train your dog. & your computer battery.

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." - Nelson Mandela

Hey, internet. It's been a while. Well, actually - it hasn't been that long since I last updated my Twitter (approx 1 minute), checked Facebook (approx 2 minutes), read & responded to a blog (last night probably around midnight), responded to a LinkedIn message (one day), etc etc. My obsession with social media aside, it has been a while since I have blogged beyond my daily microblogging on Twitter (40-45 tweets a day, apparently. whew!). To be honest, I'd given up all hope on my blog until a few days ago. Let's be honest - the only people reading it were...well... the only person reading it was my mom. And while I love my mom (see, mom, I didn't even ask for money after saying that), she can talk to me anytime she wants via cell phone or in person. I focused my attention on reading and responding to other's blogs - blogs about everything! Blogs and articles about cupcakes, yorkies, college basketball, Oprah using a port-a-potty (for real)... you name it, I read it and gave my own two cents. But then I realized despite the joy I was getting out of reading and interacting with others' blogs, something was missing. Day in and day out, I was reading books, blogs, magazines, newspapers, and I was soaking up information and engaging with people regarding what I'd learned - asking advice, debating issues, hearing opinions. And although doing all of these things is great, it suddenly occurred to me - in the middle of a job interview - that I could not remember the last time I wrote something longer than 140 characters that was purely ...me. For me. About me. I had gotten caught up in the rush of @ replies and RSS feeds that I forgot to take care of my own little corner of the internet that was mine; that I had created in the first place for the sole purpose of amusing myself & anyone else that happened to stumble across my little pieces of mind. So, I returned from the interview with a refreshed, renewed approach to my blog. Excited to go back and write the first post since August of last year, I made a cup of coffee, put on my snuggie, opened up my laptop to turn it on and... NOTHING. My 9 month old yorkie puppy Alexa (aka 'weapon of mass destruction') had chewed through my Macbook adapter power cord, and due to the battery not being "trained" (Applespeak for 'give us more of your life savings'), the computer would not turn on. But I never back down from a challenge. Because here I am, internet! With $80 less in my wallet, maybe, but no less originality, whimsicality, and perspicacity than before. And I promise, I won't leave you ever again. So, mom, go ahead and bookmark me in your newly downloaded Google Chrome browser, because I'm here to stay - whether anyone notices or not.

just (make yourself) do it

Going to the gym, attending a religious service, editing a friend's 20 page paper, playing GI Joes with your little brother. All things that you may dread doing, but once you actually start getting engaged in doing them, you actually feel better than before. What would happen, though, if you were to actually start doing these things on your own rather than when you felt guilted into it by yourself or another?

I took that idea and ran with it - literally. If you know me or you've read my blog before (hi mom!), then you know I have an unhealthy love for bikes. But, I've never been big on running. Various complaints and excuses have been issued over the years in order to avoid it. Having recently decided to start training for triathlons, & being in love with my bike and a natural in the pool, I knew I had to face pounding the pavement.

When you think about it, running is the only sport that is actually considered another sport's punishment. But I digress.

I always felt better after a run, high on endorphins & refreshed. So I decided that in order to not only not be reluctant to lace up my Nikes and get to work but also possibly gain a love (or even just a 'like') for running, I needed to hit the streets (or the treadmill) every day. Once I became accustomed to it, being routine-oriented, I assumed it would become an essential and enjoyable part of my day.

First, I eliminated any excuses. I decided to join a gym so that "it's raining" or "it's too hot out" were moot complaints. Plus, being competitive, I'd be around other people who were also running, and therefore I'd train harder. Secondly, I did what any woman would do when trying something new- I went shopping. In my closet. For my first week at the gym, I wore my cutest workout clothes, so, at the very least, I'd be excited to change clothes to drive over there. Thirdly, I scouted out all the gyms around town. I didn't need to join somewhere that was incredibly expensive or pretentious. I didn't want to do any sort of classes, I didn't need a pool, and I definitely had no need for the pushy salesman, at one gym that will remain unnamed, who looked like he wouldn't know the difference between a treadmill and an elliptical machine, if he ever managed to venture onto one. Finally, I made a decision (which I have been incredibly happy with), signed on the dotted line, and got on the treadmill.

Starting running again after taking so much time off was difficult at first. Like I said, I hated it because it was slow (in comparison to cycling, especially) and incredibly repetitive. But one week going to the gym to run a few miles turned into a month, and now, in my second month running, I can say that I have gotten much faster with more endurance...and I'm more than happy to run every day and try to beat my personal best.

The whole experience has taught me that something that makes you feel great, even if only after you complete it, is worth the time and energy to go out of one's way to do. My life would probably be no different if I didn't go running every day, but now there's something to look forward to after work, an alternate method of training besides cycling, and just one more thing in my life that makes me happy. And there's no such thing as too much happiness.

to dye for

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye." - Miss Piggy

Well, I'd like to inform all of you that I have decided to go through with it. Not without reservations, of course. But I am going to commit the cardinal sin of going from brunette to blonde. Not bleach blonde, mind you, but more of a Jennifer Aniston brown-blonde that will brighten up not only my visage but hopefully also my mood.
That's right, you heard me. My hair color is going to change my personality...sort of.
Dying one's hair may seem like a simple change to you (especially if you are male), but its implications are, in fact, numerous. Just think about it: if you've heard one blonde joke, you've heard them all. And although there may not be that many (if any) brunette or redhead jokes out there, there are definitely stereotypes. "Hot headed redhead" or "mousy brunette" are two of the many (some even contradictory) characterizations that come to mind. You can't escape the fact that when you are describing someone, hair color is one of the first things that comes to mind. Many guys have even told me that they are only attracted to girls with certain haircolors. Yet, it means so much more beyond being a defining adjective of tangible features.

After facing hardships or life-changing events, people often feel the need to change their view of both themselves and the world. Someonewhere in this identity crisis, people want to change what they see in the mirror everyday. The last year has been nothing short of tumultuous for me, but I will be the first to say that I am happy with my looks. As an athletic, energetic blue-eyed brunette, I have lived the last 21 years to the fullest, through the triumphs and the tragedies. But I think it's time to give the color a rest, for a few weeks or a few months and try to develop both a new look & outlook.

You may ask, why blonde? Truth is, I have always been fascinated by blondes. They've captained the cheerleading squad, charmed employers, stolen boyfriends from me, and are known stereotypically as "having more fun." Who doesn't love fun? Yes, I have friends who are blonde, and I know that not all blondes are the stereotypical peppy, outgoing, sexy image that media (and some real-life blondes themselves) even promote. Despite my happiness with my looks, part of me always wanted to experience the life of Malibu Barbie...or at least her sun-kissed locks.

Superficial? Maybe. But what's important to keep in mind is that whether or not the change makes me look (or feel) attractive or awful, renewal of confidence or reappearance of insecurities is not due to the color itself. It all comes back to my perception of myself. I've looked at plenty of those "What does your hair color say about you?!" web sites to know that no matter what color your hair is (brown, red, pink, blue, green, etc) it's up to you to make the actual life changes. My mini identity crisis is not going to be solved by a trip to the salon, although it's a step in the right direction if it boosts my confidence further.

Plus, it is, in the end, just hair: if I don't like it, I can always dye it back.
By the way...how many blondes does it take to change a lightbulb?
One: she holds the lightbulb & the world revolves around her.
(Sorry. Couldn't resist)

txt me, i'll txt you

My parents received a rather hefty package in the mail last week. It was my cell phone bill. And it was 70 pages long.

Now, this incredible length had nothing to do with any actual speaking on the phone. It was not from phone calls to friends who were studying abroad, not from long talks with my brother who is a med student at Yale, not even from millions of calls to & from the hundreds of friends, foe, and family in my address book. The culprit of the commodious bill was one offender & one offender only: texting. In the span of time in which my mom sent 400 texts, I had managed to send over 4,000 of these 158-character missives.

Which brings me to wonder why, in a day and age when we (I know I'm not the only one) are so easily accessible to one another, why human beings still lack the actual necessary skills to effectively communicate.

Don't get me wrong. We can still form sentences - although in some cities, due to instant message and text shorthand schools are finding much to their dismay that their younger students cannot write at their grade level - and we can still say such sentences out loud to another. Talking itself is difficult enough to interpret. I can't tell you how many times I've debated with friends what exactly that cute guy from poli sci meant when he said he'd call later (Would he or wouldn't he? He wouldn't say he would if he wasn't going to...Maybe he was just trying to be nice? Or maybe he just wants to study, he didn't mean I'll call you call you...) We still wonder whether or not a compliment on our sweater or English paper was really genuine. We aren't sure whether "I'll see you at 9" means 9...or 9:30 (or, with some people, 10).

In fact, texting makes it even more difficult to tell what a person is actually saying to us. We can't see the expression on their faces or the tell tale hand gestures that imply either a joke or completely seriousness. Sometimes, due to autocorrect spelling, even the sender doesn't communicate the exact words they planned on saying. Even more troubling, in some cases, is that we aren't even sure who the sender actually is. Sure, we know the phone number, but anyone in my house could pick up my phone and send a message to anyone in my address book while I'm in the shower (Desperate Housewives, anyone?).

In a world of interconnectedness and supposed openness, however, the only thing we even have the ability to control is our own reaction upon receiving these messages. Whether or not we get upset over something meant as silly but taken as a statement is entirely up to us.

So I guess nothing about communication has changed with texting - besides the ability to reach one another no matter how far away or busy we are. Because even if I am able to read a text from a potential suitor during a meeting at work, I'm still going to wonder if "ttyl" means "a few hours later" or "a few days later" or, quite possibly, "never."

king me, baby

"Always walk around like you have on an invisible tiara." - Paris Hilton

The phrase "high maintenance" and I are not strangers. I have been referred to as such, as well as a litany of other phrases (a personal favorite being "Jewish American Princess") by various friends, boyfriends, and family members. But, living in a world where those in power are those who know what they want & subsequently seek it out, what's wrong with being a little bit demanding now and then?

Don't get me wrong. I am definitely not a Veruca Salt character, demanding to have the best anything and everything before anyone else does. That aside, I know what nice things are, and, to put it quite simply, I like nice things. If you think this means I dress solely in designer brands, then you probably will be disappointed to find out that 80% of my outfit generally comes from Target or Old Navy. When it comes to fashion & accessorizing, the most important thing to me is knowing what good taste and style is and being able to replicate it on the cheap. And sure, it might take me several hours to get ready in the morning, but I have never heard a complaint about what I walk out of the house looking like (from anyone except my mother, she's extra picky sometimes). If time is the bigger investment I make in getting ready, rather than the clothes themselves, then it's my capital to spend how I want. However, that doesn't mean I'm going to settle for a .5 carat diamond engagement ring either. Big ticket items such as that are an entirely different story...

Another component of my supposed snob status is apparently that I know how I wish to be treated by others, and I'm not afraid to tell them so. In return, I do my best not to have a double standard in regards to how I treat others. It's important to me to explicitly state what I expect from others, because if I do so, then there is little room for error. This leads to less chance for confrontation. If everyone did this, a lot of misunderstandings and anger could be wholly avoided. How hard is it to not do something you've been warned not to do? Even if you may find it a bit trying, I can tell you that it's a lot easier than trying to just guess what lines you can't cross.

Finally, the last reason why others may see me as "too much:" my confidence. Sometimes it's mere bravado, but generally I have a high opinion of myself. Some would refer to this as arrogance. True, one of my weaknesses is that I can't walk by a mirror without looking in it - but that's so that I can fix my hair, not gaze at my own beauty. To be honest, I have the exact same insecurities as any 21-year-old co-ed. I'm just better at internalizing or hiding it. If you talk the talk, it's much easier to walk the walk. I was never one to sit in the shadows and wait for life to happen to me, and even if I'm having a bad day, I can usually convince myself of something good about myself. There's so much to love about life, and it's easier to love anything or anyone if you start with loving yourself. I have been known to respond to compliments from guys with "I know" instead of "thank you," but come on, as flattering as whatever compliment it is, it's just a line in a bar. Experience has taught me not to depend upon others to build up my own self esteem or confidence, and therefore I often self affirm.

If caring about how I look, am treated by others, and liking myself make me seem a little finicky or aloof at times, so be it. Setting the bar high merely means that I never will settle. And, if not settling makes someone high maintenance, that means that every beautiful, respected, and confident girl thinks she is a princess. In that case, go ahead and crown me, because I love who I am - and I'm certainly not going to change for anyone.

post game wrap up

"Whoever said, 'It's not whether you win or lose that counts,' probably lost." - Martina Navratilova

As finals approach and the semester draws to a close, many college students can't help but wonder how time passed so quickly, and I am no different. Over the course of the last two semesters, a lot has occurred, and being the competitive personality that I am, I have definitely kept score. So how will my junior year be marked down in this chapter of my life, as a victory or defeat? I've never worked harder in my life on anything before this year, whether it be academics, athletics, or relationships. All three have been incredibly tumultuous as well as taxing in their own right.

Classes this year have been harder than ever. Statistics quickly became the bane of my existence; the combination of numbers, letters, hypotheses, and graphs at often times seems like an entire other language to me. Yet, I also took the most rewarding course in my entire academic history. For those of you attending IU, journalism majors or otherwise, I recommend J349, Public Relations writing, with Jim Parham. Beyond merely a writing class, Jim restored my confidence in my writing as well as expanded my repertoire of types of pieces I was capable of producing, from speeches to emulation pieces to crisis plans. A lot of my work from that class is showcased on this blog. In fact, I doubt I would have even written this blog if not for this class. A man who has met many people and done a lot of admirable things throughout his life as well as the current COO of Hirons, a major PR agency, Jim showed me so many different facets of the PR industry. He also was unafraid to constructively criticize and give our class the kick in the ass we needed to bring out the best in ourselves and reflect it in our writing. Thanks to him, I not only have a portfolio I am proud of to show potential employers, but also the confidence to believe that I have the skills & talent to achieve the job of my dreams.

However, not all dreams came to fruition this year. I did not ride in the Little 500 race, as I had been planning since last year. However, cycling has played a major role in my life in the last year, especially when it comes to dealing with stress, so I am definitely not giving it up. In fact, I have begun training to be a triathlete. The cross training will definitely help me not only stay in shape but become a better athlete in all three sports. It will also give me a great outlet for extra energy as well as a way to deal with any anxiety.

As for relationships...I'm not sure where to start. I thought I had it all in August, and quickly the relationships with those I loved deteriorated. At one point last semester, I was unable to carry on a conversation with anyone close to me without arguing. Following an admittedly messy breakup with a questionable boyfriend, I decided to reevaluate and reprioritize. Since then, I have become much closer with my parents & brother. Home in Indianapolis has become more than a place for me to run away to when the going gets tough in Bloomington. I love and appreciate my family for giving me the time to work out what I needed to and a second chance to show them that I do care about them very much. New friendships have been formed back on campus, and I am thankful and blessed to have the wonderful people I now surround myself with.

It's exhausting to try to recall all of my memories from over the last school year. I am not really sure whether I laughed more or cried more. I don't know how exactly many quizzes I failed or tests I passed, friends I made or friends I lost, personal records I broke or times I could not beat. But really? I can't argue with the results. Any way you add up my triumphs & tragedies from the last few months, you get winning results: lessons learned, new goals to strive for, and being lucky enough to have the most amazing people in the world to celebrate future victories with.

more than just the spandex

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts." - Winston Churchill

Growing up, my parents encouraged me to become involved in as many activities as possible. However, they gave me one caveat: Once I chose to start something, I was never allowed to quit until the season or year was over.

When I was a feisty tomboy who wanted to grow up to be just like her older brother, it was sports for me: figure skating, Little League baseball and later softball. Once I got to middle school, my creativity and obsessive organization guided my extracurricular choices: Student Council secretary, yearbook, literary magazine, drama club, and several academic competition teams. After that, the second I set foot in high school and joined a class of over 800, I was determined to find my niche. Between being a member of varsity speech team, serving on Student Council executive board, being selected as a managing editor of the newspaper, acting in several plays, and being picked to co-chair for the National Honor Society's Riley Children's Hospital fundraising concert, I probably spent more time at North Central than I did at home.

However, after graduating high school, I wanted to go somewhere bigger. 800 seemed like a small number to me, and so I came to Indiana University, where the student population as a whole was about 40,000. Students from all 50 states, and according to various campus websites, over 130 countries, inhabit this beautiful campus and attend classes in the same buildings, walk down the same paths, and visit the same hangouts as I do. And I was determined to find my way and get to know as many of them as possible.

Sorority rush was not a choice to me. My high school had had a sorority, and despite its questionable reputation, I was jealous of the bond that the girls had shared. Right away, I signed up for the intensive recruitment process, visiting all 19 on-campus sorority houses. I braved the cold outdoors for two days, in between each house checking my makeup in my mirror to make sure my eyeliner hadn't smeared, that my ponytail was as perky as my personality, and that my smile was just as white as it had been at the last chapter. When I returned early from winter break & received a list of houses that had chosen to invite me back, I went through the same process again and again, narrowing the field of possibilities, until finally I found the perfect fit. I was incredibly lucky, because the perfect fit also found me.

Sigma Delta Tau has been one of the greatest and yet often most trying experiences of my life. It soon became more than a social activity to me, throughout pledgeship I formed a bond with girls I probably would never have known without the house. Living (and sleeping in) the same room with about 80 other girls has filled my time here at IU with more wonderful experiences than one can hope to get in a lifetime: getting together to write a pledge class song, putting on skits for one another, painting sidewalks of fraternities for homecoming & Little 500, attempting intramural sports, late nights spent talking when we were supposed to be studying, watching Gossip Girl or Grey's Anatomy on the big red couch, Jiffy Treet runs when we can't fight those late-night ice cream cravings. Hand in hand with the great memories are also the not-as-wonderful ones: elections at chapter that seem unbearably long, gossip and secrets traded between sisters that hurt (but are meaningless a week later), ever-changing friendships, and mandatory events that happen to go late the night before a big test. Never before had I ever wanted to be a part of something...that at times, I also just wanted to quit. And every time I called up my mom jubilant over being elected fundraising chair or excited for a formal, there was also a time I called her crying over catty, unnecessary drama.

Don't get me wrong - these girls are amazing. But put 80 women together in one house, and you will understand my point. So, despite being in the house, I needed to find something else, beyond the norm, to feel truly comfortable. I wanted something of my own to help me find peace when I could not handle my day - sorority-induced drama or otherwise. And that is how I discovered cycling.

I'm in no way a great cyclist. My friend Mike calls me 'Lance Armstrong with a ponytail,' but don't believe him, my ITTs are far from impressive, and half the time I ride with him, I end up too out of breath to actually be able to ask him to slow down. But on a campus that looks forward every year to the Little 500 cycling race, which, despite the name, is in no way a small occurrence, I love the time I spend on two wheels, speeding down a street, up a hill, or around the track. Less than 1% of the student body even rides in Little 500, so it has been an honor to even train for it. Every time I am stressed out, overwhelmed, disappointed, or confused, I can find solace on my bike. Even after my 28 year old cousin unexpectedly passed away last February, when I didn't want to get out of bed to drag myself to class, I made sure to show up to track times to complete my Little 500 rookie hours. After my boyfriend of eight months dumped me finals week last semester, I logged a lot of hours at the gym on the stationary bike, and I credit my phenomenal finals test grades to working through my confusion and anger on the bike. Yet biking is not reserved solely for sad times, I am an enthusiastic and energetic co-ed, and sometimes I need somewhere to expend my energy. It's fun to discover new trails around Bloomington, to try to beat my last time up Boltinghouse Hill, and to enjoy an afternoon outside biking with friends. I have gotten to know many riders and feel a part of an acitivity that is integral to this campus's culture.

With the Little 500 race less than a month off, I'm not sure if I will be selected to be one of the final members on my sorority's team of 4. But I am sure that I will always have cycling in my life. It has helped me help myself and also given me a great amount of joy. Through it, I have been able to center and balance in order to make the sorority house a real home, work through my problems, celebrate my success, and comfort my sorrows. It's crazy to imagine that a simple hunk of titanium and rubber is what persuades me to never quit or despair. Yet, when I think about it, cycling actually encourages me to find the strength within myself, so that no matter what happens, I can tell myself to not give up.

things i should tell myself more often

Luck is believing you're lucky. - Tennessee Williams

Being a junior in college has its advantages as well as its drawbacks. On one hand, you're still enjoying an era of academic predictability & good times, and on the other, you are trying to plan for a future, or as your professors will call it: THE REAL WORLD. Everyone at this age is discussing their past & present, picking and choosing which moments have made them or will make them into who they are supposed to be.

Scary! The real world implies that everyone has been living in an almost alternate reality for the last four years, and that everything that is out 'there' is out to get us. At least, that's how some of my peers feel. They are afraid they won't find a job, a spouse, a nice house with a white picket fence & two car garage. They are worried that there is nothing out there for them after four years of blue books, Beirut, and basic irresponsibility.

On the other hand, there are those who can't wait to get out of this little college town. They see the entire world open to them and filled with countless opportunities and can't wait to get out there and show what they're made of. College was a great time for them to grow and figure out who they are (& possibly learn a thing or two in class along the way), but once they are handed that diploma, they are going to get out there & change the world.

Having recently decided to move west, into the unknown, after graduation, I definitely identify with the latter group. My campus experiences have been both wonderful and, at times, seemingly abysmal, but they have come together to make me into the type of person that others can respect & count on. Social skills come to me with ease, so I will have no problem meeting people wherever I go. Also, as cliche as it may be, I also want to change the world in my own way.

However, I am also already getting nostalgic. I will miss the sorority socials, the comfortable predictability of showing up to lecture to absorb information, and being unable to walk down the street without running into at least five people I know. IU has become a second home for me, and although I have traveled throughout my experiences here, I always return home to campus. Once I no longer have a Bloomington address, I want to believe that the comfortable feeling I have here won't change, but I'm not exactly sure where life will take me...

All in all, while I believe it is important to be both excited for the future and appreciative of the past, it is MOST important to be enthusiastic and involved in the present. I am so happy right now, in my sorority girl/journalism major/tourism management guru/little 500 cycling team member/friend/sister/runner/sucker for a good cause volunteer/daughter roles. Such vive can't be measured; being content is not about my GPA, love life (or lack thereof), miles run and biked, or even the number of Facebook friends I have. As college is coming to a close, I often have to remind myself to keep my mind on the present, because that is the one thing I can attempt to change or control as well as simply enjoy!

So - get out there, whether you are a freshman, a senior, or an alum. Do something that makes you happy, surround yourself with people you love, and don't ever forget that what you do today can make how you feel tomorrow infinitely better! Worrying, as any Jewish mother (like mine) can tell you, only gets you so far. Learn from your past, look forward to your future, but live as fully as possible in the now! Show up to your own life and take part in it, instead of longing for or regretting the past or hiding from or yearning for the future. You may call me lucky to have arrived at the place of happiness I am at now, but it's taken me 21 years of victories and failures to get to this state of mind. I look forward to 21+ more years. But, with that said, I'm just as excited for the next 21 minutes!