Holiday Reminder

Ah, the Christmas season. Where Christmas fanatics and self-proclaimed Scrooges sprinkle the streets like a fresh winter snow. Encountering a few too many bah-hum bugs this holiday season made me question what makes people so anti- a merry Christmas that they act like disciples of the Grinch. For as long as I can remember Christmas was always the time of the year where no matter what kind of cascading terrible sequence of unfortunate events you had the holiday season hinted the promise of family, support and some form of appreciation with a gift or inspired gesture. But now, instead of the fear of coal in your stocking you become worrisome that the next encounter will be someone that just hates everything about Christmas or they try to ruin your Christmas mood with some asinine joke or sniped remark. So, what gives?
I know what you're thinking; here's another holiday nut telling her readers to spread Christmas cheer. Nope, not doing that today - especially since Christmas is over.  Here's what I am telling you, though: when people get older the simple elements, you know that out-of-the box happiness -- becomes way overcomplicated. People start with the compare and contrast method to qualify their happiness and designate what their Christmas should look like. The bubble of Christmas cheer serves as a reminder of all the bad things or reasons why Christmas is overrated. Then Christmas becomes what you don't have instead of a celebration of what you do have. No wonder people get upset and melancholy runs rampant through their conversations.
But, here's the thing Christmas is a little reminder that patience has a pinnacle, and ebb and flow exists in more than just an ocean. It's like when someone is going through a hard time and you can't find the right words to say, "hang in there" or when you want someone to believe that it just takes time for something to pass over, like heartbreak or getting to acceptance. Sometimes, it's hard to see or feel where the waiting game of life will take you, but in its own joyous way, Christmas is the example of a season where hope and "on pins and needles" gives you an exhausting ride, but eventually comes to a close and leaves most people with the inspiration to make new promises (oh hello, new year).
So, M/Mrs. Grinch, what say you now? The holiday season that just culminated in the last day (with remnants that will delicately extend through week's end) is just a bittersweet reminder - this too shall pass.

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.

Makeup or Bust ...

I’m going to be 26 soon… Give me a little more than a month and I will be 26. See ya later 25. Suddenly, all those things I wanted to do this year are creeping up on me and you know the one that sticks out the most, right now? The promise I made to myself: 

“Before you are 26 you’ll learn to put on makeup.”
Like real application, you know, the kind that looks just like your face only slightly enhanced for the perfect photo and candid pic people seem to be endlessly taking. Oh to dream...Right now, I'm makeup illiterate.
Here's what happened: Before my 25th birthday my roommate at the time pointed out a giant faux pas of my makeup routine: I was doing it all wrong. I only wear eyeliner on my lower lid and mascara. It was easy to apply, an inexpensive routine, and it seemed to satisfy my quell of wearing makeup and walking into the world with “my face on.”
 So as I'm getting dressed for my party, my roommate tells me “you know, you’re suppose to wear eyeliner on your top lid…helps bring out your eyes. You only use the bottom lid for smoky eye and going out, not for daytime natural…” Hello, earth-shattering news.
I was proud of myself for making this very grown up thing happen all on my own– but when she mentioned the error of my makeup ways, might as well jam the mascara brush in my eye! She spent like an hour putting on makeup and all I had to do was smooth on a little bit of my eyewear… I waited in her room admiring the technique and then I got the awkward question “didn’t your mom ever teach you?”
"Nope" I replied, “oh, she died when I was little.”
It's not that I'm shy about my history, but it's one of those things about my life that I try to keep covered so the blemishes don't show through. Since I was so young when my mom passed, it became one of those things that as I got older I had that pang of missing her less and less, until nights like this one when I asked myself what if… Case and point...what if she would’ve taught me how to wear makeup?

So I sat there, feeling slightly robbed of a feminine rite of passage and embarrassed about showing a scar that's normally covered. I can't change what happened oh, so many years ago, but I can change what I do with it, thus the promise... 
The absence of a mom is to me my natural foundation, it's there on my face for the world to see - a glimpse at someone who once was. I just want to make sure I learn enough about this to pass it along...so that if I ever have a daughter she gets a chance to remember me every day, when she goes to put on her makeup.

Memories for Today; A Shaker Story

I want to tell you guys a story about my hometown. It's one of those places that became the beacon of diversity in Ohio. Race-sensitive groups popping up left and right and parties that are a diverse as a handful of trail mix. Shaker was a traditional public school with the best teachers, participatory parents, and students that dream and succeed each year.
It's a community that creates friends based off of interests and friendships that feel like family.
Although it's a great town some alumni leave, but others stay and start their own families in the place that they grew up. And without fail, each Wednesday before Thanksgiving former Shaker students gather together at the neighborhood watering hole to exchange old stories and make promises on meeting up in their new cities they call home.
Each year, this is pretty true -- until this year.
This year a different reunion happened just three days before the "typical one" - it was a service held in memory of one of our classmates who passed away just a week before Thanksgiving.
Since I was home for the holiday the weekend before, I also was able to attend the services where our friend Brian was laid to rest. Brian was a friend with EVERYONE -- you could tell by the smorgasbord of people that congregated at the synagogue on a crisp Sunday afternoon. Even as we were driving to the service we were trying to think of anyone that ever had a issue with him - he really was a friend to all and a happy reminder of what carefree and positivity can look like in a person. So we gathered to say goodbye on Sunday and likely to see each other again in a few days.
As anticipated this year's reunion Wednesday-pre-Thanksgiving story was different - hugs were longer, old friends declare to turn over a new leaf because for once in the town we all called home, we found our Shaker memories have an expiration date.
It was more than being happy to see people, although that might be, it made me appreciate this jumbled combination of memories and friends and connections we spent 18 years making. It made me understand how the loss of one can have this domino effect 600 miles away. But it also made me notice that the tears of sadness were also mourning the loss of innocence in Shaker.  When we would all sit around talking about things we did in high school (driving the oval, pajama parties, mocking teachers, counting how many times "Be the Best" came up in our years) that reminiscing gave us a feeling of presence. A memory is no more than a tickle of history in a present day that gives you hope that you'll make more memories tomorrow. I don't need to tell you why this Thanksgiving changed that idea, but what I will say is that this Thanksgiving gave me a new way to look at being grateful and it made me promise to make memories for today and not wait for tomorrow to remember.