Dear Interwebs,

Oh how I’ve missed you! Okay, that’s actually a tiny white lie – I only missed you a little bit. Sometimes, when I spend my whole day at work and a lot of my evenings on the computer, it’s nice to go anonymous for a couple days. But, I’m back! And so full of updates from the last week, that I didn’t know where to begin…

Hmm. Do I tell you about my Friday night, meeting my friend’s new girlfriend, who he met on Match.com and seems a wee bit loco? Do I tell you how his reasoning behind dating her is, “So what if she’s 21, still in college, and we don’t have anything in common! She has a 26-inch waist and size D boobs, how could I get bored?!” Do I tell you how I was super nice to her, despite of myself, but scoffed a little bit at her fur-lined clogs (seriously?!) while drinking too much wine at Solo?

Or I could tell you about my Valentine’s Day – how everyone from my mom, who sent me a box of my favorite candies and lip glosses (marzipan, marshmallows and Stila); to my neighbor, who left cookies and a note in our mailbox; to my boyfriend, who gave me a pot of little pink roses (that I’ll probably kill, honestly) and a card the size of a small child; made me feel loved. I could tell you about how mediocre my dinner was at Betty for $80, or how laughably giggable the Laugh Lover’s Ball comedy show was at The Moore Theatre. So funny that we’re still quoting some of the jokes – now laughter is what makes my love world go round.

Potentially you’d like to know about my double birthday party Sunday where I drank yet more wine, bringing my weekly weekend tally up to about four bottles. I *really* ought to look into switching from white to red – I just end up drinking white like grape juice. You might also like to hear about the two new bars I checked out – Post and The Dray – which were both small, but great atmospheres for intimate crowds. Or how a friend told me that thanks to a chain of events from my blog post on Seattle Ork Posters, a little shop in Ballard is now displaying them across their front windows. Oh, how neat!

I was thinking I could tell you about my day off on Monday – the first full day alone my boyfriend and I have had together in months. How we started it off with a day trip to IKEA, where I purchased new bedding and an awesome baroque-style frame for the wall. And then how we spent a couple hours at Peso’s for happy hour where I tried for the first time their Philly steak quesadilla with caramelized onions – YUM. But, don’t you worry, Interwebs, I walked it off later with an hour walk to and back from Trader Joe’s to load up on healthiness for the week.

I could also tell you about my new haircut, my shopping spree to F21, my deep-clean of my apartment, which is oh-so-shiny and sparkly now, how level two of Jillian’s Michaels 30-Day Shred pretty much makes.you.want.to.die, as do personal trainers, but how I’ve lost six pounds in three weeks. I could tell you how “Save Karyn” was pretty much the cutest, funniest book I’ve read in a long time, and although I’ve been boycotting Chic Lit, this one was worth it. Or how I purchased a WOK, which is super exciting and I can’t wait to wok it up this week after wok. Woka, woka, woka.

Interwebs, I could tell you ALL of that… but then,

I guess I just did.

Love,
20-Something

Currently Feeling: Slammed today, but I just had to squeeze a post in!
Currently Anticipating: Catch-up dinner tonight at Twist with two of my old roomies from college.
Currently Wanting: To pick up “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” by Stieg Larsson – Amazon or local bookstore, hmmm.

A Happy Place – but I’m not talking Ronald or chicken nuggets

I need to find my Happy Place… I don’t have one. Am I the only one?

My boyfriend often talks about his Happy Place – the beach. When he was little, his parents went through a bad divorce when he was in elementary. Someone told him that he needed to figure out what his Happy Place was and go there when he couldn’t sleep or things were bothering him… In our relationship he’s mentioned his Happy Place a couple times – a place he goes when he shuts his eyes to let all the bad feelings and stress of the World escape.

The more I think about this concept, the more I realize I could really use a Happy Place. I feel that as each day, month and year goes by, life becomes increasingly more complicated. There’s a reason why adults always say, “Enjoy it while you can!” Or why my friends and I reminisce about the “carefree” days of college. Sure you had a whole three or four classes to attend and subsequent tests and assignments for each, but that’s nothing compared to rent, deadlines, empty savings accounts, bosses, bills, increasing fat rolls, wrinkles and grey hair…

For me, the majority of my stress lies in my little ole 9 to 5. Sometimes I get myself into such a whirlwind at work that I feel the only answer is leaving to curl up in a ball under a rock, otherwise known as my bed, never to come out. This is one of those days. Have you ever felt so stressed that your mind just kind of freezes, and although you have approximately 1 million things you should be doing, you can’t seem to wrap your head around any of them?

This is when I need to close my eyes and picture…

*Blank* ?!?

I try to think about what my Happy Place might be.

A place?
A person?
A time frame?

If it is, in fact, one of those three items, does that make me UNhappy because I’m not in that place, or with that person, or in that time frame anymore? If my Happy Place is a place, then why don’t I live there permanently? Will it still be my Happy Place if I live there day to day?

See – I try to think about a Happy Place and all the details of being happy or UNhappy stress me out.

Do you have a Happy Place?

Currently Feeling: So much healthier.
Currently Anticipating: SO excited to go home tonight and do the 30-Day Shred DVD!! NOT.
Currently Watching: Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

Mama’s gotta eat a cheeseburger, officially

I think I realized today that I am unofficially an emotional eater.

I eat when I’m happy. I eat when I’m drunk. I eat (a lot) when I’m in love. I eat when someone sneezes. Because something even that minute makes me hungry. I eat when I see food ads. I eat when it’s in front of me. I eat when I’m bored. I eat when I’m full. I eat when I’m drunk. (Oh shit. I already put that. I must be drunk). I eat when I’m watching TV or working or typing or reading.

I also eat when I’m stressed.

My boyfriend is going through one of those major life thingies today. (Which I may, or may not, elaborate on later), which has caused a great deal of stress for me today. I tried to put it off by watching CNN and being really excited for America this morning. But even then, I was checking my phone every three minutes. Next I tried reading through the 25+ blog posts in my RSS feeder, while simultaneously checking my phone every five minutes. Then I made a trip on foot to Nordstrom’s to pick up the free make-up that’s been advertised, while checking my phone every two minutes.

I’ve done approximately 4,329 things today except work because I.just.can’t.concentrate. Ever have those days? Sometimes I worry that crane operators, airplane pilots and brain surgeons have those days, and then that’s when I start to panic about driving, flying and cancer. But that’s a whole nother post, saved for when I might want to talk about just how neurotic I can be.

So then finally somewhere between thinking about death by flying or cancer from Web-MDing myself, my boyfriend sends me a text message that’s he’s fine, but “doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Well shit. What am I supposed to do? Sit and continue to worry all day?! So, of course I sent back: “That’s ok! I understand!” But what I really meant was:

Cheeseburger.

Even though I’d already eaten my *meager* lunch of Campbell’s Healthy Request (ie: nothing but broth, that’s why the calories are so low), CHEESEburger was like mentally throbbing through my brain.
Must.eat.cheeseburger.to.survive.
Clearly this need for a cheeseburger is directly related to stress, which clearly makes me an unofficial emotional eater.

So I frantically started Googling “burger” in “said name of my work building downtown.” We have like 201 restaurants and little places to eat here, but NOWHERE that sells an effing cheeseburger.

Come on! Mama’s gotta eat.

Finally, I found a relatively nearby restaurant that sold a $12 cheeseburger because this is THE.RECESSION. and clearly restaurants need customers so bad that they’re discounting everything, or something, and clearly I don’t need to worry about living out of that cardboard box anytime soon. So I ordered and ate the $12 cheeseburger, and all 12 pounds of the fries that came with it.

And now I kinda want to curl up in a ball on my couch and…

EAT.OREOS.

We’ll see if I make it out of this one alive. I could be the next candidate for one of TLC‘s fat shows, yah know. And then you could all talk about how you knew me when I was skinny and how it all started when I became an unofficial emotional eater.

Currently Feeling: Headachy from all the carbs, probably.
Currently Anticipating: Using the free Lacome Fatale mascara I scored today. It’s supposed to make my lashes look 3D?! How do they do that?
Currently Wishing: Bestie Amanda wasn’t in the &%@$# Caribbean. How selfish of her to be vacationing when I need her!

I know, I know, I’m totally delusional

Yesterday I rejoined the “girls who tan to make themselves look feel sexier” club. My shit is pale.

Anyway, my 27 birthday this week induces a little reality – I’m not going to be young forever. And all the drinking and partying is already going to take a toll on my lovely lady bits, so I don’t want to compound it with wrinkles from tanning too. (Really all I’m worried about is the competition with my nine other high school girl friends. I don’t want to be the one to look the oldest in 10 years!) So what do I do? Well, what any logical person would do – I decide to splurge for a medium pressure instead of a conventional bed. They’re supposed to be, like, miraculously free of wrinkle- and cancer-inducing rays, right? Right. (That’s what she said.)

So I went to my usual tanning place, Desert Sun, where they always have a deal for JUST THAT DAY, which always happens to be the day I go in. I must be one lucky bitch.

I listened to the girl at the front desk tell me about all the special New Years deals they had. Payment plans, buy 20 for the price of 10, etc., etc., etc.

“Hmm. I don’t know if that’s going to work for me. I don’t have $200 to spend on tanning right now,” I explained to her.

But she continued to go on and on and on about all their deals (clearly not understanding my “no money” line because she goes to college and lives off her parents. GAWD. Those were the days!), and finally settled on what she considers “cheap.”

“Well, what we can do is split the payments up for you, so you’d only have to pay $61 this month, then we can choose whatever day you want the $61 to come out of your account in the next couple months.”

“But I have $66 in my bank account,” I finally say, to get her to jump to the deals I might really afford.

She sorta just awkwardly laughed, and continued on her tanning package bit, naming price after price for me.

“What about blah blah blah for $99 – we throw in two tans of your choice! Unless you weren’t joking about only having $66 in your bank account.”

“Nope. Wasn’t joking. $66.”

“Oh – well we can do this package for $40.”

“Nope. I need to go out this weekend.”

After which she just sorta looked at me like a nut job. Should I feel embarrassed that a 20-year-old college girl who works at a tanning salon is judging my financial irresponsibilities? Remember what I said below about a damaged bank account from “sexy suede boots, expensive makeup, luxurious lingerie and more earrings than you could count”?! I forgot to mention booze in that list. Lots and lots of booze. That’ll drain you of any sort of savings account future.

Oh, and pedicures, fancy haircuts and colors, and tanning. Basically I’m always one paycheck away from living in a cardboard box and dipping Ramen noodles in oil for flavor.

But, a girl has to have her priorities. And I’d rather look good in my 20s than retire in luxury in my 60s…

Or something.

Currently Feeling: Tired and headachy still.
Currently Anticipating: My birthday party on Sunday!
Currently Loving: My newly, organized and labeled filed bin with ALL the bills I need to catch up on. Fun!

An open-ended letter to an important part of my future

Dear Marriage and Babies,

You give me hives.

I wish I was being facetious. I’m not. Lately, I increasingly feel anxious – like I’m going to have a god damn panic attack and be admitted to the loony bin –when I hear about a friend getting engaged, or how you, Marriage, are “a lot of hard work” or even worse, divorce. And I’m teetering on stark-raving crazy, Babies, when I hear about how hard it is to have you, the whole pregnancy gig, postpartum depression, etc. I start to feel a bit short of breath, and this big ole uncomfortable, nervous lump forms – like a butterfly in my chest.

Yesterday I read Dooce’s post/discussion about what’s more difficult, Babies or Marriage. She wrote about how she *literally* checked herself into a mental hospital six months after experiencing you for the first time, Babies, and how she’s been through countless hours of counseling on her own and with her husband, to improve you, Marriage. Well, it all just gave me that constricted, hives feeling again. And I want to shout, “Don’t Make Me Do It, Captain!”

I bet you anything, if asked, Dooce would say it was ALL worth it. Everyone would. But, I don’t buy it. I mean, I’ve heard speeches from people who have lost limbs, been addicted to painkillers, or been through cancer, and they all say they wouldn’t change anything because “it makes them who they are today.” Great. Congratulations. That still doesn’t mean that I want to experience what they did. And right now, I’m not sure that I want to experience you, Marriage or Babies, anytime in the next decade.

I want to live in my carefree 20s forever, and never cross the bridge into your unchartered adult waters. I never feel old enough for either of you. When I hear about people in high school who are married with babies, I screech, “But we’re only TWENTY-SIX!” And this year it’ll be, “But we’re only TWENTY-SEVEN!” And I’m sure I’ll be singing the same tune at 28 and 29 too.

See, I know I want both of you, SOME DAY. It’s just that that some day is always in the future, even as the years go by. When will I feel PRESENT about you? I try to talk to my girl friends about how uncomfortable or not ready I am for either of you, but half of them give me the countdown speech:

Well, we need to have Babies in our 30s because if you have one in your 40s, then YOU’LL.JUST.DIE, and you want your first kid at 30, 32 at the latest, and you want a few years with your husband before having kids, which is 28 or 29 – and you probably want to be engaged for at least a year or more before Marriage so that’s 26 or 27, and you, ideally, want to date your potential husband for a couple years before getting engaged, so you should have met him, like, yesterday.

And this is supposed to make me feel better? My anxiety just increased 10 fold.

Everyone wants to know these days if I can picture myself with my significant other and you, Marriage. “Are you guys going to get MAHWIED?” is all I hear. The eff if I know. It’s not that I can’t see myself with him, necessarily, it’s just that I. don’t. think. about. it. I know some hopeless romantics are reading this right now and saying the quintessential Polly Prissy Pants line, “Well that just means he’s not THE ONE for you.” Riiight. And they know this because…they read it in their crystal ball?

Really, all I can think about is keeping my sanity. And my bank account. Cause it’s damaged enough as it is. And by sexy suede boots, expensive makeup, luxurious lingerie and more earrings than you could count. NOT by 14-tiered mascarpone cakes, house payments, diaper service, nannies or sippy cups. And the latter list is SO much less appealing than the first, so I’d rather not trade. Thankyouverymuch, Marriage and Babies.

So please, please, can I drag out these “single” 20s for as long as possible? And can my friends stop giving me the countdown speech, or can you cover my ears every time there’s any dose of “reality,” along the lines of cracked nipples or losing the *spark* in the bedroom, coming my way? Cause really, what about that gives me something to look forward to? I’d like to live in my little 20-something bubble, without either of you, for as long as humanly possible.

I’ll get back to you when I change my mind.

Thanks,
20-Something

This Year’s Love Had Better Last

Exciting news in 20-Something’s blog land – I’m closing out the end of 2008 with my 500th post. Wow. That’s a lot of narcissism. Thanks for sticking with me…cheers to the New Year, friends, lovers and randoms!

You know you can’t wait for it –
20-Something’s Year in Review:

Best Books I Read: “Fieldwork,” by Mischa Berlinski “The Wonder Spot,” by Melissa Banks, “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert, “More Than You Know,” by Beth Gutcheon and “Water for Elephants” by Sarah Gruen. (I can never narrow this down).
Favorite Movie: “Sex and the City: The Movie” and all the girly festivities and pampering that went along with it!
Favorite New Band(s): Vampire Weekend and Kings of Leon. I cannot stop playing that “Sex on Fire” song! Sooo good.
Best Restaurant I Discovered: Black Bottle. (You must try their chocolate cake – chocolate lava center surrounded with caramel and topped with vanilla gelato. It’s to. die. for!)
Best Happy Hour I Discovered: Twist’s happy hour, which is extra long (4-11pm!) with drink specials and more than 20 food items starting at $2.50!
New TV Show Addiction: Top Chef (there’s a lot more to list here since I got cable for the first time in three years, but I won’t go into boring TV detail).
Best Vacation: It’s a tie between Vegas in March with BD and Mexico in May with my family (the first family vacation we’d ever taken that required a plane).
Best Celebration: Barack Obama being elected President (!!!).
Best Month: September. The best trip EVER with Baby Daddy to the Westbeach Resort on Orcas Island. Oktoberfest in Fremont. My all-expenses paid work trip to sunny and beautiful South Beach in Miami, where we won “Best Booth” for the event I project managed.
Biggest Best Purchase(s): A PC to accompany my Mac, and my pretty new cream micro-suede couch.
Biggest Blunder: Peeing on a federal building.
Favorite Video: Me, of course.
Worst Fashion Trend: Crocs. I know they’re not new to 2008, but I’m holding out here. WHY.DOES.ANYONE.WEAR.THESE.IN.PUBLIC??? Every time I see them, I wrinkle my nose, frown, scoff and get really annoyed. Those things are effing ugly. Keep them in the garden, if you must. *End rant*
Favorite New Fashion Trend: Skinny jeans (yikes, I know. I can’t believe I’m admitting this, let alone wearing them), scarves and lots o’ layers!
Best Party: Tie between the girly sex toy party and Luke and Jana’s wedding.
Biggest Accomplishment: Quitting the Jesus factory and scoring a new job in marketing (with actual paid vacation, a short downtown commute and a pretty decent raise) after a long and arduous nine-month search, more than 30 resumes and cover letters, and 10 different interviews!
Biggest (Failed) Accomplishment: Finishing x365 and NaBloPoMo, and giving up my loved P.I. blog, “Bright Lights, Date City.”
Least Favorite Life Change: Losing my friend Kelly to the mid-West.
Best Life Change: My sexy boyfriend – and finding love, again. Or maybe my color-coordinated bookshelf? It’s hard to decide between those two. OR Bestie Amanda moving back home after three years away – what to choose!
Best New Activity: Pie baking! (Okay, so I only baked one, but it was still fun to learn!) No, but really, I love the Nia fitness class I started attending, to be picked back up after the first of the year.
Best Decision: Sticking it out through my long, terrible and torturous eight-month pro-bono project with The Taproot Foundation. I never want to be a quitter!

On the horizon in 2009…

New Year’s Resolution for 09: Call my dad and grandparents once a month.
Goal to Accomplish Before the End of 09: Move to San Francisco, or very minimum, somewhere new. Seattle feels a bit small for me now, and I feel the need to spread my wings and live with no regrets. I’ve been talking about it for a long time, so I’m just going to DO IT. I’m starting to update the resume and sift through Craigslist now… *fingers crossed* it works out before the end of 2009.
What I’m Most Looking Forward to in 09: The wedding of my Dolphin Sister in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
Scary Reality of 09: My sister will turn 21 in October. Wow.

2008 Photo Recap

(To the tune of “This Year’s Love” by David Gray, so put your headphones in. Also the captions come up quick and choppy when it was uploaded to the Internet, not sure why, so you’ll have to read quick!)

Hanky Panky

A personal – and extremely important – mantra I’ve tried to follow through my life is: Never run out of underwear or socks.

Because I only do laundry about once a month, sometimes even longer, this has led to a ridiculous amount of socks and underwear. Except, I just keep buying and buying, never purging through the outdated or worn-out ones. Which, in turn, has just allowed me to go even longer without doing laundry. It’s a vicious cycle, I tell yah.

Because I mostly wear heels, my socks tend to be in fair-to-good condition. But, some time this year, I realized that I have some SKANKY underwear that are just. not. appropriate. What if I were to fall down a flight a stairs, land in a sticker bush, and they had to snip off my pants to free me? OR here’s an applicable one – what if I woke up, in a nightie and skanky underwear, to a room full of firemen who just busted my apartment door down?

No bueno. One must be prepared, at a moment’s notice, to flash a cute pair of undies.

So, I started an Underwear Overhaul mission–I buy 20 pairs, I throw 20 pairs away, in shifts, until my entire SKANKY underwear collection is replaced with Come And Get Me Tiger underwear.

Except, I failed my mission in a major way. First off, I started and never finished. Secondly, I started to feel so CLEANSED from my anti-SKANKY underwear mission that I just kept throwing away and throwing away. Because of this, I’m short of underwear during my lengthy periods of not doing laundry, and recently I’ve been on a majah underwear shortage.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

This week, it’s got real bad. I failed to do laundry last weeked since lying on the couch, nursing my wine headache, seemed like a far better option. During the week I’m too lazy to do laundry after work, and even I were forced to in these desperate times, I don’t have quarters. So, for the first time in eight years, maybe NINE, I have to resort to my granny panties.*

And it’s been awful, just awful. All week, I’ve turned to the side on the escalator, scurried quickly ahead of someone in the hall and tugged on the back of my jacket, thinking that everyone behind me is staring at me because there’s a HUGE red neon sign on my back, blinking:

“PANTY LINES.”

“PANTY LINES.”

“PANTY LINES.”

I tell yah, I don’t know how women lived in the years before the thong was invented.

So tomorrow is payday, and I’m heading out to buy lots o’ new silky drawers. Cause that makes SO much more sense than doing laundry, natch.

*By granny, I don’t mean white or flowered. I just mean “full butt.” I am strictly a thong wearer. If you’ve seen my bubble butt in person, you understand why, in now way, am I interested in adding another layer of fabric under my pants. I stuck by my thong guns even when an ex kept begging and pleading for me to wear full butt underwear instead of thongs. Now THAT contradicted everything I was taught about boys up to age 18.

Currently Feeling: Like I’d rather just not face reality.
Currently Anticipating: The yearly pre-Turkey Day drunken festivities tomorrow.
Currently Loving: eRewards. I’ve earned $16 that I can redeem in Borders Bucks by just filling out the occasional, annoying survey!

Seven kitschy and UBER super weirdorific facts

[I don’t usually do these list type posts that remind me of MySpace surveys, but thanks to NaBloPoMo and FlipFlopsintheRain, I’ll do it just.this.once...]

1. I reread every text, every email, every blog post and virtually EVERYTHING I ever write, over and over again – at least three times – if others people’s eyes might see it.
2. I say Birfffday, not Birtthhhday, and didn’t realize it until it was pointed out a mere couple years ago—I still can’t stop.
3. I know all the words to the Milli Vanilli CD and have it on my iPod to listen to regularly.
4. If I don’t have my toenails—and oftentimes my fingernails—painted, I feel super gross and unkempt.
5. I have to eat mustard with my Thanksgiving turkey.
6. I’m fidgety if my attention isn’t totally kept—I’ll constantly play with my eyebrows if I can feel a stray hair; I’ll file, chew or clip my fingernails while watching TV; and one time I snipped off the tops of every Hershey kiss in a candy bowl at my girl friend’s house (without really realizing it) because we were just sitting around, aimlessly talking.
7. Some of the blogs I read are written by women that seem SO totally awesome, that I oftentimes think about how much I want to be their friend and look them up if I’m in their hometown.(I’m not a total creep, I swear).

Currently Feeling: Sickeningly sweet after Dove dark chocolate and red licorice.
Currently Anticipating: The season premiere of Top Chef tonight! LOVE it!
Currently Needing: To save for Christmas.

Be the change you want to see in the world

It’s official!

Currently Feeling: Amused with other people’s need to passive aggressively put others down. I think being passive aggressive is a top pet peeves to add to my list.
Currently Anticipating: This SUPER rad invite I just received from Kate for a Halloween party on Friday–all you can drink for $25?! I’m SO there.
Currently Wanting: Fantastic camel-colored boots.

Forgive me while I get a little Spiritual

I have spent the last 10 years of my life or so, scoffing at religion. By religion, I should say Christianity.

I grew up “Christian”—attended Vacation Bible School, Sunday School, church, youth groups, Young Life, etc. Then somewhere around high school, I believe, I started to grow my own mind and opinion about it all and thought it seemed like a bunch of hocus pocus more than anything. I didn’t believe life should be less enjoyable because “God” didn’t want you to drink, have premarital sex, cohabit, or do any of the general teenage sinning that I enjoyed. I couldn’t wrap my mind around really believing in parting the sea, or feeding 300 with one loaf of bread, or all the other far-fetched stories in the Bible. My mind screamed, “Where’s the PROOF?!” I also didn’t agree with shunning the gay community or the “Our way or the highway” mentality that I encountered at most Christian churches, so I took the highway.

I’ve spend my 20s scoffing and rolling my eyes at Christianity, church and proselytizers. Funny, since I spent a good three years out of college, working at a Christian corporation where we had a chapel in the building and regular prayer every morning. The whole thing gave me the hee bee gee bees. I masqueraded around as a Christian at work, and came home and went out every night, kissing, smoking and fornicating.

But recently, what some might call a “little tiny door” has opened in my mind. If I had to place a finger on it, it started with reading, “Eat, Pray, Love.” Here was a woman who scoffed and rolled eyes and strayed away from religion just as much as I did, but she began to believe in and search for a “God.” Not a Christian God, necessarily, but a spiritual being for the whole world and everyone. This “God” made more sense to me.

I started to think.

Then this summer, I picked up “Breakfast with Buddha”—the story of a regular ole’ corporate America middle-aged man who drives cross country, unexpectedly, with his sister’s guru. Again, in this book, was the notion that “God” could be one being for everyone across the world and across religions. My favorite part of the book is when the main character, again skeptical and scoffing just like me, asks the guru what religion he is, and the guru answers something along the lines of: “I’m not an “ism” and “tian” or an “ist.”

I’m not a Budd-ist, a Chris-tian or following Hindu-ism.

And so, here was something I could wrap my head around. The belief that perhaps there was a “God,” but not associated with any religion or rules–just a way to feel better and do better in life–a lot of what Buddhism actually is about, not “worshiping a big-bellied bronze statue,” surprisingly. So, I ordered “Awakening the Buddha Within” by Lama Surya Das. Sort of hippie and dorky, I know. Who would have thought I’d end up searching for some sort of spirituality to grasp on to—I guess everyone does at some point.

So, this morning I read this:

Men and women who are ready to deepen or formally embark on a spiritual journey are typically standing at some kind of emotional crossroads. Often they are grieving over some loss or disappointment—separation from or death of a loved one, a personal crisis, health problems, or an overriding sense that something is wrong or missing. Sometimes they are simply looking for a way to better love the world…

…For example, I frequently speak to men and women who complain that even though they have painstakingly followed Life’s Little Operating Manual, they feel as though they are coming up empty-handed. Superficially, it may seem as though they are having work problems or relationship problems or health problems, but scratch the surface and there are deeper unresolved questions. Some of these people seem to have so much—family, career, education. Everything seems to be going their way, yet they are often dissatisfied…

…Often when we think about our lives and our experiences, we feel certain that in some cosmic way it must be making sense, but sometimes it seems there are too many problems and too much chaos for us to ever get a handle of life. We don’t know why this is so, but on some level we know that we are responsible for our own destiny. When we first hear about karma, the possibility of rebirth, and the ineluctable laws of cause and effect, these teachings not only make sense, they are reassuring.

For Tibetan Buddhists, because karma affects everything, there are no chance occurrences. It is no accident, for example, that you are picking up this book. As you read this sentence, all of your past actions, your present thoughts, as well as your intentions for the future have brought you to this specific intersection of your life where you have opened a book…

So, here I am. Everything seems to be going my way, but I’ve been feeling slightly dissatisfied for a short time now. Perhaps it is an overriding sense that something is wrong or missing, which led to my interest in Buddhism—and reading this book.

We’ll see where it takes me.

Currently Feeling: Lucky to have found such a cool Craigslist random.
Currently Anticipating: A night out on the town, making my Halloween costume with my mom, and the pumpkin patch with Mike, Caden, Vanessa and Derek on Sunday.
Currently Watching: Dexter, Season 2, Disc 3.