The Escape.

Apparently there's a mass exodus from New York. It can affect those in their mid-twenties, through the early thirties. Reader, beware.
Symptoms include: restlessness and a sudden impulse to see what else is outside of New York.
Yes. This is epidemic is true, in the last two weeks I have either experienced or heard approximately seven people in search of pastures (greener or not) gather their U-HAUL and hit the road, Jack.
And, yes these folks are friends so in some respects my fear of this epidemic slowly infiltrating my inner circle is like a animal-lover with arachnophobia cornering a spider; terrified, but compassionate that they need to live to.

It's hard to digest the idea that your dream of New York and the reason why people come here doesn't satisfy the appetite of others. I can't think of a time when I didn't want to live in New York, I mean from movies always staged in this city that seemed to stem love and endless promotions, who wouldn't want to live here?
I remember in high school; when I went through my contrary period (aka hanging out with bad influences) and I had this archenemy, let's call her Esheda. Now, Esheda was what someone could call pretty, but her attitude was so ugly. She used to prank call my house, threaten to start a fight with me at school so my record was scarred, oh and my favorite she use to taunt that no matter what "I couldn't be her." Little did this girl know I knew the kind of person she was and her status at school and empty threats were the last thing I wanted. That year, I decided - I'm moving to a place where insecurity isn't the motivator, but ambition is - I'm going to New York. And once I had that in my mind, her yelling at me in the hallway, or teasing me I just heard those Charlie Brown teachers "womp, womp, womp womp womp..."I had to stay focus, a pit stop in Charlottesville for some down south education and I was in the home stretch.
So I guess like any pseudo-small town girl, New York was a city to experience everything that wasn't my normal. I just knew I was going to be the displaced Shaker Heights girl that kept her 216-number, but saddled up with an attitude and coffee permanently in her hands walking through New York streets. I had to believe that the anxiety, better known as high school drama, wouldn't pull me down. But, you know, that's just my story on why I came here - I can't speak for anyone else and clearly my experience was unique. So, for the friends that do choose to move along and find their normal, discover what their everyday will look like, I can't be mad, I can't be terrified. I just have to hope my everyday matches what you see yours as being - happy, successful and exactly what you'd want to escape to.

Brother can you spare a dime for your thoughts?

Do you ever feel bad about something, like something you said that hurt someone or did something that's slightly embarrassing, but everyone just shrugs it off for the sake of your feelings? The whole "don't worry about it." or "I've done that before, happens all the time..." But, you know they are just embarrassed for you and don't want you to feel worse. So you replay this embarrassment over and over in your head and even sometimes when you aren't thinking about it, it'll sneak up on you and you start thinking about it again. This happens to me all the time.
I think I have this thing that can sense idleness in my thoughts and then one of those pitiful moments pops up, like "hey, remember me? Whatever you do don't do that again..."
So, why am I telling you this? Because I saw it happen to someone else today. For once it wasn't me!
I volunteered at a homeless banquet to help hand out food to the annual Thanksgiving feast that my church throws. Spending the extra hour from daylight savings on a run today, I showed up a little after the groups were divided and I was lumped into the team that serves the food. I was partnered with someone who would carry the tray as I handed out the plates. I haven't volunteered for something like this since girl scouts when we volunteered at an elderly home -- there a senile old lady showed me her boobs.
Anyway, our pastor asked that we be kind to these people that were coming in as they were mostly lonely and enjoyed talking to people. So, being friendly (hoping to avoid any indecent exposure) I was handing out meals to my section, a man calls me over reads my nametag and says, "Danielle, how are you?" I reply ask him how he's doing and then he asks me "what do you do?" I answer him and come up short of what to say next so I ramble off I need to deliver more plates and he can let me know if he needs anything else.
Later I hear him ask the same question to someone else "what do you do?" And the girl replies with her occupation and then asks him what he does for a living...Now, before I tell you his response, I'm thinking "why did she ask that, isn't that rude?"

Sure enough, he says "girl, if I made a living would I be here getting food from you?"
There it was - what I was afraid of - she gave an instinctual response for a conversation starter, but it backfired and now she had egg on her face.
So, if she's anything like me I know she'll replay this in her head and think, "Why did I say that?" Or she'll think, "why did he ask me that!??!"
Because I wondered the same thing, not only that, but it made me feel shameful, which is the LAST thing I wanted to get out of doing this. As a volunteer I didn't feel a need to divulge whom I was outside of that space, I was here to help that was my job for the day. My real job was a divider in the room, which I wanted to leave at the door so I could help these people get a meal today, a simple task we all need, but unfortunately not widely available. So when this man introduced work into the space and ultimately economic stature it made me feel awkwardly different than him. Maybe I'm naive to think this, but for a short while when I was handing out meals in that space we were all one community. I guess that was the point of this experience, huh?
But then as I was leaving I started to think again what if the goal of that question wasn't to make anyone feel any type of way, but to remind us that we have certain blessings that we check at the door when we enter into these spaces to help create an equalizer, but it's those same blessings that allow us to create hope for the people in the room. Just something to keep in mind, when you're in your next situation and asked "brother can you spare a dime."

Oh, What's Your Name Again?

No, this post is not about my pet peeve (people who reintroduce themselves 1,000,0000 times, no matter how many times you meet).
This post is about the select group of people in America that have difficult names and must assume an alias at Starbucks. You know, the Tarkinsh'a(s) and Eglantine(s) of the world, the kind of name spell check never recognizes. Well instead of enduring the mass embarrassment of irritable morning coffee drinkers while they spell their name - they simply pick a new one!

My favorite story is one of my friend, we'll call her Dominicah. Each morning she chooses to go by Darla when ordering her venti specialty coffee. Well, one morning she's waiting for her coffee in the busy hustle of morning workers and the barista calls her name "DARLA, VENTI WHITE MOCHA." Like normal she grabs her cup and assumes her regular identity as she walks towards work. Halfway down the block she hears someone screaming "Darla, Darla!" Confused and concerned she just hijacked a drink she turns around to notice a boy running towards her. The boy introduces himself, says he sees her every morning and asks for Darla's number (very rom-com of him) ... when she gives it to him, she returns to her walk and realizes that this boy doesn't know her real name!
So, Dominicah is patiently waiting for this boy to call and is wondering how do you gracefully tell someone you just met that you lied about your name? You could continue using the alias if he was a dud, but what happens if he's your future bf? After a poll of friends and several exchanged flirtatious texts with him it was deemed too late to come clean and she chooses not to reveal her real identity. Besides, for her it was kind of a thrill to be incognito and reinvent herself simply because her name is chronically hard to spell and comprehend (and she just turned 25...I empathize it was a major identity crisis year for yours truly). So, my friend went on two dates with this guy under her alias, but of course it didn't work out after she was forced to jokingly confess, when he casually mentioned she was impossible to find on Facebook.
Oh, the shame of a name and the challenge of personalized drink orders at Starbucks makes for a failed place to pick up anyone. Just goes to show, the only good examples of an alias are writers that create new names because they are trying to write in a different gender and hope to avoid stereotyping -- and superheroes. 

A Phenomenal Woman

By now, I'm sure you all have seen Michelle Obama's speech from the DNC. If you haven't I encourage you to review and report back on how inspired you feel.

For me, it started out as a regular weeknight for me: leftovers and sifting through Netflix; when my boyfriend sends me a note saying, "don't forget to watch the speech -- Michelle O's on." Drop everything ... literally, and I ran over to my of course half charged computer for a chance to see the first lady in action. I'm not a self-proclaimed politico, but I appreciate beauty and intelligence just as much as the next person!
Her speech was incredible, no doubt about it, and she looked stunning. People tweeting "hope Romney wasn't watching this, he might not even vote for himself..." I mean it was good. When it was over the bf and I were rehashing the speech and I was trying to pinpoint what it is about Michelle Obama that makes her so engaging and it's very simple, she's an ideal woman. Before it's assumed, I'd like to clarify that it's indeed the pure character of Michelle that's appealing, absent of her skin color.

I couldn't say this any better, so I'll use the words of Maya Angelou, "it's the style of her grace... she is a phenomenal woman."

I'm sure she has her faults, I'm sure she has something that people don't like about her, but I've never looked to a woman outside of my Grammy as a role model. I mean really, how many people can you really say "I hope people will look at me and compare me to her...?"

I find the value of a woman and what it means to be "a woman" has become lost, somewhere this side of the feminist movement. Reality show stars gallivanting around claiming they embody xyz ... is beyond tired. Most of our "icons" we get to know at a surface level or simply value their financial successes. How many women in media/spotlight that you idolize can you really say "they are great because I'd like to be have the kind of presence she has" regardless of her financial success?

We excuse the absence of a defined "ideal woman" in place of an every woman for herself motto. Mostly because, there's a constant passive-aggressive conversation between women that aims to find fault in ... well anything. Or we consider idolizing someone as a sign of a lack of self-identity.
Well, sometimes there are people -- women that deserve appreciation and there are attributes that demand imitation. Michelle in her speech was supportive, but not submissive, humble and still assertive, confident without a hint of arrogance. What more can a girl ask for in way of a role model?

So, I'll close this post with my note for Michelle, you know since she might read this :)

Dear Michelle, I was already voting, but your speech made me want to vote that second! It also encouraged me just to be the best I can be, because I see you do it regularly and pretty flawlessly. That's all I'm looking for when it comes to leadership, a team in the White House that not only appreciates the same values as me, but lives them to the fullest...So, thank you - for being you!

Good Fortune

The lottery - when exactly can I win that? Someone shared with me this article the other day about people under 30 who are multimillionaires and what they think about their new disposable income.  Oh and the article rightfully titled "What it's like to be loaded by 25" I begrudgingly opened the link ready to become extremely bitter and launch into the "why didn't I think of a software solution technology at 18" speech, which I've almost perfected. But, after reading this- the guy is actually not a tool. He wisely invests his money and pays himself a monthly salary to contribute to what he successfully qualifies as fun and worry-free activities, without dwindling away his intellectual property gains. Jealous, interested and consciously in a daily movement away from being able to relate to this article as I inch towards 26; I decided that the same logic for good fortune in money can be applied to relationships. Dumb luck? Or strategic planning? Action-oriented? Or passive believer?
My sister inspired this post when she challenged me to think that numbers and sequential paths have a role in relationships and fateful tryst. My sister asked me the other night if I believed there was magical number of people you have to date before you fatefully meet the one that's yours? Essentially, making a match ideally made in heaven in fact a resolute sequence of interactions that can be obtained with confidence, persistence and unwavering belief in the science of numbers...so basically a lottery?
A system of rotating matches, just waiting for someone else out there to carry the exact same sequence. If this is the case, than the allegiance to believing in love and the feeling that "this could be it" every time you enter into a new relationship has to trump every sense of doubt or disappointment.
Now, in the traditional sense from someone who doesn't play the NY Lottery, except in the occasional low point in life, I couldn't advise my sister that yes, there is a sequence of matches that you must meet, get to know and potentially end before you find what's destined to be yours.
Because just like gaining a substantial financial fortune, you could wish, hope and play numbers - or you can know what it's like to be loaded at 25. Meaning, create a strategic investment that will result in a worry-free and a simply fun love.

 The way one achieves good love fortune is to his/her discretion, if we use the lottery and the young millionaire as our analogous examples they are both rare and exceptional stories, right? So, where does the standard middle-class worker fit in the fortune pool...? I imagine in their case, the success of fortuitous love comes from daily work for trust and happiness. Just like with financial goals, that the 'happily ever after' always feels slightly out of reach, but enough motivation to know you can get there with a little hard work.
In any situation retirement is the ultimate goal - and for love that becomes marriage- the ability to lavish in one's earnings.

Oh where, oh where has my little blog gone?

...Oh where oh where can she be? Apologies for the lack of posts, seems my blog inspiration decided to go into hibernation along with my running shoes for the winter... Never fear, they are both back and ready for running and writing (and boy the skinny girl inside me is just as happy as you are about the resurgence). So here we are, a few days before one of the most optimistic days of the year; where everyone vows to be a better self, be organized and create goals - GO YOU! I'm sorry to say you guys are late to this party. Part of my sabbatical was due to my quarter life crisis that decided to remind me in nearly two weeks I will be a quarter of a century so there has been a lot of "goal processing"...Two weeks away from that long list of things I wanted to do before 25 like climb Everest goes into the fail pile and onto the bucket list...Two years away from a drastic metabolism yield...One year away from my dream age -- 26. You know, when you were younger (and with apparently no concept of time) this is the magical age you thought you'd be married, in a glamorous apartment somewhere and VP of something...Although all of these dreams were pretty much crushed in the last two years or so by a little thing called Realism and his sister Practicality, it's hard to come to terms with the idea that your magical age is disappearing into the same purgatory as fairy tales princesses and Santa.
Anyway the list goes on, I had to get a new license, I will move into the 25-30 box column on surveys, and my decision making skills need to be sharper than ever. So I'm nervous. I don't think per say anything that day will happen, but it does lessen my chance that I will be on the Inc 30 under 30 list.
Is this an appropriate age to freak out? Can you imagine what I'll be like at my midlife crisis? Hopefully, you'll be reading my amazing book by then and you can read all about it vicariously through one of my fictional characters.

Triskaidekaphobia, fear of the number 13, Mr. Webster should've thought of one for the number 25.

Return On Investments, relationship style

In business the ever-popular term Return On Investment (ROI) is almost always used in a question: What is my ROI with XYZ...?
When I hear this commonly over-used work abbreviation it makes me wonder, why shouldn't we evaluate our relationships on the same scale?
We all know you have to "put in work" when starting a relationship, but what if you put in too much and the relationship fails? Or what if you don't put in enough and your growth is minimized? OK, maybe I have work on the brain, but let me put this in context - AKA a story!

I have a friend; she's smart, successfully, cute, kind, and a little quiet. She carried on a relationship with a seemingly interesting male for several months. Time investment. She compromised her better judgment by engaging in late night meet ups. Investing in opportunities. She spent time ruminating and contemplating over each mixed signal, always hoping and considering the best-case scenario and ignoring the red flags. Bad investment... So when this not so awesome male figure ended up admitting to still being involved in a serious relationship with an old girlfriend and deemed himself emotionally unavailable, but anxious to keep her on his team, the relationship bank officially ruled: no growth or opportunity in this relationship, negative return on investment.
So what happens when you put in all this work and no benefits come of it? Is it no wonder relationships have transformed from courting to dating to sexting? Know what you're in for is today's mentality and it's all for the sake of saving your investment and energy for one person who really deserves it.  And no, this isn't something my friend expressed, these are situations that happen to everyone and unfortunately (or fortunately) the longer you are with someone leads you to a similar logical question of value or ROI: "is s/he worth it?". From a relationship perspective, begs a deeper answer from the heart and mind coming together to form a conscious decision. Often, the positive or negative answer to: if I give my all-will you be the one I love?
Similar to what I advised my friend, anyone who you feel is taking more than they can give is on the bottom part of the worth scale. Anyone that can try and make you feel less than YOU are worth doesn't deserve any investment, time- opportunity or quality. However, I do believe, there is a tendency to test to true value of a relationship. And there, comes a point in any relationships when we have to stop testing the worth and appreciate the value-otherwise you spend all your time analyzing the investment and never enjoying the benefits.

Weight A Minute

Every girl has their fitness or weight issue. Mine? Happens in cycles, I'm a runner so naturally if I'm signed up for a race my endorphins are flowing I'm working out regularly, eating right and feeling nonchalant about grabbing extra toppings at 16 handles. What happens on the down turn? My poor boyfriend gets his dose of crazy. So on this occasion of a downturn my roommate unbeknown to me broke the weight in the scale automatically adding a full five lbs to your true weight. So, there I am a week before I'm suppose to be in a bikini, just finished a hefty cup from 16 handles and I weighed myself. In typical fashion I waited before my shower (can't have clothes weighing me down) and there it was... a number I've never seen before. I walked into the room face covered from a combination of tears and shower mist and I wallowed to my boyfriend about canceling the trip - an expensive non-refundable trip, clearly I wasn't thinking rationally. Luckily my honey let me rant rave and then explained to me the scale was broken, he had tried it earlier...

I'm not the only one with extreme measures. I had a friend who pledged to go on a survivor diet - she picked the hottest week in the summer where she did nothing but drink warm tap water for that week and sit in the hot sun. I guess re-enacting being on a desert island makes sense if you have convinced yourself your naturally small frame is morbidly obese.

That's the other thing, my friends have a tendency to exaggerate their features. Bloated stomach becomes a prognosis for lap-band or trying on pants after they come out the dryer equals neurotic stints at the gym on the elliptical. See ladies, pretty illogical when you read it in print.
So how can we change? What can I say to convince an entire sex that creating routines around dieting and what not to eat plans only makes for an interesting brag session with the girlfriends and that being skinny is only relative to who you are standing next to. Probably nothing, but let's face it the only person who really cares about how well you fit in a size 2 is your friend in a size 0 and she probably hopes they are a little too tight, but I digress...
I decided to impart this knowledge on health, beauty and dieting to my dear readers that I discovered while figuring out my own lunacies: scales can be broken, jeans can shrink in the wash, but you'll never look your best thinking you are already at your worst. Hopefully, this should get someone through their next stint, don't be so hard on yourself, objects appear larger in mirrors anyway :)