Today I was almost going to blog about the horrific day of travel I had yesterday, spanning 14 hours, with nothing to eat but a biscoff cookie and some peanuts (due to the absence of any type of money), and landing in a city that was not my destination. But since my last blog was already a bit of a rant, I wanted to make sure I didn’t start to sound like the bitter black woman. You know the one…
So instead, I am choosing to write about a subject that was brought up by the person I spent the majority of my day with, the guy sitting next to me on the plane. Now, this person had the potential to make me write a rant as well, seeing as how he didn’t spend much of the time in solitude, the way I like to spend my time flying. I board a plane ready to enjoy my solo time and sometimes that can be severely interrupted by one simple question.
"So, what do you do for a living?"
There are two reasons I normally shy away from this question. For starters, it is not a short answer. I can’t simply say “I work in Marketing” or “I’m a personal trainer” (if my muscle definition is obvious that day), and let that be that. Saying you’re a professional track and field athlete comes with loads and loads of follow up questions. What does that mean…how do you make a living…when do you compete…who do you run for…how fast can you run a mile…what school do you go to (they missed the ‘professional’ part)…did you ever run the 440 yard dash…what do you think of Marion Jones…how do you train… and then the question that always gets thrown in there that is my other reason for hesitation, have you ever been to the Olympics?
Because people associate track and field with the Olympics, they figure all of us have been. I feel like it’s a lightweight disappointment to them. Or maybe that’s just my own insecurities. I don’t know. But after a conversation I took part in this weekend, I learned about the importance of talking openly and freely with strangers about what we do for a living, and being excited about it. I know that I need to be better at networking and chit chatting with folks I don’t know. All my friends will tell you this is not my strong point. But you never know whom you might be speaking with and how they might be a great contact now or somewhere down the road.
I also just need to appreciate the fact that people care at all. 10 years from now when people ask what I do and I tell them I do market research for company X, they’ll simply nod politely and go back to their magazine. At that point I’ll want to add that in my past I use to be so good at something, there were only a handful of people in the world who were better. I’ll want to explain in great detail what I do on a daily basis and how that talent has allowed me to travel all over the world. I’ll surely be flying in coach, as I will no longer be flying over 100,000 miles a year. So I should definitely be grateful for those individuals who seem interested in what I do for a living and want to know more. These people could become fans of our sport, and perhaps even a fan of me! Shoot, some might even become a loyal blog reader…you just never know.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
An Open Letter...
Dear Purse Thief,
I’m writing this letter for two reasons. One, there is a very good chance you might read it. Once you look through my belongings and type my name in Google, this blog will come up as the second entry. (Yes, I google myself. Don’t judge.) Second, I feel the need to vent and my doing so here just may prevent the next person from being careless with their belongings and ending up in my same predicament. I would like to start off by saying that I am very angry with you. You ruined a perfectly good evening out with friends and colleagues. I was having a fantastic time until you decided it would be a good idea to take what wasn’t yours and leave me high and dry. Let’s take inventory on the stuff you walked away with.
First is the purse itself. Thank God I left my Michael Kors back in the hotel room! I have no idea if you’re a man or a women but you definitely got nothing in the handbag department as that little clutch can be replaced without breaking the bank. I breathed a sigh of relief on that one. But I’m guessing that’s not really what you were after anyway.
The cold hard cash. Bummer for you, as it was less than $50 bucks, but bigger bummer for me as it was the only cash I had and I was stuck all the way in Indianapolis for 3 more days. Something told me not to even bother bringing cash as I would be surrounded by plenty of male friends, but I stuck it in there anyway at the last minute. You made me beg and plead for each cup of Starbucks coffee and meal I needed to consume for the remainder of the conference.
Driver’s License. In case you were wondering, it’s not my current address but you live in Indy so I would assume you aren’t planning to visit anyway. It’s been less than a year since I lost my last one but I suppose it’s not that big a deal unless I’m forced to visit the DMV in person. What really makes my blood boil is that shiny highway patrol sticker I have on there and one can only hope that their kind, caring uncle reads this and finds it in his heart to replace that.
Credit Cards. I have no idea what you were trying to purchase at Wal-Mart for $400 dollars, but you probably didn’t realize I make a living being speedy, so I had those cards canceled before you even thought of all the cool things you could buy on my dime.
Passport. The good news is it wasn’t mine but the bad news is it wasn’t mine and so I had to feel extra guilty for losing a friends passport, not to mention only form of identification. I suppose this frees me from being asked in the future to carry belongings for other people in my purse so that their pockets aren’t bulging, but in the meantime I have to also deal with someone else’s disappointment while dealing with my own. Not good.
Blackberry. A good businessman might realize that people will pay you not to steal their blackberry. I tried calling all the people you called on my phone before I turned it off to have them relay that message to you, but to no avail. And let’s talk about that for a second, shall we? You’re a dumb thief. Obviously I can easily look up phone activity and see the numbers you’ve called. I even think the older gentleman I got a hold of was willing to help me out, he just couldn’t remember who it had been on the phone from that phone number by the time I called him. He even tried calling it again to see who answered but by that time I had shut the phone down so you got lucky there. I now see the importance of keeping your phone locked, even if you don’t have a nosey significant other who might want to snoop. A blackberry contains far too much personal information that you may or may not be interested in. Luckily for me, you won’t be able to run to the tabloids with the pictures I have stored, but that doesn’t make me feel any less violated.
So basically, you suck. I learned a valuable lesson and will never again make it that easy for a punk like you to disrupt my life like that. But the offer still stands… I will pay you to give my Blackberry back. No questions asked.
I’m writing this letter for two reasons. One, there is a very good chance you might read it. Once you look through my belongings and type my name in Google, this blog will come up as the second entry. (Yes, I google myself. Don’t judge.) Second, I feel the need to vent and my doing so here just may prevent the next person from being careless with their belongings and ending up in my same predicament. I would like to start off by saying that I am very angry with you. You ruined a perfectly good evening out with friends and colleagues. I was having a fantastic time until you decided it would be a good idea to take what wasn’t yours and leave me high and dry. Let’s take inventory on the stuff you walked away with.
First is the purse itself. Thank God I left my Michael Kors back in the hotel room! I have no idea if you’re a man or a women but you definitely got nothing in the handbag department as that little clutch can be replaced without breaking the bank. I breathed a sigh of relief on that one. But I’m guessing that’s not really what you were after anyway.
The cold hard cash. Bummer for you, as it was less than $50 bucks, but bigger bummer for me as it was the only cash I had and I was stuck all the way in Indianapolis for 3 more days. Something told me not to even bother bringing cash as I would be surrounded by plenty of male friends, but I stuck it in there anyway at the last minute. You made me beg and plead for each cup of Starbucks coffee and meal I needed to consume for the remainder of the conference.
Driver’s License. In case you were wondering, it’s not my current address but you live in Indy so I would assume you aren’t planning to visit anyway. It’s been less than a year since I lost my last one but I suppose it’s not that big a deal unless I’m forced to visit the DMV in person. What really makes my blood boil is that shiny highway patrol sticker I have on there and one can only hope that their kind, caring uncle reads this and finds it in his heart to replace that.
Credit Cards. I have no idea what you were trying to purchase at Wal-Mart for $400 dollars, but you probably didn’t realize I make a living being speedy, so I had those cards canceled before you even thought of all the cool things you could buy on my dime.
Passport. The good news is it wasn’t mine but the bad news is it wasn’t mine and so I had to feel extra guilty for losing a friends passport, not to mention only form of identification. I suppose this frees me from being asked in the future to carry belongings for other people in my purse so that their pockets aren’t bulging, but in the meantime I have to also deal with someone else’s disappointment while dealing with my own. Not good.
Blackberry. A good businessman might realize that people will pay you not to steal their blackberry. I tried calling all the people you called on my phone before I turned it off to have them relay that message to you, but to no avail. And let’s talk about that for a second, shall we? You’re a dumb thief. Obviously I can easily look up phone activity and see the numbers you’ve called. I even think the older gentleman I got a hold of was willing to help me out, he just couldn’t remember who it had been on the phone from that phone number by the time I called him. He even tried calling it again to see who answered but by that time I had shut the phone down so you got lucky there. I now see the importance of keeping your phone locked, even if you don’t have a nosey significant other who might want to snoop. A blackberry contains far too much personal information that you may or may not be interested in. Luckily for me, you won’t be able to run to the tabloids with the pictures I have stored, but that doesn’t make me feel any less violated.
So basically, you suck. I learned a valuable lesson and will never again make it that easy for a punk like you to disrupt my life like that. But the offer still stands… I will pay you to give my Blackberry back. No questions asked.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Obligations
So…Tiger. I’m pretty sure I don’t really need to say more than that as everybody should be able to ascertain what I’m referring to. This isn’t a gossip site. I prefer to leave that drama to Perez Hilton. What I’m most interested in discussing on this blog, is the aftermath of the whole situation and what we as a society have come to expect, and even demand from our celebrities, namely athletes.
To me, this is what’s most fascinating. I’m not gasping in shock over “transgressions”, but I am slightly stunned by the majority of people who seem to believe that they’re owed an explanation of some sort as well as a personal account of details so that they can fully judge and come to their own conclusions. Because of his status as the world’s top athlete, he is obligated to make private matters public and let us all ascertain the severity of the situation and how he should now be viewed.
I’m no celebrity. There are probably a few thousand people in this world that know who I am that I have not personally met. Next to Tiger that’s like a backyard swimming pool compared to the Pacific Ocean. But yet even on that extremely small scale, I’m sometimes amazed at the ability of some to critique and analyze portions of my life that don’t involve them. So, I personally feel that in Tiger’s case, being an “alleged” adulterer should only matter to his wife and to his family. Why should it matter to me? Why would I want it to?
Is he supposed to apologize to us because we made the choice to look up to and admire him? Perhaps if his chosen profession was a priest, but as far as I know, he’s just a really good golfer. He hits small white balls into a hole with enormous success. I fail to see the correlation with moral perfection in that line of work. Granted, I see how his “image” has helped to amass most of his billion-dollar fortune. But that is also the work of large corporations creating an ideal so that they can get us to buy more Gatorade and Air Max sneakers. I must be honest with you. No matter what happened, I’m still going to drink Gatorade on occasion and I’m not giving up my Mach 3 Turbo. I’ll even wear Nike…if they pay me. And just because I choose to purchase those products, I don’t feel like Tiger Woods owes me an explanation for anything. I’m not going to believe that asinine story about his helpful wife beating out the back window with a golf club to save him because he was trapped in his car after he inadvertently hit a tree for no reason…but I have no problem with that fabrication if it’s what he chooses to put out there.
Personally I just think we should let him be. If you want to be a fan of his golf game, do so. If you want to nominate him for husband of the year, think twice. I just don’t think we should have expectations of perfection, nor should we think he has an obligation to explain in detail each and every mistake he makes. Would you like to tell millions of strangers all about the biggest mistakes you’ve made in life? Probably not.
If you think differently, I want to know why.
To me, this is what’s most fascinating. I’m not gasping in shock over “transgressions”, but I am slightly stunned by the majority of people who seem to believe that they’re owed an explanation of some sort as well as a personal account of details so that they can fully judge and come to their own conclusions. Because of his status as the world’s top athlete, he is obligated to make private matters public and let us all ascertain the severity of the situation and how he should now be viewed.
I’m no celebrity. There are probably a few thousand people in this world that know who I am that I have not personally met. Next to Tiger that’s like a backyard swimming pool compared to the Pacific Ocean. But yet even on that extremely small scale, I’m sometimes amazed at the ability of some to critique and analyze portions of my life that don’t involve them. So, I personally feel that in Tiger’s case, being an “alleged” adulterer should only matter to his wife and to his family. Why should it matter to me? Why would I want it to?
Is he supposed to apologize to us because we made the choice to look up to and admire him? Perhaps if his chosen profession was a priest, but as far as I know, he’s just a really good golfer. He hits small white balls into a hole with enormous success. I fail to see the correlation with moral perfection in that line of work. Granted, I see how his “image” has helped to amass most of his billion-dollar fortune. But that is also the work of large corporations creating an ideal so that they can get us to buy more Gatorade and Air Max sneakers. I must be honest with you. No matter what happened, I’m still going to drink Gatorade on occasion and I’m not giving up my Mach 3 Turbo. I’ll even wear Nike…if they pay me. And just because I choose to purchase those products, I don’t feel like Tiger Woods owes me an explanation for anything. I’m not going to believe that asinine story about his helpful wife beating out the back window with a golf club to save him because he was trapped in his car after he inadvertently hit a tree for no reason…but I have no problem with that fabrication if it’s what he chooses to put out there.
Personally I just think we should let him be. If you want to be a fan of his golf game, do so. If you want to nominate him for husband of the year, think twice. I just don’t think we should have expectations of perfection, nor should we think he has an obligation to explain in detail each and every mistake he makes. Would you like to tell millions of strangers all about the biggest mistakes you’ve made in life? Probably not.
If you think differently, I want to know why.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Christmas came early
The older I get, the more I feel like the commercialization of Christmas just seems to add more stress and anxiety to something that shouldn’t be stressful at all. At holidays like Thanksgiving, all I’m required to do is show up, eat all the wonderful food that has been prepared, and take the time to think about and express what I am truly thankful for. I get to be around all my friends and family without worrying if they’re going to like the random scarf I spent hours at the crowded mall for and really just ended up purchasing because I couldn’t find anything else. I don’t have to feel guilty when so and so hands me a gift and I don’t have any gift to give in return so I make up some lame excuse about how I forgot it at home and will get it to them asap. There is no reason to put unneeded charges on my credit card for a bunch of things for other people that are unneeded to begin with. Where is the joy in that?!
The fact of the matter is I actually like gift giving. And of course… I LOVE gift getting. ☺ I think it’s the pressure that usually ends up getting to me and ruining the beauty of it. Sometimes I think it would be nice if you could just give a friend a gift the third Saturday of July and say MERRY CHRISTMAS! Or, be walking through the mall and grab something small for your Mom just because you know she would like it, and not still feel obligated to find something she may or may not like by December 25th. Nobody has to pretend they love the new flannel pajamas from Grandma.
So, out of all the “gifts” I might get this year, I think I may have already received my favorite one. I just finished slathering my lips with my new Burt’s Bees chapstick, bought for me by my best friend this weekend while we were out enjoying life and being thankful for the amazing friendships we’ve kept alive the last 15 years. (In case you aren’t aware, Burt’s Bee’s is the fancy schmancy stuff, not just the regular, plain kind I usually purchase for myself. It’s easily four bucks at least.) Hours earlier I had complained of chapped lips and while she was at the register purchasing a book at Border’s, she saw the chapstick and thought of me. When she got back to the table she told me to close my eyes and hold out my palm, then proceeded to drop this little gem into my outstretched hand. I squealed in delight. No, really…I did. Hopefully she realizes that it’s probably the best Christmas gift I’ll get this year and that she is totally off the hook a month from now. Because to me, that simple act of kindness was indicative of how I want all my gifts to be given. Simple...from the heart…and given just because. If it happens in December that’s fine, but it’s not necessary. Every time I use my chapstick I will think of her and the amazing, thoughtful friend that she is. Merry Christmas to me… on November 28th.
And here are some pics of the people I love and are thankful for that I got to spend some quality time with this weekend...
My beautiful cousins,sis, and I
My best friends (the chapstick giver is 2nd from right!)
The fact of the matter is I actually like gift giving. And of course… I LOVE gift getting. ☺ I think it’s the pressure that usually ends up getting to me and ruining the beauty of it. Sometimes I think it would be nice if you could just give a friend a gift the third Saturday of July and say MERRY CHRISTMAS! Or, be walking through the mall and grab something small for your Mom just because you know she would like it, and not still feel obligated to find something she may or may not like by December 25th. Nobody has to pretend they love the new flannel pajamas from Grandma.
So, out of all the “gifts” I might get this year, I think I may have already received my favorite one. I just finished slathering my lips with my new Burt’s Bees chapstick, bought for me by my best friend this weekend while we were out enjoying life and being thankful for the amazing friendships we’ve kept alive the last 15 years. (In case you aren’t aware, Burt’s Bee’s is the fancy schmancy stuff, not just the regular, plain kind I usually purchase for myself. It’s easily four bucks at least.) Hours earlier I had complained of chapped lips and while she was at the register purchasing a book at Border’s, she saw the chapstick and thought of me. When she got back to the table she told me to close my eyes and hold out my palm, then proceeded to drop this little gem into my outstretched hand. I squealed in delight. No, really…I did. Hopefully she realizes that it’s probably the best Christmas gift I’ll get this year and that she is totally off the hook a month from now. Because to me, that simple act of kindness was indicative of how I want all my gifts to be given. Simple...from the heart…and given just because. If it happens in December that’s fine, but it’s not necessary. Every time I use my chapstick I will think of her and the amazing, thoughtful friend that she is. Merry Christmas to me… on November 28th.
And here are some pics of the people I love and are thankful for that I got to spend some quality time with this weekend...
My beautiful cousins,sis, and I
My best friends (the chapstick giver is 2nd from right!)
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Things to be Thankful For
Thanksgiving is a day that you remember all the things you are thankful for. The premise might be a little flawed, seeing as how it originated from a day where we kicked Native Americans off their own land and claimed it for our own—just cuz we could—but why we celebrate it today and what it means in our hearts is something totally different. We give thanks for what we have been blessed with, and hopefully we thank the Man who has given us all those blessings. Of course this could and should be done last Monday or three Fridays from now, but today is the day we make a big hoopla about it. So I decided to start going over what I’m thankful for. First and foremost, my eyes are open. I woke up today a healthy human being and so I might as well start there. After that, the list is endless. Being able to travel and see the world…The Twilight series…the most amazing friends a girl could ask for… ‘animal style’ at In n Out…a family who continuously loves and supports me…matinee movies with snacks snuck in…Church on Sunday morning…my amazing lasagna recipe…being able to spend every day focusing on something I am truly passionate about…having a car that gets really good gas mileage…meeting new people who bless and enrich my life…never having to live somewhere where it snows…being an American…still being in my 20’s…the list can literally go on and on. I know we all have numerous things we are able to put in the “and thank you for that” column. If you’d like to add a thing or two here, please be my guest!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Annoyed...and slightly envious
A while back I mentioned that I had started attending spin class to help me get back in shape. I’m not able to go all that frequently now that I must be on the track five days a week, but every once in a while I try to sneak a class in. Like today. Today I went, and my favorite whooper and hollerer was there, three bikes down. He was in full effect today, and I have come to expect nothing less. Of course he has the knee length professional biker shorts, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a special Lance Armstrong signature on the tag. His shirt was bright orange—tucked in with the sleeves rolled up, a la 1991. His head is shaved, he wears two diamond stud earrings, and he wouldn’t dream of cycling with just regular old tennis shoes. He’s a professional spinner with those special shoes to prove it.
I don’t know, maybe it’s a slight case of envy that keeps me rolling my eyes at his every whistle and upbeat clap. Personally, I have only learned to manage to get through the class by keeping silent and conserving every last breath, but he has so much extra energy he’s the only one who responds every time the instructor asks anything.
You guys warmed up and ready to go?
YEAH! Woop woop!
How you feeling out there?
Awesome! clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
Are we working hard?
Oh yeah! Go. Go. Go. Go.
It never stops. And then today I noticed something else that was just the icing on the cake. On the rare occasions we do get about 30 seconds to catch our breath and recover, he sits there and does mini choreographed dance routines in his seat. I get it. You love Rihanna, Britney is your idol, and you die for Lady Gaga…but this is recovery. Sit there and huff and puff like the rest of us. This is spin class, not rehearsals for a music video. But like I said…I’m probably just envious.
I don’t know, maybe it’s a slight case of envy that keeps me rolling my eyes at his every whistle and upbeat clap. Personally, I have only learned to manage to get through the class by keeping silent and conserving every last breath, but he has so much extra energy he’s the only one who responds every time the instructor asks anything.
You guys warmed up and ready to go?
YEAH! Woop woop!
How you feeling out there?
Awesome! clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
Are we working hard?
Oh yeah! Go. Go. Go. Go.
It never stops. And then today I noticed something else that was just the icing on the cake. On the rare occasions we do get about 30 seconds to catch our breath and recover, he sits there and does mini choreographed dance routines in his seat. I get it. You love Rihanna, Britney is your idol, and you die for Lady Gaga…but this is recovery. Sit there and huff and puff like the rest of us. This is spin class, not rehearsals for a music video. But like I said…I’m probably just envious.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The Eternal Optimist (I wish)
I like to consider myself an eternal optimist. But the only truth in that statement is the “like to”. In practice, I am usually anything but. I prefer to take a situation, think of the very worse outcome, and then react (in my head) as if that is what will happen. In my twisted way of thinking this prepares me for the worst, while letting me breathe of sigh of relief when things end up not turning out so bad. For example: If I’m at the airport getting ready to fly overseas for a meet and my plane is 30 minutes delayed, within a span of maybe 10 seconds I have already assumed that the plane will be more than 30 minutes late, I will miss my connection, have to stay overnight in another city, arrive the day before my competition with dead legs, and have to really dig deep to find the energy to compete well. And what happens when the plane is really only 30 minutes late and everything goes smoothly? ”Whew!” Bullet dodged.
This warped way of thinking shows up in other areas of my life as well. Most people who know me (read: exes) can probably attest to my argumentative skills. It makes sense that I would have multiple, thought out, thoroughly exhaustive points to prove…I have already had these conversations in my head, many times over. This is one of my favorite pastimes before bed -- conversations with other people where I not only play out my side of the discussion, but theirs as well. I can literally become teary-eyed because of a make-believe conversation.
But the whole point in sharing these slightly neurotic parts of my personality with you is to have you help me calm down just a little. I am dealing with something right now that could possibly be a huge misfortune, but it could also turn out to be not such a big deal after all. I will find out soon enough, but in the meantime I’m trying to keep my desire to panic and prepare for catastrophe to a minimum. It’s the planner in me that wants to jump ahead and make sure I have strategies in place in case I do have to deal with some unfortunate news but I feel like what I’m doing to myself in the meantime is adding premature wrinkles and grey hairs that I will regret 10 years from now when I’m forced to get botox and dye my hair every 6 weeks.
So much of what we worry about is unimportant. We see things with such a narrow focus when the big picture is being taken care of in the way that is always best for us. Please remind me of that. Or…just let me know that you are as neurotic as I am and maybe I won’t feel so bad.
This warped way of thinking shows up in other areas of my life as well. Most people who know me (read: exes) can probably attest to my argumentative skills. It makes sense that I would have multiple, thought out, thoroughly exhaustive points to prove…I have already had these conversations in my head, many times over. This is one of my favorite pastimes before bed -- conversations with other people where I not only play out my side of the discussion, but theirs as well. I can literally become teary-eyed because of a make-believe conversation.
But the whole point in sharing these slightly neurotic parts of my personality with you is to have you help me calm down just a little. I am dealing with something right now that could possibly be a huge misfortune, but it could also turn out to be not such a big deal after all. I will find out soon enough, but in the meantime I’m trying to keep my desire to panic and prepare for catastrophe to a minimum. It’s the planner in me that wants to jump ahead and make sure I have strategies in place in case I do have to deal with some unfortunate news but I feel like what I’m doing to myself in the meantime is adding premature wrinkles and grey hairs that I will regret 10 years from now when I’m forced to get botox and dye my hair every 6 weeks.
So much of what we worry about is unimportant. We see things with such a narrow focus when the big picture is being taken care of in the way that is always best for us. Please remind me of that. Or…just let me know that you are as neurotic as I am and maybe I won’t feel so bad.
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