Space Invanders

No, this is not a war of the worlds, post-apocalyptic blog post. This is a blog about the GIGANTIC, MOMENTOUS decision to move in with your boyfriend or girlfriend. Or, more specifically, moving in with me.
I am an only child, and have never had to share a room with a sibling, dying grandmother, or any other relative. I use this as my Freudian explanation on why I prefer to live alone, and will sacrifice larger living accommodations, cable television, and meals out in order to live alone in my one bedroom apartment. I don't have any particularly odd living habits that would make me an undesirable roommate (at least according to me), I just like the quietness that living alone affords me. Okay sure, sometimes there is naked time, or bizarre beauty rituals, but mostly I just like to relax watch 3 hours of Law and Order (thank you TNT), and go to bed at an hour traditionally reserved for the elderly.
Which is why, I am a little nervous about allowing my boyfriend--the love of my life--to move in with me. Sure, he's wonderful, generous, witty, loving, romantic, and generally the most special person to me in the world...but will he remain this way when he moves in? Yesterday we spoke on the phone and he was rattling off a short list of things he will be bringing with him into the apartment. 1. Clothes. Okay, I realize this is considered a staple for most people, but I view each shirt that he brings as one less hanger and one less square inch of closet space. Shoes. Okay, one pair should be sufficient. Any additional pairs will be banished to the dirt basement in my apartment (sorry in advance for the spiders). Bicycle. Fine, this can stay outside in the shed. PlayStation 3. YIKES! A PlayStation 3 signifies that the apartment is no longer MINE, but is now OURS. There is no mistaking the PlayStation as a joint asset, this is strictly for his amusement, and although there are less healthy electronic addictions (say, Internet porn), I still have some reservations. Mostly that he will be content to spend hours on the sofa, gain a pot belly and master grand theft auto #17.
But ultimately it is the unknown in our relationship that excites me the most. I look forward to this next "journey" that we are about to embark on, and I welcome it...just so long as it keeps the toilet seat down.

Airplane Culture.

My boyfriend recently told me that while flying I should get into "baggage" mode. He went on to explain that while traveling you should consider yourself as a piece of luggage, not as a human being, and will therefore be far less excitable when the unexpected happens during your journey. I am, by nature and nurture, an excitable creature so this task was incredibly daunting. But, Paul is a rational person and I value his opinion, so I thought it was worth a try. However, mere moments after hanging up the phone with him, I was approached by a man of about 30 at the airport bar. Surely, even the finest Luis Vutton suitcase does not get hit on while rotating on the carousel belt. I was out of baggage mode, and concentrating on how to look busy with merely a pen and a boarding pass. Airport bars, in truth, repulse me to the very core of my being. The clientele are mostly lonely men travelers desperate for female companionship, and women like myself trying desperately to avoid them. I would like to think that a band of gold on my left hand would prohibit this sort of thing from happening, but I've been told that this does little to deter men on the prowl. What is it about airports that intensify a feeling of sexual desire uncontrollable by social guidelines? Is it the friendliness of airlines staff upon check in? Is it the build up of anticipation while you wait to pass airport security? Or is it simply the idea of being beside a total stranger for 7 hours on an international flight in coach where the only thing separating you is a nylon seat belt? Baggage mode or not, it is simply impossible to ignore the emotions that are in an airport. The joy of seeing a loved one, the sadness of leaving someone behind, the frustration in a delayed or canceled flight, and even the excitement of a casual encounter in a men's bathroom.

Bon Voyage

Today I read about a young man in the UK who is blogging about his battle with cancer, several months ago there was a woman blogging about the last 90 days of her life before committing suicide, and here I am blogging about...nothing of particular importance. Okay, i'm not dying, not suicidal, and perhaps this is evident because I have only had 17 hits on my blog. However, tomorrow I am traveling to Spain with my best friend of ten years, and the trip is shaping up to be a great one. My life is interesting, because it is my own. Plus, if you read on, i'll give secret diet tips on how to loose weight...it's called the no food diet and it's compliments of theonion.com website.

Ciao.

On the rocks

In my quest for adulthood, the path is often littered with large stones that may cause me trip and fall. Alcohol appears to be my Achilles heal, and last night i was in rare form. Although I survived Arizona State, Mardi Gras and Las Vegas X 2, it is my local bar which causes me so much agony. Many adults know exactly how much they are capable of drinking without blacking out. I however missed this lesson, and like to constantly push the envelope. Last night I had five glasses of wine and a shot of whiskey, this is beyond my limit. This morning I am sensitive to light, sound and generally annoyed by anyone who seems to be functioning better than myself. As we get older it is expected that one become a responsible social drinker, but how much is too much and is there such a thing as too little? Yes and Yes. Too much makes you an alcoholic-- although alcoholics are great to have around when you want to have a Thursday night bender, it's kind of depressing to know they drink most nights alone in their bathrooms. Too little drinking(or no drinking at all) is just as bad(hear me out). Drinking can be a very enjoyable social event, and if you don't partake, you are missing out on one of life's greatest pleasures. But seriously, those non-drinkers cause us drinkers to examine ourselves--we don't like to that, so it's best that we just pass judgement on non-drinkers.
I guess this is a confession blog. I should probably not drink so much on a school night, and learn my limit, and not take rides from strangers...just not yet.

Designer Relationships

I realized that my last post was perhaps outside the scope of my blog. However, it is my blog, and as such I can rant about anything. Like DC traffic, gentrification of working class neighborhoods, or "designer dogs".

As previously mentioned, I am dating a wonderful young man who lives in England most of the year. I live all of the year in Maryland, so this creates some major logistical headaches in keeping our relationship alive. Although this is not my first relationship, it is my first relationship in my transformation into womanhood. In my first relationship, I was very whimsical, and willing to drop everything to fly across the country for a weekend. I thought of my life as a cosmopolitan jet-setter, but the reality was much different. In reality, all the travel prohibited me from beginning a career and pursuing goals of my own. In addition, the person I was dating at the time had some radical conspiracy theories about the American government, and therefore refused to travel himself to see me. All this seemed to be of no consequence to me at the time. However, this time around, things are different, I'm different, and the man is different. Our relationship is based on compromise and respect for one anther's jobs and life outside of our relationship. He takes jobs in Maryland to be close to me, and even travels hours for a chance to watch an hour of TV in my small apartment. I adjust work vacation to coincide with his down time at work and visit him at his home in England.
I can't imagine dating a man who would not be willing to compromise, however, it is my experience dating those types of men that have led me to appreciate the ones that are. Just as Uggs, acid wash jeans, and scrunchies have gone out of fashion, so to have dysfunctional relationships. You wouldn't keep a denim jacket studded with rhinestones, so go ahead and toss out that old relationship. And when you find that treasured brown leather Hermes bag, buy it, keep it, and don't let anyone borrow it; he's a classic and timeless and that never goes out of style.

Union Maid

Oh you can't scare me, I'm sticking to the union-- great lyrics penned by Woody Guthrie. I was reminded of this song when I traveled to West Virginia this weekend to visit old friends. My family used to live in Morgantown, and was drawn to the area in the mid 90s by the coal mining industry. My parents were extremely active in politics and the working conditions for the industrial proletariat. Unfortunately, shortly after my family migrated to West Virginia, many of the coal mines shut down--claiming they could not compete with the Unions and still turn a profit. Although there are mines still open in West Virginia, many of these mines are non union, and have very un safe working conditions (as cited by the recent mining disasters in the US). Unfortunately, West Virginia has long been plagued with a shortage of jobs and the recent recession only intensifies this plight. Several of my old friends work in low paying jobs, simply because they provide health care. One young man I met over the weekend is an employee with Giant Eagle and informed me that after 2 years of loyalty to the company, he has just now been afforded health insurance. Is it any wonder then that West Virginia has a an enormous population of soldiers fighting in Iraq? In fact, West Virginia has lost more men than any state since WWI.

I heard an interesting theory this weekend of why liberals should cast votes for a republican candidate. A young self proclaimed Marxist said that in order to perform a complete overhaul of the current American system (a revolution), the system needs to get worse. Be electing a republican, more rights and freedoms will be challenged and thus the people will be more willing to rise up. Although I did find this theory interesting, I don't think Marx would agree, and I'm not sure this is a viable solution. I wonder how much worse do things have to be for the workers and farmers int his country? How many more people need to be without health insurance, homeless, jobless in this country?
I'm not a democrat, and will never vote for one party(or person) just to remove another from office. I will continue to vote my conscience, and vigorously defend my decision to do so. I make no distinctions between lions and wolves when it comes to who is responsible for the current state of the American system.

Retail Therapy in a Recession

I am currently involved with a wonderful man who treats me like gold, however, he lives an ocean away. I can't resent this too much, as part of his appeal is his charming English accent. Ever since I saw Four Weddings and a Funeral, I was hooked on the English. Somehow the accent makes everything including locating the nearest restroom sound, well, romantic. I try to remind myself that it is just an accent, and that if I am in a disagreement with my boyfriend, I must stand my ground and not falter at the sweet melodic tone of his accent.
I give this introduction because of the current economic situation in the US. England's pound, although not as strong as it once was, is still more than 2 to 1 to our US dollar. Needless to say my boyfriend picks up the dinner tabs, Starbucks tab, and generally any other tab when we go out. If he was American, I might call him "old fashioned", but since he is English(although he is charming) this comes as necessity. He views the US as a third world nation, where he can come and load up on Levi's, Northface, and Nike running shoes for a fraction of the cost in the UK. I am reminded of how Americans often interact in poor countries, handing out sweets to local children in exchange for a photo in their native land. Is this where our country is headed? Will we soon be welcoming Europeans and Chinese bearing small trinkets and sweets to our cities? Will I have to apply for a remedial job cleaning toilets in London so that I can support my newly impoverished family in the US?
Perhaps I am being hyper-sensitive to the recession, but I like most other Americans have had to curb my spending habits. So, how can one succeed in dressing for success when a gallon of milk soars to 4.20 a gallon? In the coming days, I will be working on a budget for young women facing the same situation. First tip: Buy powdered milk, mix with water, do this every day for one month and the money you have saved will afford you one small sterling silver key chain from the "Return to Tiffany" line at tiffany.com.

Irregardless

Much like my recent devotion to Miley Cyrus, I have decided to concede to the masses and start a blog. My blog will revolve around my transition to adulthood. I've stopped purchasing Bonnie Bell lip gloss, and opted for the adult version by Lancome. Although both packaged as lip gloss claiming to keep my lips supple, shiny, and kissable there are key differences; Bonnie Bell is usually flavored with strawberries or pina colada whereas Lancome tastes like nothing particular, Bonnie Bell retails at 1.99 a tube and Lancome weighs in at a heft 30.00 bucks. But I've decided no self respecting young professional uses a product that is often mistakenly injested by toddlers.

I recently filed my tax return, and realized I made 4,000.00 USD working for ten months on physical service projects in New Orleans. I have traded in my government issued Timberland work books for a pair of Nine West pumps, and am never looking back. The truth is that I was doing a job, but classified as a volunteer. In my new post I am still working for the government, but I earn a livable (barely) wage. While I encourage volunteerism amongst people of all ages, it should not be used a supplement to real jobs that need to be created in the US.

More to come.