"Coo-coo-cachoo, they find their way back to the big ol' blue."

Sometimes you have to live three years in limbo before you find an escape route.

Google Images, babe.

Getting a job is hard. Getting a job you love is harder. Getting a writing job you love is really hard.

I interviewed for a staff writer position at Montco Media in January and for certain reasons, the hiring window became a freeze zone right after my interview. What did that mean for me? I didn't get hired.

This was really hard to accept because I wanted the job so badly. Frankly, I needed the job so badly because to be honest, I had hit rock-bottom. 

I have doubted myself for the past three years about becoming a writer. Could I even get hired? If I was hired, could I do the job well? If I did the job well, would I love it like I thought I would?

The answer is finally "yes".

In March, I was asked to freelance for Montco Media with the wonderful opportunity to have a friend be my editor. The friend is someone I had met waiting tables and is the reason I knew about the job at all. 

The most amazing, poetic part of it all? A week or two before I was asked to freelance, I severely cut back my hours at the restaurant. Why? I wasn't happy. That was reason enough for me. However, I was still as lost as I ever was- if not more. But I knew I needed to take the risk in order to find a job writing that truly made me happy and satisfied.

Hindsight would make it seem like I was making myself available to freelance. Reality would tell you that I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen.

When I received that offer I was nervous beyond belief. And they asked me to cover my first story the next day! Whoa! 

But I put on my fancy clothes, grabbed my notebook and listened to every damn piece of advice my friend/editor gave me. I am perpetually grateful for his patience and help since I've started this job. And it shows me how good people can be and how we're all here to help each other, more than anything else.

But guys- I'm still human. So I have made plenty of mistakes so far! 

For example:

1. Calling the Chief of Police "Officer". Oops. He did not like that. 

2. Not understanding sewage and water systems so badly (but honestly, who would?!) that I had to have the township manager spell it out for me on a phone call days after I covered my story. Embarrassing but necessary. And it won't be the last time I have to look like an idiot to get a story correct.

3. Conducting an interview of 3 people at the same time and starting with a question that I thought would steer my entire story... only to have them shut it down immediately. I was left floundering for words for the next hour. The audio is actually painful to listen to as moments of silence appear consistently throughout. Absolutely painful.

4.  Grammar. You think you know it- you don't.

5. Attribution. You think you've done it- you haven't.

And many more, I'm sure. However, I wouldn't want it any other way. I have learned so much and have met so many people in these wonderful few months. It's amazing how fast time flies when you truly love what you do. And I hope that never stops being the case. If I have talked to you at all in these past few months, I'm sure I've already gushed about being a reporter. I don't mean to be annoying but it's been a painful trip since graduation and I finally feel that I have found my niche. And it is pure joy. Pure, challenging joy.

I cover art events in elementary schools, and groundbreakings for beloved town establishments, and interview people that are killing it in this game of life. And then I get to go sit in my living room and write about it. WHAT. HOW COOL IS THAT!?

Google images, dude

So I promise to just keep swimming- if you all do the same. 

"That's a Good Lesson for the Kids"

In my efforts to seize the world, I am taking a film class at a local old-fashioned movie theater where I have been known to almost pass out.

The passing out is due to seeing Black Swan (can you blame me?) and Two Days, One Night... a foreign film I accidentally saw that made me squeamish for who knows what reason. Maybe boredom? Can that happen? 

Anyway, the class is about Woody Allen films. Is the guy a creep? Totally. Is he annoying to watch on screen and listen to rant? Most definitely. Do I even like him? No.

Google Images
Woody Allen's face

I took the class because I appreciate his approach to film and there is something about those films that make me want to pay $125 for four classes to listen to my overweight professor get in weird, passive arguments with my class full of elderly die-hard Woody Allen fans. 

Okay, maybe it isn't his films that make me want to go through all of that. But well, that's what I've been going through.

Last night was my second class. We start in discussion in a classroom then go down to the theater, watch the film of the night, then go back and discuss more. Solid. 

Well, last night was a better movie than the first week. Still weird and incestuous, but whatever. Foreshadowing, I guess. Well, there was a joke in the movie. Not surprising. However, EVERYONE in my class cracked up. The full "throw your body forward" laughing. I sat still. Laughed inside? I think I smirked just because the couple next to me looked at me like I was a freak for not projectile vomiting my laughter. That's when I knew.

I was surrounded by people that lovedddd Woody Allen. And it was then that I felt like I accidentally went into another foreign film.  

Half of the discussion I listen and somehow take 5 pages of notes, but the lulls between that include me watching my classmates. Flat out staring at them. Why are they all there? I haven't spoken a word yet. Except to say I didn't do the homework on the first night. Actually, I read 2 of the 3 readings which is basically doing all of it for me. 

I decided I hate one girl. She's foreign, but that isn't why I hate her. (Don't take offense, Two Days One Night.) Last night her phone vibrated for the entire second part of class. I'M SORRY, BUT WHAT!? Cut the shit, girl. I was especially angry because she had BO from the very moment she walked in and I made it a priority to shower before class. And I hate showering. Then she spoke and made a dumb point that was immediately passively argued by my professor. However, she pushed it further... all the while her phone vibrated. I gave up. 

But it was then that I realized the class was still worth it...

Because a retired doctor said:

"If there's sperm. There's a chance." In regards to pregnancy.
So my professor said:

"That's a good lesson for the kids!"

And that's what I learned in my film class last night.

Winterfest: A Night of Not Hating Winter

Last Saturday night I went to Waterfront Winterfest at Penn's Landing. It started out weird.

We pull up to the parking lot and have to pay to park. Fine. I gave $20, expecting $5 back. The lady hands me five (what look like) quarters. I give a very quizzical look and she responds in the accent of a southern gypsy on a back road asking for money, "Dolla coins."

Okkaayyy… we continued on through with my five Dolla Coins and entered the beautiful fake village in freezing weather.

All of the trees were alit, there were fireplaces inside and fire pits outside. Strangers upon strangers funneled on and off the iceskating rink and no one was in a bad mood. There was magic in the air.

Once we figured out which line lead to full beer glasses and which line lead to the beer tasting, we hopedp in the former. Then we grabbed some Winter Ale and give the beer tasting a whirl. Nothing else matters about these beers, except that I tried a peanut butter and chocolate beer and it was delightful. Just a subtle peanut butter taste! I wanted to trade my Winter Ale for a glass of that instead, however I figured that wasn't allowed. What a missed opportunity.

Up on the screen was a documentary about Prohibition and groups of friends sat about playing miniture games of air hockey and Jenga, while not a chair was left empty. I instantly envied them all.

However, all was well because we decided to move outside to drink our beers and creep on people iceskating. Since I figured it would be me soon, we decided to cheers to every person that fell. There were a few and there were also a few professionals down there that blew my mind. They make it look so damn easy!

One more beer and a mexican hotdog later, I was dancing to some jazz music by a stellar band called "Chelsea Reed and the Fairweather Five". Yet again, it felt like there was not a bad mood in the house.

Sadly, we had to leave the soft, sultry sounds of the 1920s to face the real music of iceskating. Don't get me wrong, I love iceskating. But it takes me awhile to get used to being on the ice and the rink was so crowded that I was sure I would start a chain effect of falling should I skate. Regardless, I still skated. We took breaks. Made friends with a couple that intelligently chose not to skate and just watched instead. Lap by lap, I remained on two feet blades. Tipsy and all! So, there really must have been some magic happening there.

Afterwards, we surrendered to coffee and hot chocolate instead of more alcohol and found our way back into The Lodge where those Fairweather Five friends were jamming out again. I considered myself a friend of the singer's since I had yelled at her "YOU'RE THE SINGER OF THE BAND. GREAT JOB," while I was in line for my skates. I doubt she felt the same. But when I want to compliment someone, you can bet your bottom dollar I will do it, no matter how obnoxious I have to be to get their attention.

We had tried to sit by the fire pits outside but sadly were constantly enveloped by smoke. So it was then we bowed out of a fabulous evening in Winter Wonderland. It felt like we had gone back in time, in more ways than one.

"Not I- Nor Anyone Else…

…Can Travel That Road for You."

The other day a friend of mine asked me how I was coping with my new single lifestyle. How do you answer that if you don't feel single? And yet, you don't feel taken?

"I'm good." "I'm fine." "I feel happy." "Some days I want to run back."

I wasn't sure if I'd write about this but time has passed and I've learned how much it is shaping me and I feel compelled to share it. Obviously certain things will be kept for myself.

My current predicament is definitely not something most old people understand. I don't think it is something the average person understands. You know the one. "The fall in love, get married, make babies" kind of person. (Not that I don't adore some of those people.)

Perhaps this can help those people understand.

-----

I'm working again at the cafe where I used to work, while I figure out what's next in my life. Here, there are a lot of old men that come in and pry into staff's lives. I used to loathe it. But now, well now I see how much I've changed since last year.

One guy told me he didn't think there was a difference between a "break" and a "break-up." Interesting.  Maybe some people have been using the wrong phrase to describe their situation. But I firmly stand by the underestimated power of a true break. And I'm very into extremes, so that means a lot coming from me.

I guess love is it's own extreme. An exception. I guess love is the opposite polarity to everything else.

Another guy told me I was a triple threat to make me feel better. Smart, nice, and beautiful. He shortly followed this unusually sweet statement with, "Not necessarily in that order." Thanks for the bode of confidence, sir.

-----

The Universe was yelling at me. Screaming at me. Throwing me around, hard.

Since July I have had a string of bad luck, bad luck that stopped abruptly when I decided to move home and take time to myself.

The business I worked for shut down. I severely sprained my ankle and was on crutches. I had six cavities and no money. I couldn't find a job. I had no desire to find a job. I barely saw my friends and rarely saw my family. I was surrounded in my life by people that didn't make me feel good about myself. I had received traffic tickets and had to go to court. I had to drop unexpected large amount of money on said tickets and car issues. I was completely disappointed in myself. And then a tree branch fell on my car and shattered my windshield while I was at my parents house... the day before I was supposed to start a new job in Lancaster.

The first entry I wrote for this blog, I said "watch out for falling branches" and yet even I was unaware to just how literally the Universe can take your requests.

I cracked up. I laughed my way into my house when I told my mom about my car. I finally surrendered. I wasn't going back to Lancaster.

The bad luck, lack of confidence, and unique ways both I and Brian changed over time are the reasons I find myself in the bedroom I grew up in. And it's okay. I'm good. I'm fine. I feel happy.

I'm already confident enough with my decision to tell you that is okay to move home. And it is okay to not know what you want to be when you grow up. And it's okay to date someone for years and not know yourself well enough to make promises for the rest of your life. It's your life. You are not a "we."

-----

My best friend and I were talking about relationships, both with someone else and the one we have with ourselves at this point in our lives. We had hesitations and unanswered questions. And she told me something her mom said that hit me at the core, and also made me laugh thinking of her mom dropping this line and running away.

"Listen to the whispers."

Basically, listen to those things in the back of your head, at the bottom of your gut, in your footsteps on the ground. Don't always listen to what you tell yourself but rather what your Self is telling you. Trust it and if things are meant to be, they will be.

For the past month and a half, I've been waking up and going to sleep to my family. I've been running again and going to musical shows and trying mussels and liver pate for the first time. I started a book club with old, similarly nerdy friends of mine. I've seen friends I haven't seen for years. I'm paying people back. I'm going to take a comedy skit writing class and volunteer with Habitat for Humanity again. I'm getting to know this adult version of myself all by myself. And I feel like my kid self is pretty happy with me. She always knew how I should live my life, before I even existed.

I have found a way to be independent again. Something I shouldn't have lost in the first place. I am at fault for that. But it makes my journey a hell of a lot more interesting and at least I'm doing something about it. I have a feeling my posts are gonna have a lot more to say in the coming months.



"You Must Travel it Yourself." w.w.

Thoughts While Being Pulled Over

Over the summer I was pulled over while driving. It was totally my bad.

I severely overslept and made it to work an hour late that day (not my usual, I promise). When the workday was over I had to get home ASAP because I had a two hour drive to a friend's graduation party. And to be honest, the damn cop was just driving too slowly for me.

I gave him a chance to speed up... he unconsciously refused. So I decided to pass him. Unfortunately, I didn't think this through and decided to pass him while going through a traffic light. Okay, okay! While going through a traffic light in the process of changing from yellow to red.

But for the record, it was yellow when I started through it! I always think that is a valid enough reason to go through. This is probably my number one offense while driving. Well that and stop signs. Stopping in general. That's my problem.

Anyway, the light turned red while I was still in the intersection. I continued on through. The cop did not. This would be the moment when my stomach dropped, my heart stopped, and yet I immediately accepted my fate. Because why wouldn't that happen after the day I had? Every day has to have some type of theme to it, right?

I should have been in a car accident at that moment too. Not because of other cars but because I then completely stopped looking ahead of me and flat out stared into my rear-view mirror waiting for those damn colorful, flashing, vindictive lights.

No lights appeared. My thoughts in that moment? "Huh? Come on now, guy. You can't let me get away with that. I AM SLOWING DOWN SO YOU CAN PULL ME OVER MORE EASILY. ACT. I CAN'T REST UNLESS YOU REACT."

Boom. He must have heard me because the Scene-of-the-Crime-Stoplight changed and the cop appeared in my rear view mirror closer, closer, closer and THEN he put the lights on. Don't get me started on how uncalled for it was that he waited so long to put his lights on. To the point where I started to relax. He has some nerve. Not me.

So then I pull over immediately. Probably prematurely. I mean I basically just stopped driving. Blocked an entire entrance to a bar. Which in the middle of the afternoon you might not think is a big deal, but in this part of Lancaster city... you might be surprised.

As the dude takes his time to mosey up to my window, I text Brian, "I just got pulled over." That was it. I didn't respond until I got home. I wanted to keep him in suspense as much as I was being kept in suspense by the cop. Chain of Suspense... similar to the Chain of Anger. (Because I might as well incorporate that into my life as often as possible.)

"Bad time to run a red light, huh?"

That is what he said to me. Naturally my reply... "IT WAS YELLOW. I SWEAR IT WAS YELLOW WHEN I WENT THROUGH. I THOUGHT IT WAS YELLOW. YELLOW! YELLOW! IT WAS YELLOW!!!"

He then proceeds to take my information then goes back to play in his car. I sing a song to myself about how predictably chaotic my life is and he returns cool, calm, and collected.

"Okay. Just try and be more careful when you're driving." He hands my stuff back to me and I proceed to excessively thank him. Then, like a real creep, I ask his name and thank him with his name attached to the phrase. Because then we're on a new personal level of thankfulness and there is no way he would change his mind.

He probably thought it had to be an accident because who in their right mind would pass a cop to go through a red light? Rhetorical question, guys.

I waved as he drove away like an old pal I would see later for dinner.

While driving home from there with the jitters, I did what anyone my age would do... I called my mom.

"Hey Mom. So I just got pulled over... No, he didn't give me a ticket... he can't like send it to me in the mail right? Like it's done, right? No ticket for Bridget?" Like a good mom, she assured me he can't fake me out and mail me a ticket anyway.

As it turned out my luck with not getting tickets only lasted for one time. Because a month later I was pulled over again. That time wasn't as pleasant and I was slapped with two tickets for simply forgetting to have my car inspected. Which in my defense, was a new car to me.

I had been going to visit my nephews and stopped at a stop sign (luckily I did this time). I was waving someone else along when I noticed they were motioning behind me. I looked in that damn rear view mirror and saw a VAN with headlights.

"That can't be for me!? I did nothing wrong!"

It was for me. Jeez, I would have been happier if I got a ticket for the red light. Well, maybe not "happy".

Needless to say, I paid the one ticket and went to court two weeks ago to settle the other. All in the grand city of Philadelphia. Talk about intimidating. But also a grown up life lesson officially learned...

Man, I am so sick of grown up life lessons.

Hunting Without a Gun

Me: "If I'm going to act like a boy, I might as well drink like one."
Brian: "No Bridget, if you're going to hang with the boys... you don't have to act like one."

Last Monday, I went dove hunting. Armed with a library book. Before we went, I thought it best to drink a mug of rather strong beer. It was the only logical thing to do when I looked at my boyfriend and roommate and saw they were dressed in full camo and carrying guns.

You can barely see them, right??

I don't really prefer beer but I clearly felt the need to fit in with the guys more than my yoga pants and old running sneakers would allow. 

From the trip I learned a few things about myself, hunting, and boys. 

First off, dove hunting is rather tranquil. I only say this because no doves were killed in the process. We can argue there weren't a lot of them in the field we were in, or we can say the guys I was with aren't the best shot, or we could say sometimes a Robin looks like a Dove. Semantics. Peaceful is peaceful is peaceful. 

Part of the trail road we walked up at the State Gamelands in Manheim, Pa.

Secondly, you won't run into many ladies out there. I already knew this because I grew up in a family that had plenty of hunters and it was basically a "No Women Allowed" club. But while we were out there, this idea was reiterated when we saw only a couple other groups and they were all boys with bacon on their minds.

I also learned that hunting is mostly sitting. Which I'm down with, literally. Not just general sitting, but sitting out in the middle of nature. On our venture, we found a lovely little corn field to stomp through and then sit down at the edge of it. It's true, some of the time was spent taking selfies and creeping on Brian and Gil to capture their... uh ruggedness. But a lot of the time was spent reading and watching the sunset on beautiful downtown Nature.

This was my view. Pictured are all 4 previously mentioned: book, pants, old sneakers, Nature. 

I carried no weapon (unless you call my book a weapon) but felt like a hunter. Luckily, you don't have to be too quiet when dove hunting and it wasn't too cold outside. My kind of hunting. In fact, had I had to be quiet... I really don't think Brian would have let me come along. Not that I talk a lot, but if I don't say certain genius thoughts when they come to me than they just float away and really, who does that benefit?

Now that I'm an adult, I appreciate hunting a lot more than I used to. Knowing where your food comes from and how it is prepared has become much more significant to me, even if I'm not a total fan of front-row seats to the show. 

Brian and Gil did not succeed at getting a dove to wrap in bacon later but that was just this time. I have a whole freezer to prove that should we head back to a hunter/gatherer lifestyle... we will be covered. And with every success, a great heap of thanks will be sent out to the universe.

Speaking of "Thanks", this is when Gil killed a Robin and had to say Sorry and Thank you to it. 

If you decide to go hunting and aren't familiar with the activity, I am free to offer advice on things to think about while you are out there. For example, "maybe I should have worn a better sweatshirt." Or, "how long would it take them to notice I disappeared into the corn?" And even, "this is why so many diseases come through the library... because weirdos takes the books out hunting."

Having heard about this activity my whole life, it was definitely enjoyable to be on the other side of the story. However, I think I will be discounting some of the grandiose stories I've heard from uncles over the years.

Corn, corn everywhere and not an ear to eat.  

Realignment

I'd been waiting for a morning that both my parents and I had off from work because I wanted to take them to breakfast. I was earning money and they had just celebrated their 35th anniversary so I wanted to treat them. Unfortunately, after some weeks it proved a morning like that wouldn't come for some time. So I finally decided to take them to dinner! I don't remember the last time just the three of us had been able to do that and it felt great to grab the check as my parents sat back and smiled like satisfied kids.

Dessert? Of course. We then went and got ice cream... another swipe of the debit card.

After an impromptu mini-midweek vacation at my parents house, I went back to Lancaster for work on Thursday. The moment I walk in the door refreshed, my boss tells me the restaurant is going to close. Dammit. 

"Do you regret quitting your job at the library?" My boss genuinely asked me later that day.

"No. I was so unhappy there," I genuinely answered her. But still, now what?

FLASH FORWARD!

Less than a week later, I was playing soccer tennis (I know, again with the soccer) and my ankle completely rolled when I landed in a crack in the court I hadn't seen. I've done this enough to know when it's sprained. I also knew, I could keep playing before the pain took over. So I did. Then I went to my friends' apartment, watched Dating Naked (curious show) and couldn't walk by the end of it. Dammit.

The following break of dawn, I woke Brian up to take me to the doctor's. He piggy-backed me into the Patient First office. 

The nurses greeted us, "That was quite the entrance. Most people just ask for a wheelchair." 

Right, hadn't thought of that.

Then 4 nurses (eager to get the day started, I suppose) got me all set up with x-rays which proved, I needed a splint and crutches. Dammit.

Not my favorite pair of shoes.

I was not going to be able to work my last days at Forknspoon and I was in for some transportation struggles for the next couple weeks. 

Then I received a phone-call from my family. We were putting my dog down that day. I laughed. How could all of that happen within a week? No job, sprained ankle, no dog. This life is supposed to be a lesson. That was all I could tell myself, while I cried.

Since I couldn't drive, Brian took me to my parents house to say goodbye. This wasn't the first time I've said goodbye to my dog. But that isn't to say it gets any easier. To be honest, no matter how much you know it is time, each time you don't go through with it... you bounce completely back.

The pup himself. 

Well after a day from hell, my family decided to give Remi (my dog) one more chance. It turned out he has diabetes and is doing much better on medicine. This life is supposed to be a lesson.

After days of hopping and bruising myself with crutches, I decided to go out with friends on this past Saturday night. I wasn't going to go downtown because of the crutches but they convinced me (not hard to do).

I ran into a lot of friends, sang karaoke, danced alone on the dance-floor, aggressively scared creepers away from friends, and fell down only once! The floor was wet, what are ya gonna do!

I think I embarrass myself better than anyone else could embarrass me. But I wasn't going to let the inability to walk, earn money, or see my dog keep me from laughing. (But don't be fooled, I yelled a lot too in the past week.)

So now I am in a stage of realignment. Again. But dammit, it is like my parents always say: We may not have been as smart as we should have been, but boy, we had fun. 

Soccer Struggles of a Non-Soccer Player

Everyone, let us take a moment to imagine me playing soccer.

Are you laughing? Because I am cracking up.

I was a basketball player, a softball player, a track and field thrower. Hell, I even used to be a sprinter for a brief period of time. But never, ever was I a soccer player. My eye/foot coordination just doesn't line up and I knew this for awhile now. Which is probably why I never even tried soccer or felt any desire to associate with the sport at all. I like to try new things but I hate doing things I am not good at. I'm sure you can understand that a little bit. 

Well when my friend Brandy asked me to play in a soccer league with her I said, "Sure!" This reaction was produced for three reasons.

1. Brandy was my new friend at the time and I knew she loved soccer. So I wanted to be cool and play alongside her.

2. I'm a "Yes" person (as we all know at this point from my other post, haha) so I tend to respond to things positively before I entirely consider what they mean. 

3. Commitment and I have always had a weird relationship and we are never on the same page regarding how committing to things and then them actually materializing coincides. We can just add that to the list of things I'll never learn.

So when last Wednesday rolled around, we can fairly assume I was not looking forward to playing. I was preparing for embarrassment and sitting on the sidelines. And while the former didn't exactly happen...the latter never did. 

Brandy had told me there had to be three girls on the field at all times. Fine, just fine because I imagined their would be more than three girls! But as we walked up to the field, the first thing I did was count the girls. Two. Two girls. No one else was coming and I just realized I'd be playing the whole game.

I laughed out loud, shook my head, and told Brian I had never felt more out of place than I did right then. And that is including my time at the BSU dance I went to in college. 

We were a little bit late (surprise, surprise) getting to the game, so we literally ran straight onto the field. I HAD NO IDEA WHERE TO GO. When I say I don't know how to play soccer, I mean I have no idea what the positions are or how you move on the field. So Brandy yelled out to me, "You're gonna play up top. You're gonna score goals."

Haha! If you say so, Brandy.

So I'm running around, avoiding the ball and someone on the other team scores. Good for them! But apparently when you score in soccer everyone goes back to their own sides? Not me! I tried playing someone. That made everyone laugh. And I felt like I was fully out of the closet. What a relief. Now we all know I can't play and I don't have to pretend.

There was a girl on the other team that was very sweet and told me where to go. I laughed, said thank you, and told her I had no idea what I was doing. She said "I know" and laughed with me. Leave it to me to befriend our opponents. 

I wasn't as embarrassed as you'd think, because you live and you learn. And now I wouldn't make that mistake again. You guys should come watch me play in the last game, I bet I'll be bending it like Beckham. 

In basketball when you yell "Time" it means "Time Out". In case you were wondering, soccer isn't the same. EVERYONE kept yelling this and all I could think was "What the hell! Why will no one stop?" Well, Self... no one stopped because they were telling one another to "take their time" not asking for a time out.  Jeez, kids need to speak more clearly. 

One thing that kept troubling me was that I couldn't figure out if they were playing Zone or Man-to-Man. I guess, neither. But thinking like a basketball player made me feel better out there because I knew there was somewhere else that I could excel and thus, my life was not always about being a misfit on a soccer field. 

Luckily, some teammates (whom I never met before) told me where to go and what to focus on. It is amazing how little people need to look out for someone else. Oh you are wearing the same color shirt as me? Let me guide you! Humanity at it's finest. Or, at least a fine aspect of humanity.

At one point the ball was kicked into the woods. We had to pause for like 3 minutes for someone to go and retrieve it. At this point, I was tired. Because sadly I am not as in shape as the beautiful soccer players around me. So I embraced the break and almost hoped it would become an episode of Bones in the woods. Is that awful? Well, it was a brief thought anyway. I used to be an athlete so as the game went on I was having fun and putting in effort. That being said, I was glad they found the ball and nothing else.

A lot of the players seemed like hardcore athletes. One stuck out to me a lot, mainly because his hair was so big and his calves so muscled. Coincidentally, two nights later we saw him at a bar. I told Brian, "That is the kid we noticed at the soccer game!!" He said he didn't think it was him. Naturally, I said "I'm gonna go find out." Sure enough, we played this fella in soccer and his friends and mine all mingled for the evening to become pals by the end. 

I have another game tonight...

I think I will stick to my "Run at people to make them think I can play but just enough that they mess up and one of my teammates can take the ball" approach.

Ten Fun Things to do Before You Die.

I am currently reading a book called "Ten Fun Things to do Before You Die" by a nun named Karol Jackowski. It's brief, it's humorous, and it is real.

It has inspired me to make a list of my own, that may or may not change (most likely will) throughout my life. It's fun and it is also aligned in no specific order other than the way my brain came up with it.

Try your own list and tell me what you put on it. The unexamined life is not worth living, so tell me what you've examined about your own =]

1. Eat cheesecake while taking a bubble bath. I have recently done this. I stand by it's extraordinary power to demolish the bad things that happened earlier in your day... however, I suppose you could do this in the morning. I'm more of a savory person in the morning myself, but if you're into the sweet side of the AM than I suggest trying this out then rather than at the end of the day.
2. Cut your own hair. At least once. It's your damn hair and I cannot tell you how empowering it is to style and perhaps even abuse it by yourself.
3. Run until you puke. I understand this one may have some opposing viewpoints but it is still going to remain on my list. There is something to be said about pushing your body to its literal limit. There are a lot of metaphors for this concept but I say physically make it happen. Your blood will be pumping, your skin will be on fire, your stomach in unrest, and your mind satisfied.
4. Play hookie.  I am never on time. Even if I am running on time I will find a little chore to do to make me late. I don't understand it. I guess there is a deeper unconscious desire to be waited for rather than waiting for someone else. But such is life. We all have weird brain operations that we can't articulate. Anyway, that is a subtle way of playing hookie. Being expected somewhere and not being there. It is also called being an asshole so I am working on it. But this point was really to advise playing hookie for an entire day. Make it yours. Do whatever you want. Eat whatever you want. Call whomever you want. And enjoy.
5. Eavesdrop in a public place. This is one of my favorite hobbies. I don't do it to be a creep or make fun of people but rather to observe the everyday things that make up other people's lives. I find it fascinating. It is like watching all of those artsy films and plays that narrowly observe the normalcies of one person or family. The mundaneness of life is poetic when it isn't yours. I suggest recognizing that and appreciating that.
6. Aggressively avoiding something you hate. Know what you don't like and don't settle on putting up with it. This could be big or small. For example, I hate onions. I hate putting up with their horrible clear selves that "you can barely taste." I'm just not into it and I firmly let people know this about me. I also don't like sleeping with only one pillow. I always have an extra pillow with me, literally. I have a panda pillow in the backseat of my car. You could say this is high maintenance or you could say I know the key things I need to make me happy and I want to be happy.
7. Pray. You don't have to believe in God to pray. You can believe in karma or wind even and still pray. I personally believe in all three. Praying puts things in perspective and releases you from worldly troubles that lack value and places true value on the spiritual things that deserve it. Let quiet meditation invade your body and mind for just a little bit every day. You will see a difference. You will see better.
8. Pick favorites. Everyone says you should treat all the same. No. I think you should reward those people and things that make your day better. Treat them as the gift they are. Pick favorites but still acknowledge all.
9. Trust your instincts. Plain and simple. Question and understand why you have an innate feeling to do something but trust it all the same. It is natural and it is telling. Don't wait to find out if it is right by letting something go wrong. The same way my unconscious makes me late is also the same way my gut instinct has kept me from car accidents and broken hearts. These things are not coincidences.
10. Work hard at what comes easily. The things that come easily are the things that are easy to sweep under the rug.  I am a good writer. It comes easily to me. I don't write enough because of this though and so I don't have much to show for being a good writer (or at least as much as I could). My friend Sara is an amazing singer and she sings all the time. My friend Lynn is an amazing baker and she bakes all the time. They are some of my favorites and I'm proud to recognize their talent. Find and be proud of what you're good at and don't avoid training it as best you can. That which we don't use, we lose.

Now some of these may be wildly specific but details are what make things what they are, right?

This list will change tomorrow but I can know what I valued today, May 7th 2014, when I am 70 years old.

Say Yes.

No, not to the dress.

Say "Yes." Say "Hell yes." If you say "No", ask yourself: "Is my reason for saying no good enough?" And then when you answer "No"... say

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Jack from "Lost" is a doer even when he doesn't wanna. 

I have always thought of myself as a Yes-person but when I look back over the past couple years, I realize how much I said No. There were multiple reasons for this but the main ones were that I suddenly thought I was "too old" or "too busy" to do a single thing worth living for. I am 23 and work part-time jobs. WHO AM I KIDDING? I am young and free!

So I decided to say a big FU to that mindset.

If there are people I want to see that live far away, I will go see them now because they are good people and it is worth it.

If there is a shirt I want that is a little more expensive than one I don't want... I will buy it because I can always earn more money.

If there is time to walk another mile, I will walk it because God gave me two healthy legs and what the hell else am I gonna do with my time?

And you know what this mentality has gotten for me?

1. A new job! -- I went into a fantastic breakfast cafe with Brian and the hostess apologized for the wait. I said, "No worries. I worked at Ida's* for a couple years so I understand." The lovely hostess said, "Really? Ida's? Are you working anywhere else right now?"

In that moment I could have said "Yes. I work at a library." Boom, end of story. But I had been thinking I needed another job. I also had been thinking Wow, I don't want to be a librarian. And I realized that I make good money waiting tables and I have fun with it!! What a novel idea! So great, I tried libraries and they aren't for me. Why should I continue pursuing that path just because it looks good on my resume since I have an English degree? I shouldn't. Because honestly, it makes me hate people and I really do want to like people.

You may be surprised that I hate people more from working in a library than I do from waiting tables. But actually, I find people are at ease when they are out for breakfast and people at ease are usually fairly easy to be around. But in a library! Oh jeez! In a library people need questions answered and problems solved! And frankly, some of the questions and problems they need help with make me feel like there is no hope in humanity. You mean you can't figure out how to log out of Facebook on your own? You press "print" to print. No, you can't just make up an email out of thin air and insert it into the sweepstakes expecting to be notified.**

Pinterest Library Memes

But regardless! I told the hostess "I'm not waiting tables anywhere else. Are you hiring?" I then ate some pancakes, emailed her the next day, got a job the next week. Yes.

2. A new roommate! -- My good friend Neil(ski) is a nomad of sorts. A real gentleman after my own heart. He gets to travel around for jobs and works different ones all the time. Well, his most recent venture brought him back to Lancaster. It is a fairly brief gig, about five weeks. Neil asked if Brian and I would be willing to put him up for some of that time while he does this job. There I was with my good friend in need of a helping hand. There I was with an extra bedroom mainly used for an elliptical and my "stuffed" Panda having a place to sleep.

"YES. Come stay with us!" What is the worst that could happen? I get annoyed? I get annoyed at everything, so really there is no problem. Now, we have a dear friend helping to make the coffee and buy the bananas. Yes.

3. Real, deep down EXCITEMENT. -- This new attitude is helping me reconnect with old friends that I've lost touch with. I am no longer wondering how they're doing! I ask myself everyday, is there someone in my past that is so damn awesome I want to bring them back into my life? And if there is, I TALK TO THEM. It's simple. And I've found, other people are waiting for this too. I have yet to talk to an old friend that didn't want to talk to me. I also make new friends! I've stopped feeling insecure about whether things will be awkward or unnatural. They are only so, if I make them so. TO be honest, I am still trying to be better with this but all good things take time. And all of this makes my life feel so much fuller and happier. And if there is a person that doesn't want to talk to me? That's okay too, because I wasn't the one that said "No."

Life is meant to be exciting and new and full of different experiences with genuine people. It is the sole reason God made us. And if you question that... why do you think people always arrive at the stop sign at the same time? People are supposed to interact! So don't just grumble on through it.

TO YOU: Go say yes to something. Whether it be finding a fun job, reconnecting with old friends, or just doing a handful of sit-ups. I promise you, you will feel better if you do. And if you want help... I'm already saying yes ;]

* The cafe I worked at during college that was the busiest place in the world. Hustlin' and bustlin' in the 21st century.
** There are some good things to working in a library. I am introduced to way more topics than I'd ever think to look into and helping people does feel good a lot of the time.

In Defense of "Cheesy" Love...

... Because We All Love Cheese, Admit it.

Today is my 3 year anniversary with my boyfriend. In the past, my good friend Kristen and I have had conversations about anniversaries. She once told me that her Aunt and Uncle don't really celebrate birthdays but they always celebrate anniversaries. Because anniversaries take work.

If you stay alive, you get another birthday. If you go through hell and never let go of someone else's hand, you get another anniversary. I think, that MAYBE there seems to be a difference there.

What triggered this entry is the fact that I posted (on Facebook) a beautiful line from the poet Pablo Neruda with a small nod to Brian, in honor of our three years of ups and downs. Because through it all, we're still holding hands. You may think that I could have put this in a card to just him. You are perfectly right. In fact, I hesitated putting anything on Facebook because of how offended people seem to get from "sappy" affection. But I did it anyway. Partly, because I like to make those people squirm but mostly because I've been sad before. I've been lonely and depressed. I've been wanting. And Brian has taken those things away despite how much, at times, I fought to keep them.

I think people are afraid to admit the same. They stay an arms length away from those affections, to keep from admitting that we, as humans, do truly desire someone to share this time with. I used to be like that. Which is why it took two long years for Brian and I to admit (at the same time) that it was right. This was right.

Only a few minutes later after I posted my status, someone posted a collage of their significant other for his/her birthday. With said collage was the phrase, "Don't worry, nothing sappy here..." Or something along those lines. I couldn't help but laugh because a picture is worth 1,000 words. And this person posted a collage. That's a lot more sappy words than I just wrote. And mine was for an anniversary!

Granted, Brian and I may be a little cheesier than the next couple. But it is who we are and it is probably why we're dating one another and not people in other relationships.

I like to tell people how I feel. That includes how proud I am to say that I've been in a relationship for 3 years. And with everything that tried and almost did break us up, we stayed together. I love him and I wanted to make him feel special and tell people that's how I feel.

My parents have been married for almost 35 years. That means they've been together for more than that. Shit. That takes work. And I've watched them work. And I've watched them laugh. And I've watched my family grow because of their clutched hands. And I'm proud of them for that. In fact, I'm proud of any couple that stays together. Relationships can be exhausting but they can be everything else at the same time too.

In addition, why can we post friendship love but intimate love is frowned upon? Is it so we don't offend the lonely? I guess this just confuses me because the friendless can be lonely too. So I suppose the real question should be, should we express love at all?

Probably not, that'd be too happy a world to live in.

So, any of you have relationships (friends or family or significant others) you're proud of? Why? I'd love to hear. Let's get sappy.

I Hate These Burned Lines.

I felt like writing creatively, which I do too little anymore. So this is some automatic writing from this afternoon that I'd like to share. The title is a bit playful but there is a lot of double meaning to be appreciated. Enjoy :]
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We held hands before and every tense was present-- every tense was perfect. A grammatically correct conjunction but it had no plot. The genre was not mystery, it was not history. The subject was poetry and it's verse fell into an ellipsis.

We are constantly told to omit run-on sentences, and yet it is the only way to streamline our thoughts, our feelings. Tell your story without personal pronouns. Define yourself as someone else, as "one." But what if you are "one of two"?

Write out numbers if they're low enough. Make them be something else if there isn't a lot of them. Hide in the paragraph and fill your body with complexity. Strain your mind for someone else's benefit. But still be clear, direct. No run-ons. Every line needs to be a full sentence. That is our sentence.

There is an escape. To ride the rhyme and flee from structure. Free. I am not iambic. I am not predictable. I see beauty in the timing of words that match. Quick! Light it and blaze your speech. Because it burns from both ends. My heart and yours. Our hands are a match and it's striking. The spark strikes and words form days from now, years before.  Burn away complexity, what is still in store?

A Night as Jack Dawson

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that most people have seen Titanic. If not, I suggest doing so because this post will make a little bit more sense if you have.

That being said, you remember the dinner scene that Jack is "rewarded" with dinner after saving Rose's life from her initial suicide and then from her clumsy near demise? And you know how uncomfortable that scene is to watch with all the bad looks and completely obvious caste system at hand? Pure smugness and hypocrisy.

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That was my New Year's Eve. And I was Jack Dawson.

You might be wondering how I could have lived this night in today's society as I am a suburban white girl and I spent the evening with my suburban white boyfriend. However, I was in a very unique situation that demanded I call on all of my Catholic school moral lessons and survival skills.

I was at Brian's ex-girlfriend's family party. WHAAT.

She was anything but the reason we were there, however her brother happens to be Brian's best friend and New Year's Eve was his engagement party. We originally were not going to attend as it fell on such a specific night and we had made other plans to celebrate the New Year. However, I knew Brian really deep down wanted to be there for his friend.
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Let's backpedal to a little less than two and a half years ago. Brian had just graduated from college and so did his best friend. His best friend threw a graduation party and we attended. This party was also at their house and I was also without people that would be considered "my people." This doesn't seem so bad because I had Brian, right? Except he grew up coming over to this house and being at parties with the extended family. I can understand this because I too have a best friend whom I spent time with at her house and with her extended family. The difference is I never dated anyone in her family.

The graduation party was bad for me, mainly because Brian and I had only been together a few months at the time and I was incredibly nervous and intimidated. So I may have had a couple drinks before I got there. And I may or may not have continued drinking whilst in their company. I also may or may not be an emotional drunk and picked a fight with Brian saying he fit into their family so well he should just go be with them. (It is amazing that he has stuck with me through this kind of behavior, I must admit.) Anyway, my point is we had been in this situation before and it was not easy for me.

In addition, the only time I have ever hung out with Brian's best friend was at that first party. He lives far away and is a perpetual student so it's hard to get together. So I tend to connect him with his sister whenever he is brought up. Which I hate doing because he is just fine in my book. She is not. Not just because she is Brian's ex. Exes exist and that is quite normal, I'm not a child. However, she has made her own bed when it comes to my feelings. Let's call her Cal.

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Okay, back to New Year's Eve. Despite my strong feelings towards being in that house, I knew Brian is an amazing friend and I couldn't be the reason he wasn't at the engagement party. Granted, I thought there'd be more friends and less family but as we know, Jack can't have it all.

So we go to the party to surprise him and we do! His face is priceless when we walk in and I'm immediately happy we came. I'm not as happy that we underdressed and brought a bottle of rum in a plastic bag. This just assisted the family in their caste assumptions about us. But I guess we have a different set of party rules. So be it.

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Oh and Brian's ex is a triplet with two brothers. One of which Brian is also good friends with. Bridget had a friend at the party too, her name was Sangria.

Initially all is fine, we chat about various topics with people and there is a caricature for guests to sign. Brian asks what to write so I come up with something poetic and lasting. But being that I'm a writer in a house of doctors and all... no one understands it. A poet's dream.

Then we play a game called "Everybody Put Your Resolution on Paper and Then We Will Guess Who Wrote It," (patent pending.) Now, let's remember... NO ONE KNOWS ME. And I don't want to write anything personal because frankly, I don't want them to know me. So I chose to write "Wake up everyday like it's on purpose." Perhaps that was a mistake.

As soon as mine is read, people laugh stating things like "What, do you usually wake up dead?" Or something along those lines. Again, my words are lost on this crowd. A writer's goal.

Welp, of course no one guesses it is me. So I get entered into a drawing for a prize. I win. The prize is a bottle of wine. Which came in handy later that week when I had to bring a gift to my work's Christmas party! There was no way I was drinking that poison ;]

The night continued and I made friends with the grandpa. He was a car salesman and a basketball coach... and he is tall and bald. So he reminded me of my Dad. Which helped put me a bit more at ease.

When we go to watch the ball drop, we all pile into the den and I am unable to see the TV, instead I see the behind versions of these strangers. Luckily, I'm feeling pretty good by this point and I'm next to Brian so it is a nice moment. Moments after midnight I call my parents. Whatsherface decides to go around hugging everybody at this point, including myself as I'm trying to have a nice time talking to my parents. Roughly, the hug feels like floating in cold Atlantic water. But maybe not AS bad.

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To end the night, some of us decided to play games. The game chosen was a game I had never seen before involving numbers and betting. Basically, how many miles between NYC and LA? Then you bet on the guess you think is the closest. It wasn't my style. But at least the night was proving consistent.

I had stopped drinking by this point but the effects were still there. In my mind, everyone had these effects. Sure enough, it was mainly just me and Brian. Let's just say, I'm positive the bad looks continued at the game table.

Finally around 2 am, Brian's dad picked us up and we went back to his parent's house. The following morning, his dad cooked me breakfast and I talked with him until Brian's mom got home from church and joined us. Once Brian, his brother, and his brother's lady woke up, we played Taboo and watched deer in the yard.

It felt good to be back with the true upper-class.

Do Things Right Before You're Ready.

Getting older is weird. I don't think I have ever noticed time passing until after turning 21. And that may be one of the saddest confessions I have ever stated.

I don't think it's because 21 and the rights it brought along were the be-all, end-all for me. I think it's more the fact that we are raised with certain ages standing out from others and the distinct ones are passed after age 21. But we forget to remember there will be an age for when we get married, have a child, visit our favorite country. These are ages that are unique to our lives rather than an age we're told is important by the government. That's pretty exciting.

I have been toying with a major life decision for the past month and it has been tearing my mind and heart apart. I had toyed with the idea of moving to Lancaster with Brian for some time and impulsively applied for an apartment while spending the day out there in August. To our pleasure, we got the apartment. This seemed perfect when I was writing from home for a freelancing job. (Oh, have I mentioned that? It's over now. Because I didn't want to jinx it. I guess that worked out... It's okay, I knew it wasn't for me and I'm okay with it.)

Anyway, after quitting the writing job I was in need of some money and went back to waiting tables. Oddly enough, the cafe had a managerial type position available and it was offered to me. If you know my love of breakfast, small businesses, and early ends to work days... than this seems like a great idea for me, right? However my heart was set on Lancaster.

Lancaster is a risk, of course. But I think my life needs one. Time is passing. And having had a plan my entire life up until I graduated college was great until I graduated college. Since then I've been kicking my feet until life happens. But I realize now that that is not the way life works. You gotta move.

So as I'm constantly pulled between passion and logic (seriously, I'd rather just lean one way or the other because being in-between makes everyday somewhat a challenge), it has taken me a long time of talking and ranting and committing to a different choice everyday to finally arrive at the decision to move.

Every person I have talked to in regards to this, whether it be at my jobs or amongst friends or family, can attest to the sanity I have lost in the process. But you know what? It feels pretty good on this side and for once I'm not thinking every second of the day about things that do not need that much thought. It's freeing. And you know what? That's pretty exciting too.


Am I ready to move? Not totally. That'd be too easy. My family is very close and I'd be the furthest away again out of all of us. So I'd miss out on things. I love my room at home. I love my backyard. I love the memories. But there are a lot of things that are not the same and I have to remember that, which I often do not. It's kinda like breaking up with someone but still being attached because you're forgetting that things aren't what they used to be. It isn't easy. But you go on. And once you realize the truth of it all, things aren't so bad. That's where I'm at with living at home right now.

HENCE MY NEW MENTALITY: Do things right before you're ready.

There will never be a "perfect moment." Not for anything. So if you're just about ready to do something, do it.

Once I took a good look at some of the best decisions and most memorable moments in my life, I realized a lot of them happened because I was just about ready to do them but they happened a moment sooner than expected.

When I was 17, I had no desire to get my license. I can't remember why. Maybe it scared me. Maybe it wasn't totally necessary since I was the youngest of most of my friends and the youngest of my family. Maybe I procrastinate a lot. Who knows. Either way, my Dad picked me up from what I think was school one day and threw the permit book at me. "Study that. We're going to get your permit." HUH? Talk about not being ready. Granted, this was how I studied for a lot of my tests but this seemed a little too hasty, even to me.

After waiting in a hot, narrow hallway with strangers and my father for over an hour while staring at a book, I was a little spent. It came down to the last question. I can even remember the question. "Who has the right of way in a traffic circle?" This seems like an easy question*, but when you've already gotten 2 questions wrong and literally can not afford to get this wrong and it's the first day you've ever looked at the book, it's a bummer. Luckily enough, I passed! Boom, I was not ready but the universe was.

When I was 18, I went skydiving. It was with 10 friends and we were 2.5 miles in the sky in a small plane with no door. I volunteered to jump last. When I got to the door with my professional sky-diver/giant foreign man, he said "Are you ready?!" And as I looked down through the clouds, I saw a lot of people I knew falling fast... very, very fast. So I answered honestly, "NO!" He then replied "Too late." and immediately pushed us out the door into the most unreal experience I have ever had. Not a regret to be had.

As you may be able to relate, college came pretty fast. I had always dreamt of living away at school but the days before it happened were still surreal. I cried. I smiled. I was again scared. But I met some of the most incredible people and had amazing experiences all because of the initial decision to move away. And here I am, 5 years later, anxious to get back to the town I fell in love with when I was a kid on her own for the first time.

So I could have taken the job at the cafe. Or I could take the leap, and hopefully build some wings on my way down.

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Also, this is one of my favorite quotes. So I have used it in blogs before.

*If it's not that easy, the answer is the cars already in the circle have the right of way. However, if you've ever driven in one... people really don't give a crap.

Neighborhoods

I've decided that neighborhoods are a breeding ground for awkward interactions.

Have you ever tried to go for a run or a walk in a neighborhood? Well, first off... don't even go for a walk unless you have someone with you. The amount of people who think that just because you're walking means you are fine with talking to them is outrageous.

If you are a lone shark or your family/roommates just refuse to go along with you, I'd suggest at least always have headphones on. Does your Ipod need to be on? Not at all. Do your headphones even have to be attached to anything? Nope. As long as you tuck that cord into your shirt, no one will know the difference. But you will. And that's power.

The other day I left to go for a run and started up my street, but unfortunately my ipod died immediately. Did I listen to my own advice and just wear the headphones? No, of course not. It's not like I enjoy running 3 miles without music. However, beggars can't be choosers so I dropped my ipod off at my house and started my run again.

I got to about the same point two houses up and realized there were about 10 people standing between me and the top of my street. Now let's remember, my street is a silent killer. It looks like a steady, slight incline-- and it is. But really, any beginning part of a run makes me look like I've never fully extended my legs before in my life. So I try to avoid any personal interaction until at least a quarter of a mile in when I get a rhythm going.

Also, the people I'd run by? SO MANY CHILDREN. And children stare. Heck, parents these days stare! My mom's anthem when we were little was "don't stare, it's not polite." Apparently that phrase can only be said in the universe so many times and thus, with today's plethora of staring, I can only imagine Momma Lynch must have maxed it out.

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Roughly what I imagine happening when I see children while I'm running. 

So I knew that if I ran by them I'd feel their little eyes watch me as I fall up my street. Then add a lack of music to distract me? I knew I'd have to look over and smile. Their response would then just be more staring and their mothers would extend that fake pursed-lips smile... then probably go about their business. However, being that I think I'm the center of the neighborhood when I'm running, I would think they were watching me the rest of the time I was in their view. Awkward running would then follow as my shirt would continue to ride up. (I'm starting to become firmly against workout shirts, but that's another story.)

So I turn down my street to start running. To which I am greeted by my neighbor parking his massive truck while staring at me. By the time I got to him he would just be getting out of his truck and I'd again feel awkward. Furthermore, he made some comment the day before about my jumping jacks that I never fully heard and just smiled in response to... so I wasn't looking to have that happen again.

Also if I went down my street? I'd have to pass the house that I adamantly believe is haunted. And who wants to have an awkward interaction with a haunted house while just trying to get some exercise? Not Bridget.

I decided to just walk up my street. When I got to the top I realized there was a family of people outside, but not just any family. My old friend's family. So that's when I started running. Luckily, it was pretty painless getting by them except for the weird moment when I had 2 kids and 2 moms on one side of me and the family on the other. Where do I look then without A*Teens or New Found Glory to help me get me through it?

Alright, running has commenced. Time is passing. I'm singing to myself. All's well that ends well?

Not exactly. Running through my neighborhood during the summer also means passing tiny groups of tween gangs with nothing better to do. Or people coming home from work that smile at you from their car but all you see is a reflection until they're right next to you and then you're just prying into the privacy of their vehicle.

In addition, there's always the cars you meet at intersections having both arrived at the same time and both maintaining a state of confusion for about 3 seconds on which one of you will go first. Three seconds can be a long time, especially when you're bright red and out of breath. I'd avoid running at high traffic times at all costs just to lessen the chances of that occurrence.

Interactions with construction workers are usually just awkward to begin with. Throw running as a girl into the process? Ugh. Just ugh. That being said... avoid running in the afternoon when they're usually working or traveling about.

Thus it could be assumed that the best time to run in a neighborhood is at night. Which I used to do all the time. Until I went to college and I swear my neighborhood took more than half the street lights away. Which makes this town super spooky. And you can bet your bottom dollar I'm not passing that haunted house at night!

So I guess the only real option is running on trails. Which happen to be my favorite, so that works out. Or, ya know, just doing my jumping jacks in the backyard. Something I probably should have thought of to begin with.

The First "Last Time."

Fear is interesting. You can spend your entire life afraid of something and when it happens feel something just short of relief. As if all the energy you put into worrying wasn't in waste, as if every last word was just as important as you made it out to be.

I know a lot of people say "you never know when it's the last time" but my parents have literally said that to me and my siblings almost every single day of our lives. If it wasn't that much it was still pretty darn close considering how often I say it to myself as an adult.

This blessing/curse rings in my ears constantly. In fact, when I was a teenager I remember getting in fights on the phone with someone in my family and still hanging up saying "I love you." I remember doing this specifically when I was with a close friend because she said "I thought you were mad at them." And yes, I was. But... you never know when it's the last time.

This mentality helped me with disregarding what my peers thought in high school, too. I know a lot of kids go through that embarrassment stage with their parents. Ya know, the "just drop me off around the corner" type of thing. But I remember being dropped off directly in front of groups of kids and kissing my Mom and my Dad goodbye. Sure, the fact that I never made the bus helped because it made these farewells more public, but it was the phrase "This could be the last time" that really made the situation what it was.

On this year's infamous Tax Day (April 15th) I realized I may have said the last words to my Dad. It was 11:30 a.m. on Monday and I was getting ready to leave Brian's apartment to go home and do my dreaded taxes; yea, I waited until the last minute. I had been doing the dishes before I left because 1- Brian never does them and it grosses me out and 2- I actually like doing the dishes, I find it therapeutic. So as I'm getting my stuff together after the dishes, feeling accomplished and ready to tackle the rest of the day, I glance at my phone. Missed call? Voicemail? Bad feeling.

I listen to the voicemail and it's my eldest sister Jackie telling me to call her right away, barely mentioning any reason why, just simply emphasizing the immediacy of the situation. So I call her back.

"Dad's been in a car accident and they're taking him to the University of Penn hospital. He passed out while driving and crashed into a pole. We don't know much but he is in serious condition."

I can't say I believed her. I mean, clearly this was happening but I remember just listening and not reacting. That is until Jackie put my Mom on the phone. And we both started sobbing. Of course Jackie quickly took the phone back and said, "Now I know why I'm the oldest." Leave it to my family to have the darkest sense of humor in times of distress.

I called Brian (he was at work) to tell him what was happening. I had to leave him a voicemail and let's just say mine was not as vague and calm as Jackie's had been.

Brian immediately called me back and said he was on his way to my house. I asked him a few days later what he had thought when he heard my message and he said, "I thought your life was about to change forever."

Okay, so now I'm driving to my house ignoring Jackie's instructions of "Don't speed." My family already had one car accident today, what were the chances of two? Apparently none, because I made it home just fine, or at least alive... "fine" was not the best description of my condition.

My brother Frankie and my Mom were already on their way to the hospital and Jackie was watching her boys and babysitting another little girl at my house. My other sister Kathleen was home and decided to graciously help me with my taxes. (Because yes, the government was still looming overhead and I had to do the crappy paperwork before I could see my Dad.)

By the time we were done Brian had arrived and he, Kathleen, and myself drove down to HUP together. We first went to the ER and heard he was in Trauma. I remember feeling so worried, as if my Dad was a child. How could he go through this experience alone?

I was even more amazed by my Dad's survival when Frankie, Brian, and I went to take a look at the car. It had been towed to a lot just up the street from the cafe I work(ed) at and the proximity was haunting. However, the car was more haunting. The beautiful, quiet, smooth driving Toyota was now unrecognizable. The front was smashed and hung off the body of the car like a child's tooth about to come loose, except there was no reassuring promise of another tooth.

Eventually he was placed in a room at HUP and they set up camp for him to stay for what would be 5 days. We heard different things: "It's his heart," "He has sleep apnea," "We're not sure if his Diabetes were a part of the reason..."

But for each possible reason we just wanted the real reason even more. And you know what? I don't think we even have one YET. But they have made sure it won't happen again. We hope.

We found some solace after they worked on his heart. He had A Fib on one side of his heart and the medicine wasn't working while he was at HUP. So eventually they had to do surgery to fix the condition. I was told it wasn't too invasive but apparently this isn't too true. They sent my Dad home Saturday and we were all a bit apprehensive about such a quick turnover. Apparently this was validated because when the home nurse came to check on my Dad on Monday she said he needed to see the cardiologist as soon as possible. So he went on Tuesday and was immediately sent to Bryn Mawr hospital, he had A Fib on the other part of his heart now. HUH? I thought they fixed him!

Thank God, the medicine worked this time and another surgery wasn't necessary. However, while we were still waiting on that conclusion, I went to visit him at Bryn Mawr and we talked in the sun room. A serious, deep talk that took almost dying for my Dad and I to find the time for. He told me about his gambling days before he met my mom, he told me about his family, he told me what he thought of me getting married one day, and so on. We've had talks like this a couple times before, and really only a couple times. But this time I felt like I had gone back in time and forward simultaneously.

We were sitting in the sun room of the 4th floor of the hospital, the same sun room I remember visiting my sick grandmother in when I was a kid... my Dad's mom. I was just a kid then but I could still picture that room. So bright and positive, like you're not in a hospital. And now I was there for my Dad and I was an adult talking about marriage within only "5 years," according to my Dad. Where did the time go?

My Dad is not allowed to drive for 6 months and I wouldn't want him to anyway. The situation could have been even worse. My Dad could have died, he could have killed someone, he could have done both. I don't want to take the chance that one of those possibilities could ever come true.

My family survived the first "last time" and I feel a little less worrisome waiting for the next bad news. Because we got past this one. We were blessed with avoiding this one.