just can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Example: when I go for a run, I generally start out at a reasonable pace. Then, somewhere in the middle, I inevitably feel like I’m going to die and really, really just want to STOP. But as soon as I get to the top of the hill, or know I only have a couple minutes left on that treadmill to make my goal, suddenly I’m sprinting toward that finish line- my 47th wind hits, I suppose, and it comes in strong.

I can’t even see the crest of that hill. I can’t hear the people cheering at the finish line, ready to celebrate my accomplishment and take me out for a nice steak dinner. If anything, it seems as though it’s fading farther and farther away with each rejection, with each person who tells me “I’m a shoo-in” for something they clearly don’t understand.

Why do you build me up, Buttercup baby just to bring me down? And mess me around…

This post is probably the most ridiculous hot mess of a thing I’ve ever written. (And we all know that’s saying something.)

Me, in probably a month or so. Watch out.

But I’m hitting publish anyway, because honestly, selfishly… I really just want to hear your voices.

How are you?

P.S. Oh, right. Also, in an effort to procrastinate against the many constructive things I could have been doing this weekend, I made a new header/rebranded the blog. So, uh. Whaddya think?

Mama said share.

So, hi. And stuff.

I know, I know, I’m not here much lately. But trust me, that is my gift to you. Because if I actually DID try to write anything right now it would pretty much go like this:

BLAH BLAH JOB HUNT BLAH KILL MYSELF BLAH BLAH STRESSY MCSTRESSORSON BLAH SOMEONE SHOOT ME BLAH WHERE IS MY WINE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

And really, no one needs to hear that. (Except for my IRL friends and family, who have no choice. Uh. Sorry guys.)

So, that’s where I’m at right now. But I’m still around, to be sure. You know I’m too much of an e-addict to just disappear completely. In fact, I’m over here every Tuesday. I’ll be at this AND this tonight. And you guys know I’m always here and here… and finally, the darling B and I are (newly, and probably against his will) over here, shizzing it up on the daily.

Hopefully, once things settle down, I’ll have the energy to share once again. But for now, all I have the strength to do is live, day by day. (And tweet by tweet.)

Until then, please enjoy…

CATZILLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

So, yeah. I was in Chicago for a week, and some stuff totally happened there, and it was tons of fun and I had a blast at Saturday’s Goose Me Happy Hour, and got to see my BFF Kbo a ton, and B and I ate lots of food that was bad for us and probably even more booze, and Chitown is super fun and easy to get around and probably one of my new favorite cities ever. Da Bears.

But more importantly, today, @storm_search showed me an app where I can Jerseylicious myself.

So, yeah… that happened:

And then we had the even better idea of Jerseylicious-ing the CATS.

So, obviously… I did:

I hope the Jersey craze never, ever ends. And now I have a good idea of what our Christmas cards are gonna look like this year…

The most excellent Jerseylicious-ing app is here. Please feel free to share in los commentos*.

*Jersey Spanglish for “the comments”.

Mama said share.

Hiya! I’m back from Narnia the woods, alive and well save for a few (dozen) bug bites. It may not have been my ideal vacation on paper, but it actually turned out to be the perfect week of relaxation.

I agreed to go into the wilderness if I had four walls, a bathroom we weren’t sharing with strangers, and… a jacuzzi. So, yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call it “roughing it”… but if we hadn’t had said jacuzzi, then our friends Ken and Laura (and the bears, of course) never would have been treated to B’s and my very, very loud (and hopefully moving) duet of Disney’s “A Whole New World”. So there.

B and Ken have been getting into trouble together the best of friends since they were wee lads, so one nice thing about the trip was getting to know Laura a lot better. Since the boys were frequently off in the canoe playing “Vikings of the Shenandoah” and lighting things on fire, we had a lot of time to drink wine and talk and drink wine and watch “The World’s Fattest Man” and drink wine. And it was a grand old time, save for one small detail: while we did try desperately to bring everything we thought we might need in the wilderness, Laura and I managed to let down ourselves, the boys, and most importantly, AMERICA by forgetting the single most essential camping item…

S’MORES.

The first night, as the boys were building a fire (um, sidebar- men are OBSESSED with fire- wtf?! See below…), Laura and I looked at each other in horror as we realized our huge, gigantic, shameful misstep in planning. We simply HAD to fix the lack of s’mores in our life before the last day; a camping trip without s’mores would make us no better than common Commies.

We remembered seeing some graham crackers in one of the cupboards, so one of three bases was covered, at least. The next day, as we were out and about visiting Luray Caverns and getting creative at a few wineries, we made the guys pull over at every gas station and 7-11 we saw searching for marshmallows. We could only find the miniature kind, but we went for it, thinking that was as close as we were going to get. The Hershey’s was of course up front with the candy, so we would have to make do.

That night as we made dinner, I skewered mini marshmallows onto satay-style sticks. Later, as the fire was roaring, it was time to put the s’mores into action.

Let’s see how that went:

1. Those skewers? Are very, VERY tiny when you’re thrusting it into a molten lava hot fire (twss). Just sayin.

2. Once our marshmallows were cooked (in some cases burnt to a crisp; in mine, just above lukewarm), we cracked open the Hershey’s, which we all assumed would be the best part of the whole thing. I glanced down at the chocolate as I opened it…

Me: Um… there appears to be some sort of plastic on the bottom. Hold on… *tries to tear off* Oh… okay… apparently that’s just what the chocolate looks like. It’s kind of… white? Crusty?

Laura: What does the expiration date say? Is that… holy shit. It says 2001.

All of us: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3. The graham crackers were beyond stale, as were the marshmallows, but shockingly enough, the Hershey’s took the cake as far as the worst ingredient to our horrible disaster makeshift s’mores. Fail, fail, fail, HUGE freaking FAIL.

And yes, we all took a bite because we were drunk and had to make sure they were really that bad. Well, except Ken, because he smelled it first, and I would say that makes him the smartest one in the bunch…

If he hadn’t thrown his shirt in the fire moments later, “just because”.

We’re a special bunch. But honestly? I can’t wait to do it again.

I have a rematch with those goddamn s’mores.

P.S. This is what it looks like when two men obsessed with fire finally, well, get to build a fire:

Re. Dic.

Mama said share.

If you follow my tweets, you know I’ve been in the great outdoors for the past few days. While we are “cabin-ing”, not camping, with a couple friends in Shenandoah, it’s still been much more nature-y than I’m used to.

When we walked across the lawn- yes, lawn- for the first time, heading down to the river with our canoes (who am I??), I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt a whole plot of grass under my feet. At least, one not littered with the homeless and stray chicken wings.

Yesterday was spent touring a few of the local wineries, which was delightful… at first. By the time we got to the third one, we were running out of adjectives with which to pepper our banter with the taste-givers. Let’s face it, you can only say the words “bold”, “earthy” and “full-bodied” so many times before even you start to hate yourself. So, we decided to branch out from the average descriptions and make things a little more interesting.

I believe I started it off when I declared a light red table wine “whimsical and flighty”… and it just plain snowballed from there. (I believe the increasing ridiculousness would most likely directly correlate with the number of tastings ingested. Shocking, I know.)

Some of the phrases we quite seriously deadpanned at our poor taste-givers, as well as a few brainstormed around the fire last night:

“naive, yet playful”

“reclusive, with hints of confidence”

“the finish has a sense of immortality”

“positively existential”

“dirty… even sinful”

“starts out with a bit of agony, finishing with a sense of euphoria”

“slightly prepubescent at first…”

“a note of spoonerism in the nose…”

“very cosmic… gives a real sense of animalistic sensuality”

“the nose cajoles you to drink more”

“very boastful!”

“almost iambically diabolic.”

“claims your palette with a hint of dirt”

And finally, the crown jewel from B:

“No wine is an island unto itself.”

Mama said share.

…A Survival Guide to making it through a sudden and inexplicable loss, be it job, romantical (it’s a word), or your pet hampster Fred.

- Under no circumstances should you try to put on pants and/or leave the house for at least 48 hours.

- There must be at least one cat within unwilling cuddle range at all times. This is especially true if you do not have a significant other; in fact, if you do, you should probably send them away for a few days if you want to keep them. This will not be pretty.

- If you don’t have a cat, rent one. If you’re allergic, deal with it- the reaction will just hurry you along into the “ugly cry” phase.

- There should be absolutely no bathing, shaving, or other hygienic care of any sort.

- Cue up at least 14 really, really bad movies. These will serve as fodder for endless mocking, and to take your anger out on, as well as a few moments that warm your heart against your better judgment, reminding you that you are in fact still human, and keeping you from falling completely into an emotional abyss. Suggestions from my recent foray include:

• When in Rome
• Paul Blart: Mall Cop
• 17 Again
• Lindsay Lohan: The Road to Jail
• Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief – (Actually, I thought this was going to be terrible, and it was surprisingly awesome. You’re welcome.)
• Anything with Channing Tatum (C-TATES!!!) in it

- Drink heavily and eat crap, but make grandiose plans about getting into shape and all the healthy meals you’ll cook from scratch- tomorrow. Always say “tomorrow”, and do not look directly into the bloat.

- Swear colorfully and often. Get creative with it, a la Rocco in Boondock Saints.

And then, remember you have kickass friends, a great man and two adorable furry assholes cats, and at least you’re not the Half Ton Teen.






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Mama said share.

If you know me, “shy” and “introverted” are two words you would never, EVER use to describe me. And you’d be right. I can- and will- talk to anyone about anything. Hell, I’ll talk to anyTHING about anyONE.

Leave me and my wall alone.

But seriously. Give me five minutes with a stranger and we’ll be do-si-do-ing around the bar, the park, the public restroom- whatever.

And they won’t even like country music.

But. But!

There is one social interaction in my life I struggle with on a daily basis.

Dum dum dum…

The security guards.

Ya see, my DC office building is about a 9 on the security scale… meaning there’s a guard at every entrance, and you have to scan your fancy high-tech badge with an awkward driver’s license-esque picture to get in.

The guards rotate positions, so I see them all regularly. They’re nice people, and frankly, I’m glad they’re there, seeing as we sit a cool four blocks from La Casa Blanca. (That’s “White House,” for everyone who didn’t pass fourth grade Spanish. What?)

But.

This means I see them quite a few times a day, coming and going, walking past the building, etc. And four years in Chapel Thrill, NC has taught this Masshole that it would be just plain Stephanie-Tanner-HOW-RUDE to just bluster by without so much as a head nod.

So, I try. Every time, I try to pull off a sincere and warm greeting of some fashion.

And every time, I fail miserably.

I don’t know what it is. My Joe “The Smooth” Camel just fails me here; I become a bumbling fool, questioning my methods and changing my mind midsentence, so that whatever does manage to come out makes me sound like an awkward 20-something stroke victim.

Don't smoke, kiddies. Cigarettes are only for desert beasts and Don Draper.

Sometimes I trip while trying to wave. Sometimes my “how-do-you-do” trails off into a mumble as the realization of how dorky I truly am washes over me. More often, I pull out a spoonerism unlike anything heard before.

“How’s your going day?”

“Lovely day here out, it is?”

“Have a good night, now!” (At lunchtime.)

“Your sweat stain looks like you peed your pants.”

(Okay, not that last one. YET. I bet I just jinxed myself and I’ll say it today.)

I should probably just develop my own hand signal. Then they’d be all “oh, that’s the girl who says hello with a golf clap” or “by throwing the shocker. She always livens up my day!” Or even better… the vulcan hand salute!!!

I'd do the stern face and everything. It's a walk off!!!!!!!! Where's David Bowie?

And then I’d never have to CHOOSE when it came to my form of greeting. And life, it would be a much simpler thing.

P.S. Oh, and as long as we’re on the subject of Star Trek, THIS made my life yesterday…

via Kay Steiger by way of my darling friend amblass.

Mama said share.

~So. Remember that time I promise you an amazing surprise today? Um, well…

I lied.

Not on purpose, trust- no one is more disappointed than me that we have to wait… but it’s only a couple days, chickadees. I promise by the end of this week, you shall be privy to my fantabulous news… 

*cue suspenseful music, slash, me feeling like a total ahole* ~

Anyway, back to our regular programming for the time being…

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says.” Woot!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

B’s friend K is over and showing us his stylish new glasses, or as he calls them, his “FIRIN’ GLASSES.”

Firin' glasses.

K: Do you guys have glasses?

B: Yeah, I had glasses once. But then I lost them so I never got them again. They make your eyes weaker. Fuck that noise. I’m a MAN!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I’ve mentioned, this Friday is our two-year anniversary. My present for B is stashed in my closet, but his present for me hasn’t come yet. Not being someone who can ever wait for anything, I’ve been begging him to let me give him his since it arrived…

Me: Pleeeeeeeeeease can I give you your present?

B: No!

*We’re watching Tosh.0, as they feature a video mocking homeless people*

B: Did you get me a homeless person?

Me: No, but that’d be AWESOME. Then we’d have a dishwasher!!!

I know. So wrong. Blame it on the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-alcohol…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A smelly B arrives home from his soccer game, and I have a flashback to the last time he came home, which somehow resulted in his vile soccer socks being draped over my (yes, still unpacked) luggage bag from Vegas.

Me: Don’t you put your dirty soccer socks on my suitcase this time!!!

B: *shrugs* I can’t help it, baby, that’s the Drying Place!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trying to find a new show on Netflix Watch Instantly, we stumble across “Satisfaction,” a series featuring the working gals of an Australian brothel.

Me: Um, I’m not so sure about this one.

B: You’re always so against me wanting to see 18 year old shirtless girls! You never support any of my hobbies!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My present better be something amazeballs.

Mama said share.