balancing act?

efore posting in March that I vowed to write more, I would like you to know I had every intention of following through. I love writing, and it's something that is very personal to me, and very cathartic. But honestly, once a week to sit down and write has been nearly impossible. Correction - I have made it nearly impossible. Due to some unforeseen circumstances in the work world (in which I won't bore you with the details) - I have found myself to be in a proverbial tailspin. Work consumes 90% of my life and what's left after at least 6 hours of sleep brings me just short of 3 hours a day to do anything meaningful. On a good weekend I get at least one day off. And by a day off I mean just enough time to do laundry, grocery shop, cook one decent meal, and get ready to do it all over again. Occasionally I see a friend, but only by sacrificing what precious time I have left after trying to take care of myself. I do what I can, when I can, but most days I'm just exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. And I may be taking care of myself, but I'm not taking good care of myself.

Today I was finally going to run some much needed errands and try to prepare for the hectic week again - complete with family members visiting and a few depositions to prep. After taking time to do some of the errands I wound up at a crossroads - walk to Trader Joe's, go home, cook lunch, start laundry, clean room. Or, go to Starbucks, buy September issue of Vogue, go to movie by yourself with a bag of popcorn and waste away the afternoon in someone else's world.

I'm sure you've all heard the lyrics to one of my favorite songs - I've got the world on a string, sitting on a rainbow...I've always thought my life resembled those lyrics. I've always known that I had every opportunity to do what I wanted and be successful. Well, here I am - I'm doing what I want to do and I'm successful. I'm great at my job and I love my work. There isn't a day I wake up and dread going to the office. I'm learning more than I could ever have imagined and I know I'm only paving the way for my future. But that world I've got on a string? Oh, I've still got it, it's just that I'm hanging on to it desperately - and there's no rainbow to use as footing. I'd say that string is more like a tightrope and I'm dangerously close to losing my balance...if I have any at all.

So, against my better judgment...against doing what I should have done...I walked to Starbucks. I bought the September issue of Vogue. And I went to see Eat, Pray, Love.

You're not going to get a movie review out of this post. And I'm not about to compare my life to the divorced, badly-damaged and men-dependent main character's. I'm nothing like her. But it did make me think about how we go through our lives. It made me think about balance. We are always living our lives, but not always being our most balanced selves. I believe finding that balance is important and I know I need it.  But what does it mean to be balanced?

My grandma has always told me "everything in moderation." Is that balance? Well, I've never told her this but I think she already knows - I never do anything in moderation. I'm all in or I'm all out. That's what makes me, me, after all. There is no way I will ever do something half as well as I could because it means I can do something else also. Moderation is not balance.

Is balancing an act? On that tightrope I'm on? I sure hope it's not. I don't want to live my life, literally, "on the line" - besides, I'm scared of heights! No way I'd survive that tightrope long.

So, how do I achieve balance in my life? This is still just a rough outline, but I imagine it's going to go a little something like this:

-work a little less
-give a little less
-take a little more
-eat a little better
-sleep a little less
-gain a little more
-exercise a little more
-read a little more
-write a little more
-love a little more
-enjoy a little more
-do a little more
-see a little more
-be a little more

Obviously it's easier said than done. But that's such a cliche. It is what it is. There is no set amount of this and that. Just because someone spends 50% of their time at work and 50% of their time at home does not mean their lives are balanced. For me, I know that work can no longer be 90% of me, but I'm certainly never going to let it only be half. Now is my time to work hard and play hard. It's going to take me awhile to figure out the balance between the work me and the rest of me, but I'd say I've got a pretty good list going. It only takes a conscious effort and acknowledging that you're going to try.

After the movie I did a little yoga, cooked a nice dinner, and settled into a seat on my couch. I was content. Then, I watched what I think looked like a cockroach run across my living room floor and hide under the radiator. Thanks to a quick Wikipedia search for makeshift cockroach pest control, there is a vase of Miller Lite in residence next to the radiator. Talk about being thrown off balance! Expletives included, I figured my great day was all for not. Then I thought about the little more and the little less. Due to some conscious decision-making (choosing not to go to the grocery store and buy flowers today) and me being me (always a can of Miller Lite in the fridge), I've recovered quite nicely. I think it's what I'd like to call...a balance.


my rainy regards,
 
                      
a

all in a day's annoyance

This morning, while standing in a monumental security line at Seattle-Tacoma Airport, I overheard a senior-aged woman exclaim to the woman in front of her that "Flying just isn't fun anymore." My first thought was - Hm, she's so right. Then I thought again and asked myself - Was it ever? A resounding absolutely not, my brain decided. The only time I ever remembered it being fun was when I was young, and completely oblivious to my surroundings. I've flown enough in my life to have the gate to gate travel part down to the point I could do it in my sleep. But I untied my tennis shoes a good 5 minutes before I even reached the security conveyor belt today. Cursing my decision immediately, as I had reminded myself last night it would be easier to wear flip flops. Annoyance #1.

When I got to the security screening, the bins that were available for my belongings all had been decked out with newfound ad space. I didn't even bother to look at who had purchased the space, only that it mockingly addressed people who weren't yet "with it". 'The New Busy would have removed their belt already' it exclaimed. Excuse me? Granted, my shoes were already in hand and I could not have been more prepared for a TSA pat-down, but I was still a tad insulted for all those people out there who were my equal in line and still had their belts notched. Annoyance #2.

After my brief bout with security, always a deep sigh releaser, I headed off to find a bagel breakfast..and ticket still in hand, realized I had been placed in all window seats and immediately felt glum about the remainder of my day. Not even an asiago bagel with veggie cream cheese could salvage this one. A window seat is like the equivalent of a seat smack dab in the middle of the movie screen at the theatre. Great view - useless when you need to pee or want a refill. And it seems to me like every time I sit in an aisle, my bladder is at ease. And every time I'm by the window it freaks the hell out and guarantees me I'll be excusing myself 1 hour in, just as Seat B and Seat C pass out cold or receive their first round of beverages and snacks. Shit. Annoyance #3.

After settling into my window seat, I played my last Scrabble word before shutting off my phone. At the very edge of sleep I'm jolted awake by the stewardess as we're taxing down the runway. "Can you put your seat up all the way? It looks like it's back a little. Your's too," she says to Seat B. I look at him and exclaim, "No wonder I was comfortable!" We, the alphabet trio of row 17 have a little laugh before I catch the stewardess rolling her eyes at me. Not my fault your former 17A and 17B disobeyed the rules of landing an aircraft. She acted as if I'd just taken a hit of a cigarette in the lavatory. As if breathing in flu-infested, recycled and pressurized air wasn't bad enough. Annoyance #4.

One flight down, I'm the current resident of 28A. The only thing even remotely fun about this blog post I'm writing is that I'm writing it in-flight. Thanks only to my "Airplane Mode" setting on my iPhone and a Blog Post App I have downloaded from the App Store. Official extent of the fun.

I love kids, but currently there is a small child screaming at the top of her lungs. Not crying. Just screaming. Stupidly, I looked at her as an adorable little girl waiting by the gate before we boarded this airplane. She has subsequently been screaming since we taxied away from the gate, and I officially hate her. Not even Black Eyed Peas and 10 rows between us can dull that shrill. How silly of me to assume that when her grandmother assured her mother she would sleep through the flight, the little girl hadn't heard her grandmother and hadn't decided to "show her" who's boss. Annoyance #5.

I'm sure to miss my train back to DC thanks to a late departure from Atlanta and a compulsive hat purchase that required my luggage to be checked and a hat box to occupy the space at my feet. All in a day's travel, I suppose. Or maybe just...Annoyance #6.



my rainy regards,

a

put it in writing

We have become so accustomed to the immense lurch of technology, we often forget about the things we leave behind. We leave them behind for the sake of time, the sake of something better, and because if we didn't, we'd be virtually (pun intended) unreachable.

I discussed this very issue with a friend today over Gchat. He likes the instantaneous-ness of communication now. He doesn't like to have to wait for a response to reach him. I have to admit I am a technological junkie. I have an iPhone, and everything is at my fingertips. Even the ability to post to my blog. I am not above believing that the way technology has evolved makes it unbelievably easy to communicate with people that I may not otherwise speak with.

However, I do think there is one aspect of technology that has hindered our ability to preserve our history. The fact that my friend and I had the conversation over Gchat is the very issue itself. A lot of the things we know about history we know through the handwritten word. Letters from coast to coast telling of the personal struggles of the Gold Rush, or the filth of city living in the midst of the Great Depression. Yes, we may still have the written word via newspaper and online source - but how many of us will have preserved the personal written word between friends? Between family?

I can honestly say that there is nothing better in this world than my grandmother's cursive handwriting. And, my mother's cursive handwriting. I see my own handwriting start to look eerily like theirs, and I am so lucky and eternally grateful for that gift.

I vow to write more. With pen, and with paper. Even if only a little. Just so I can remember. And hopefully, so that someone else can one day see a personal account of this life I'm leading, and maybe learn.

my rainy regards,

a

say it ain't snow!

nce upon a former life, or perhaps in the next, I may have had or will have an affinity towards snow.

But, today - here and now and from the beginning of this life to the end of it - I hate it.

For as long as I can remember the snow has tormented me and for as many times as I thought I enjoyed it, the truth is that  it couldn't be further from the truth. Sure, I had my fair share of snowmen to build and sparkley white Christmas Eves to cherish. But, I also remember the toes going numb after an hour of ice skating and too recently, digging my car out of a glacier created by a combination of far too much accumulation and a very hefty snow plow...or three. I dare say it resembled an ice-aged fossil (with a very bright green abandonment notice on it's windshield.)

So here I was, a 22 year-old college graduate who, for as long as I could remember, had tried to convince my mother to move to California. I went over the California thing in my head quite a few times before I decided to move to Washington DC. Sure, California could guarantee me they'd keep the snow at bay - but Washington DC offered a little more of the young and vibrant city life I wanted. Besides, I checked Weather.com and there was no way in hell I'd be trekking around in 2 ft. of snow here in DC. January was an average of high 30s, February 40s, and we'd be well on our way to a cherry blossom spring by mid-March. "Nice!" I thought. This could quite possibly turn out to be the shortest winter I've experienced on record!

And then it happened.

I'm not sure which came first, really. The snow or the panic? Just a week before Christmas Southern Maryland, Northern Virginia, and my lovely new home, The District of Columbia got a very, very LIBERAL (ha!) dusting of snow. I was prepared for this one - whoa was I ever! Sure, we had to get at least one generous snowfall to pretty it up for Christmas. I baked cookies, I wrapped presents, and I soaked in the holiday spirit. And I laughed at:

1. the bus fishtailing backwards down Wisconsin Ave. after 2 inches.

2. Whole Foods closing at 12 noon after 6 inches of the white stuff.

3. the woman at CVS who, like others, felt a certain eminent danger from the impending snow - she dumped every food item at CVS into her cart, and I glanced to see if she was pulling another since her first cart was already overflowing with the oh-so-healthy sustenance sold there.

By the time I had returned from Arizona after a Christmas hiatus with family, the snow was gone and my life was back to normal.

And then it happened.

Again.

Dubbed as Snowmaggedon and Snowpocalypse...the snow fell...and it fell hard. And the city panicked. Early release from work on Friday. Snowed-in Saturday. Trying to recover Sunday. Can't quite pull it together Monday. Brace yourself for another storm Tuesday. White out Wednesday. Shovel like hell Thursday. Back to work Friday.

This city was in shambles. Public transportation was running at the bare minimum, and even that was difficult. I couldn't believe how the snow had consumed every ounce of media coverage, every shovel at the hardware store, and every bit of salt. And still...the city was at a proverbial standstill.

And here I was - the most prepared out of anyone in this city besides the other native Wisconsinites - back in the kind of snow I had vowed never to endure again. What had gone wrong in my decision-making? Where did I miss the fine-print disclaimer on Weather.com saying that every once in a century (we topped the record snowfall in DC from 1898) the city you are moving to can be predicted to be hit with at least 50 inches of snow this winter? Apparently someone has traded in the crystal ball for a snow globe.

Maybe it's what I deserved for hating winter so much and thinking I could have escaped it? I realize I was better off than most people in this city. To be honest, I didn't think the snow was that bad and there never would have been a day of work or school missed in Wisconsin, and certainly not a lack of cars on the roadways. We're always just so ready to endure it - I am proud of that! I've always said I'm proud to be from Wisconsin.

But I will also say... if Washington DC doesn't stop acting like Wisconsin, I'm about to be proud elsewhere!

 

Trees outside my apartment

 

my rainy regards,

a

fam damily

While at work on this terrible Monday post-Packers playoffs loss, I unexpectedly, even to myself, burst out laughing.

I was staring at my computer's desktop background where my family, or at least a portion of my entire family, was staring back at me all clad in plaid pajamas. To anyone else, this picture is probably ridiculous. To me, it's what we do. Matching pajamas have been a tradition in our family since my mom and her 8 brothers and sisters were growing up. There are countless, endless, hilarious pictures of cotton-adorned (to look like snow, you know?) Christmas trees and 7 little girls and 2 little boys, dressed in his and hers matching pajamas.

I wasn't even laughing at the picture so much as remembering an event that took place while in our plaid pajamas, which I had somehow misplaced in my still-vacationing brain.

It was the day after Christmas and we had bid farewell to 3 family members. Being 3 short, we were still 8 strong - a typical family gathering rarely had less no matter which coast was hosting the event.

Known not for our harmony in conversation, there might be four separate conversations going on at the same time and everyone still managed to be involved in all four. Of course that leads to a lot of noise, and potentially a few crossed wires that end in arguments - but hey, family is family.

So after the delicious prime rib and lamb dinner, we all settled into positions around the fire and the TV. Finding something to watch on TV that all 8 people could enjoy seemed pretty much impossible. Especially in this family. I had football coming out my ears and ever so thankfully, my grandma, the powerful (and petite) matriarch said "No more football!" Foot firmly placed, we started flipping the channels. Cheesy Lifetime Christmas movies starring Dean McDermott, Charlie Brown, more football.....and an "Ooooooh! Leave it here!" by my Auntie Annchovie as we landed on The Sound of Music.  Making sure to mention it was her favorite movie, and that she had 5 copies that were given to her by numerous friends (as if we didn't already know!) - The Sound of Music was easily agreed upon.

The movie was already halfway done, and the next song in the lineup was "So Long, Farewell."

Auntie Annchovie again blurts out - "Just so you know, I'm going to sing it. So don't get mad!"

My mom yells - "Well, duuuuhhhhh!"

A consortium of voices chime in - "I'm singing." "I'll sing." "Well you know I can't sing but I'll sing!"

And there we were. A sorry bunch of excuses for VonTrapp Family Singers belting "adieus" at the top of our lungs, never harmonizing more than we would have in conversation, all dressed exactly alike. Plaid, red, flannel pajamas.

It wasn't until today when I laughed unexpectedly that I pictured what we had to have looked like. I can't imagine a lot of extended families that would sit down and sing together to a movie on TV, and not find it totally weird that they were dressed exactly like the family member on either side of them. It was not unlike the point in the movie where Maria makes matching outfits for all of the children out of her own drapes.

But perhaps the funniest part was when my Uncle Ump (a very large Italian man who for the majority of his adult life was a National League Umpire for Major League Baseball) came back inside after smoking a cigar. He's big, he's scary - and he's Italian. In his brash Italian boom, not unlike Tony Soprano's, he questions "We're watchin' The Sound of Music??" Murmurs of yes. "Well...are we allowed to sing??"

"It's mandatory!" I laugh.

"Well alright then!" Uncle Ump exclaims.

With a moving rendition of "Climb Every Mountain" that would not have been complete without our newly added baritone, we embraced the VonTrapp Family Singers within us, matching outfits and all.



my rainy regards,

a

in all seriousness...

am the queen of procrastination.

Though my excuses for doing otherwise are genuinely good (11 hour work day?), I am still bothered by the fact that at the end of that very long day, I find just enough of an excuse not to blog.

So, the time has come to make a New Year's Resolution of sorts - and you know it wouldn't be my resolution unless I had procrastinated making it for a whole entire week - where I am determined to blog at least once every seven days on "my rainy regards".

I think it is a very reasonable request of myself, and with all honesty, has the opportunity to be a necessary outlet for anything and everything I am thinking, feeling, learning, and exploring. I think that once I continually find satisfaction in expressing myself here, I will become increasingly diligent in writing down my thoughts on everything from food to bad dates, politics to new adventures. (This, of course, would require time to go grocery shopping or a date in the first place, a position on an issue or the wherewithal to remember where I put my passport!)

That said, it looks like I'm off the hook until next Thursday before I have to do this once again!

In all seriousness, writing is something that I have always enjoyed, and I am looking forward to taking the time to do it again in recreation - and not to be handed in for a grade.

my rainy regards,

a

it's good work, if you can get it

Work is an interesting concept. People say "work" and it carries with it some displeasure. I actually like work. I like the way I feel once I've accomplished something, and I like the satisfaction that comes from assisting others is achieving their end result. Until now, I have never had a problem feeling satisfaction, and appreciating my job and what I do. Until now.

Moving to Washington DC, I had no doubt that it was going to take me awhile to find a job that was the perfect fit. Hard-working, creative, and intelligent co-workers and supervisors that were going to demand things from me that I had never done. That, for all the right reasons, it was a job that was going to take me awhile to get the hang of and challenge me to my breaking point. I truly believe that is the only way to better your work ethic and pride, and heighten your success.

So of course I never imagined that I would be placed in a temporary job in a new city, in an environment I'd never been in before, with a whole new slew of co-workers who lacked a deeply rooted Midwest mentality, and be utterly and irritatingly.....bored. It took me all of a week to realize that everything my predecessor had done would be compared to everything I would do. But that I also happened to be doing exceedingly well since I was receiving countless praise. I realized that, quite honestly, my predecessor was terrible at explaining the depths of my duties and forgot to mention the most important details of my job.
1. Nobody comes to work.
2. When they do come to work it is possible that they will give you 5 minutes of work per day.
3. Everybody leaves work early.
4. You open files.
5. You close files.
6. You write legal memos about pens and highlighters.
7. Attorneys work from home.
8. When they do work from home it is entirely possible they do little to no work.
9. They are either the most sickly people on the planet or "I'm sick" is the catchphrase for "I don't feel like coming to work today."
10. Working for attorneys is never as fun when the opposing side works in the same building with you.

This? This is not work. On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the highest, the liklihood that my job could be constituted as "work", falls just short of a 1.1 on that scale. I find myself so unbelievably frustrated with the fact that insteaad of working hard and advancing my career, I am pretending to be busy. Sure, everyone likes to pretend. But, let's be honest with ourselves. Pretending? Never as good as the real thing.

I have never met a group of more overpaid, underwhelming people. The sad part is, everyone knows it. And no, I don't mean my co-workers. While interviewing for permanent positions at law firms across DC, I have come across multiple people who have heard of my employer and know how little work they accomplish. News flash: Get out while you can! I thought to myself, "Shit. If they know how little work I'm doing, there is NO WAY I make it to the end of December in this job and put it on my application like it was a cornerstone of my entrance into the real world workforce." So, "Seriously," I told myself. "Run."

I have to admit, it has been advantageous in the sense that I have proved to interviewers I am willing to work, and work hard. My one-liner has been, "I would rather be overworked than bored. And right now, I'm a month and a half into the job and I'm bored and unchallenged. So, that's why I'm here." Okay, okay, that was three lines. Whatever. Apparently, it worked.

In 6 days I will be starting a new position as a paralegal in a law firm that boasts upwards of 1700 employees in the DC office alone. There are bound to be a few attorneys working from home or taking a Friday off, but I don't suspect it will be any of the attorneys in my group. My 6 new attorneys work between 40-70 hours a week. And yeah, that means I will be too. The good thing is I like money, and I have the opportunity to make a lot of it. But more importantly I have an opportunity to not hate my job because I'm actually "working." Now, I can only hope to hate my job because hard work is hard and success demands I do it.


my rainy regards,

a