Cliffs Notes

Hello, McFly. Time travels fast.

Here is a list of things that happened in the last 14 months that would've been given their own blog post if I wasn't the kind of person that I am. I will include the Cliffs/Crystals Notes of each event to get the internet caught up on my whereabouts.

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Attended two Quidditch World Cups
I've been working with the International Quidditch Association for a couple years now. Last year, my World Cup logo design was posted at Universal Studios Islands of Adventure at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter! This year, it was permanently tattooed onto a real, Australian human being. Both experiences were as mind-blowing as the twist at the end of Prisoner of Azkaban.

Visited South Korea
I got to visit friends, eat a baby octopus and watch tiny fish eat the dead skin off of my feet...isn't that what everyone looks for in a vacation? I thoroughly enjoyed my relaxing and adventurous time in that beautiful country! It was good for my Seoul.

Started a new job
This was my first time consciously making a decision to move from one job to another. As someone who develops stress ulcers over the 'where should I go to lunch today' question, this was a difficult decision.

Visited Bob Ross' grave
Not as creepy as it sounds...I promise. But my friends and I did have a picnic on his grave while painting happy trees. I hope that someone honors me in this way posthumously. At the very least, I hope people visit my grave to exchange low quality puns and eat high quality cheese.

I was a guest on a local cable television show
No big deal.

Got re-tweeted by MC Hammer
Big deal.

I'm pretty sure I know every word on Will Smith's Big Willy Style album, so I figured it was only a matter of time before I'd move in hip-hop circles. That's just how I get jiggy wit it.

I turned 30

In YEARS. And it included a surprise trip to Washington DC and NYC, so...yeah, I'd gladly turn 30 again. Totally bypassed that Barbie party I had as a youngster.

Look at that face!! I've always taken birthday wishes very seriously. I still approach a birthday candle with the reverence and respect that it deserves.

Got to see Mumford & Sons perform
I don't even care how 'white girl' this makes me. I am a white girl. And this show was amazing. AND this outdoor event marked my first time playing the ever-so-smelly "is that pot or not?" game. FYI - I am not good at that game.

GOTR - "Gentlemen of the Road," with my gentleladies of the road. This is the first time we decided to create and wear matching tank tops to mark a special occasion. The tanks say This Train is Bound for Glory.

Co-founded a book club
I'm the only one in the club who didn't finish reading the ONE book we chose to read (Grapes of Wrath). However, I did successfully listen to both Mindy Kaling and Tina Fey's autobiographies.

Side note: I highly recommend both autobiographies! Grapes of Wrath is pretty good so far (you know, for a Pulitzer/Nobel Prize winner and all...), but has received 100% less laughs from me. Who knows, maybe Steinbeck includes a silly anecdote about a wardrobe malfunction in the second half of the book. Fingers crossed.

Attended a taping of the Tonight Show
I can confirm that Jimmy Fallon's suits fit just as well in person as they do on screen.

 
More matching tank tops. Because...being an adult should rarely be taken seriously. 

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So yeah, it has been a while. But internet, I believe we are now caught up with all the important news of my life. I hope we can still be friends.

ENFJ

I don't send food back. Sorry, Gordon Ramsay.

If a hairstylist butchers my haircut, I say "thank you" and leave a nice tip.

If someone is in my way, I usually float around awkwardly and wait for them to move.

If a cashier gets excited when assuming I share her Jewish heritage, I just accept the kosher dill, mutter "shalom" and move on. (True story...thanks to my Hebrew ring)

If someone runs into me in their hurry to get somewhere, it's usually my instinct to apologize.

It is taking me a lifetime to learn how to be able to speak up or simply ask for what I need. As ridiculous as it may seem, it's something my personality type (ENFJ) struggles with. I have a fear of being seen as a jerk, and sometimes take this fear to unhealthy extremes. I'm working on it. I should know by now that having needs, preferences, or a simple comment doesn't make me a drama queen.

Typing out "drama queen" made me realize that my current "need" is Dairy Queen. Cookie Dough Blizzard. What up.

Oddly enough, I find hope in the fact that I used to be MUCH worse. Seriously. I remember falling off the top bunk at camp one night in middle school. First, let me pause for a second to let the hilarity of someone falling off of a bunk bed sink in...and then continue to tell you that I didn't get back in bed that night for fear of waking up my bunk-mate. The beds were squeaky, so I slept on the floor. Concrete CAMP floor. Do you know how many diseases I exposed myself to that night?

Anyhow, all of this to lay the groundwork for this bombshell...recently, I honked at someone. I was sitting in traffic...the light turned green...and the car in front of me didn't move for a solid 5 seconds. Without really having to think about it, I honked! The lady in front of me noticed her mistake and quickly moved. I was instantly proud of myself! How adult of me. How mature of me. Proof of intrapersonal growth, y'all!

We soon came to another red light (same woman still in front of me), so I did what any mature adult would do when reaching a clear milestone in their life. I got my phone out to tweet the following: "I just honked at someone. I'm becoming an adult, one step at a time!" As I was typing, I began to rest my wrists and the phone on the center of my steering wheel when....HOOOOOOOONK!! As it turns out, my car has a SUPER sensitive horn. I looked up and saw the traffic light - still beaming just as red as my face was at that moment. The innocent woman in front of me threw her arms up in that universal sign for "what the heck is wrong with you?" I kept repeating "I am so sorry" (as if she could hear me) and, for some odd reason, touched my hands to the roof of my car...as if keeping them as far away from the steering wheel as was physically possible would reverse the damage.

Oh well. I guess there's no sense in worrying about looking like a jerk if I'm accidentally going to be one anyways.

In other news, the next two weeks of my life are filled with magic and excitement! First, I get to see about a million things that I designed become real at the Quidditch World Cup VI. Then, I'm going to South Korea for no other reason than to satisfy a craving for adventure.

I'm also still craving a that cookie dough blizzard, though.

Shalom.

The Mouse and His Merry Men

Yeah, yeah…I’m awful at updating this blog. Let’s pretend I’m not, and move on.

I love Disney. It has taken me YEARS to realize this. Spending 25+ years never being more than an hour’s drive away from this magical place used to seem so un-magical. In college, I told people that I HATED Disney. HATED. I hate waiting in lines, I hate the sun/humidity, I strongly dislike tourists (from anywhere, so it’s not racist), I hate being overcharged for something that was mass-produced…and I still hate all of these things. What has changed is that I am now a passholder.

I feel like a celebrity, you guys. I practically own a castle.

I can go to Disney whenever I want. This means that I can stop by after work for an hour when the sun is down and all the tourists who smell like the ungodly cocktail of sunscreen and body odor are busy carting their children off to their expensive, rented beds. I don’t have to buy anything, though my experience has taught me what Disney delights are worth it (notably, Nutella and fruit waffle and Dole Whip). I no longer feel the pressure of squeezing $80 worth of fun into a long, sweaty day.

My relationship with Mickey Mouse is in its third year, and we just celebrated Valentine's Day, so...what better way to celebrate these things than to rank my favorite Disney animated men? Ladies 'n gents - I present to you...the top 5 men that I'd date if they weren't made of ink and paper. Such handsome paper.

#5: TARZAN: I’ve already mentioned that I’m not a fan of tropical weather, however, if I’m living with a hottie in a sweet treehouse that he made for us and our pet/sidekick gorilla…bring on the frizzy hair. I would love nothing more than to live like the Swiss Family Robinson (sans man-eating anacondas, clearly).

Does anyone else find it odd that both Tarzan and The Jungle Book feature jazz music? Does the jungle love jazz?

#4: THE BEAST: This one’s always a little sketchy. In my awkward, limited research, I have found that most of us loved him more when he was a beast rather than when he turned into a long-haired, royal French man. There is just something about the Beast that makes him lovable! Something sweet…and almost kind. So, here’s the deal: if you are a stubborn, emotionally scarred man who has lived half of your life as an angry wolf-like animal…BUT you can give me a library…yeah, you can put a ring on it.

Does anyone else realize that he was only 11 years old when the enchantress cursed him for being selfish? Had this enchantress never MET an 11 year old before? Cursing an 11 year old (and hundreds of his innocent servants) for not letting a stranger into his home just might be the biggest overreaction of all time.

#3: LEWIS: I’ve never seen this guy on a list like this before…maybe because he’s not a prince, or maybe because he’s like 12 years old…but I love Lewis (from Meet the Robinsons - a severely underrated film). He is an intelligent, self-starter über nerd with great hair who isn’t scared of adventure! Hello, Crystal’s dreamboat. Let’s be Ravenclaw together.

If you haven't seen Meet the Robinsons, you really really really really need to.  Like, really.

Apparently, I have the skills necessary to write a Taylor Swift song.

#2: ALADDIN / FLYNN RIDER: I know, I know…two completely different films, released almost exactly 18 years apart from each other (holy cow). I'm allowed to cheat at my own game. The thing is, I love these two for the same basic reasons. They’ve got the street smarts. They both can pull off wearing a great vest. They understand the importance of singing a romantic duet under a twinkling night-sky, and they are both SUPER attractive (probably because the voices of these characters are attractive fellas...DJ's boyfriend and Zachary Levi).

Yes, they both steal things for a living. Like my heart. Or bread, jewels, etc...but when you're a diamond in the rough, you're forced to survive how you can until the right girl comes along to make you the future king of her country. That's just how nature works.

Look at those twin smolders!

#1: Get ready to judge me, or at least shift your opinion of my sanity. In my opinion, the most handsome and wonderful of all Disney animated characters is…a fox. No, I mean a literal fox. ROBIN HOOD. His personality, his voice (the tone AND British accent), his chivalry, his trendy love for archery, his love for bunnies and owls, his “fight for justice” mentality…c’mon. He wears my favorite color, and rocks a feather in his hat. His best friend is a bear. And the bushy tail doesn’t hurt, either.

Am I right?

Cadmium Orange Latté

Remember when summer used to mean something? No school...going on vacation...being exhausted by all the sleeping in...green hair from so much chlorine in the pool (maybe that was just me?). Being an adult has killed any happiness I once had in the summertime. I hate adult summer. It's an annoying, fat, sweaty man standing between me and autumn (the best season of all, clearly).

Maybe if I didn't live in Florida I would feel differently about summer. My positive outlook on life is directly related to the level of sweat I am experiencing at any given moment. My hair wasn't made for humidity (and if yours WAS, I probably don't like you). I don't like being surrounded by crowds of tourists reeking of sunscreen and body odor. I hate that Florida summer throws down pieces of hurricane every time I need to walk out to my car.

All of these confessions probably don't come as much of a shock, but there is one confession that generally does. Before you read on, remember that God made us all different for a reason, so don't hate me for having opinions.

I hate the beach.

CLARIFICATION: I like the beach when it's slightly chilly and I'm watching the sunrise on the east coast or the sunset on the west coast. A Florida sunrise or sunset is beautiful enough to make you cry. Watching the sun sink into the ocean or slowly wake up from out of it is inspirational enough to make you re-evaluate all your priorities in life (or at least inspire you to sing the opening song from The Lion King). Walking along the edge of the water with rolled up jeans and a hoodie is a dream. BONUS: the sand exfoliates my feet. It's like the beach wants me to have flip-floppable feet. I oblige.

However, between 9am-ish and 5pm-ish (the ocean's business hours are similar to that of man), I despise the beach. Despiiiiiise. No matter what, I end up with salt in my eyes, sand in my mouth, some part of my body burnt, I'm coerced into wearing less clothing than I want to wear, I see others wearing less clothing than I want THEM to wear...it's just awful. Last time I went to the beach, I suffered my first bout of heatstroke! I lost the ability to see, hear, or stand. Three things that I do with regularity. So...what part of sitting in hot dirt is fun?

But now...September is here! Thus the reason I'm currently sipping on my third pumpkin spice latte this week while planning my fourth. As a designer and creative-type, I must commend autumn for having the best color scheme. Yellow Ochre! Dark Sienna! Cadmium Orange! Van Dyke Brown! Yes, I get all my colors directly from the palette of Bob Ross. I'm gonna need to plan a road trip to see some of these lovely colors in nature. I want to wear scarves and boots! I want to squeal at the sight of red and yellow leaves on a tree! I want my hair to say "hey, thanks for the lovely breeze that allowed me to stay straight all day!" I want to be drunk on pumpkin and my house to smell like we've been brewing apple cider as if our lives depend on it.

My current favorite song is "I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons. I LOVELOVELOVE this band, and am thrilled about their new album coming out later this month. This newest track from them is as close as your ears will ever get to understanding the joy of tasting a Pinterest pumpkin bar recipe. I lovingly dedicate this song to autumn. The Florida weather may think it's still summertime, but I will wait, I will wait for you, autumn!

Look at how wonderful Mumford & Sons is! All boys should wear vests, flannel, casual ties, rock some sweet facial hair and carry around banjos. Right?

Did you realize that "casual ties" is just "casualties" with a space in the middle? Weird. Who knows how words are formed.

Bring on the Fall, y'all.

Bears, Dogs and Popcorn

About two weeks ago, I started a new job. I'm excited about it because:

• I like new things. It keeps life exciting. Variety is the spice of life, and I am kind of a Spice Girl.
• It's a new job - but at the same place I've been working - which is my Alma Mater. I love that place. I'm surrounded by people who challenge me to "woman up." (Is that a thing?)
• I'm now getting paid to do what I studied in college - Graphic Design. I think this makes me a rare breed. Who uses those expensive pieces of paper anymore?

Honestly, if I could choose ANY job in the world...I'd either host a show on The Travel Channel or I would be a bear. Ok...I realize "bear" isn't a legitimate career option, but bear with me here. (You see what I did there?) Anything that keeps people from attacking me and allows an annual hibernation fest would be high on my list of desired lifestyles. Not to mention my little sushi obsession. I'm jealous that bears always get the freshest tuna and salmon. Lucky Yogi.

Every new job comes with new challenges. I am incredibly, completely, obstinately non-confrontational. If cutting my leg off makes you more comfortable, then please...pass me the saw. God has been revealing a lot of the dangers of this attitude (other than losing a leg) to me this year...I might talk more about that at another time. For now, it means that I have to learn how to tell someone "NO, you may NOT send out a poster with Word Art from 1997 to promote our college." I'm probably going to hurt people's feelings. People really love ugly things sometimes. I am proud to report that my first (self-assigned) duty as the Director of Communications was to literally BURN a sign on campus that was covered in Comic Sans.

Stop using Comic Sans.

Speaking of sin...(trust me...using Comic Sans is "missing the mark")...sin recently made me nauseous. I heard an unfortunate story about an old friend who is currently dealing with the ramifications of a horrific, is-she-going-to-jail type of sin. To say the situation shocked me would be an understatement. I wanted to throw up...as if the truth of the matter would be expelled and flushed away. This is the first time I can ever remember having an automatic puke response to sin. The more I have thought about it, the more I wonder why I don't always want to puke when I hear of or think about sin. Sin really is barf. I wish I always saw it that way.

Like a dog that returns to its vomit is a fool who repeats his folly. ~ Proverbs 26:11

Random confession: I LOVE popcorn. So much. I've had this love since I was a kid. I still have my childhood diary on my bookshelf - and yes, I mention popcorn throughout it. I apparently thought it was important to log what I ate every day in my diary (typical chubby kid), and many of my entries end with:

I had popcorn for dinner today. It was a good day.

One of my favorite things in the world is to be sitting in a movie theater with friends and a GIANT bag of popcorn. What DOESN'T make me happy, however, is PAYING for movie theater popcorn. I mean...seriously. How much does it really cost to heat up some seasoned birdseed?! I can just see Colonel Kernel, sitting on his buttery-golden saddle on his popcorn-white high horse, mocking my love of this salty snack. Anyways...a couple weeks ago, I went to see a movie, and dropped some obscene amount of money on popcorn. After the film, I went to the ladies room. While there, I remembered that I was out of toilet paper at home, and no stores would be open on the way home at that hour to replenish my supply. So...I...may or may not have rolled up a mile or two of their toilet paper to stash in my purse. Is that normal? No. Does the movie theater owe me something because of their ridiculous prices?! No................? Clearly, I am a modern-day Robin Hood.

Bears never have to deal with this kind of thing.

A Lobsterman's Wife

I think I'm becoming an adult.

• I find myself talking about the weather. But for real...summer in Florida. Ugh.
• I sometimes take a longer route to drive somewhere so I can "see some nice houses."
• I can't seem to sleep past 9am.
• I'm going on vacation!

I don't know if #4 is actually an indication of adulthood or not, but, for the first time in my life I feel like I actually NEED and DESERVE a vacation. A time to get away. Time to do whatever the heck I want to do while using my brain as little as possible. I'm finally adult enough to have a job that gives me days off -- that they officially declare as "vacation time."

The goal was to get as far north as possible within a reasonable budget. Is that not the way everyone else plans their vacation days? The winner of this game was Portland, Maine. Farewell, Florida heat and humidity! Bring on the scarf weather! I leave on Monday with one of my roommates and BFF's, Rachel Hale. I'm not entirely sure Rachel has realized that we aren't going to Portland, Oregon...but I'm not sure either of us would know the difference.

Who cares? Look at what comes up when I search for images of Portland, Maine:

Um, hello.

So far, our plans include kayaking to tiny islands, renting bicycles along the coast, hiking in the nearby mountains...and eating enough butter-dripping lobster to make up for all the health-conscious activities popular to this area. I also purchased a Groupon for an obscene amount of crepes at a local fancy-pants restaurant. I think the root of the word "vacation" is "Nutella," so it's not technically a vacation without that glorious chocolate hazelnut spread. Right?

Side Note: Is it acceptable to bring home a pet lobster? I would rubber-band his claws and everything... Worst case scenario, a pet lobster would be horrific enough of an experience that you would eat him and end up feeling much better about life overall. I'm just weighing my options.

Thanks to the wisdom of Shawn Grant, I believe that every trip needs a good soundtrack and at least one good theme song. Whenever you hear that song later in life, the memories of those moments come flooding back. I've been working on a soundtrack for when we hit the road in Maine. Perhaps I shouldn't use the word "hit" when referring to what will happen with our rental car?

Our theme song....(drum roll please)...is "Far Away" by Ingrid Michaelson.

What other song in the world talks about lobsters?! Seriously. The lyrics pretty much sum up my wildest dreams for this trip:

I will live my life as a lobsterman's wife on an island in the blue bay.

He will take care of me, he will smell like the sea,

And close to my heart he'll always stay...

Far away far away, I want to go far away.

To a new life on a new shore line.

Where the water is blue and the people are new.

To another island, in another life.

Most of the Maine soundtrack is made up of any song in my iTunes library with the words "Boat," "Road," "Mountain," or anything similar somewhere in the title. I even added the song "Seaglopur" from Sigur Ros because it came up when I searched for "Sea." It's an Icelandic word that means "lost at sea."

I'm really smart.

Well, smart enough to use Wikipedia and Google Translate to decipher Icelandic song titles.

If I never come back from this vacation, now you know where I am. With my rugged, New England man-of-the-sea who looks like he belongs on a box of frozen fish sticks and our pet lobsters.

Social Awkwardness

My assumption is that there was a day in middle school where my teacher taught the secret to relationships and how to achieve success in social interaction. Surely it happened, and surely I was sick at home on the couch that day.

Meeting new people does NOT come naturally to me. I count myself lucky that I have a good amount of friends who stuck with me through the initial awkwardness and are now all entertained by my shortcomings.

Back when I was a professional Christian (i.e. "missionary"), I knew I needed to get over some of my social fears. The way I started was by committing myself to go to the grocery store at the same time of the day...on the same day of the week...every week...to get in the same lane...so I could see the same cashier lady. I wanted to become one of her "regulars" that she looked forward to having a short chat with. I don't know if I ever made an impression on her other than "wow, this girl buys a lot of cheese," but I do think she helped me work through some of my fear of small-talk awkwardness. Or at least embrace it as part of my personality. I really need to get back to finding those sorts of people that I can encounter during my week. For right now, that group probably includes the guy at my local Starbucks drive-thru, the breakfast shift girl at my Chick-Fil-A, and the window girl at my favorite food truck in Orlando. Trying to slowly build intentional relationships with strangers is giving me diabetes.

Another way I've tried to challenge myself to meet new people is by taking a class at my favorite local art store. So far, I have only attended this class twice...but I'm killing two birds with one stone there. I get to challenge myself creatively and challenge myself socially. I'm going to murder those two birds.

Sometimes I take colloquial phrases too far.

This is some of the stuff I've done after learning basic Zentangle patterns in class. My new goal in life is to sell an original textile at IKEA. That's right. I see you, Sweden.

I just realized that I'm wearing 23 buttons today (15 on my shirt, 8 on my pants). Twenty. Three. That seems excessive, right? Both my shirt and pants are in the genre of "fashion" where it's as if they created flaps just so they could button them down. Why?! This reminds me...when I was in 5th grade, I wanted SO BADLY to glue a bunch of buttons onto a shirt and write "cute as a button!" on it. Yeah...a shirt like that would at least give people a head's up on social awkwardness heading their way.