Labyrinthitis?!

(I can not believe I forgot to post this gem)

No, this is not the David Bowie fever. Turns out, it is a real serious, non-made-up, disease and I’ve got it.

I asked my doctor 3 times to repeat the name, excuse me…like Labyrinth, you say? Hm. Well, that is something.

Not unlike the movie, it starts as a virus that infects the inner ear and before you even realize, you have one giant, blurry mess. It just so happens, the delicate part of the ear horrifically attacked by some random floating micro-terrorist is responsible for the body’s entire vestibular system – the part being solely in charge of balance and orientation. You know what happens when your spatial orientation is messed up? Turns out, you can’t function, at all…and you look really silly. I am not just talking about the kind of superior balance you need to score pro status in the Wii Fit Hula challenge (yeah, I’ve totally done that), I’m talking about normal, every day, plain old standing. A life-size, breathing wobbling Weeble…that falls down.

To cope with my afflication, I laid in bed for a few days remembering how nice it was to not feel like I was in a constant whirlpool of plain air. Remember when I could stand, yeah and it was great. Luckily the episode was relatively short lived and I’m now back to normal balanced life. The icing, Doctor says the virus will now forever live inside of me and will come back to visit every other year or so. Not to worry, he says, it won’t ever be as bad as the first time. Super and uh yeah, I’m going to get a second opinion…

I found some helpful hints so I knew what to avoid:
“You may need help walking when symptoms occur.” Or, in my case, remembering how to crawl worked out best. It’s the basics that save us. Stay low to avoid bullets…and vomiting.
“Avoid hazardous activities such as driving, operating heavy machinery, and climbing until 1 week after symptoms have disappeared.” I don’t know what heavy machinery is but I feel like I would avoid that with or without Labrynthitis. Driving, yeah that does not work and no climbing? Great, just when I had that rock wall installed. Thanks a lot, Bowie.

At any rate, if you see me wobbling about at an awkward 30 degree slant, don’t worry, it’s just the Labyrinthitis, I’ll be fine. Probably.

Still think I’m making this up? Go on, Google it.

Fireball 2.0

There is an episode of Friends when Joey is supposed to be writing a screenplay but instead he and Chandler create "Fireball," a highly dangerous yet ingenious game involving a blow torch and bowling ball. The look on Joey's face when announcing his creation to Ross still gets me rolling. Yesterday, I created my own version only it starts with fish and chips.

All I wanted was to reheat my leftovers. I wasn't asking much. Where the story gets interesting is when my impatience and stupidly jumps in. I wanted the food so hastily that I, all safety regulations aside, stuck the cardboard box in the tiny oven. I just wanted it crispy not like soggy sad fish from the microwave. Well, if you do something this stupid you can count on not being careful enough when pulling it out as to avoid the hot coils of the oven which, by the way, will ignite cardboard. Voilà! A quick recipe for a personal-sized ball of flame.

Now, what do you do with a handful of fire on your counter? Easy, transfer to sink with bare hands, of course. Done...except what happens when the ball of fire bounces out of the sink, across the counter and onto the living room floor? Fireball disaster. With a flying fireball now threatening to take my apartment down I must quickly end this fiasco. I run over and attempt to stomp out the blaze, barefoot. I'm way smart. After the flames were out, and my fish certainly extra crispy, I gave myself a little vocal cheer and fist pump for taking out that fire like a champ with minimal bodily harm. I hope you're both laughing hysterically and shaking your head in judging disbelief. It's ok, go ahead. No one died except my pride and maybe a few pieces of carpet.

Not a minute after stomping the heck out of the mini bonfire, it occurs to me that by jumping on this highly flammable box, I sent smoldering pieces of cardboard across the floor. Sure enough, they were still glowing just begging a second challenge. My much smarter, safer solution: dump excessive amounts of water everywhere. Done. An hour later it is very clear I had a fight with something. You’d never guess it was with a fireball, but it was. I came out victorious. Yes, I did...mostly.

Hannah’s Hoedown Heals

I watched the Hannah Montana movie last night. What can I say? It was a rough week. Despite the anticipated ridiculousness of various plot points it was overall a very humorous, upbeat movie and it did make me feel better.

Every protagonist struggle in Disney movies are basically identical, but in the simplicity of the formula is the appeal. We love the characters, they speak to us and you can rest assured things will always work out in the end. Aside from the fame, I can not say I find myself relating to Hannah all that much, but I certainly empathize with the heartache and struggle of figuring out who you are while trying to win the heart of a cowboy. Who doesn’t, really?

Last night Hannah reminded us to never forget our roots and who we really are. The movie also reminded me that I never want to live on a farm, although I am pretty sure this was unintentional.

Disney moral #2*: When life starts to get crazy, take the time to regain perspective with the help of those who truly love you. Magically, the world is not as scary as you might have thought and you can now overcome anything. Also repetitive, cheesy and purely addictive music never hurts.

P.S. we all really need to learn the moves to this Hoedown Throwdown. Trust me, just do it.

*Disney moral #1 has to do with Disney royalty struggling to get back the throne.

Injubily

Google just made me type in this ‘word’ before posting a comment. I passed. It’s not a real word, but it is now my favorite word. The best thing about non-words (or my entire vocabulary) is it can be anything you want it to be. ANYTHING. Who is going to stop me?

Of course, I think this about myself anyway, a made-up word. I get to be whoever I want to be all the time. In fact, today, I am a Facebook stalker. Now, it’s true, I am that a lot of days, but today I’m admitting it so it’s totally different. Last week I was seamstress/sutto-aunt/baker/amazing. For the rest of the week I am going to be seamstress again and this weekend I will be the hot redhead in the brown dress that catches the bouquet. After this weekend, I will return to being single white female watching prime time TV and not thinking about anything that starts with wedd…I’m not even going to finish that.

Ah life, it’s injubily!

One of these things...

I just saw a very tall Asian walking with a very short Asian and it confused me, well, I mean I starred at them. Then I remembered this must be how Asians…or anyone feels when I, a 5’ redhead am seen with my 6’4” blond housemate. Fair is fair.

While I was in Ireland, I was amazed at the ability of Irish to identify us as American even though I really felt like we could easily be Irish. I mean I even have the hair! Still, somehow the Irish knew we did not belong. This combined with today’s Asian encounter reminded me of a talk by President Nelson some time ago. He said ‘we’ (LDS) are a peculiar people.

At first this doesn’t sit exactly pleasantly. We all know how we felt about the peculiar kid in middle school – safe distance encouraged – but in reality the scriptural reference to peculiar is one of the highest compliments. In fact, it references a “valued treasure,” “made” or “selected by God.” I’ll take that.

Indeed LDS members, particularly our Utah friends (love you), often do seem peculiar from the outside. We don’t often dress, talk, or act like what is considered ‘normal’ in today’s world and we don’t for a reason. We are peculiar because our value can not be ignored and hopefully as time goes by, as we get stronger, we will only become a more peculiar people because we should stand out.

So, the next time I catch myself staring at something that seems odd to me, I’ll remember just how peculiar I am. Sounds good.

Potty Phone

When did it become acceptable to talk on the phone in a public bathroom? As far as I know, it is still taboo to have a conversation with anyone when conducting business and it is certainly not cool to strike up a conversation with a stranger, so how on earth could it be acceptable to have an open telephone conversation…in a bathroom? We don’t even let boys in there! Are conversations really that important that you can’t wait just a few minutes? Do you really dislike your phone friend so much that you are willing to risk them suffering through the sewer symphonies with you? Do you know that we can hear your entire conversation? Do you know that I now hate you and am fuming in the next stall...dangerous.

I put up with your annoying phone conversation in the dressing room, checkout line, tiny elevator, library, restaurant, airplane, grocery store, bank, concert, movie, bus (ok I don’t ride the bus, but if I did it would be really annoying), but can you please respect the sacredness of the ladies restroom?

It’s time to make a choice – pee or phone. I promise the acoustics are horrible and next time I’m not holding anything in!

What the Nike shorts?!

So, is it just me or does the University of Texas have a new dress code?

While on my break earlier, I counted 43 girls wearing Nike color-blocked running shorts. Really?! Now, granted, they were of varying colors and sizes but there were 43 people in a 5 min window wearing the EXACT SAME item of clothing. If you don’t know what shorts I’m talking about, then I’m afraid, you are more behind in the fashion world than I - shame on you. Oh and if you are asking why I was counting them, you are missing the point and well...my job is really boring.

So apparently, work-out clothes are the new college uniform in 2009. Why does everyone seem to know this? Maybe there was a critical Tweet I missed while checking Facebook, but I surely did not get that memo. However, I don’t think I get the fashion either. Sure, they look pretty comfortable and it is really hot here, but if running shorts are what you wear to class what is it that you wear while running? Isn’t that why they are called running shorts? I’m just being practical.

I suppose I might be slightly biased being that I went to BYU and we had a strict honor code that kept Polos and khakis in constant style. I just feel like people should wear real clothes in public. Maybe that’s far too old school and I need to start embracing the trend tides. Perhaps kids now-a-days are all about multi-tasking, you know, “I’m not only a student but also an athlete”. I could support that, especially if neither had to actually be true.

Solicited, unsolicited compliment.

I don’t think there is any question that we all love to be complimented and praised. It feels awesome to be told you’re fantastic. A really good, unexpected compliment can literally make your day. Of course, some of us require more compliments than others to stay afloat, which can quickly become annoying. Personally I find that when I’m not satisfied I’ll just compliment myself, but still, compliments are much appreciated and in general a healthy level of reinforcement benefits us all.

The extremely frustrating and irrational expectation is when we want someone to tell us something nice but we certainly don’t want to have to ask for it. I find this occurring most often with the opposite sex being that same gendered friends are usually more aware of each others’ nondescript codes. In general we want to be noticed for things like our outfit or shoes or general amazingness but we don’t want to presumptuously point it out. Then on top of that, we want to hear the "right" thing not just anything. In reality this is a problem on at least two levels, we can’t control what someone else does or thinks and second, we really need to find a way to be happy with ourselves with what we can control, our own opinions.

I rediscovered this little paradox yet again this weekend when I found myself fishing for reassurances from my friend about something rather silly. It didn’t work, as it rarely does. After I walked away disappointed I thought, why didn’t I just say – hey, buddy, it would be great if you would tell me this right now because I really need to hear it, but don’t say it like I told you to say it, make it seem like you were going to say it and don’t forget to mean it. Somehow saying such a truthful statement out loud manages to miss the entire point. Fiddlestix.

Sometimes I think life would be easier if we were all comfortable enough to say so boldly what we want/expect/need from each other but then I think about it for 5 seconds and remember why it is probably best I keep those things to myself…or to a blog.

Shopaholic? Nah.

I just finished watching another movie based on a bestselling novel, Confessions of a Shopaholic. It was disappointing but that is not my point. The main character is clearly out of her mind. She is helpless in the sight of shiny, new things and credit cards rule her life. Arguably her biggest flaw, however, is her horrific taste, but that is just my opinion.

As I watched this movie I discovered I was reassuring myself, out loud. I am not like her, I would never buy that much crap. Yes, I bought two pairs of shoes last night but they were so cute and they were on sale!

After a long look in the mirror - while wearing my new turquoise leather sandals - I came to the conclusion that shopping does not control my life and unlike the flaky protagonist, I am certainly not in debt. I do, however, buy things I don't need with money I could be saving for more important things...I guess.

The quick journey with our irrational buyer ends with her realization that her spending is really an attempt to define her entire life. What she owns is who she is. Once she decides to embrace who she really is inside she finds, of course, that she no longer needs all those things.

During a group meeting with the other shopaholics, the credit card queen explains all the reasons she loves to buy things. The stores are beautiful and they never let you down. The flutter in your heart when you find the perfect purse and the buttery comfort that follows as the credit card swipes to complete the purchase. All of these things, I totally understand and, I must admit, hit rather close to home.

I shop because I love it and I shop for how it can make me feel. A perfectly cut pair of jeans provides that additional confidence and excitement for a date. The purchase of a beautiful pair of shoes soothes my aching heart. A new dress makes a crappy week worthwhile and sparkling jewelry celebrates accomplishments. Shopping indeed regulates me and that, I'm afraid, is the true addiction.

There is no question that it is never a good idea to rely on 'things' to control feelings. I must remain the boss of me and this is why it's important to be aware of attempts to purchase happiness for surely it will go out of style, doomed to hang in the closet. On the other hand, it really is a crime to leave a clearance pair of red patent leather pumps in the store. C'est la vie.

Self: Noted

I’ve had a lot of ‘Hmm...’ moments recently. I would like to say they were ‘Aha!’ moments of brilliant realizations but instead these are more like those in which you realize you did something silly or just blanked on common sense all together. I know you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Note to self:

If you leave a leaky cooler in your trunk, the entire thing will get wet, and if you live in Texas it will grow mold overnight and subsequently stink up your entire car, really bad.

If you decide to go tubing on a river in Texas during a drought, plan on carrying your tube instead of floating on it.

If you stop eating sugar for an entire month you will have nightmares about cookies.

Your eyelids are skin and as such can also get sunburned.

If your window blinds are slats up instead of down, a sheer curtain alone will not block the wide open view of your room from the swimmers in the pool below.

The paste on envelopes still does not taste good.

If you fall asleep under a tree, no doubt a punk squirrel will drop an acorn on your head.

Texans do not know how to merge, protect yourself by incorporating the constant honk and swerve technique.

If you call in sick but then show up sunburned the next day people might be slightly suspicious.

If the gas light comes on in your car, it is not a test, you are about to be out of gas.

Although some fine cheeses are moldy, hand grown refrigerator mold is not the same.

If you try to read a book while walking down stairs there is a high probability you will end up on your tookus.

Lastly, boys and girls never have and never will speak the same language.

A Raccoon?!

This morning as I entered my office I was greeted by a hallway full of my coworkers. They were all starring at me. One of them finally said:

“You can’t go back there.”
Ok.
“There is a raccoon on the loose back there!!”
What?
“Yeah, a raccoon fell through the ceiling and is now running up and down the halls!”
Seriously? That is awesome.

The office was to be evacuated immediately. We must maintain a safe distance while we wait for the superb UT animal control force to hunt down the raccoon on the run. I was a lucky one, freed from both the confines of desk work and a terrifying hostage situation. The entire back half of my office mates were not as lucky. They found themselves trapped by the menacing mammal scurrying along the cubical walls and were directed to barricade themselves in the back room with cabinets and boxes...hm.

So, I took this short raccoon enforced break to catch up on some light reading: Harry Potter: The Prisoner of Azkaban – I know, people say I’m a little behind. Approximately 25 min later, a young lad – no more than 16 – comes strutting down the hallway, free of eye contact, with a large animal carrier, gloves and two large nets in hand. He was here to save us all and he means business. I was informed later that he is one of only three people on campus certified for this type of rescue mission – outstanding. Six minutes and 58 seconds later, out came our hero accompanied by a uniformed officer holding the now occupied metal carrier. Their chests stood proud as they walked down the hall of honor and grand applause. The raccoon has been captured. Well done, men.

So there it is, just another day at the office here at UT. And if you think this is entertaining, get ready, because bat season is just around the corner...

Sugar Free June

That’s right, for 30 days I will be sugar free with the added bonus of removing carbonated beverages...more specifically, caffeine, from my diet. Before everyone goes crazy, rushing to remind me that it is impossible to be entirely sugar free let me clarify: I have removed "junk" sugars from my diet but maintaining natural sugars like fruit as well those incidental sugars in bread, etc.

Why on earth am I doing this? Well, good question. I figured since the 5k is over (which I totally ran in 42 min) I needed another goal which would increase my overall health and happiness...and give me more bragging rights. I’m looking to purge the system, shock the body into a more efficient processing machine and stimulate more weight loss.

Even with all these excellent reasons, what it really all comes down to is that 2009 is a year of conquering for me. I conquered Ireland, a 5k, some heavy reading and now it is time to tackle sugar and caffeine. Once I finally decided on them, my first few goals ended up being fairly reasonable to accomplish and sustained a high yield of gratification making them extra rewarding. I’m hoping June will continue on this path of amazinginess.

Today is sugar free day 4 and it is has not been easy. There have been incidents of severe headaches, a bit of drool, a tear or two and some mild hallucinations. It’s true, I knew it was going to be rough when I mistook a piece of orange paper for a Reese’s cup and wanted to devour it. No fear, I did not. Instead, I have replaced my normal sugar/caffeine intake with an excessive amount of peanuts. July food ban: peanuts.

Anyway...it is a pretty awesome feeling being able to knock out even a few things in life you either want to get rid of, overcome, or finally accomplish. The initial decision and accompanying challenge is extremely empowering, invigorating, inspiring and yet it can still be slightly scary. Change is good but change is change so expect some growing pains such as ridiculously sore calf muscles or caffeine withdrawal headaches and become BFF with Ibuprofen. But in the end, running through that finish line, it is totally worth it.

I’m not sure what will be next on the list after teaching sugar a lesson but one thing is for sure, nothing will stop me from making 2009 a year for the history books. Hey December, watch out – I’m already punching June in the face!

Ok 5k

Once upon a time I was quite the athlete. I was a ribbon-carrying member of the district track team for the 100M relay and shot put. I also held the school record for unchallenged serves on the volleyball team. Sure, I was 14, but still, all facts. Now, doubled in age (but certainly not height), I find myself searching for that long lost athlete somewhere deep in my genes. For years I’ve wanted to run a 5k, but soon after, the reality of actual running sets in and I let it go. This year is different because, this year, I’m actually going to do it.

There have been numerous voices cheering me on during this physical challenge, among them might be a desire for a rocking body, but in all seriousness it is more about how this accomplishment will stand as a visible defeat of a very old inner battle. A few weeks ago this 5k seemed like one of the hardest physical things I could ever do and honestly, not really even possible. Just thinking about running for more than 5 min straight made me laugh, but then again I never really tried it.

However, along with the recent realization of my ever constant daily dog-paddling came the determination to do those things which for so long I cast aside as just too hard. With this renewed passion and determination I pushed myself to work harder every single day and just two nights ago I ran two entire miles without stopping. It is a true spring miracle.

Now, being just a little over a mile and 30 days away from my goal, one thing is perfectly clear, I’m blowing past more hurdles than I ever imagined and nothing can stop me. Not only am I indestructible, but something else rather interesting happened while tackling this personal challenge. Several of my closest friends joined me without request or hesitation. I can not tell you how amazing it feels to put on your running shoes, head out the door to stare that track in the eyes only to be met with 6 smiling faces to run right there with you, side by side. What a precious gift! (I might have gotten a little teary-eyed…maybe)

So, here I am, running toward that finish line with fire in my feet, eyes and heart. By this time next month I will be standing on my own personal podium to claim that trophy…after I punch that 5k right in the face. He will never see me coming. Run Red, run.

Emerald Isle

About two weeks ago I was standing on a street corner in Killarney, Ireland watching a real Irish St Patrick’s Day Parade. Wow, what an experience! Not only did the town crazy (who they let out of the loony bin until 6pm) dance a jig up and down the parade route, but I saw green dogs, lots of men in plaid skirts, bagpipes and a little boy so dedicated to his penny whistle playing that he stepped in a ginormous pile of horse poo without even flinching. Go Irish!

Since there is just far too much Irish goodness to write about all at once, I will just highlight a few favorites for quick and easy consumption. (They are arranged chronologically since it was too hard to rank any other way.)

1. Cliffs of Moher: the most beautifully unbelievable cliffs of pure insanity I have ever seen in real life. It is truly amazing to me that 3 giddy girls could actually get in a backwards European car in a foreign country with basically nothing but aspirations of great times and find some of the most beautiful sites in the world, the Cliffs of Moher were just the first of many.
2. Random castles and stone creations strewn about the countryside. We had no idea what they were or how old but they were everywhere and that alone was pretty awesome.
3. Dunnes: Ireland’s version of Super Target, sure to fulfill all your American needs for only triple the dollar.
4. J90 at The Grand: the best, cute Irish boy American-pop cover band in the world singing just for us in an Irish pub.
5. Gerry aka Our Hero: General manager of our hotel in Killarney who rescued us from the parking nightmare in the back ally, quenched our thirst with free cocoa and gave us sweet insider tips on the most happening night spots. Our love was mutual.
6. Killarney: our hearts will forever belong to this sweet Irish town that gave us shelter, took our money and showed us how to have a kicking time Irish style (well, minus the alcohol)
7. Ring of Kerry: the most breathtaking 2.5-hour drive along the coast of one of Irelands smaller peninsulas. The roads were terrifying but the scenery was totally worth it and just when you think you’ve seen it all, there is so much more!
8. Blarney Stone: we made it to the Blarney Castle 5 min before closing, just in time to run up the itty-bitty spiral stair case to the tippidy top of the castle and kiss the stone for good luck. As a bonus, if you travel with a blond American girl you will likely get a free dinner offer from the creepy, old Blarney Stone man who holds you tight for ‘safety’ while kissing the stone. Awesome.
9. Leprechauns: this is what we affectionately called all the locals we befriended which was actually quite remarkable considering the language barrier. Turns out, they only technically speak English. One memorable leprechaun: Julie, our St Paddy’s Day Parade narrator who really just wanted a ‘fag’ and didn’t care much for the 'Mormons' but chatted and laughed with us for hours anyway.
10. Irish food: boiled tomatoes and warm milk for breakfast, that is the Irish way. And just when you think it might be safe to order a chicken sandwich remember you’re not in America anymore.

In the end, I spent a ridiculous amount of Euro, walked hundreds of miles, saw at least a million sheep, kissed one very old, slimy stone, climbed a thousand extremely uneven and rather unsafe stairs, took almost 300 pictures, laughed till my sides burst, drank cocoa in a pub, fell out of the shower, danced with the locals, chatted with leprechauns and brought back through customs so many other memories of Ireland to last 2 lifetimes. When I landed back on US soil I was ecstatic, not only to run to the nearest BBQ, but also because I just turned one of my life goals into a reality that I get to enjoy forever. I can hardly wait for the next one to begin!

Drafting

I received a friendly email notification at work the other day that my mailbox was over the limit and I needed to reduce immediately or else. Oh no, I might not get some work related email, just tragic. Nevertheless, I had no choice, I must clean out my mailbox.

After deleting all my unread email I didn't care to look at, I went to my 'Drafts' folder where I found several dozen half-completed blog entries. I must start up a blog entry at least once a week. They are usually spurred by something ridiculous that just happened near or around me at work. (I work at a state agency so I'm sure you can vaguely imagine at least some of the ridiculousness I face daily.) I've written random short stories, interesting observations, long rants, fond memories or just a tidbit of new wisdom that hit me that very moment. One thing is the same, they remain there in drafts, unfinished, unpublished.

I re-read them all. I laughed, got a little angry, chuckled mischievously, and I even got a little choked up (some are rather touching, yeah, I'm that good). I thought to myself why didn't I finish and post any of these for someone to enjoy even if that someone was me? I don't have a good answer. They are just drafts, brief bursts of expressed emotion with no real conclusion.

It occurred to me, while reading my awesome drafts, that my life is too much like this folder. I have moments of grand intentions or tempting dreams, bursts of passion and excitement and moments of clarity and insight. I'm going to travel the world, start a business, begin another graduate program, solve the world problems, get married, buy a new car, write a novel, or be a millionaire and yet they sit, never completed, just drafts. Why? They do no one any good there, just clutter. I certainly don't want to get one of those "taking up too much space on earth, must delete" messages any time soon.

As it goes, with this discovery, it is now time to clean out my drafts and make room...for other things, bigger things, better things. This weekend I will finish my first draft - I'm going to Ireland. Not just to return to my adopted roots (turns out, I can only claim to have the national hair color) or see a new part of the world, but to live out one of my dreams and finish something I started a long time ago.

Don't worry, this will not be the only finished draft from me, I have plenty more. Stay tuned...

More Than Words

So I meant to post this like a week ago, but clearly I did not…oops.

Last night (now last week) I sang my poor little heart out at the annual "Love Bites Sing-along" at the Alamo Drafthouse. It was pure therapeutic magic. There really is nothing like belting out surprisingly sentimental lyrics to the electric guitar stylings of Izzy and Jovi with your friends.

I’ve always enjoyed a good ballad and my favorite among them are those awesome power ballads from the 80s. Such an interesting time in music that made an everlasting impact on our souls. The power ballad, in my mind, stands as probably the best artistic description of love I can personally relate to. It is sweet emotion wrapped up in simple melodies, heartfelt lyrics and short bursts of heart pumping electric power solos. That is true love, baby.

For two hours I sang at the top of my lungs alongside the heart wrenching vocal pleas of Cyndi Lauper and Steve Perry. With every song, I released enormous amounts of that icky daily stress and a little bit of those irritating love pains. I can give no better suggestion to someone broken, stressed, torn, sad or just plain tired than to crank up the volume and embrace their inner power ballad. It is a total eclipse of the heart and it certainly works for me, time after time.

Tonight is round two. Tonight we take out the power and embrace just the pure soft ballad. It’s called the "No Shame" sing-along for a reason. And yes, I will sing those ballads shamelessly and you know why - because I love them and I will not be ashamed of what I love. Plus, I’ll take any chance to scream in public without fear of being ssssshhhh’d any day. Yes, we do it all for the glory of love.

My Ox is in the Box!

Tis the year of the ox! A year of prosperity…to those who work for it!

The ox stands as symbol of prosperity through fortitude and hard work. The ox is intended to remind us that good things come to those who work for it. This is probably good advice any year but surely it can’t hurt to have a little encouragement from the stars alignment.

With this nudge form the stars, I thought I should probably take on the challenge of hard work this year. I mean, I would like very much to be prosperous, but that really just seems…well, like a lot of work. However, while I was conducting extensive research today on the ox year, I discovered that I am not actually the tenacious rooster I had always believed. Turns out, those Chinese place mats detailing my future are not entirely accurate. I know, I was both shocked and horrified as well. Since the Chinese calendar follows a lunar year they don’t exactly match up to our western, simplistic calendar. Therefore, I’m excited to announce that I’m actually a monkey.

Wow, this feels so liberating and now that I know where I really come from there is a whole new outlook on life. It all makes perfect sense really. Master Wiki says monkeys are “often inventors, plotters, entertainers and the creative geniuses behind anything ingenious, including mischief and with their charm and persuasiveness they can make people believe that just knowing them is a privilege.” Now, who couldn’t have called that one?

Armed with this enlightenment, I asked myself what a monkey would do in the year of the ox to find prosperity. Ingeniously simple! I’m going to find an ox to do the hard work for me.

Did I peak your curiosity? Good. Find your Chinese animal equivalent and figure out how to exploit the year of the ox as well.

Egad

In less than 48 hours I will be turning 28 years of age and I’m not going to lie, it is really freaking me out.

The other day I was watching a few episodes from season two of Friends with a friend. For all my fellow Friends fans this is the season where Ross and Rachel finally get together, Monica starts dating the much older Dr. Burke and Joey is cast and quickly killed off on Days of Our Lives. Also in season two, the friends are 27 years old. Now, despite the fact these episodes aired over decade ago, it still hit me hard…I am now older than Chandler. Egad!

Not only am I freaked out because I’m now older than the Friends, but 28 is the basically the point of no return…to thirty!!! You see, at 27 you can still claim membership to the ‘mid-twenties’. You are just barely getting over the quarter-century life crisis and living the easy life of an independent twenty-something, but as that clock hits 28 everything changes. You are now officially a card holding member of the ‘late twenties’ and getting monthly reminder notices from the Thirty Club. There is no going back to the safety and innocence of the mid-twenties; those care free days are long gone.

Now, being that I’m not yet 28, I’m not sure what exactly all my new responsibilities will be but certainly the job of a 28 year old is more intense than the years prior. There is so much preparation to be done. I have to start thinking about my health, long term goals and retirement. I probably have to start checking out all the good buffets in town, practice going to bed at 8 pm and telling those 25 year olds' to turn down the music. On top of all that, I have to start looking for cats that need to be adopted. So much, so much. On the upside, I think at 28 you get reduced rates on car insurance and Dennys, are bestowed with additional bits of wisdom and blessed with the title, “Ma'am”.

Well, so begins the end. As I brace myself for this shove into maturity, I wish to say audios to all the glorious years of my youth. Goodbye young Red, you were a shining star. We have had many a good times and I will never forget you!