The 25 List

Here's that ubiquitous 25 Random Facts list that's making it's rounds on Facebook Notes/Tags

1. I rode a camel in Africa. what now?!

2. In third grade, I formed an elite club with my eccentrically silly friends Eva and Tara where we made up songs and dances and dramatically 'fired' people who didn't get the words/steps correctly. One girl we fired moved to Belgium shortly thereafter and we never saw her again- true story.

3. The first snowfall of the first time I lived in snow (Helaman Halls freshman year), I asked my upstate-NY roommate if it was a blizzard. She laughed at me.

4. I've never seen the movie Clueless.

5. My hands and feet are always cold.

6. At 5'11" I am the shortest one in my immediate family. My parents and siblings are all over 6 feet tall.

7. I am studying journalism, and I want to go to grad school and potentially get a Ph.D.

8. A part of me wants to live the sexy NYC magazine writer life reporting women's foreign issues, another part wants to be a history professor, and another part wants to be a kick-a mom who loves the insanity out of her children (and husband) and writes columns and books on the side.
All in due time.

9. Around age 8, I copiously studied real estate guides and wrote my own 'home for sale' descriptions (i.e. 'Lavish 3 bedroom, 3.5 bath Monticello-style home...')

10. At age 10, I knew more about the San Diego Padres than probably most of the players themselves did.

11. I lived on the beach for the first 11 years of my life- we had lemonade stands on Labor Day and one time made $30. My survival instinct, even at that age, seriously considered it as a career, and in this recession, it's no wonder why I am thinking about it.

12. I have lived in California, NYC, Spain, New England and Utah, but never in a cul-de-sac.

13. I am a terrible artist (drawing, painting, etc). I once dug up a kindergarten report card and saw the teacher had been seriously concerned.

14. One of these years, I want to run off to the jungle (Thailand, Costa Rica, Bali, etc) and become a certified yoga instructor.

15. I can imitate almost anyone... Boston, Middle Eastern, Mexican, Utah accent or a specific person-- you name it, I can imitate it/them.

16. I have never broken a bone, and have an amazing immune system that has been sick only a few times in my life.

17. I'm not that competitive. I don't really like playing team sports, and I don't like watching them (as much as I used to).

18. I am far better at snowboarding than I am at surfing, and I'm from SoCal. Go figure.

19. I want to do humanitarian work/teach English in Eastern Europe/Asia and do foreign correspondence work on the side. Probably the fact of the area's enormity alone intrigues me.

20. A good way to describe how my brain works would be Grand Central at Rush Hour. I have had to learn how to calm down over the years.

21. I tried being vegan once but it only lasted a week- I had to take daily 2 hour naps because I was so tired and plus, it got boring. I am a major foodie.

22. I have studied Spanish on and off for 6 years but I could tell you more about my Spanish discoteca experiences than what I ever 'studied' abroad.

23. People who knew me from my childhood recall me as being tense, rigidly uptight, and unusually mature-- Until I got to college, I always had more to talk about with adults than I did my own age group. In that sense, a part of me thinks I never had a childhood.

24. I cry about cities (their absence in my current life). Last night, I was thinking about how much I miss New York and I started bawling.

25. My worst fear in life is being bored.

Vintage Obamas

Whether you believe the new plan is one of "stimulus" or one full of "pork"..... (or just plain "maverick-y"), no one will be able to dissuade me of the tenderness of their marriage.

Here's the Obamas first interview, featured in the New Yorker, nearly 13 years ago:

Pre-Malia and Sasha, Pre-Recession, Pre-9-11, Pre-Iraq, Pre-Yes We Can.


Let's not also forget the long-lost negatives of 'Barry' at Occidental College back in 1980...haha!

Embellishment is killing me

I was reminiscing with a good friend (and future DC roomie) the other day of how our journalistic training has rendered us incapable of embellishing.

Once an expert BS-er who could whip out papers and charm educators with my correctly constructed sentences and ramblings, now I'm having trouble writing 4-page double spaced papers.

DOUBLE SPACED. I am pathetic.

Flowery writing has been hung up like those roses crafty girls dry and put in their journals and scrapbooks.


I've spent the past couple years on my own craft of cleverly weaving adjectives and adverbs of detail to fit precious inch and word count requirements of newspapers/magazines.

I have veered too far into my former NYU teacher's belief that "Condensing is an art form!"
This coming from Betty, a woman so neurotic about being on time, she confessed our first day of class to setting 3 alarm clocks. Kindred spirits (I currently set just 2).

I have neurotically crossed over too far to the journalistic hallmark 'anti-embellishment' and I'm having a hard time pandering to the other side for the sake of college papers (in other subjects, mind you).



Speaking of neurotic people, it's my dad's birthday today!
Yes, sir, good old 'Oh Henry' is turning the big 6-2!!

He is the greatest dad, and however humble he is feeling on any given day, he will heartily agree or disagree with that statement.

Worthless with fixing things around the house (he was an east coast prep school boy, read: high on intellectual, low on 'handy' skill sets), he always wants to solve my problems, including very insensitive harping that I must "be nicer to people" and "be positive" if I want to be happy. (Yeah, that was one of my first Men are from Mars, Women from Venus lessons in life.)

He is the one from whom I derive all my Type-A, Obsessive-Compulsive, Urban-Pining complexes.

(My blog is just one manifestation.)

Although, 22 years ago, Henry burned out of his east coast city upbringing/collegiate years/professional years, and now proudly claims complete political apathy as he lies low in the boring abyss of 70 degree year-round temperatures of Southern California.

(Something I also see myself doing circa "some" years from now.)

And even though he, himself elected to move to the most moderate temperature place on the planet (it was either SoCal or Addis Abbaba, Ethiopia- never fear, he did his research),
he still neurotically checks the weather every day.
When it's universal knowledge that to move to SoCal is to forfeit the need to weather check.

(Furthermore, he takes it upon himself to educate us on the matter i.e.
"Did you know the humidity is 2% down today?
And the high is 76 today versus 74 yesterday!")

He found out that for him, life's too short to not boogie-board/surf/soak up the sun every day.
Not like Henry has ever learned to surf or anything (or go outside much, really), but you catch my drift. (hah! pun!)


Love you Dad.


Now, a product of my rambling, you have yourself one embellished post.

Hey USA, pink slip much?

How sad is this Forbes Layoff Tracker??!

I'm scared of the real world.
My current plan is to intern forever.
Who's with me?!

Why College has been easier than High School

Growing up, Sundays used to be the most hostile of days.

After church, my sisters and I would take full license of our weekends-only TV allowance rule.

So while dad would hog the living room for 5+ hours of non-Tivo'd football (I'm sorry to report he still lives in the dark ages), we'd sit drooling on the couches upstairs to a Lizzie McGuire rerun we'd already seen AT LEAST 7 times...
(Halloween episode? Camping episode? Better yet, the Aaron Carter episode!),

until 7 pm would hit and we'd be in a panicked frenzy along the lines of:

"OH SHOOT! I have a math test tomorrow....

CRAP, I can no longer put off this chemistry worksheet that will take me no less than 4 hours to complete (and one that UCSD chem major student tutors have trouble with: true story)!

NOOOO! I cannot bear to spend another 2 hours getting through a chapter of The Odyssey followed with pages of graduate school-level analysis!"

(Just so you know, simulating these panic-stricken moments, though while just memories now, send chills and waves of hot flashes through my body)


And then, as the cherry on top, there was early. morning. seminary.

I'm convinced all of you pansy Arizona, Idaho and Utah "released time" people are seriously ill-equipped for anything of discipline in this life.

The combination of early morning seminary and high school was the hardest, I repeat, THE HARDEST, thing I've had to do in my entire life.

Like, I'm pretty sure childbirth will pale in comparison.


I thought life after high school would get harder, that "college classes" would build on high school.

For example, to build on identifying the symbolic motifs of the Russian Revolution in Crime and Punishment, we'd have to do the aforementioned

in Mandarin Chinese...

while doing a handstand...

counting to a thousand by sevens.


(I really think I had a jaw-dropping sigh of relief moment when, after attending my first college class, the myth was confirmed that I would indeed be taught in the English language.)

Not to say that BYU has been a complete cake-walk, but I'm just so glad my 5AM-11PM (later had I not been a good time manager) jam-packed days are behind me.

I want to go back to my high school teachers and tell them to relax their hyper 'must-be-ready -for-college' attitudes, but there is something sadly satisfying knowing people at my high school are being tortured just as I used to be.

And so, I suppose, the pattern continues.

Ode to Doglover

So my little sister showed me these videos over Christmas....


I learned that her first semester of college had not a scholar made her,
but rather a YouTube addict...

as she knew about every one of the following:


'This one has almost 2 million views hehe'....

'Ooh this one is funny because her friend is in it'....


'in this one her friend is filming'


'In this one her Jonas Brothers posters aren't there, haha'




There are even Doglover tributes like this one.


My sister even had knowledge of the "what a loser" comments, but most notably that 'Doglover's' mom had subsequently commented defending her daughter.


And all I could really think, besides 'Doglovers' awesome lighting effects and literal interpretive dancing, was...


"Wow, [sister], so this is what people do for fun at Harvard."

Snowboarding soreness: who knew?!

WHO KNEW a mere 2 hours of snowboarding would leave me oh-so-stiff and sore!

Was it the chunky feet of powder to forge through at the very top runs, my 4-5 whiplashing falls (breaking in the new board), the 'lift confessional' discussions with my cousin Amanda on the chairlift rides, or my weekly deep tissue tension-maintenance massage afterwards...I don't know.

but all I know is Saturday morning did not find me in my favorite Pilates class...

rather I spent it sipping peppermint tea, eating dark chocolate, and taking in the latest episodes of 30 Rock and The Office from the comfy confines of my bed. Just living my life.

My current life plight

Old/New Media crises....which I prefer to call simply a transition...

as seen here (go to 9:55- 10:50) in one of my favorite shows, Lipstick Jungle, as character Nico Reilly, chief editor of Bonfire Magazine, and her boss Griffin interview a younger woman who has 'new media' experience and ideas.

This is my life in a a nutshell- exactly I deal with and learn about on a day-to-day basis to counteract the 'dying' old media news industry.

Did we love...

Or did we LOOOOOOOOVE?!

Our new First Couple, Barack The Fox and Michelle The Fierce!

The cutest, most gorgeous First Daughters that ever were

Kinda cute of Dubya...




Naturally, my mom looooved the Aretha.

This gives me shivers...awestriking!

How in love are they?! I want a marriage like theirs some day.

And BARACK'S SPEECH...
wow, I've seen it three times now and I tear up every time.

And my personal favorite:

Boogie: Yes, we can. And yes, they did.



(pictures courtesy of ABC News and UK Telegraph)

Well done, sister suffragette?

I am a fierce advocate of education. Apparently, it can be a woman's greatest revenge.

And although women have made great strides with civil rights, we still have a long way to go.

I met a luminous Saudi Arabian woman in the Prague program I attended a week ago, who talked about how she had to overcome odds like an awful arranged marriage (thank goodness her ex-husband allowed her to divorce) and going to college against her parents will so she could become something better.

Now, she works as a journalist writing, ironically, about civil and womens rights. The awesome revenge of education!

(I'm happy to say she remarried a wonderful man, who she met, in progressive 21st century fashion, online, who seems extremely supportive. I know my friend has great things in front of her).

But it's stories like these that make my heart ache, and make me want to change the world so my fellow sisters around the globe can have better lives.

Things like attending school should not be met with dissension, for goodness sakes.

Urban MUST HAVE

This summer I discovered these:




At around $1 a pop (about $5-6 for a pack of 6, or the same price for a pack of 10 smaller ones), it may seem a titch steep for a band-aid...

I mean, c'mon, "A band-aid!" you're thinking.


I know, I've been there.


But no, ADVANCED HEALING BLISTER BAND-AIDs are an urbanite's saving grace.
(Or tourist's, if that's how you roll...)

Any blisters or scrapes due to footwear, hard concrete, and the 5 miles of walking you do on/in it any normal day in NYC...

(Shoes you have never gotten blisters in before, you will when you move to a walking city....)


Never fear, because all the sting-y/bubbly/ouch-y blisters are POOF! GONE! NO MORE! with application of these.

You put them on, and not only is the sting of the blister immediately gone, but you leave it on for a day (or two) and it heals it.
It's seriously the fastest working remedy I've ever experienced.

Best of all is that you can keep wearing the masochistic shoes too if you have the blister band-aid on!


Testimonial story:

This summer, I was walking around with my cousin in Park Slope evaluating her new digs and neighborhood, and she got a blister from her Reef flip-flops.

(Yeah, I told you- NYC gives you blisters from even your most trusted pair of Reef flip-flops. Which are among the most comfy flip-flops in the world.)

So I told her about the Save-your-life-like-CPR Band-Aids, but she didn't believe my claims/stomach the price so she bought normal ones.
Less than an hour later, we were back in Duane Reade buying the Blister Band-Aids and she now swears by them.

(There are no off-brands yet, but I'll update you when I see them)


Nowadays, I have been using them for the back of my heels due to excessive winter boot wear.


Just doing my part to spread urban cheer!
Have yourself some merry feet and cute footwear and go get Band-Aid Advanced Healing Blister Band-Aids today!


(Wow, should I go into advertising or what....)

Today's the day

Barack and Michelle Go To Washington

(and Joe and Dr. Jill)

(and me too this summer!)

I hope I never get so callous about the world that I lose my childlike enthusiasm for events and days like this.

Self-reliance: comes in handy!

Self-reliance is one of my most treasured assets.

I stumbled upon this Web site after I read about it on a friend's blog...it's entitled "50 Things Everyone Should Know How To Do"

I remember one of my many lessons in self-reliance came when I learned to drive a manual transmission (#5 on the Web site) deep in the woods of New England where my family summer vacations.

On a Jeep Wrangler, no less- probably the jerky-est car ever to learn on.

Nevertheless, a couple dozen popped clutches, a couple sets of tears (my dad is not the most patient teacher haha), and a summer later (I had to put it to rest the first time), I was good to roll!

The next summer, I was able to teach my sister. Now she can cruise. Not like it comes in handy as she's at school in metropolitan Boston. But for the summertime, ah yes.

But because of that skill, I've been in situations where it has come in handy.

And seen how lack of that skill has inconvenienced others....

Exhibit A:
When a bunch of friends and I were considering renting a car to drive down to the coast of southern Spain from Madrid for Semana Santa last year, we of course, were trying to penny-pinch the best we could and a stick-shift car was the only option unless we wanted to pay double the cost for an automatic (this was back in the day before the world's economy collapsed and the Euro was uber-strong).

However, as you had to be 21 to drive and the only one over the age of 21 at that time (damn my September birthday!) was the only one who could NOT drive a stick shift, our roadtrip from arid central Spain to the sands of Malaga were thwarted.

(But alas, i swear there are much less 'glamorous' ways driving a stick shift could come in handy.)


Urgency is another issue that stands in the way of learning essential skills.

I dont know if learning how to change a tire is really important. Well, I guess it is.
I just dont know when I'll find time. Summer maybe?

Anyway, for the long run, some of my goals include learning French and maybe a Scandinavian language, going to culinary school, getting a master's degree or two (maybe a Ph.D.), taking jobs/living in more countries, becoming a yoga instructor, yada yada...

okay now its daunting that i've just blogged about some of my goals, because now a part of me is liable for holding myself to attaining them!

A historical Daddy-Daughter letter

As we prepare to inaugurate a new American president, I hearken to words of Adam Smith in 'The Theory of Moral Sentiments' where he talks of virtuous governance: the very words too oft eschewed in free market economist debates, and the very words I had in mind casting my first ballot this past November.


"The wise and virtuous man is at all times willing that his own private interest should be sacrificed to the public interest of his own particular order or society. He is at all times willing, too, that the interest of this order or society should be sacrificed to the greater interest of the state or sovereignty..."


Whether or not you agree with his politics, his on/off tobacco vice or his charismatic way of making America fall in love with him, I think we all can agree that President Obama is a virtuous man who has a vision of a more perfect union, a more virtuously governed America.

How?

This letter to his daughters, which I will admit I shed a tear over.
A loving dad who credits his daughters as his motivation to make the world a better place?
That's someone morally astute I want in Washington.

God Bless the USA.

Why Mormon Girls Stay Single

In short, this blog is HILARIOUS.

Though, I wonder what "Peter Priesthood's" real job is...

BITE ME

I hate getting my nails done. It's like the dentist for me.

Pedicures make me squirm: I always think they're going to cut me when they do the cuticle part. And then when they scrub down your calluses, it feels like someone is tickling-slash-scraping you, which are two of my least favorite sensations.

And I've had 2 manicures in my life, both under age 10: it was a reward incentive from my dad to stop BITING THEM.

There, I said it.

I AM A NAIL BITER.

Since I could chew. Probably before.


I have tried everything to stop.

Nasty-tasting nail polish, hypnosis, acrylics...the list goes on.

Ironically, I needed a new set of acrylics today (again, like the dentist) and so as I was sitting there, watching my nubby beds of nothingness being ground away yet again (you can't even read a magazine while you are having your hands attended to...bah!), my mind was forced to return to more self-deprecating thoughts of how lame and hindered I am for being a highly-functioning adult who still has the urge to self-mutilate.

But then I read THIS article in Marie Claire and now I feel equally as validated knowing that a hallmark of being an overachiever is nail-biting. (Anderson Cooper, anyone?!)

Maybe her last remedy will really be this simple this time around.


Eh, maybe I'll just keep the acrylics until I have time.

BITE ME.
(No, not you Edward Cullen.)