Killing Me With Cute

Sorry I missed the Girl's Night Out, all! I was helping Adam cook dinner, and he was telling me stories about his day. We made chicken tacos (with blue corn taco shells!) and then for dessert we had blackberry milkshakes (yum!).

Anyways, here's what I needed to show you:

Cutest. Commercial. EVER.

What is it about adorable animals that can instantly turn me back into a five-year-old? As soon as the above commercial began playing on TV, I leapt up and screamed "KITTIES!!" like I'd never seen one before. I think I may have actually broken my husband's left eardrum.

I'm a sucker for cute. When I was six, we got cutouts of "Mr. Molar," a smiling tooth character promoting good dental hygiene, in school one day. Mr. Molar was so adorable that I kept him for, oh, I don't know...eight years? At nine, I kept a plastic grocery bag I'd gotten at a store, simply because the "Have A Nice Day" smiley face was so endearing.

New York is a hard place to be addicted to cute, because there are SO MANY CUTE DOGS. Every day I find myself distracted, going to and from work, by adorable puppies on the sidewalk. There have even been some disgustingly cute kitty sightings; every evening, as I'm returning home, I peer eagerly into the window of my husband's professor's apartment (which is right next to our building), hoping that one of her kitties will be sitting there.

What melts your heart?

Community

Just got back from matriculation dinner, and— I'm not gonna lie— I'm kinda tipsy. After the service we had a big fancy dinner with lots of wine, so I'm kinda done for the night. (There was also an after party on the roof of one of the apartment buildings; I went for a while, and Adam is still over there as I write this.)

It's so nice to feel like part of a community again. After UWC and Vassar, I became used to feeling like I was part of a community, but in Ohio, I always felt like an outsider. I wasn't born and bred in Y-town, and so that meant that a lot of people thought of me as an interloper. Being interested in learning and reading and thinking wasn't something I could share with a lot of people (besides my family and my husband, of course), so I didn't have a lot of friends this past year.

But here, everyone has a smile for me. Everyone says, "Hello, Philosophy!" (or even "Hello, Sophy!") and everyone asks about my job and my cats, and no one makes me feel silly or uncomfortable or lonely. Do you know that another couple in our building asked us over for dinner on Sunday? In Youngstown, I didn't know anyone else; everyone else there was kind enough to me, but they all assumed that because I was smart, I was a snob.

This is HOME, in a way I never expected it to be. Every day, when I get off of work, I can't wait to get back home. Our apartment may be messy (and it's about to get messier— we're painting this weekend!) but it's where I belong.

I love living here so much. Thank the Lord we made it here at last!

Breakfast: A Bright Beginning

I've recently become completely enamored of breakfast as a meal.

Now, when I was growing up, I used to HATE breakfast. I thought breakfast was a waste of time, a terrible misuse of those extra minutes between snooze alarms. In fact, eating breakfast actually made me feel nauseous, since my stomach seemed to be unable to cope with food so early in the morning. I was never really all that hungry until I got home from school, anyways, so I never felt like I was missing out by not eating brekkie.

In fact, from about age three until age seventeen, when I left home, do you know what I had for breakfast (if you could call it that) every single day of my life? A glass of Ovaltine. I was OBSESSED with the stuff. Remember those silly Ovaltine commercials with the little kids yelling "More Ovaltine, please!"? Well, I could have been one of those kids. And that was all anyone could coax me into eating before noon...until recently.

About a year ago, though, I discovered the joys of eating a delicious breakfast. Why? Well, part of it might have been the knowledge that eating breakfast is actually really good for you, but another part of it might have been that great middle ground meal— brunch. Brunch is a fabulous idea. Whomever decided that waking up at a leisurely hour, putting on a comfortable knitted sweater (and perhaps a scarf or beret), and drinking any number of delicious beverages (coffee, tea, mimosas...) in combination with any number of delicious food items could be a good idea was a Mighty Genius, and ought to have won, I don't know, the Nobel Peace Prize or something.

So about two years ago, I started with Cheerios. Simple, delicious, easy to fix. Then I moved on to toast with jam— sugary sweet, but also simple and delicious! Then, in France, I discovered the breakfast crepe— and the dessert crepe, which I devoured just as early in the morning as the breakfast crepe, much to the horror of my French host family.

Now, my obsessions are threefold:

-Honey Bunches of Oats. OH. MY. GOD. Someone stick the Philosophy E. Walker Stamp of Approval on this puppy, because this cereal is AMAZING. When Adam first proposed the purchase of such a cereal, I balked; after all, "bunches of oats" doesn't really conjure up amazing taste sensations. But wow, this stuff is SO GOOD. (And probably pretty bad for me, but I break up my HBOO consumption with days where I eat healthier things.)

-Chocolate chop waffles. You know the only thing better than chocolate chip waffles? Chocolate chip waffles made in my HELLO KITTY WAFFLE MAKER. BOOYA.

-Adam's famous "Who-Hash." Adam is an amazing cook, and one day, about a year ago, he invented this awesome egg scramble with bacon, onions, celery, and lots of different spices. He calls it "Who-Hash," after the meal mentioned in The Grinch.

Recently, though, I've felt the need to transition into the era of the smoothie. Everyone in New York seems to be carrying around smoothies, but their smoothies seem to be of the high-fructose-corn-syrup-containing kind, and I figure I could make something even better myself, at home. I have berries, and yogurt, and milk, ad honey, and even tangerine sorbet (all natural!), so maybe those ingredients can combine into a delicious smoothie this week.

I'm always looking for new things to try for breakfast. Anyone have any ideas?

Memory

Yesterday, I found out that someone I knew from high school— that is, UWC— died last week. She died in her sleep, of heart failure.

It always feels strange when someone you know dies— and it's even stranger when they're so young, and when the death was in no way anticipated.

My grandmother told me this summer that it's a terrible thing to be as old as she is, to be 84 and know that most of the people she loved— her husband, her best friends, her parents— are all dead. She said it almost as if she wished she weren't alive anymore. "It's awful, outliving your friends, your family, your generation," she said vehemently. "At some point, there's no one left."

It makes me so sad to think about her family, her good friends, the people who spent every day with her. Isn't that terrible— to assume that you have someone for years and years to come, and then suddenly lose them, suddenly lose those years, forever?

Your mission, should you choose to accept it: tell everyone you love that you love them. Tell them now. You never know when it might be your last chance.

The Rest Of My Life

Arghhhhhh. What should I do with my life?

I could become a veterinarian, and help sick animals to get better. Or I could go to med school and become a gynecologist— then I could be an abortion doctor, which is something I've always thought was important. Or I could go to seminary and get a collar like my husband. Or I could start a non-profit organization and help people out. Or...I could keep trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to be a writer.

Or I could do something else. I just don't know!

How did YOU decide what you wanted to be when you grew up? And what if you were already grown up when you started to try and figure it out?

 

Zzzzzzz.....

Why am I so friggin' TIRED all the time?

I've been sick this week, so maybe that's it. My first day of work was today, and I have a forty minute walking commute each way, so maybe that's it. I also walked around during my break, and I didn't eat nearly enough for lunch (too nervous about how my first day was going!), so maybe that's it.

But it's like I've been constantly exhausted since I got to the City, and I can't shake it. I never seem to get enough rest. Sleep is my favorite part of the day now, and that part never seems to be long enough.

I'm too tired to even write a decent PNN post. How pathetic is that?

How do you beat seemingly overwhelming exhaustion?

Photos From The New Place

Here's are some pictures of a couple of our rooms!

The bathroom:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The kitchen:

 

 

 

 

 

 

The living room and bedroom are not yet ready for their close-ups, but should be done later on this week.

 

And here's a random picture of us in Central Park yesterday:

We're Here!

We're finally in our new home!

The arrival was rocky— trust me, avoid driving a Budget moving truck through Manhattan if you can. We also had to park in front of a fire hydrant in order to unload our stuff, since the seminary doesn't, y'know, have a parking lot or anything. And lugging all of our heavy furniture up four flights of stairs in 80-degree heat wasn't the best idea, either.

But after that there was Indian food, and after that there was sleep. And now there is a teensy apartment filled with boxes upon boxes of too much stuff.

The apartment is beautiful— high ceilings and plenty of windows and black, glossy wooden floors and even an old fireplace (though we can't light fires in it or anything). The only problem is that the kitchen is TINY. I mean, like, it's about half the size of our old one. There is pretty much no counter space, and pretty much no room for all our kitchen stuff. Plus, there's no dishwasher. (Adam says the reason for all this is because the apartments are so old that they used to only have a bedroom, a parlour, and a servant's room, and the kitchen is what used to be the servant's room.) But otherwise it's an awesome apartment, and I think it'll make a lovely new home!

Everyone is super nice, too, including our awesome neighbors across the hall! Their names are Terry and Gabe (not sure on the spelling yet), and they're absolutely lovely. Gabe is the seminary student; Terry is the breadwinner (like me, as soon as I get a job), and he's ALSO A WRITER. OMG I'M SO EXCITED!

There are so many lovely places around us, too— wonderful cafes and bakeries and restaurants and cinemas and all sorts of stuff. And Chelsea is absolutely gorgeous, with big beautiful trees and old stone buildings. It's so great!

As soon as we can slap this place into reasonable shape, I'll post pictures. HUZZAH, NEW YORK!

Secret Exercise

Those who know me well know that I enjoy a good bout of physical activity. I love to put on my iPod and take a long stroll through town, or go for a jog around the block, or even follow along with my free yoga DVD that I got as part of some promotion or other.

Today, for example, I went to the Y (apparently I'm still a member, because we forgot to notify them that I'm now married and therefore not covered under my parents' "family" membership anymore...shhhhh...) and enjoyed a five-minute warm-up, twenty minutes on the elliptical, a few moments on the weight machines, and then a leisurely swim and a trip to the water slides.

But I'd really like to include my husband in some of these activities-- not because he needs them, by any means (he's in great shape), but because it's so much more fun to do stuff together.

The problem is this: Adam hates exercise that FEELS like exercise. Like, he enjoys some physical activities (playing golf, swimming, bike riding, etc.) but hates anything that qualifies as "going to the gym." He'll go for a hike with me, but he won't go to the track with me.

So I'm trying to think of some different exercise-ish things that we could do together in NYC-- things that don't feel exercise-ish but really do provide lots of physical movement. I'm thinking I'd like to learn to play tennis (we have tennis courts at the new place), but I don't know where I'd get racquets (aren't those expensive?) and I'm not sure whether or not Adam would really want to play.

I'd also like to find a ballroom dancing class (Adam has actually said he would do that with me!) but I dunno where I could find an affordable one.

What do you do for exercise? Any advice?

More On Paint

So now that we know exactly which apartment we'll have when we get to New York, we're starting to plan for the Great Painting Project!

See this floor plan? Our apartment is 4B. See that wall across from the front door-- not the one with the windows, the other one? That's the wall we'll paint.

Today we went with my mom and sister to look at paint chips at Lowe's, and we narrowed it down to the following colors:

-Pomegranate Punch

-Autumn Gala

-Orange Glow

-Dandelion Wish

-Yellow Mustard

-La Fonda Flamenco Pink

-Lemon Curd

There was also a darker green that we liked, but it might be a little too dark for what we're trying to accomplish (i.e., making the room look bigger and more open).

We don't have any matching furniture or anything, so basically it'll end up being whatever color looks the prettiest.

Any input?

In Defense Of Exercise

Adam and I eagerly await the arrival of the mailman every afternoon, and last week, when we ran out to receive our mail, I happened to glance at the cover of my grandma’s new Time. The cover story, which featured an exercising woman smiling at a yummy-looking cupcake, was titled, rather provocatively: “Why Exercise Won’t Make You Thin.”

I was intrigued; I’m very active, and attribute some of my thinness to my activity level (although some of it is, admittedly, genetic). Also fascinating was the apparent reversal of recent faddish weight-loss advice; I was under the impression that, according to a few pieces in other news magazines, exercise was still a prominent part of weight management.

Well, I found the Time article pretty unsatisfactory, to say the least. For one thing, it’s hard to take it seriously when Time actually published an article last September extolling the virtues of exercise in overcoming genetic obesity. For another, the entire article equated the inability of exercise to cause weight loss in and of itself to an inability to encourage it when combined with diet and other factors. In other words, the piece seemed to conclude that, if exercise isn’t a magic solution to obesity, then it’s pretty much useless for those wanting to lose weight.

But the most annoying part was the article’s flagrant dismissal of the well-established benefits of exercise:

“Today doctors encourage even their oldest patients to exercise, which is sound advice for many reasons: People who regularly exercise are at significantly lower risk for all manner of diseases — those of the heart in particular. They less often develop cancer, diabetes and many other illnesses. But the past few years of obesity research show that the role of exercise in weight loss has been wildly overstated.”

I despise that— the way the author completely ignores actual health. Um, I always thought that the medical community was interested in lowering obesity rates so that people would be healthier, not so that they’d look like supermodels. Gee, I guess the only motivation for exercising could possibly to look sexyhot, and not to, y’know, live longer and feel better.

In all the hype over what we eat and when we ought to eat it, I feel like exercise is sometimes downplayed or ignored in terms of what it can do for you, and what its absence can mean for your wellbeing. I’m a huge fan of Michael Pollan, but among my critiques of his method (and there are several things upon which we disagree) is this: that he doesn’t accurately account for decreasing levels of activity in his analysis of the American health crisis. And while I hate this review from the Texas Observer purely because it seems to have missed a couple chapters of In Defense Of Food entirely, it does have something useful to say about Pollan's narrow focus on processed food:

"At one point, he scolds medical researchers for practicing 'parking-lot science,' which is the idea that when one loses his keys in a dark parking lot, he automatically searches under the nearest streetlight. The reference, however, fails to prevent Pollan from allowing processed food to become his own streetlight. Ignoring altogether the roles that exercise, heredity, race, social class, occupation, access to health care, and geography play in mediating the myriad connections between diet and health, Pollan limits his search to the well-lighted space under industrial food’s streetlight, where he finds—no surprise—the lost keys to 'a maximally healthy diet.'"

Pollan hates that we’ve become so reductionist about nutrients (“Omega-3s are GOOD! Saturated fat is EVIL!”), but in the end, he can sound a bit reductionist himself, as he often constructs thinly veiled accusations holding the entire food industry responsible for almost every disease prevalent in America today. And while I agree with him that processed foods are horrible and cooking is a must and we need to reform the entire food industry in order to harmonize more with nature and our own bodies, I don’t think that food alone is responsible for American obesity or for the increase in cardiovascular diseases.

I believe health has to be approached holistically— no one thing can help you lose weight or strengthen your heart or lower your cholesterol. Diet is important, but so is exercise— and low-impact, everyday activity (like taking the stairs or walking to the store) is important, but so is raising your heart rate through routine exercise, even if that exercise is just running in the park or playing touch football with your kids or dancing to the radio for about a half hour while you wait for your significant other to get home from work. (Guilty!)

No one thing is going to magically make you healthier. Like with most things in life, there is no quick fix here. But changing a couple aspects of your lifestyle will help, if you do them in tandem and if you maintain them responsibly. Exercise alone isn’t going to make you healthier; natural, whole foods will help, too. But just because exercise alone won’t make everything hunky dory doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exercise. It just means you should think about the effect that exercise has on your diet.

Exercise is still good for you. It's just not going to fix everything.

The Age of Divorce

As I'm on the younger end of the newlywed demographic (especially among my friends, many of whom are happy with their unmarried statuses), I enjoy keeping up with other married couples I know via Facebook. Several of my friends from high school are now engaged or married, and so are a couple of people I knew in college.

But since I'm such a young bride, I always appreciate when I can find friends of mine who actually got married BEFORE I did. Two of my contemporaries were married before I was. Since I popped a lot of my friends' wedding cherries (and, I think, popped Claire's bridesmaid cherry), I like to know that I'm not alone, that I'm not really such a trailblazer.

Which is why I felt strange today when I found out (thanks, Facebook!) that one of those acquaintances is separating from her husband.

I didn't really know her all that well, but it makes me feel funny, knowing this— and not just because it seems strange that people we don't even know well can see these intimate details of our lives the moment those details come into focus. No, I felt funny about it because it seems like we just entered the marriage demographic; it feels a little bit early for the divorce stats to kick in.

Now, because I grew up in The Land Of Pregnant Ten-Year-Olds, I entered the pregnancy demographic earlier than most. My friends and acquaintances have been giving birth since I was in middle school, so I never really saw that as a sign that we were all getting older or anything— just that some of us weren't using our heads as well as others.

But when we all started getting engaged and then married, it really DID feel like the end of an era, a sign that we're all poised to morph into our parents. Even now, Facebook reminds me daily of the new adult worlds we've begun to build for ourselves— mortgage loans are trumpeted, second and third children are conceived and born, medical or law schools are entered (and exited), and white dresses and veils adorn almost every photo album. My friends buy cars and get jobs and consider moving to the suburbs; meanwhile, our parents (who have all finally joined Facebook just so they can write "HI!" on our walls every day) have begun posting about their vacations and new condos in Florida and retirement plans.

When I first joined Facebook in 2004, all my friends were writing about drinking and parties and tests and cute boys. Now they're posting pictures of Junior's first day of Kindergarden. (True story, by the way. Can you imagine me with a five-year-old? Neither can I.)

And now— separation. Annulments. Alimony. Divorce.

I know it may seem silly to some of you older folks, but for me, seeing that announcement was almost like getting a telegram from Middle Aged Land: ONE DAY YOU WILL LIVE HERE TOO. SEE YOU SOON.

I'm not really afraid of Middle Aged Land. I like watching Jeopardy! and going to bed at 10, you know. I'm not afraid of actually being middle aged, when the time comes (and I know it's a long ways off). But I'm afraid of the time that's gone for good— of the idea that I can actually feel my life ticking by, that I can feel the sand falling through the hourglass.

That, my friends, is a weird feeling, indeed.

Official News

It's official. Adam is enrolled at General Theological Seminary. We're moving to New York City, at last!

It's so nice to finally KNOW where we're going— to know for sure, I mean. The suspense was totally killing me, but now I can hunker down with apartment blueprints and job applications and phone numbers for the YMCA/JCC and get down to planning, which y'all know I love so much.

We joined the GTS Facebook group, and everyone seems nice, though I will say that it's clear we'll pretty much be the youngest people in the entire place. I mean, that's cool, because I've always enjoyed the company of older folks, but I have been staying with my grandma for a whole month, so I'm hoping these older folks won't be telling too many stories about the seventies. Yes, I know everyone smoked. Yes, I know everyone wore those stupid baggy pants. No, I am not impressed by either of those things.

Meanwhile, I've applied to approximately seventy bazillion jobs and have so far heard nothing back at all. How long should I wait before I assume these folks just don't want to hire me? Is it like a date— if I didn't wow them on the first try, will they just not call? Or are they just waiting a few days or weeks before calling just so they don't seem clingy? I don't know much about job-hunting etiquette, other than what I've read in advice columns. (Apparently, when they ask you about your flaws in a job interview, you should never answer with something cute like, "Well, I'm too much of a perfectionist," or "Sometimes I'm just too focused," or some other answer that is really a description of your virtues disguised as a self-criticism. I didn't know this before. Huh— the things you can learn on the internet...)

I guess what I'm asking is the employment version of Carrie Bradshaw's typed questions on "Sex and the City":

Is this par for the course— or are these employers just not that into me?

Kitties Are Cool

Y'know what's cool?

Using this chart, I've found out that Charlotte Bronte is roughly the same age as I am. Well, that is, my age in human years is equivalent to her age in "cat years."

And Lenore is a teenager, which explains a LOT.

Having pets and getting to totally spoil them is one of the fabulous perks of being a carefree, childless twenty-something. Cats don't need a lot of maintenance (they pee in a box and they don't need help to eat or clean themselves), they don't whine or talk back, and they can be moved around a lot without needing new schools or new friends!

But I still feel a lot of responsibility towards my cats— I mean, they depend on me for everything, and the level of care that I provide is directly responsible for the ease and comfort of their lives. I'm not quite ready to sew them any little outfits or anything, but I get a lot of good companionship from my kitties, and Adam and I have come to think of them as integral parts of our little family.

I'm trying to prepare my kitties for the next few weeks; they'll be uprooted yet again in a week or so when we drive back to Ohio, and then again two weeks later when we move to New York. It's hard, though, since it's not like you can just explain these things to cats and have them understand you. Poor things! Every time we up and move them, they seem freaked out.

How do you help make travel nicer for your pets?

Groceries in NYC

Want to know some cool stuff about my soon-to-be home neighborhood? Check this out, and this, too.

The closest supermarket to our place will be a Whole Foods. WHOLE FOODS. I've never lived within an hour of a Whole Foods. I've only actually ever been inside a Whole Foods once. And now I'll live right next to one. WHOA. It blows my mind. I probably won't be able to afford to shop there all that often, but still— it'll be THERE. I'm in awe.

You know you're living the big city dream when you get to live near a Whole Foods. And yes, I am a country bumpkin. Thanks for asking.

I'm actually getting excited about grocery shopping in New York. Is that sad? Probably. It's just that it'll be nice to go to Green Market and get organic eggs and grain-fed beef and whatnot. And Adam and I will also be splitting the cooking duty more evenly (since I'll have a full-time job and he'll be a full-time student), so I'll get to cook 2-3 times per week! And because of our budget, we probably will only be able to go out to eat on special occasions (such as our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY coming up soon!), so we'll have to get creative in the kitchen— and I LOVE being forced to get creative. It's been one of the best things about not having a lot of money: having to come up with smart ways to save and use and reuse, and figuring out little tricks in order to save cash. It makes me feel so clever and slick! :)

It's also comforting to think of the sheer variety of food available in a big city. No more blank stares from shelf-stocking boys when I ask if the local grocery store carries tahini! (The last kid I asked seemed convinced that tahini would be a spice, and directed us to the spice aisle.) I'm willing to bet that most of the more exotic cooking ingredients I'll need can be found in New York, and that I'll be able to get my hands on a decent jar of grape leaves or a fun French cheese without having to make a special journey out-of-state or anything.

I know I've been asking a lot of you guys lately, but I need some more advice. Shopping: where do you shop for groceries? How do you get the best deals? What kinds of meal-planning suggestions do you have? And how can one learn to be a better cook? (This last one is imperative, since my husband's cooking is far superior to mine; I don't want him to dread the nights when I cook dinner!)

The Wall

It turns out that we're allowed to paint our new apartment in New York. No, seriously! PAINT!

I've never painted my own space before. I mean, my mom and dad painted my room when I was a kid, but I've never had my own home that I could paint myself. Painting was out of the question in the dorms, and Le Chateau forbade painting entirely.

And now I'll have my own one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan (rent: $1,100— you might not believe it, but that's pretty good for living in Chelsea and not sharing with anyone but my spouse, especially since that's ALL utilities included) with hardwood floors and cool seminary neighbors and walls I can paint!

But it's my first paint job, and I don't want to overdo it, especially since things will be crazy enough when we move in, so I don't want to make too much more work for us. My solution? We'll just paint ONE wall. My mom does this all the time, to make rooms look bigger and brighter.

I'm thinking we'll do the living room wall that is most visible when you enter the room. Believe it or not, I actually have visited GTS before— but it was two years ago, and Adam and I had only been dating a total of two days, so I wasn't really paying that much attention to detail. As a result, I have a vague recollection of the apartment layout, but I think it's sufficient to help me begin my design planning.

My possible colors? Light, cheery ones, which will open up the tiny room and make it look cheerful. I've been playing with the Sherwin-Williams online visualizer, and I really like color #6902, which is appropriately titled "Decisive Yellow." I also like #6891 ("Mandarin") and #6923 ("Festival Green"). (Adam wants me to inform you that he likes #6925, “Envy.” He’s surprisingly enthusiastic about this whole designing thing!)

Obviously I need to move into the space before I make any decisions, but it's fun to think about it, don't you think?

Speaking of which: who has painting advice to share? Or some sweet color suggestions for me?

Making Friends

Adam got an email from General today— they're holding a one-bedroom apartment for us! I'm thrilled; we were kinda thinking they'd saddle us with a studio, which would've be okay, I s'pose, but the difference in price wasn't enough to make it a much better deal than the roomier one-bedroom.

Now I'm REALLY getting excited about moving! I'm looking at farmer's markets and jobs (I applied for an AWESOME job today— as an assistant web editor— and it sounds so cool that I'm almost guaranteed not to get it) and now I'm thinking about some other stuff— how I can get a subway pass, where I can find an affordable vet, and where to exercise (I'm thinking the JCC— we had great experiences in Pittsburgh with the local JCC, and I've seen websites that say the Manhattan one offers free exercise classes on Saturday nights).

But I'm also thinking about that all-important part of moving to a new place: making friends. I'll have some friends in the area, of course, and a few in other cities that are accessible to NYC, but I'd like to make a few new friends, too, and I'm hoping I can do that.

The problem is that I'm not a swingin' single, so bars and clubs are out; the seminary might be a good place to meet people, but I'm afraid that our age (we seem to be a bit younger than most of the others there) might make the other students a little hesitant to seriously befriend us. I mean, would I want to make friends with someone ten years younger than I am? A fourteen-year-old couple doesn't exactly sound like a barrel of laughs, am I right?

Where exactly do young marrieds make friends? Church is out, because our church will be the same as our school— we'll attend services on-campus (and I'm really excited that evensong will be offered at the school's church on a regular basis). Work might be a possibility, but as I don't actually HAVE a job yet, I might not want to depend on that as a source of friendship.

Will any New Yorkers even WANT to be our friends? Will it be possible to meet new single friends without it being, like, totally weird? Gosh, I suck at this. I always have been bad at meeting people.

How do you make friends? Got any advice?

Free Food!

I love pastries. I love free stuff. So how much do you think I love FREE PASTRIES?!

Tomorrow, from opening time until 10:30 a.m., Starbucks is giving away free pastries with coffee orders. Yes, it's true. And if you do not already know, I LOVE Starbucks. I'm, like, the only person who actually loves Starbucks' coffee (as opposed to putting up with it because it's convenient or it's the only coffee place in town), so I'm totally thrilled about this.

Tomorrow I'm waking up and getting to Starbucks around 7 a.m., just so I can be sure they won't run out of free delicious muffins. FREE MUFFINS. I LOVE FREE MUFFINS.

What are some of your favorite things to get for free? And how can *I* get them?

Quoth the Raven...

Yesterday, the tiny and adorable kitten Lenore came to live with us!

Lenore is Charlotte Brontë 's full-blooded sister, but the two were born in different litters. So Lenore is a year younger than Charlotte, and therefore much smaller, but for some reason Charlotte seems to be terrified of her baby sister instead of the other way around.

For her part, Lenore doesn't seem panicked about her new home, but she refuses to leave the bedroom. She hanging out on and under the bed, but only managed to walk around the rest of the apartment for about ten minutes last night.

Anyways— here are some pictures! Doesn't she look so so so much like Charlotte?

The Worst Day

To those of you to whom I have already spoken: thanks for your good wishes, prayers, and kind thoughts.

Here are the facts:

At approximately 8:30 this morning, my husband, Adam McCluskey, was driving on I-680 on his way home from taking me to work. When our truck encountered a patch of black ice, it skidded sideways, then flipped over and rolled at least once. While Adam has little recollection of exactly what happened and when, he says that a fellow motorist stopped and assisted him in exiting the truck and contacting 911. An ambulance transported him to St. Elizabeth's, at which point they called his mother, who in turn phoned me while I was at work.

A work colleague very kindly drove me to the hospital, where I was immediately taken to see my husband. As a side note: this entire experience has truly strengthened my belief in the importance of permitting gay couples to wed, as I never realized how vital those spousal rights are in such horribly uncertain moments as hospital visits. As it was, I was whisked away to the ER trauma area as soon as I revealed myself to be Adam's wife, whereupon I promptly burst into tears and hyperventilated at the sight of Adam lying on a gurney with a neck brace on, covered in bandages.

(Keep in mind that this occurred immediately after Adam went missing for twelve hours. He went to visit a friend at 7 pm yesterday evening, and he fell asleep there, and NO ONE THOUGHT TO WAKE HIM OR TELL HIS WIFE. And he had accidentally taken my phone with him, so I couldn’t even call the police. He didn’t come home until 7 am, and I was hysterical after a night of no sleep and all worry.)

In the end, though, he was okay. He suffered head trauma, head lacerations, chest bruises, a pretty nasty shoulder injury, and some miscellaneous cuts and scrapes, but they let him go this evening around 8 pm. He's not allowed to go to work or school for a week, and he has to have someone around him at all times, and he's got some medicine to take— but he's alive.

Our truck is totaled, so it looks like we'll have to buy a car ASAP. It's going to be even harder for Adam to balance work and school as he tries to heal and rest.

But I'm not a widow today, and I thank God, I thank Almighty God, for keeping me from that.

Going To the Doctor...In Mexico?

Wow-- this never, ever occured to me, but apparently a new trend in today's downtrodden economy is to travel abroad for medical care. Like... what? Are we Americans that pathetic, that we have to drive or fly to foreign countries to go to the doctor?

On the other hand... hrm. I know this article says that quality of care could be an issue, but still...it's a thought. Maybe I could plan a check-up while Adam and I are honeymooning in Europe?

How To Get a Free Book

Behold, the great Money Saver, Philosophy Walker!

Here is my magical spell for how I obtained a textbook for Adam's class for FREE:

Original list price of Illuminating Social Life: $44.95

Amazon price (new): $36.40

Amazon price (used copy): $29.65

Now, when I purchased that used book, I had a few tricks up my sleeve:

Price: $29.65

-$20.00 (Amazon gift certificate that I earned doing surveys for Valued Opinions)

= $13.64

-13.64 (in my Amazon Payments account, obtained by doing work on MTurk)

= $0

Yes, I just bought a book that was originally $44.95 for zero dollars. I JUST SAVED ALMOST FORTY-FIVE BUCKS. And because of SuperSaver shipping, I didn't even pay for postage!

I am the Queen of Savings. FEAR ME, MINIONS!

New Apartment!

I haven't updated in about a day and a half, mostly because...

We moved in to our new apartment yesterday!

It's a one-bedroom in Austintown-- well, technically, the address is in Youngstown, but it's right on the West Side, making it pretty much in Austintown. We have a living room, a little wallpapered dining room area, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. There is air-conditioning, a big window in the living room, a dishwasher, a brand-new gas stove/oven, a garbage disposal, and a fancy showerhead. We also have four closets: one in the foyer, one in the living room, and two in the bedroom. There's also a pool out back!

And all this for $395/month. That price even includes ALL utilities except electric, so our water, gas, heating, air conditioning, and sewage are all paid for us, and we just pay for stuff we plug in.

I got so excited when we got to put our names on our mailbox and on our door buzzer. We're the only family with two names on the nameplate ("McCluskey/Walker"), which made me feel even happier, somehow.

I also love puttering around the place: tidying up, watching TV (we only get two channels, and those are kind of fuzzy, but we can watch DVDs, so I've been rewatching the second season of The O.C.), cleaning up the kitchen, making Adam's lunch. I even baked a cake last night, and Adam cooked a splendid dinner of seasoned chicken, corn, and pirogies. He even made me a crantini to sip! I love that I'm marrying a man who is clean, helpful, and a wonderful cook...he even did all of the dishes after he made dinner! I mean, really, he's like a demigod or something.

I took a run around the neighborhood this afternoon, and it looks like a lovely place-- lots of young families with children, and we're also within walking distance of the Austintown library, which means 1) wireless access, and 2) lots of books/magazines/DVDs whenever I want them!

I'm just so very happy. It feels like we're really a little family now, what with our apartment and our soon-to-be shared bank account and our kitty (soon to be kitties, plural, once we kidnap one of the newborn babies in Adam's garage). I expected to feel, I don't know, a little weird about being so young and so settled down, but it really feels wonderful, to tell you the honest truth.

So now I'm back at my parents house for most of the weekend, as Adam has to work tonight, Saturday, and Sunday. I'll put up some pictures early next week for you guys, I promise!

:(

I'm starting to get fairly depressed about this whole no-job deal. I just had to turn down an AWESOME internship in Cleveland that entailed working for Church Life (the magazine/newsletter of the Episcopal Church) for $15/hr. I love writing! I love journalism! I love the Episcopal Church! My transportation to Cleveland (which is about an hour north of my town) decided to move to Brazil this summer, though, so that didn't work out. It was one of the saddest things I've ever done, turning that job down.

I keep applyng for writing assignments that I've found at Freelance Writing Jobs, a website that my mother helpfully passed on to me. The problem is that, while there are few people in this world who can write well, there are many people who want  to write professionally, and while this doesn't necessarily narrow my chances of being a successful writer in the long run, it most definitely means that the good writing gigs are often flooded with a million applications by the time they're posted on the above website. I think the trick is to wait until the site's daily digest of jobs is released and then apply to all of them as quickly as possible, but for someone like me who has a friggin' LIFE (as well as a student job, as low-paying as it might be), it's not always possible to stare determinedly at the computer all day and refresh the screen every five minutes.

Will someone please give me a job? Or at least start paying me to play Guitar Hero?

Journalism Opportunity?

I'm totally entering this contest-- it's a competition sponsored jointly by MySpace and MSNBC to choose two "citizen journalists" to report at the Democratic Convention in Denver! You have to make a video and put it on your MySpace account (which might mean I'll have to reactivate mine, even though I created it for the sole purpose of monitoring my 14-year-old sister's activities) and then they choose five finalists. Then the MySpace population apparently chooses the final two, which sucks since most people seem to vote on the basis of 1) who looks dumber, and 2) who looks hotter, and I have a feeling I'd lose on both those counts.

But anyways, I'm gonna do it, and I thought some of you might be interested. I'm thinking in particular of Jaime and Maya, but of course, everyone who wants to should give it a shot!

Bah.

I have sent out approximately ten applications for freelance writing gigs. I have received zero responses. Not even a "thanks for applying" rejection letter.

I searched for jobs yesterday in the Vindicator, to no avail. Apparently the only jobs that exist in Youngstown A) require Masters degress, or B) involve unskilled hard labor. I have the qualifications for neither of these categories.

Adam keeps telling me to calm down, learn to drive, and take a job at the paper. And we did go and get my new permit packet yesterday, so that's a start. But I hate the idea of waiting a few weeks to become employed. I could be making money NOW! That's what Adam is doing at the moment, actually-- today was his first day back at Exal, otherwise known as the Evil Aluminum Can Factory of Death. But while I hate his job, and I worry about him getting hurt, I can't go and criticize, because it's a job, and that's a rare bird around here.

Someone employ me. Now. Please please please?

Apartments!

Adam and I are apartment hunting, and let me tell you, if you thought it's a hard process in New York City, you ought to try living where no one ever needs an apartment because no one ever leaves their family's ancestral house. At least in NYC, demand dictates that some apartments will EXIST.

The $350/mo. Columbiana apartment that Adam thought he spotted appears to have been a mirage, so we're looking a little closer to (my) home now. We found a couple for $450 and one for $425, all in Boardman, and today Adam bought a Vindicator and found a duplex in Struthers (the town where my parents' house is located) for only $400, utilities included. I like the thought of a duplex, because when I was little we lived in duplexes a lot, and they were so much more like real houses than the dirty Miami apartment buildings we'd lived in when I was a toddler. I mean, with a duplex we'd have an actual YARD, and maybe some flowers or something.

Still, we need to find out what kinds of things are included. Electric? Water? Gas? What kind of heating is installed? And can I bring my cat? I'll need Charlotte Bronte around if Adam's going to keep working midnights, because I get lonely in a dark house all by myself.

I'm kind of simultaneously excited and depressed by this apartment search-- excited by the idea of living on my own with Adam, of starting this new little two-person family (no children, at least not until we're way way way older) all by ourselves, but depressed by the fact that no matter how you look at it, I'm living in Ohio again, which I SWORE would never happen. I mean, I know I just have to suck up my pride and get over it, but it's a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.

Selling My Literary Soul...For fifteen dollars

So I now have three (very pathetic) sources of income:

1. My check from Chapters, where I stopped working on Sunday so I could concentrate on the journalism career;
2. My transcription job for my dear friend, at which I need to be working harder, because I've been totally slacking, and;
3. My $15/article job writing for the lameness that is eHow.

Today, as I slaved over an article entitled "How to Knit an iPod Case," I suddenly felt like the stupidest, lamest, biggest sell-out/ burn-out EVER. I went to UWC of the American West for two years, took my IB Diploma, studied literature at Vassar College, and got distinction on my senior thesis, and what has that prepared me for? A career in telling people how to knit novelty items or find apartments in Idaho or treat penis pain.

I mean, just check out this little gem I wrote, about how to become a priest. Or this one, extolling the importance of a physician's opinion in the diagnosis of Fuchs' Dystrophy? Or how about my great works on flute maintenance, or on purchasing school uniforms? How could you possibly say I'm wasting my life, if I'm contributing so seriously and completely to the literary canon?

I'm sending out poems this week, and I know every single one will be rejected, because I'm only a good poet, not a brilliant one.

I feel like a failure.

Hot Careers in Linguistics!

This is mainly for my linguistics-major friends (would you believe I actually have several of those?), but MSN listed Computational Linguist as one of its seven cool careers you've never heard of.

See, guys? Now, when people mock you for not having majored in something "practical" like business or chemistry, you can show them this article, and they'll shut right up.

And wait-- comp linguists make a "high five-figure" salary right off the bat? Clearly, I was wrong to major in English.

I'm Even More of a Loser in Japan

You know, there are a lot of bad things about being unemployed: the lack of money, the feeling of uselessness, the embarrassment of having to write "unemployed" on every form or questionnaire ever. But at least I take comfort in knowing that, since I don't have a real job, I will probably not die from overwork.

Pictures!

Just put up a few pictures from the new apartment-- and please note that there is now a coffee table in the living room, though I was too lazy to take a new picture in order to accommodate this change.

I haven't yet been able to put up a picture of the bedroom, but once we make it presentable enough, I'm sure that'll be up here, too.

More Good News...Goody, Goody.

Well, today I went to Yahoo to check my email, and I immediately noticed what looked like a picture of Youngstown on the Yahoo homepage. "What is this picture of my humble town doing on this national website?" I wondered. Then I realized that the picture was associated with a large news article: "America's Fastest-Dying Cities".

Oh, great. It seems Youngstown is actually at the head of the list. Apparently we suck more than Flint. Yeah, that Flint. The Flint, Michigan, of Roger and Me fame.

No wonder I can't find a friggin' job. There ARE no jobs here.

Job Hunting. Ish.

So the job hunt is pretty much in a coma, for now. Adam says he thinks I ought to spend time with him and with my family for a bit, and allow him to support me until September. That's very kind of him, but it makes me a little nervous not to be making some sort of contribution to our finances. I don't want to become that spoiled princess who blows all of her man's money on, I dunno, diamonds or something, and then complains when the money runs out.

I have, however, taken on a new freelance job: writing for Suite 101, a sprawling online magazine. Unlike eHow.com, they let me write about anything I want, so long as it's a good, solid, properly presented piece. My contract requires a minimum of 10 articles every 3 months, which shouldn't be too taxing, as I just published my first one today.

If anyone is interested in making some $$$ on the side, feel free to apply to Suite 101. You can write about pretty much anything, and the editors seem way nice and helpful.

Bad To The Bone

Clairelight's excellent post mentioned something rebellious she did at age ten. It reminded me of all the rebellious things I did as a kid, and how narrowly I often escaped real punishment. I wasn't a bad kid— I've just always been mature for my age, and I've always had an acute, innate hatred of injustice, so as a child these things often led me into trouble, either because I shocked adults with my insistence on doing things the right way or because I refused to do things just because grown-ups told me to. An incomplete list:

Grade: Kindergarten
Punishment: Staying after school
Infraction: Teaching the other kids about where they came from— and it didn’t involve a stork, either. I’d recently gotten a new baby sister, and between Big Sister classes, my own research at the library, and my mother’s no-nonsense approach to parenting, I’d learned that, well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…

Grade: 1st
Punishment: No recess
Infraction: Running away and hiding in the bushes outside the school. I never liked being told what to do even by my mother, so when strange people started trying to boss me around, I was so over elementary school.

Grade: 1st
Punishment: Serious teacher talk
Infraction: Having boyfriends. My teacher, disturbed by my propensity to hold hands with boys, force them to buy me gifts, and insist that they kiss my hand at recess, my teacher told me sternly that “age six is too young to have a boyfriend. Do you know what having a boyfriend even means?” When I managed to prove to her that I did in fact know what it meant, she became irate, telling me that I was forbidden to hold hands with a single boy at my desk. I responded by holding the hands of TWO boys at the same time. Needless to say, she was not amused.

Grade: 1st
Punishment: Banishment to another classroom during reading time.
Infraction: Shouting out the reading word of the day right after the teacher wrote it on the board. My school used phonics to teach reading, and so every day the teacher would write a word on the board and then we all had to sound it out with her until we could read what it said. I had learned how to read around age 3, though, so I enjoyed making my teacher angry by yelling out whatever the word was she was trying to get the other kids to learn.

Grade: 2nd
Punishment: Staying after school to clean the chalkboards
Infraction: Referring to a particularly mean teacher as “a witch.” Silly grow-ups thought I was euphemizing the word “bitch,” but no, I really thought that she was a witch. She had a crooked nose and a large wart on her cheek.

Grade: 2nd
Punishment:  Staying after school
Infraction: Refusing to sing the proper words to “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” in choir class, and instead inserting the word “girl,” as I thought it was silly to sing about being a boy if I wasn’t one. They never did get me to sing it correctly, and I proudly belted out “girl” at the spring concert that year, much to the music teacher’s chagrin.

Grade: 3rd
Punishment: A stern talking-to
Infraction: Writing an angry letter to the President. In class we were supposed to write letters to President Clinton, and I think my teacher kind of expected us to write things like “Do you like the White House?” and “You are a very nice President.” Instead, I wrote a three-page diatribe on the United States’ treatment of civil unrest in Serbia. Go figure.

Grade: 5th
Punishment: After considering suspension, the principal let me off with a demerit.
Infraction: Telling my art teacher to go f**k himself. I was the smallest kid in the entire school, and he was constantly making cracks about my height, calling me a “shrimp,” a “dwarf,” and a “midget.” Consequently, he got what he deserved, the bastard.

Do you have any stories of rebellion from your childhood? Post them here!

FINALLY

I've been here for about two hours, trying to get past the strange redirecting problems I've been having with this section. They appear to have passed for now, but I'd really like it if they never came back, and I'm not sure that's going to happen.

Anyways. I have news: I just applied at a temp agency.

I've been looking for a job for months, and there is NOTHING FOR ME HERE. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. At all. Zip, zero, nada, rien. If I knew how to lay pipe or make cars, I might be able to come up with something. As an English major whose main skill is poetry composition, I'm kind of out of luck.

When my mother proposed the temp agency, I initially balked. After all, didn't I go to Vassar to avoid low-paying, soul-sucking office work? But then I remembered that a friend of mine in NYC seems to have gotten a good job at Planned Parenthood through a temp agency, and he appears to like it just fine. And while I know the chances of becoming employed somewhere cool like Planned Parenthood are pretty low in Youngstown, I figured I'd have a better chance with a temp agency than scanning the classifieds and Monster.com every day like I've been doing since July.

So I sent in my resume and filled out an online application. In the process, I found out a lot about what makes me a good (and bad) candidate.

Pros of Philosophy: I'm pretty well educated, particularly for this area. I went to a fairly big-name school. I've already spent four years doing work-study jobs in the secretarial vein. I have references from a famous professor, the wife of a famous musician, and the PR director for a major educational institution. Everyone I've ever worked for adores me or has the good sense to pretend like they adore me. And did you know I can type 79 words/minute using only two fingers?

Cons of Philosophy: I have no specialty skills. I have very limited knowledge of specific office technology and software. I have no professional certifications. I have no professional licenses. I only know two languages, and neither of them is Spanish. I have no previous experience with law, healthcare, or manufacturing. I am teh suck.

They're going to call me soon, apparently. I told them I can't start until after the wedding. We shall see...

Let's Get Through This!

Times are tough, my friends. The Fed is saying we may face "a complete meltdown of our financial system," which in turn could herald the second Great Depression.

So what's a smart, independent 20-something to do? Despite what whiny old folks claim, it's not any easier on us because of our youthful ability to "bounce back"— and in fact, us young people often suffer during financial crises because we're too young to have built up a nest egg or emergency fund of any kind. Adam and I have some $$ in a savings account, but that's only because we just got married and people gave us presents.

Here's what we're doing to keep our heads above water:

1. Paying off debt. It seems stupid to owe other people money when there's so little money to go around, eh? We've paid off my credit card, taken a chunk out of Adam's, and paid Adam's outstanding tuition bills. We're also looking to finish off his credit card payments by the end of the year.

2. Eating at home. Eating out really adds up, and while we're big fans of restaurant dining, we've been able to come up with some fun recipes on our own. All Recipes has some really neat ideas, as does this MSN article on how to eat better and spend less.

And if you really have to eat out every once in a while, there are cheaper alternatives out there. Local restaurants are often cheaper (and better) than big chains, and you can't beat Waffle House for an awesome, inexpensive meal. Adam and I had full breakfasts there yesterday, and our total came to $9 (and that includes a generous 50% tip!). Dinner is usually the most expensive meal at any restaurant, so grab breakfast or go in the mid-afternoon and have lunch instead.

3. Getting help. There are lots of little ways you can get help from the government. After all, that's what it's there for— to help citizens in a crisis. We're applying for Ohio's Energy Assistance Program to help with out electric bills, since our yearly income doesn't exceed $24,500 for two people. And despite the fact that the DTV switch is a big ol' swindling attempt by electronics companies, we applied for our $40 government coupon and only paid $26 for our converter box and antenna. Now we get six clear channels instead of 4 fuzzy ones, AND we're all set for the 2009 switch!

4. Riding bikes. The price of gas is awfully high, but riding bikes and walking places really does help (especially when you're saddled with a gas guzzling truck like we are!) and can also contribute to weight loss. Experts even expect these high gas prices to make a direct impact on American obesity rates! I've been walking to Marc's (a store about a mile or so away) instead of asking Adam to drive me, and it's been saving us a bit of gas. Plus I can ride my bike to the bank or the post office whenever I need to get there!

5. Clipping coupons. People mock coupon-clippers as miserly and silly, but we're saving tons of money. My parents raised 3 children on $35,000/year, and we always had a comfortable life because of coupons. My mother's frugality, combined with her almost supernatural ability to save money using double coupons, helped us to get all those little luxuries kids are so fond of— Fruit Roll-ups, juice boxes, boxes of cookies.

So Adam and I clip and save coupons from the paper, and it pays off. Yesterday, for example, we got a big bottle of Powerade (which Adam likes for work) and Wal-Mart paid us to take it. It was on sale for 88 cents, and we had a dollar-off coupon, so the store actually credited us 12 cents towards our entire grocery purchase that day. SO EXCITING!

How are YOU saving money? Comment on this page and tell us!

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

I thought I might just share with y'all a couple good recipes from the internet that I tried out this week. Cooking at home can be really fun and satisfying, and it's usually cheaper than eating out, which is pretty important to us twenty-somethings these days!

I made these tuna melts this week, and they were excellent! Nice and cheesy— I used a ball of buffalo mozzarella instead of the grated stuff and little ciabattas instead of French bread, and it tasted delicious. I served them with baked French fries, a healthier alternative to fries soaked in veggie oil.

I made this chocolate caramel nut cheesecake for my dad's birthday on Friday, and he LOVED it. I used fun-sized Snickers bars, since they're easier to chop into little pieces. I also chopped up some extra bars to sprinkle on top of the cheesecake when it came out of the oven. Mmmmmm!

Adam and I made our own hummus a few weeks ago, and it was GREAT! It got a little clumpy in the blender, so if you have a food processor (I dare to dream!) I'd use that instead; it'll just be easier that way. It turned out wonderfully, though, even in the blender. Don't skimp on the tahini, either— some finicky reviewers on Allrecipes claim that the amount of tahini called for makes the hummus too "bitter." These are crazy people. They are liars and pickpockets and no one likes them. Do not listen to their evil untruths! Resist!

This accurately named "Lovely Linguine"makes a wonderful dish, and is particularly good when served with this garlic bread. Again, I used ciabatta instead of French bread, and I felt it was a good choice.

Anyone else have any good recipes they'd like to share? Post a link in the comment box below!

Cheap is a Lifestyle!

In light of the news that Sarah Palin's wardrobe costs $150,000, I was interested to read Cereals' take on clothes and cost. Now, here's my own take on this situation: for me, there's not really any need to spend a large amount of money on clothes.

So many people assume that a higher cost means a higher quality product, but sometimes that's just not the case. In fact, many generic brands of food are actually just as good as name brands, contain the exact same ingredients, and are even made by the same companies. Even some discount food stores are owned by the same places that run higher-end stores; for example, my mother recently discovered that Aldi's, a discount store that sells food at cheap prices and doesn't provide grocery bags to carry your food home (better bring your own tote!) is owned by the same company that operates Trader Joe's! The two places sell the exact same food, only in different packaging.

I myself try to purchase only store-brand foods (unless I have a really good coupon, of course), and my husband and I cook up a storm of gourmet meals with these products! I also use generic medication (Sronyx or Lutera for my BCP instead of Alesse, generic Rite-Aid brand allergy meds instead of the brand name stuff, Wal-Mart brand painkillers instead of Tylenol) and I certainly haven't died yet.

This frugality certainly extends to clothing, as I only buy second-hand or on-sale clothes these days. I just don't see the rationale of paying more for the same stuff— at Goodwill I can buy Calvin Klein, Abercrombie and Fitch, even Vera Wang, if I play my cards right. And the non-designer stuff actually seems to hold up better than the "nicer" clothes do. For example, a friend of mine decided to buy a $200 pair of jeans because she figured they'd last her forever and a day; six months later, they were covered in holes. I, on the other hand, am still wearing jeans that I purchased from the Salvation Army in sixth grade.

Take a look at what I'm wearing today (it's kind of hard to see since the picture is so small, but give it a try):

Brown Capri pants with cute pockets: $0 (hand-me-downs from Adam's sixteen-year-old sister, Andi)

Burgundy tank top with lace: $0 (again, a hand-me-down)

Green cloth jacket: $10 (on sale at Aeropostale)

Jet beads: $0 (handed down from my great-grandmother, who wore them in the 1920s)

Every single day, I wear an outfit that, at most, cost me between $5 and $15 altogether. And I look pretty fabulous, if I do say so myself. The trick? Buy second-hand, take hand-me-downs, go to garage sales, and get creative! I think clothes are so much more fun when you really have to use your imagination to make them look nice.

Honestly, I feel like a lot of the appeal of brand-name products is emotional— a lot of people are afraid of "feeling poor" so they actually want to be able to spend more on everyday things. The other day Adam wanted to make lasagna for dinner, but we didn't have all the ingredients we needed in the house and we really didn't need to be running out and buying some more stuff. I said, "Why don't we just eat Mac and Cheese for dinner? We like Mac and Cheese." And Adam looks at me and goes, "Oh, c'mon, we're not that poor."

I said, "Yes, Adam, we are. We have a combined household income of $24,000/year. WE ARE POOR."

And he said, "Well, we don't have to act poor."

What exactly is so frightening about saving money and being frugal? I'll never understand it— but then again, I've never had a lot of money, and I suppose once you've grown up with something it doesn't tend to frighten you as much. I'm not afraid of being poor.

Joan of Arc was a peasant. J.K. Rowling was a starving single mother. Jesus depended on his followers for food and shelter. Poverty isn't a judgment on your intelligence or your work ethic or your capabilities; there are plenty of stupid, lazy, incompetent millionaires out there (Paris Hilton, anyone?). So don't be afraid to look for a bargain; now is a time of great economic trouble and hardship, so you better believe everyone else will be looking for one, too.

Anyone Have A Good Pumpkin Recipe?

I have a can of pumpkin. Hooray!

My mother gave it to me two weeks ago as part of her not-so-subtle attempts to help us out as the economy sides ever downward into the pit of despair and our $20,000/year goes increasingly towards gas/costly food/dental word/phone and utility bills/Adam's schooling. She also gave us cans of tuna ("Oh, it was on sale, so I bought a whole bunch, and I gave some to the food pantry but I just have so many of these, so I figured you might take them off my hands...") and bread flour ("Well I got it in bulk and I can't possibly use it all, so you might be able to help me get rid of it..."). If you've never met my mother, imagine a cross between a young version of Mon Mothma from Star Wars and a totally hot version of Jeanne d'Arc. Obviously, she is a very loving, kind, caring, and helpful mother. A mother who gives me pumpkin!

Anyways, so now I have this pumpkin and while I'm excited (PUMPKIN!!!) I don't really know what I could do with it. I like this recipe, but I'm not really sure about it, because it seems like it might come out a little bland. I need a simple recipe, an easy recipe— a miracle pumpkin recipe.

Does anyone out there have any recipes or suggestions?

(And you will all be very proud to see that I managed not to write "punkin" even once during this post, even though that's how I totally love writing it and saying it. Maybe I'm finally growing up?)

Interview!

So today was my interview and test administration for Office Team, a division of Robert Half International. It was at 8:30 in the morning, and up until then I'd had the kind of start to my day that makes one want to crawl back into bed again. First, I put on my nice pinstriped pants and actually BROKE THEM. The clasp came completely off and I couldn't fasten them closed. Wow, that's a real great self-esteem booster, eh? It makes me feel so good about my body when my butt actually causes my pants to KERSPLODE. Then I accidentally dropped my flash drive in my coffee, thereby ruining it forever. And finally, I couldn't find my black flats, so I had to wear my open-toed heels, and my feet froze.

By the time I got to the office I was understandably kind of miffed...so of course what I really wanted to deal with were stupid forms and stupid questions. Why does every single employment form ask you to list your previous occupations, job titles, and bosses' names and phone numbers when the prospective employer is ALSO asking for your resume, which already contains all of that information?! And then there were the annoying tax forms, which kind of caught me off guard, as this year will be my first time filing jointly and Adam and I hadn't yet talked about how this was going to work.

But then, after the stupid forms, there were tests, and those made me feel better, because...well, I'm not exactly an experienced secretary, but I'm smart, so the tests were easy to figure out. There were six of them: a "general office skills" test, an Excel test, a Word test, two data entry tests (one numeric and another alphanumeric), and a typing test.

General skills was the best test EVERRRRRRR. It was so simple: "If you need to purchase five reams of paper at $4.25 each, and two staplers at $2.75 each, and you have eighty dollars from petty cash, how much money will you need to return to petty cash after the purchase?" And then there were the awesome behavioral questions. "What is the best way to deal with an angry customer who is shouting at you?" Hrm...could it be "B.) Listen politely without interrupting"?

The Excel and Word ones threw me for a loop at first, because I had to use them on a PC and I've hardly ever touched anything other than a Mac since I was nine years old. But after awhile I got the hang of it. Data entry was simple, although it kind of made my eyes start to cross.

The only bad part was typing. Usually I'm at 70 WPM, but the paragraph I was assigned to type was very poorly written, so I spent a lot of time wondering if I was meant to fix the poor writing as I typed or if I was supposed to leave it be, so that I slowed down considerably and only got 51 WPM. BOOOOOOOOO.

But in the end, the woman who interviewed me was very nice, and said very nice things about me and my mad skillz, yo. She told me that it's actually a good thing that I'm moving in nine months and won't be looking for permanent employment, because most of the people at the agency are looking for permanent jobs and so the more temporary jobs (the ones that last only three weeks or a couple months or even just a couple days) will go straight to ME!

So I'm waiting for them to call me, which she said would probably happen early next week. Huzzah! I can't wait to have a real job. And the Barron's stuff is going well, and everything else is going well, and I'm so much more optimistic about my career than I was a few months ago.

Cool Things

Besides the Vassar/Barron's commission, several awesome occurrences have transpired in my career this week:

1. PNN started paying me more cash monies! Yay for PNN! Thanks, everybody!

2. I got an email from a NY-based company's CEO who happened to read some of my Suite 101 articles on wedding etiquette and planning. He wants to me do a product review, because I'm, like, totally the face of modern wedding planning or whatever. Huzzah!

3. I have a REAL JOB INTERVIEW! The temp agency called this week and wants me to come in for an interview, several typing/computer tests, and a skills review. They think they might have something for me! I was supposed to go yesterday, but I was sick as a dog and couldn't possibly make it, so I rescheduled for tomorrow. And I get to wear my pinstriped business suit and bring my professional folder with my resume and my writing samples and everything! I smell a part-time secretarial job...

4. A guy from a Cleveland-based design company spoke with my former boss, Susan, who told him I'm "VERY impressive", so he asked me to send him my resume, so that he has me on file for any future writing gigs!

So, like, I really did become a writer when I grew up. Wow.

With A Little Help From The Internet

I'm gonna go all youth-culture on y'all and just say: this economy, like, totally bites.

Things haven't been easy for us— Adam still makes peanuts at the factory, and now we're going to have to pay for 1) his tuition, 2) Christmas gifts, and 3) his application stuff (app fees, the $140 GRE fee, etc). And I still can't seem to get a nine-to-fiver. It could be worse: Adam had heard his factory was closing a line and was slowing production, but apparently (according to the local news) they're planning to build a new plant instead, so we're thinking he probably won't be laid off quite yet. Still, things aren't a barrel of laughs over here in Depressionville, Ohio, where the local GM plant just cut 1,200 jobs.

So I thought I might share a couple of my money-saving/earning tips and tricks:

1. You can get lots of free stuff on the internet just for being an interested consumer. Check out Smart Sampling to get free sample-size products delivered to your door; they also have some really great coupons there! If you've got a little bit more time to expend, you could always get rewards from online survey sites like Harris Poll, Valued Opinions, or Epoll. They'll give you gift certificates or free stuff just for filling out surveys about your shopping habits, political views, or personal preferences. For example, I've got a coupon for a free pint of Haagen-Daz ice cream coming from Epoll, and soon I'll have a gift certificate for Amazon.com from Harris Poll!

2. Comparison shopping is usually the best way to find a sweet deal. I usually use Google Shopping to compare big-ticket items, like the X-Box I'm going to get my husband for Christmas. And Gas Buddy can help you find the best price on gas in your area!

3. Of course, making some spare cash is always helpful to your economic situation, particularly during the holidays. Why not try your hand at writing?

I write for Demand Studios, where they'll pay for lots of different freelance projects: films, transcription, copyediting, and some other stuff. You don't have to be the best writer in the entire world— you just have to be able to write clearly and concisely. They really like it when people who have experience in a particular field try their hand at a couple how-to articles, and they pay $15 per article, so it's a pretty good deal.

I also write for Suite 101, a little online magazine that allows you to accumulate royalties from the stuff you put out there. You only have to write ten articles every three months, so it's totally easy to maintain even on a busy schedule.

What websites do you use to save or make money!

Let the Festivities Begin!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's snowing!

Holiday fever is sweeping Northeastern Ohio, that's for sure. Maybe it's the snow that fell yesterday, or maybe it's the anticipation of how much more challenging it'll be to pull it all off this year. Maybe it's even the fact that the holidays will have to be simpler this year, less frenzied and consumerist, since we all have less financial wiggle room now than we did last year. I don't know what the cause is, but I've heard several people comment that they're more excited about the holidays now than they've ever been since they were children.

I know I'm excited, because...I made Buckeyes!

Buckeyes are a delicious peanut butter and chocolate candy that resemble (and are named after) the symbol of the state of Ohio— the Buckeye nut! They're a Christmas tradition here, and so easy to make:

Mix 1 1/2 cups of peanut butter (you're supposed to use creamy PB, but I use crunchy because I like big chunks of peanut in my candy!), 1 stick of softened butter, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract, and 4 cups of powdered sugar (sift it first!) together, then roll that dough into little balls and put the balls on a plate covered with wax paper in the fridge. Melt a pack of chocolate chips in the microwave until the chocolate is smooth and liquid, then get out the balls, dip them in the melted chocolate, and put them back in the fridge to harden up. And voilà! You've made buckeyes.

I've made out my list of presents, and for the first time ever, I already have gift ideas for everyone on my list! In fact, I have too many gift ideas for some people...I don't know how I'll decide. :P

I love buying gifts, and I love getting them. Ooooooh, holidays are fun!

Makin' Stuff

To keep costs down, Adam and I are making things for Christmas gifts this year! Well, we're buying some of the gifts, but my mom and dad said they don't want/need any more bric-a-brac this year, so we're making them some stuff.

For my mom: homemade granola. She loves to eat granola in vanilla yogurt. For my dad: homemade almond roca!

Anyone else making stuff this year?

Worse News

Adam was laid off today.

Here's the best part: know what Exal gave us as a parting gift? A $25 gift certificate to Giant Eagle. THANKS, GUYS.

I am hereby officially refusing to buy aluminum cans. If they had laid him off in a genteel fashion, with plenty of notice, I wouldn't be as angry. But they PUT OUT NEWS REPORTS claiming that they were doing well and that they were not going to lay anyone off, although they said they were being "cautious". THEY TOLD US THEY WERE FINE. They apparently felt that having a good image in the community was more important than being honest with their workers. And now they've lied, without giving us any time to change course or make other arrangements.

Dear Exal Corp.: I swear, with God as my witness, that if the opportunity to screw you over presents itself anytime in the future, I will most gladly do so. If I am ever in a position of power wherein I can deny you a loan, or make you look bad, or severely curtail your business, I will do so with infinite pleasure. You have PISSED ME OFF, and that is NEVER A GOOD IDEA, because I am smart and well educated and AWESOME.

With God as my witness, I'll never help Exal again.

The Silicon Valley of Death

Check out this awesome NPR piece about Youngstown's business incubator. Apparently we're the "Silicon Valley of the Rustbelt"?

What's funny, though, is that the president of the incubator is somehow trying to tempt successful people who left Youngstown back to the area. "We’re going to be working very hard to get them all to move 'home'," he said. And I thought, gee, it'll take more than a few successful businesses to get me to move back here for real. It might take less small-mindedness and more diversity. It might take a better outlook for my career niche and better schools for my future son or daughter. And maybe, it'd take a decent Thai restaurant.

GRE, Revisited

I thought my interaction with the GRE was over after I took it my senior year of college. As it stands, however, Adam is signed up to take it in February. Oh, the GRE: 140 dollars and 4 hours of pointless misery.

When I took it, I had an awesome GRE program my parents bought for me. A year and negative one job later, we can't afford an Amazing Super Secret Platinum GRE Study Guide.

So my question is: do any of you happen to know of an awesome free GRE study guide or website? What tips do you have for Adam on taking the GRE?

Miss Manners Is My Hero

Many of you know I'm a huge fan of Judith Martin (aka Miss Manners), particularly when it comes to wedding etiquette. Her snarky wit and sensible approach to money and relationships never fails to elicit an "mm-hmm, preach it!" from me.

This recent column from Miss Manners is as close to perfect advice as you can get. She discusses why it's wrong to live beyond your means by making other people pay for things for you.

Read the column, and absorb the info carefully, my friends. Etiquette exists to prevent uncomfortable situations and rudeness, not to tell other people how to spend their money.

A New Year, A New Post

Happy New Year! Yay for 2009!

My New Year's Eve was GREAT! Adam and I had stumbled upon free tickets to First Night Youngstown— my mom got them for free as part of some local grocery coupon thing, and she gave them to us. First Night is a series of family-oriented New Year's celebrations across the country, and Youngstown hosts one every year, despite the fact that Youngstown, as the ninth most dangerous city in the US, is not really a place you'd want to be wandering around in the dark when you're drunk.

But it was great anyways. There was ice skating at the Chevy Centre*** and a freak show at the Oakland (a guy put a nail in his head! And there were three-headed chickens!) and a pretty good band at a local art building (the band was The Zou, which I expected to dislike and ended up really enjoying).

And then we went to my parents' New Year's Eve party, and I ate more piroshki than I should have. Mmmmmm, Slovak food.

How did you celebrate?

*** For my linguist friends: why do you think Youngstown's convention center spells its name "Centre"? This is the Midwest, and we don't exactly have a large British or Irish immigrant community. Why would anyone other than myself spell "centre" like that in Ohio?

New Year's Resolutions

With Christmas now over, we look forward to New Year's, the next holiday in the long string of celebrations that mark the beginning of winter. Many people make New Year's resolutions this time of year: to stop smoking, to start being nicer to people, to finally make that phone call or appointment you've been putting off for weeks. But people often make mistakes when coming up with their New Year's resolutions; they make vows that they then are forced to break, or that aren't good for them in the first place.

Here are three resolutions NOT to make:

1. I resolve to lose X pounds this year.

Losing weight is one of the top goals that people set for the New Year, but really, setting a blanket poundage goal is not how you should approach fitness. For one thing, saying you'll lose a certain number of pounds makes weighing less seem like the goal, when really, living healthier is what you'll want to do. For another, it minimizes any progress you DO make that doesn't actually reach the goal you set; for example, if you said you wanted to lose 20 pounds and you only lost 8, you'd see that as a failure, when in fact it's great that you managed to take off those eight pounds at all!

If healthy living and fitness are your goals this year, try this article, which has some great tips on how to gently and healthily shed excess weight.

2. I resolve to quit smoking on the first of the year.

Quitting nicotine is tough. You may think you can handle it mentally, but nicotine withdrawal is physical, too. My friend's mom quit smoking cold turkey and had to lie in bed vomiting for two weeks straight.

It's admirable to try and stop smoking, but it's not a smart idea to try and quit suddenly without any aid. If you want to stop smoking this year, make sure you're prepared— stock up on nicotine aids (patches, gums, etc.) and get help from your doctor or from Smokefree.gov, the government’s free website that can help you quit smoking more easily and more effectively.

3. I resolve to be nicer/ be better/ do more nice things for people.

That’s the right mentality, but you need to have specific goals for this sort of thing. If your goal is just to be “nicer”, how will you know when you’ve reached it? It's easy to say you want to be a better person, but actually coming up with doable strategies for accomplishing that can be tough. Instead of a generic resolution, think of specific things you’ll do: “I resolve to do volunteer work twice a month,” “I resolve to let my husband pick what we watch on TV at least three days out of the week,” “I resolve to smile at one stranger every day.” Specific goals like this can actually be reached, and they give you a tangible result for which to shoot!

My own personal resolutions this year will be as follows:

1. I resolve to volunteer to do the dishes whenever Adam cooks, instead of making him do them himself;

2. I resolve to spend at least an hour per week working on my poetry;

3. I resolve to restrict myself to three games of Scramble per day.

What are YOUR resolutions this year?

Pets Are Awesome

Here's an action I endorse for all twenty-somethings everywhere: getting a pet.

If you're in your twenties and you don't have a pet, I HIGHLY recommend getting one. They can be therapeutic, make good company, and frequently provide a conversation topic for visitors.

I always had pets growing up, but Charlotte Brontë, the first cat I ever owned myself, came to me because of a therapist's recommendation. I have OCD, and my therapist suggested that many patients find animals to be calming influences in their lives. Cats are good for OCD sufferers, because they're cleaner than dogs and have a better sense of time. So I took Charlotte Brontë from her place as runt-of-the-litter in my then-boyfriend's garage, and made her my own.

Caring for pets has been linked in an Australian study to better physical and mental health: subjects with pets often had fewer visits to a doctor, more physical activity, and less loneliness. As twenty-somethings are often without health insurance coverage (since many college grads fail to find jobs with benefits straight out of college), this can be especially important. And as twenty-somethings experience increased levels of mental health issues, pets can help us with the emotional problems associated with this period in life.

A few things to keep in mind:

1. Even if you don't live alone, getting a pet can be a great experience. As long as your roommates/boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/parents don't/doesn't have any objections, getting a pet can actually make you closer. Who doesn't bond over playing with a cuddly kitten? If someone objects to the idea of a pet, you can always volunteer at an animal shelter— then, you can experience the joy of playing with and caring for animals without bringing them into your home!

2. Living in an apartment doesn't automatically mean that no pets are allowed. Some complexes allow small pets (hamsters, gerbils, mice, etc.) and some allow pets that don't have to be let outside, like cats. Some even permit small dogs! In some apartment buildings, you have to pay a pet deposit if you want to bring in an animal; in my place, we paid $250 for a cat. Other places require a monthly fee, usually an extra $15 or $20 per month. Just call your apartment's office and ask!

And y'know, while I don't publically endorse lying to your supervisor or doing anything against the rules, I'm going to merely observe that oftentimes no one will notice if you have a small pet in your apartment. Cats are particularly good for hiding, as their accessories (litter boxes, food) can be placed in discrete areas, and because cats tend to hide when strangers (like maintenance workers) enter the place.

Just sayin'— I kept Charlotte Brontë at Vassar for about two months, and no one ever called me on it, even though it was decidedly against the rules. Guys from maintenance even saw her there, and they just winked at me and "forgot" to tell the administration.

3. If you're allergic to cat and dog dander, you can still have one— just like the Obamas! While "hypoallergenic" cats and dogs don't technically exist (as there will always be a slight risk of allergic reaction with any amount of cat or dog fur), there are some cats and dogs that are far less likely to trip your allergies than others. And there are things you can do— bathe your pet regularly, vacuum your house frequently, keep clothes and sheets washed and cleaned— that can reduce allergy risks.

I myself am slightly allergic to cats, but it doesn't bother me. For one thing, being around a cat for a while has dampened that allergic reaction for me, so that I don't even notice it anymore. For another, I take antihistamines regularly anyways, since I'm also allergic to, like, the entire world, so that helps keep me from sneezing. I'm a little sniffly in the morning sometimes, but it's well worth it.

If you just can't keep a cat or a dog, or you'd like something a little more low-maintenance, there are plenty of fun pets you can still have! My sister has a bunny named Dwight; he lives in a cage and eats food and doesn't need more that your occasional cage cleaning, but he's also fun to play with when you take him out for a while. I had a lovely dwarf hamster named Ampersand for a few months (and Claire had the tiny and wonderful Dash) and he was very sweet and friendly, and loved to come out and play. Turtles and lizards make fun pets, as do birds, mice, rats, and, I am told, ferrets.

Don't underestimate fish, either. There's a reason little kids get so attached to their goldfish. Fish are cool to watch, very low maintenance, and act as living art! Watching them swim can be very relaxing, and having them follow your finger along the glass of the tank can entertain even a weary adult!

Pets, like children, aren't for everyone— but if you haven't given a thought to keeping a pet, why not at least consider it?

EDIT: Oh, and also: photo credit goes to Claire, who took this picture of Charlotte Brontë living illegally in our TA (Town Apartment, for those of you not familiar with Vassar lingo) and captioned it por moi. I forgot to credit it the first time around. Sorry, Claire.

Twenty-three going on fifty

Guess what?

I'm taking my driving test next week. WHOA.

I feel about fifteen years old right now, what with taking my test for the first time, and somehow the woman at the driver exam station made me feel fifty today. I called to schedule the test, and after asking what my name was, she inquired, "And how old are you?"

"Twenty-three," I replied.

There was a very pregnant pause.

""Um...okay," she said hesitantly. "And what's your social security number?"

I told her the first few digits, and she interrupted me with an exclamation of confusion. After I repeated myself, she laughed and said, "Wow, I never have one of those. Most of the kids who come in here are the same age, so they all have the same first three digits of their social, and I'm used to typing those numbers in."

So apparently, I am an old woman.

Selling Your Body...But Not Like That

With the economy in turmoil and more and more people finding themselves jobless, some folks have resorted to extreme measures: signing over their bodies to medical experiments and selling their plasma and reproductive cells.

Egg donation is something I've considered before, and now seems like it would be a great time to do it. I could get $10,000-15,000 for my eggs, especially considering I've got a high IQ, I'm a college graduate, I come from an academic family with no major history of cancer, and I can sing, play multiple musical instruments, and write fairly well. The OCD thing might be a turn-off, but if I can establish it as not being entirely genetic somehow, I think I'd be okay.

And I wouldn't have a problem with a dozen little genetically-related chillens running around out there. As far as I'm concerned, I'd have nothing to do with any of those kids; if I didn't raise a baby, then I'm not its mother. No worries about that, although my mom says it would bother her to think that she had "grandchildren" out there somewhere.

What would bother ME is this:

Stimulating egg production: In a normal menstrual cycle, one egg matures and, at ovulation, is released from an egg-containing sac (called a follicle) on the ovary. In egg donation, the goal is to obtain several mature eggs. You will be prescribed medication to stimulate your ovaries to mature more eggs than normal (called "controlled hyperstimulation"). The medications are similar to the hormones that your body produces, but at much higher doses. These medications must be injected (either under your skin or into a muscle). Treatment will start on a specific day of your cycle and continue for about ten days. You will be shown how to inject the medications. If you are unable to inject yourself reliably, you will need someone else to do it for you.

The risks: You may develop soreness, redness or mild bruising around the injection site. You may experience mood swings, tender breasts, enlarged ovaries and mild fluid retention. Occasionally, the medications cause more hyperstimulation than intended (known as "ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome," or OHSS). This will cause fluid retention and swelling of the ovaries. In mild OHSS, you may have abdominal pain, pressure and swelling. This should go away after your next period. In moderate OHSS, you may require careful monitoring, bed rest and pain medication. Severe OHSS is rare but can cause serious medical complications, including blood clots, kidney failure, fluid build-up in the lungs, and shock. In rare cases, hospitalization is necessary and the condition can be life-threatening. One or both of your ovaries may have to be removed. The risk of OHSS decreases after the eggs are retrieved.

If you show signs of OHSS before the eggs are ready to be retrieved, the doctor may decide that it is too risky for you to keep taking the hormones. You must stop using the medication and the cycle will be canceled.

If you decide, for some reason, not to undergo egg retrieval after having completed fertility drugs, you increase your risk of OHSS. Very rarely, an enlarged ovary will twist on its stalk and cut off its blood supply. This painful condition requires immediate surgery and the ovary may have to be removed. Also, very rarely, a woman has an allergic reaction to fertility drugs.

You can become pregnant during the cycle, if you have unprotected intercourse. This could occur if some of the eggs are released before retrieval, or if the doctor is unable to retrieve all of the mature eggs. There is a chance that you could become pregnant with twins, triplets or quadruplets. You must abstain from intercourse or use effective barrier contraception. Ask the doctor about restrictions on intercourse during the donation cycle.

The long-term risks of fertility drugs are unknown. A few studies suggest that fertility drugs might increase a woman's risk for developing ovarian cancer later in life. Others do not show this link. At this time, no one knows for sure.

So...ew. We'll see. Maybe I'll just start with plasma and then work my way up?

Cost-Benefit Anaylsis

WARNING: This post contains girl stuff. Y'know, like discussions of periods and vaginas and things like that. Do not read this if you feel uncomfotable discussing the female body.

This article in the New York Times Magazine today had me worried, indeed. It discussed the health concerns that have been popping up over Yaz, the popular low-dose birth control pill that holds the majority of the oral contraceptive market share.

I don't use Yaz, but a LOT of my friends do, and not always for the reasons you'd think. A few use it for acne, for example, or to regulate their cycles, and of course, it doesn't hurt that it prevents pregnancy, either. But I wonder how many doctors are prescribing birth control without really thinking about the consequences.

What makes me wonder this is my younger sister, who, about a year or two back, went to the gyno for a routine check-up. After the awkward breast exam and the unpleasant pap smear (ewwww, does anyone NOT hate that?), her doctor asked if there was anything unusual about her periods. Well, no, she said, but her periods were kind of heavy, which was annoying.

Her doctor's response? Take some birth control pills.

Now, first of all, as many of you may recall, my sister is a lesbian. She's not really in any serious danger of getting pregnant by accident. Ever. So the contraceptive aspect isn't a boon to her. She's not a zit-covered teen, either— she's a twenty-year-old college student, so it's not like she needs acne help. The only reason her doctor wanted her to begin using synthetic hormones was...well...she had slightly heavy periods.

Now, I used to have heavy periods, so I know how annoying they are. I know how irritating it can be to go through a pack of pads or tampons in two days. But really— is it worth the side effects? Is it worth the risk of cardiovascular disease, however small that risk may be? Does my sister really need to put more pharmaceutical products into her blood stream just because her period is a drag?

She told me what had happened, and asked me, point-blank, what I thought she should do. And I told her that, honestly, I didn't think she should do it. I'm on the pill, and that's because I don't want to have a baby. A baby is a major life disruption, and I'd like to avoid that. Heavy periods are just kind of a pain in the butt.

I also told her about the symptoms I have on birth control: weight fluctuation, violent mood swings, crying spells, pain in my abdomen during ovulation. Then I told her about the side effects I had on the birth control pills to which I had bad reactions: the bloating, the sudden weight gain (and then sudden weight loss), the way my hair fell out, the way I was angry all the time. Is that worth that? Is a lighter period, or no period, worth all the added problems?

I'm wondering whether or not we're becoming an overmedicated country— whether or not we're trying to solve our problems with pills. Now, most drugs are very useful, and can improve and save lives— there's no doubt, for example, that anti-depressants can give people their lives back, and can help treat very serious medical conditions. But I think about the people who responded to an old post of mine (in which I expressed how sad and down I was feeling that day) with the advice to go and get some anti-depressants, and I wonder how many people are cutting off their noses to spite their faces. I've BEEN on antidepressants before— when I was still in the needing-medication phase of my OCD. Every night, I'd take that pill, and then ten minutes later I'd start to feel that stinging, stabbing pain in my stomach— the small-print side effect of Luvox, it turns out, was that it could make your stomach bleed. Who knew?

I don't need the OCD medication, anymore, and if I could get off of the pill, I would. (Actually, I might be off of it for good NOW; I couldn't make an appointment at Planned Parenthood in time to get a new pack for this next month, so we're just going to use alternative forms of contraception until my October appointment, and then hopefully I'll have a brand-new IUD!) I think medication is important in improving the quality of many people's lives, but that it shouldn't be your first choice for treating minor problems.

Who else has had crappy drug side effects?

The Little Things

I thought this was pretty cool: Drop Spots, a GPS website that encourages you to leave special or cool things in specific locations and then post directions to the locations so that other people can find them. Then, when you find the things that other have hidden, you take them and replace them with your own special things!

There are several of these spots listed here in Manhattan. And I can think of some cool things to leave— shells and lucky stones and nice pens. And it would make me feel better about passing up pennies on the sidewalks; I've stopped picking up stray pennies because people here give me dirty looks, and I feel kind of sad about it, and I think this would make me feel better.

Maybe I'll do this over the coming weekend and post the pictures afterwards.

In the meantime, please enjoy this list of other things that can make you feel happy inside.

Sugar and Spice, and Everything Nice

Dear America,

Usually, you and I get along fine. I hate your obsession with NASCAR and your hearty enjoyment of Dancing With the Stars, and you hate my liberal hippie bullshit and the way I refuse to buy things that normal people feel the need to buy, but otherwise, we’re cool. I sing along with your national anthem at baseball games, stimulate your economy with my hard work, and do my best to remain educated about your political and social issues, and you provide me with constitutional rights and a place to live (a pretty nice, rent-controlled place, now that you mention it).

But this week, we need to have an intervention. You’ve been having some problems with common decency, and we need to straighten this out before things get any more out of hand.

Let’s make this clear: being an asshole is still unacceptable. The proper way to disagree with someone is to say, “I disagree,” and then list the well-reasoned rationale for your disagreement. You can be as sharp and critical and unyielding as you like; disagreeing with someone doesn't mean you have to be prissy about it. But just because it’s 2009 does not mean that being well mannered and well bred is irrelevant.

The right way to disagree does not include shouting “YOU LIE!” and pointing your finger at people while they are speaking on national television. I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, but even a six-year-old knows that pointing and yelling is unacceptable. Previous to the finger-pointing incident, I knew nothing about Mr. Wilson; now, the only thing I know is that he was quite possibly raised by wolves. It's not about respecting the office of the presidency— it's about respecting your fellow man, no matter who he is. Don't act like a pig, my friend.

The right way to disagree does not include telling someone that they don’t deserve the award they just won while they’re making an acceptance speech, as Kanye West did to Taylor Swift at the VMAs. First of all— dude, it’s the VMAs. It’s not really a major awards show. No one cares. Second of all, if Beyonce could be a gracious loser, why couldn’t you be a gracious…I don’t know, a gracious person-who-has-nothing-at-all-to-do-with-the-situation?

The right way to disagree is also not to threaten people while you’re playing tennis. What Serena Williams said to make her lose the match was just trashy, and it makes me sad, because Ms. Williams has always seemed like a pretty cool chick to me. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess, but man, lighten up.

In short, I think America needs to be reminded as a whole that being cruel, uncouth, out-of-control, and just plain boorish is not in any way cool, impressive, or convincing. Because, y’know, it’s not just celebrities who are doing these sorts of things— it’s the chick on the subway who elbows me in her hurry to exit the train, or the guy carrying his lunch into The Gap who yells at my husband to walk faster.

I really liked this article in the Times yesterday: it’s about how humble Americans were after V-J Day, and how it seems that the mood in America is the least narcissistic when the country’s achievements are at their peak. Can’t we try and be decent to one another? If we could do it on September 12^th, 2001, we can do it again: be nice to people you don’t know, not because it’ll make you look nice, but because it IS nice. Hold the door open for the next person. Smile and say “thank you” when your food arrives at a restaurant. Let the person behind you in line— you know, the one with the heavy bag or the fussy baby or the terrible head cold— go first.

Let’s not just be civil. Let’s be kind. I think everyone in America would be happier if they tried being nice, don’t you?

Love,

Philosophy

The Creativity Wasteland

I just had to share this with everyone who has ever lived in Youngstown, OH:

Go to this article. Now, scroll down until you see the chart entitled "Medium-Size Cities' Creativity Rankings." Now look at the city that is ranked lowest on creativity and diversity in the ENTIRE UNITED STATES.

That's right— out of all the crappy, medium-sized cities in America, the LEAST CREATIVE is Youngstown, OH. And it's not like it was a close finish, either— we lost this race by a wide margin, guys.

Even Scranton beat us soundly. Now that's pathetic.

Do you see why I had to leave Youngstown? DO YOU SEE?!

7 Things I've Discovered About NYC

Reading this article about escaping the New York tourist traps made me wonder: what sorts of things have I learned in my few weeks as a New Yorker? Is there any wisdom I can pass on to future visitors and/or residents?

Well, probably not, but I'll try anyways. Here are a few things I've learned since I moved here:

1. Public transportation exists, but you're still going to walk everywhere.

Don't get me wrong: I love the subway and the bus. I am a champion of people movers, and I hope I never have to drive another car in my life.

That said, though, New York is not Paris, with a Metro station every five feet. If you want to get between two general neighborhoods that are far away from one another (say, Harlem and Chelsea), then the subway is for you; if you want to get between two very specific places (say, 9th & 21st and Broadway & Grand), you're probably going to do a lot of walking, anyways. Public transportation is great here, but it doesn't service every area equally.

If I wanted to take the subway to work, I'd have to walk six blocks to the subway station, wait for the E train, then walk another eight to work. So I just walk the whole distance, because really, the eight minutes I save with the subway aren't worth two bucks.

2. Traffic laws/stoplights/pedestrian crossing signals mean absolutely nothing.

NOTHING. Cars will not slow down for yellow lights; cars will not use turn signals; pedestrians will walk across busy streets without even looking twice. Seriously— if you live in New York, just assume that, sooner or later, you will get hit by a taxi. It will happen. That's why I can't wait for our new insurance to kick in; I don't want to get run over BEFORE I can afford to pay the hospital bill.

3. No one hates tourists.

Seriously. I've spent a lot of time these past few weeks trying to act like I'm not a tourist— hiding my maps behind my purse, looking at printed-out Google Map pages stealthily in phone booths, keeping my voice down when I call Adam for directions. But you know what? I don't think anyone cares. New Yorkers seem to be so used to tourists that they don't mind them so much, and sometimes they even think they're cute. In fact, most of the people I've met in Manhattan are originally from somewhere else, so at one point, most Manhattanites WERE tourists, or at least new in town.

Just don't wear a fanny pack. Ewwwww.

4. Not everyone eats out constantly— some people still cook.

The only people who have ever told me that "no one cooks in New York" are either people who have never lived here or people who have just recently moved here. Everyone else cooks at least occasionally, and do you know why? I'll tell you why: Chinese takeout is delicious once or twice per week, but when you eat it every day, your body kind of starts to fall apart. Even in a small kitchen you can usually manage to fix yourself something marginally edible, and you can do it while watching TV or listening to the radio or talking to people. Like, you know, your family, whom you don't get to see during the day because you're WORKING.

5. At the same time— you can have ANYTHING delivered. ANYTHING.

Apparently, New York was designed to be a city where a person has to walk seventeen blocks to work, but somehow can't be bothered to go to the store for a quart of milk. EVERYTHING is delivered here— not just pizza or takeout, but deli stuff, and groceries, and PAINT, for goodness sakes. PAINT.

And all of this sort of makes me wonder— who has to be the paint delivery person? I mean, delivering delicious food may not pay very well, but at least you get to be around delicious food all the time. Delivering paint? Blahhhh.

6. Rich people and poor people live closer together here than in many places in America.

I live in Chelsea, a trendy neighborhood with lots of expensive apartments. Two blocks down from me— I am not making this up— is a housing project. Teen moms watch from their windows as teen millionaires shop in expensive couture boutiques.

In Ohio, poor people and rich people lived in completely different towns. With the Youngstown model, the rich live in Canfield or Poland, the social-climbing middle class live in Boardman, the contentedly lower-middle-class live in Struthers and Austintown, and the poor live in Campbell.

But here, everyone seems more mixed up together. There are nicer neighborhoods and crappier neighborhoods, but for the most part you can find fancy places and crumbling places in almost any part of Manhattan. And that's kind of positive, in a way, because that way the rich at least have to look at the poor on their way to work in the morning. Even if they're traveling to work in a private car that picked them up from their house in the Hamptons that morning.

7. Everyone has a dog. Every. Single. Person.

I figured that lots of apartments would equal lots of cats. I mean, I tend to think of cats as the natural choice for apartment dwelling: they're clean, they're quiet, they're compact, and they don't tend to drool on things. But no— everyone in Manhattan seems to have a DOG, and many of these dogs are LARGE DOGS.

They're adorable, of course, and I've enjoyed playing with them, but I mean— seriously? How are they able to be home four times a day to walk these dogs? How do the dogs get enough exercise? How do the owners not get completely sick of Dog Smell being all over their teensy weensy apartments?

Okay, fellow New Yorkers: your tips?

Jobjobjob!!!

First, I'd like to apologize for not making it to the Girls' Night Out and for not posting yesterday. A couple of days ago, I came down with a horrible cough/cold/case of the swine flu, and thus have been spending my nights hacking up a lung and gasping for air. (Thanks, asthma!) So last night I finally caved and took some cough syrup after dinner— and twenty minutes later, I was passed out on the couch. That's why I missed posting and talking last night!

But today, I come with glad tidings.

I got a JOB!!!

This afternoon, I went down to the OfficeTeam branch here in New York City to fill out some state tax forms. OfficeTeam was the temp agency I worked for in Ohio, so I knew I liked them, and I figured they might be able to get me some odd jobs until I found a permanent position. Eric, the branch manager there, told me he'd probably be calling me by next Wednesday with my first assignment.

So I get home, and then around 5 pm I get a call, and the number looks like the temp agency's number. So I answer, and it's Eric.

"Hi, Philosophy," he says. "It's not Wednesday."

"No," I answered nervously. "No, it's not."

"Are you in any way interested in a temp-to-perm job?"

Of course I was, and so tomorrow at nine, I begin my new job as an administrative assistant at a mid-town architectural firm. While I'm a temp I'll make $10/hour, but if/when they put me on salary (if they like me, that is), I'll make a salary "in the mid-30s," as Eric put it.

So Adam and I went out for Mexican food to celebrate, and now we're going to go to compline full of excitement and relief!

It's not, like, my ultimate dream job, but it's a good job, and it'll help me support us, and I won't have to work in food service or take a night shift.

So— huzzah for employment!!!

It's A Hell Of A Town

It's funny— people say New Yorkers are mean, and that's never been my experience. I mean, there are always a few rotten apples in the bunch, but I don't think people in New York are in any way rude or standoffish or anything, overall.

When I was still in school and I would go through the city on the way to returning home for the holidays (yay for Metro North!), I always had a particularly pleasant experience with people on the subway. That's right— people were NICE to me on the SUBWAY. Every single time I would drag my suitcases around down there, some lovely gentleman would come over, pick up my suitcases, ask me which train I was taking, and wordlessly transport my stuff to my destination. Afterwards, they would simply smile as I thanked them profusely.

Now that we live here, I keep having wonderful interactions with people— on the street, in the stores, in my neighborhood. My neighbors are a dream (quiet, kind, helpful), people actually engage me in conversation while standing in lines, and Adam's personable jokes and smiles are always met with reciprocal grins and banter, instead of blank stares.

Perhaps it's because people are used to people here. In Youngstown, most folks divided the world into two types of people: those they'd known since Kindergarten, and complete strangers. Outsiders were scary, and rare, too, since people don't often just up and move to the middle of nowhere. But here, everyone is a stranger. As a 24-year-old small-town girl with big dreams and starry eyes, I am the quintessential Manhattanite. This is a town built on poor, innocent young people who haven't quite figured out what they want yet, and it means that everyone is friendly towards me, or at least not particularly hostile.

People here talk to you when you want to talk to them, and leave you alone when you don't. And everyone has been so nice to us! I mean, it can't hurt that my husband is really good-looking (especially in Chelsea, the international home of the gay man), but still.

Y'know, I found the same thing was true of Paris; while I had problems with a few individual French people (and let's not forget the guy who tried to rape me in the alleyway while I was walking home), Parisians really weren't the American-haters I'd expected. If you were nice to them, they were nice to you. It seems much the same way here: if you smile, and nod, and say, "Thank you very much!" people will respond beautifully.

It could be that I'm just romanticizing my new home, but so far, I find it a very friendly place, indeed.

Fear of Laziness

Yesterday, my mom (in her infinite kindness and generosity) ordered us some food from FreshDirect, a grocery delivery company in New York. You order what you want online, and then a delivery person comes by your place on a specified date and within a specific time period and delivers all of the food directly to you. My mom found out about this through the seminary website, and it works well for moving, because this way we'll have cooking supplies delivered to us almost as soon as we get there. That means no wandering around trying desperately to find a grocery store so we can have fresh fruits and veggies; by the time we'll need groceries again, we'll have had time to stake out the local supermarkets and farmers' markets, and we won't be so confused.

But part of me still feels a little weird, having food delivered to me. I mean, what, I don't have the capacity to go and get it myself?

I've always been very into the idea that if you CAN do it yourself, you should. I think that's why I enjoy doing all that homemade stuff in the kitchen-- because it feels right to be able to bake bread instead of buy it, or to brew my own beer instead of just throwing it into my cart.

As I grow older, I find myself agreeing more and more frequently with Garrison Keillor, whose folksy essays often seemed merely quaint when I was younger. In a recent essay, “It’s time to stand up for homemade potato salad,” Keillor decries (somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but also somewhat seriously) the demise of the homemade and the do-it-yourself:

“What if Thomas Jefferson had been too busy hobnobbing to write the Declaration of Independence so he just downloaded a bunch of stuff he found Googling ‘independence’ and coming up with stuff about indolence, pendants, incontinence, but hey, close enough, and he pasted it together and they all signed it and went out to a movie? Not good.

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the potato salad that has connected them with another, they will do it, believe me, so why insult us? Just because we're polite, do you think we can't tell the difference? Are we demented? Does this not seem self-evident to you?”

Sometimes, people are genuinely too busy to do everyday things. This has happened to me tons of times, and believe me, at those times, I appreciate the importance of the microwave meal, the express lane, the drive-thru window, the fake potato salad. But I often find that, later on, when I DO have the time to devote to doing things the real way, sometimes it’s seductively easy to just keep doing things the easy way and use that extra time for something silly, like Googling myself or watching America’s Next Top Model reruns or, yes, even playing on Facebook. And then I don't get the sense of accomplishment that often comes over me after I make the potato salad myself, after I make something delicious and useful without too much help from anyone else.

So I’m going to have to be careful with this food delivery stuff. It’s useful now, when I really can’t just go out to the store. And maybe, in the future, if Adam is in the middle of his GOEs and I’m sick with the flu and it’s negative fifteen degrees outside, I might use the delivery service again. Sometimes, shit happens.

But other times, laziness happens, and I don’t want to give it yet another foothold in my life.

Growing herbs (and I don't mean pot)

I'm really excited about growing my own herb garden this year! We're going to get a window box, and maybe keep a couple individual pots indoors (although I'll have to figure out how to keep them away from the cats). Here's the list of herbs we'd like to grow:

-Basil (for tomato and mozzarella sammichs!)

-Rosemary (I don't use it often, but Adam wants it)

-Oregano (Adam's favorite herb— he puts it in everything!)

-Thyme (Again, I don't use this often, but Adam requested it specifically, and he's the master chef, so...)

-Catnip (how much would my cats LOVE me?)

-Mint (for desserts and Mint Juleps/Mojitos)

-Stevia? Maybe? I don't know how to use the leave, exactly, but it was in the Burpee online catalogue and it sounded cool)

I've yet to understand much about herb planting, though. Should I wait until spring to plant these? Do any of them need special care? Anything in particular that I should have in the box but haven't listed here?

What can you tell me about herbs?

Flu Blues

Wait— apparently, I have to get three flu shots this year instead of just the one.

I always, always, always get a flu shot. Always. Not only do I have asthma and all sorts of lung issues (which makes being flu-ridden particularly difficult), I also get REALLY REALLY SICK whenever I fall ill. My immune system is kind of shitty (remember how you're only supposed to have Scarlet Fever once? I've had it, like, four times) and so when I get sick, I'm completely bedridden for days at a time. Yes, I am a pussy, but no, I cannot help it.

So I always go and get my flu shot, every year, without fail. When I was in college I could get the shots through the school's clinic for $8; last year I got one for only $10 at the YMCA.

Now, though, they're going to have to do the shots in three doses— one for the regular flu, and two for the swine flu.

I'm not bothered by the idea that I'd have to come back to get multiple shots, but I don't really understand how that's going to work with those flu shot booths in, like, Wal-Marts and community centers and the like. Will they just have three sessions each? And will I have to pay extra money for each shot? Will they offer the shots at the seminary (through the seminary's health plan)?

Do you get a flu shot? If so, how do you feel about getting three shots instead of one?

Just For Kids?

I just finished watching Coraline, the delightfully creepy film based on the Neil Gaiman book of the same name. I've loved that book since it was published in 2002, when my mom brought it home from some English festival or other.

What I find particularly interesting about Coraline is the amount of parental attention it has received— much like the attention given to Up, another fabulous animated movie that came out this year. Both films are wonderful in that they are interesting to both adults and children; yet both films have forced people to re-evaluate what exactly a "kids' movie" can be.

Both are rated PG, which means that there may be themes or images in the films that might frighten younger children, so it is up to the individual parent to evaluate the film before screening it for their kids. Naturally, this open-ended rating has prompted lots of parents to wonder whether or not Up is appropriate for young kids, or whether Coraline is too scary for children. (Though I have to say, the reviewer above who discussed Up lost me when she said her seven-year-old had no clue that the main characters were supposed to be married. Are you kidding me? I'd already read Jane Eyre by the time I was seven. If your kid doesn't understand the meaning of a man and a woman standing in a church and taking wedding vows in a white dress and a suit, he or she is, uh, kind of stupid. Just sayin'— maybe the problem is with the none-too-bright child, not the film. But I digress...)

The problem with either discussion is that I don't believe we have to divide everything into "kids' stuff" and "adult things." I hate that arbitrary division; it's the same division that makes people look at me like I'm crazy when I whip out my Hello Kitty thermos on hot days, and it's the same division that made adults look at me like I was crazy when I patiently tried to explain why I wanted to check out volumes of Shakespeare from the library at age nine. Not only are people different— maturity is different from seriousness, and innocence doesn't always run hand-in-hand with youth.

Thinking about the difference between kids' movies and grown-up fare brought back all sorts of memories from my own childhood. And thinking about that woman's seven-year-old, I thought about my own seven-year-old-hood, and what I knew about, what I liked and feared.

I knew about sex, for one thing. Remember that one kid in elementary school who told all the other kids the truth about where babies come from? That was me. My mom was honest and upfront with me about how my baby sister had arrived, and I didn't see any reason to be squeamish about it.

I knew about a lot of things— I knew that some of my friends didn't have dads (and that their moms had never been married to their dads, and sometimes didn't even know the dads' identities), and I knew that some of my friends had been through bad stuff (abuse and rootlessness and even war, in the case of my friend from Bosnia), and I knew about death, that every single person and animal and even potted plant is going to die eventually. Some of these things were terrifying to know, but I didn't wish that I could unknow them. I liked knowing true things— knowing a part of the life-puzzle that I felt certain I’d be able to solve completely when I grew up. (Ha!)

And then there were the stupid things that terrified me, the things that most kids don't fear. I was afraid of empty rooms; my worst fear was being locked in my bedroom with no one else there. I was afraid of E.T.— y'know, the alien from the movie— and when they tried to show us the film in elementary school I had nightmares for a week. I was afraid of thunder— not because of the noise itself, but because I feared the vibrations from the BOOM! sounds might knock down our creaky old duplex. I certainly wasn't afraid of the sorts of things I saw in Up or Coraline; I was way more terrified of E.T. than any animated dogs. How would a ratings board have known that?

Maybe we don't need to categorize movies into "kids' movies" and "adult movies." Maybe we could just rate them according to the MPAA ratings and then assume that some adults might enjoy G-rated films, and that some kids might be able to handle PG-13 movies. Maybe we could just encourage Hollywood to make movies that are interesting to people of different ages, instead of marketing them so heavily to different demographics.

Animation is a good medium for this, mostly because it seems, for whatever reason, to soften the blow of more mature material. While some older people remain resistant to animation (my 84-year-old grandmother said she hated Up, but when I quizzed her on many of the film's themes, she admitted that they hadn't occurred to her because she'd assumed that the animation meant it was a movie for children and had tuned a lot of it out), twenty-somethings are the generation that grew up with The Little Mermaid and Peter Pan and Toy Story. The first movie I ever saw in the theatre (at age three) was The Little Mermaid, an animated movie about forbidden love and disobedient kids and terrifying octopus-witches. And I utterly adored it, and begged my parents for the video version, which I watched every single day for two years. (Sometimes I traded off with Peter Pan, my other favorite film, a movie that features torture, potential drowning, romance between children, running away from home, and violent swordfights, I might add).

And now, at 24, I'm still watching animated movies— because a lot of them end up being the best movies of the year. And why not? Who says that a great movie has to be an edgy indie flick about sex? Who says it can't be a charming animated movie about an old man and his floating house?

What's your favorite "kids' movie"? Has it changed as you've grown up?

What I Can't Say

The job search is getting me down. I know there's a recession on and all, but still— it stings a little bit, to know that I'm not special enough to stand out from the resume crowd.

I just don't quite understand how I even GET a darn job. I mean, all the job postings I see want someone with years and years of experience. All the cool internships are unpaid, and I can't take an unpaid internship, because I'm supporting my husband financially.

I've tried everything— LinkedIn, the Vassar alumnae/i network, Vassar e-recruiting, Monster.com. I applied to a few last week, but I never heard anything back— not even a rejection. Do they not give you rejection letters for jobs?

Cover letters are the worst part— how do I keep from saying what I really want to express?

Dear sir/madam,

My name is Philosophy Walker, and I'd like to apply for the position of _____ with your company. I guarantee that I'm going to be one of your smarter and sassier applicants, and that I am approximately 67% less likely to make English grammar errors in my work than the rest of the stiffs who sent you their resumes.

I don't have a lot of recent experience, but that's because I just graduated from friggin' Vassar College, and then I went home to Ohio to marry a priest. So if I'm going to be penalized for being young and/or having great taste in men, that's just not fair, and I believe you need to rethink your system for choosing employees.

Despite my youth, I can promise you that I will be the best damn employee you've ever had. I'm smart, and I work harder than anyone I know, and I'm not afraid of a sixty-hour workweek, or working late, or traveling around to run errands for the office. I'm also not afraid of getting coffee for higher-ups, or doing menial tasks for very little money, or making faxes and answering phones and basically being an overqualified personal assistant for anyone at your company. I'm willing to do anything (other than sell my body) for any amount of money (other than nothing at all) and work any hours you'd like. Well, I mean, I'm a preacher's wife, so I'd LIKE to be off on Sunday mornings so I can see the hubby give some practice sermons, but hey, I can compromise.

I speak French, I'm well versed in politics, literature, and world events, and my voice is fairly pleasant (although somewhat high). I promise that I will be the greatest asset to your office, and that over the next few months, you'll gaze fondly at me from over cubicle dividers and desks and think to yourself, "I made a wonderful decision when I hired that splendid young woman."

Pinky swear.

Sincerely,

Philosophy E. Walker

I wouldn't ever send that letter, of course, but sometimes I wish I could.

Tea For Me!

My husband and I walked out of the library today with rumbling stomachs. Usually we don’t eat in restaurants (too expensive), but we happened to stroll by an apparent “English café,” and we figured we’d treat ourselves to some pub fare.

This café was genuinely English— the owners and all the staff were English, they sold imported products from the UK in a little corner shop, and all the TVs in the place either had football (REAL football, not that American crap) or the BBC playing. Adam had fish and chips and a beer, of course, but as soon as I saw they had tea service, I HAD to have tea.

And what a tea it was! A steaming white pot of black tea, complete with a pitcher of cream and a bowl of real sugar cubes, appeared on our table, accompanied by a white-and-gold china teacup with a matching saucer. Matching plates bore finger sandwiches (egg salad…yum!), grapes, a jam tart (lemon!), and two delicate petit fours. And that was the SMALL tea service— I can’t even imagine what “high tea” might have entailed!

The only time I’d ever had “tea” in the British sense before was when I was visiting London with my friend Maya while we were living in Paris; we spent Thanksgiving at a Texas-themed restaurant, eating enchiladas and drinking margaritas and feeling kind of sad that no one else was celebrating our American holiday. The next day, we went to Harrods and had cream tea— it was my first taste of clotted cream, and I couldn’t get enough.

But even in Paris, we usually had a “tea” of sorts. While it didn’t usually include actual tea, I usually had a small repast of coffee and pastries with my host family, or with my young students, or with friends. Pain au chocolat, a small cup of coffee…and for a few moments, everything slowed down and everyone relaxed.

I’m reading Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma right now, and his point about “food culture”— that America never had a definite food culture of its own, and that this has made us terribly susceptible to exploitation by food companies— hit me hard. I spent most of my high school days patiently explaining to international students that America DOES have culture, and that our culture isn’t necessarily wrapped up in Sylvester Stallone** and George W. Bush. But it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what constitutes American food culture; when I think about it, I find myself vaguely uncertain. Apple pie? Well, that’s really European, come to think of it, and to be honest, not a lot of Americans eat apple pie very frequently. Hamburgers? As often as Americans eat McDonalds, we also seem to recognize that it’s not good for us, and we're often likely to classify it as “junk food” instead of “real food.”

Sometimes I wonder if our food culture has something to do with eating on the go— in the car, on the street, in our offices. But I don’t really want that to be the case; not only does food-on-the-go sound unhealthy and uncomfortable, it also sounds kind of lonely. At the same time, I’m realistic about the time that some people are willing to put into cooking and eating dinners around the dining room table.

So I’m wondering: wouldn’t it be nice if we all started taking tea? What if, every day, you sat down for twenty minutes and drank some tea (or coffee, or water, or whatever), and ate a little sandwich, and enjoyed a bite of lemon tart? Wouldn’t it be nice if you did this with other people, either at home or at work or in a restaurant?

I think I’d like to try it out— maybe every day Adam and I could have tea together, just the two of us, at a time of our convenience. When he gets to seminary and I have a job (hopefully…), we might have to make it a weekend thing, or to move it back into the late afternoon— but it’d still be feasible.

What kinds of food traditions do you have and/or admire?

**As a side note, many French people seem to think of Sylvester Stallone as the quintessential American. On many news parody programs in France, America is represented by a Sylvester Stallone-esque puppet, cartoon, or actor, who speaks crappy French in a drawling American accent. I asked a whole lot of French people why exactly they’d fixated on Stallone (especially since he’s not really that big a deal in the US), but no one could explain it to me.

Wanted: challenging position for creative, hard working type

So now that we're pretty much going to NYC (barring a catastrophe of epic proportions...and now that I've said that, such a catastrophe will probably occur), I'm looking for a job.

Yes, a job. Anyone have any suggestions?

I'm not really that picky, honestly. I'd like something that involves using my brain somehow. Literature, journalism, publishing, writing, academia, non-profit work, political work, and newscasting are all possibilities. In fact, I'm really willing to consider any position that doesn't require 1) working in food service, or 2) doing a lot of math.

Suggestions? Comments? Job offers? Anyone?

Breaking News!

NEW PORT RICHEY, Fla. — Sources confirmed late Friday afternoon that Adam McCluskey— brilliant theologian and husband of writing genius Philosophy Walker— was admitted to General Theological Seminary in New York City, New York.

Several officials, who commented upon conditions of anonymity, said that Walker and McCluskey were overheard discussing the news while on vacation in Florida.

"[Walker] was overjoyed," said one official. "She was just completely thrilled."

The husband and wife, who married in September of last year, are expected to await the arrival of the school's financial aid offer before confirming their attendance at the seminary. Walker has expressed hopes of landing a decent job in Manhattan; she expects to support both herself and McCluskey for the next three years.

The Walker-McCluskeys' two cats— Charlotte Bronte, 2, and Lenore, 1— could not be reached for comment. Last week, however, they released a statement expressing their unwillingness to "get back in those damnable cages and drive all the way up to stupid New York." It is expected they will mount a protest if asked to relocate.

No statements have yet been released by Virginia Theological Seminary, which was also competing for the famous theologian's presence.