I'm officially a sleepwalker.
This lesson was NOT learned the hard way, thank god. But the lesson remains, wear your pajamas to bed.
I started sleepwalking a few years ago. It's nothing consistent, in fact its very sporadic, however it does occur. Other than walking to my kitchen or waking up washing my hands in the bathroom, there have been two incidents in which I have found myself in compromising situations. The first was in New Orleans when I hopped out of bed and walked to the elevator in my underwear and tshirt informing Emily that we were going to miss the continental breakfast. The second is when I was convinced the bathroom was outside of my friend Carli's studio apartment and woke up trying to unlatch the locks.
Until last night.
When I was moving into my studio apartment I halfjoked about how I would probably sleepwalk out, because I have found in my self case study that I only try and leave where I am if there isn't a door on the bedroom. If there is a door on my bedroom I'm satisfied just walking to another area of the house. Well I was right because last night I got out of my studio apartment. I woke up in the elevator, standing there, with no buttons pressed. Thank Jesus I had put pajamas on (let's be real, I live alone and usually don't bother). However, I was barefoot and obviously hadn't thought to grab my keys. So there I am a with nothing but myself, barefoot. Waking up while sleepwalking is one of the most disorienting things ever. I actually thought that I was at work when I woke up because of the elevator. Weird.
Anyway, thank god my building has a 24 hour front desk. I get there to get my keys and no one is there but they left a number. Welp, seeing that I don't have a phone, I'm completely unable to get in touch with him. So I use the computer and go on facebook to see if anyone is awake (it's like 5:30am). Good thing the East Coast had a hurricane so no one has power. After trying to message anyone online (sorry guys, desperate times) finally the guy comes back and lets me into my apartment. Horrifying 30 minutes of my life. But at least I wasn't naked.
The experience inspired me to do some research on sleepwalking because, well, I'm apparently a danger to myself. Here's the possible reasons I sleepwalk:
Fatigue, lack of sleep, anxiety, alcohol, sedatives, other medication, medical conditions such as partial complex seizures, mental disorders, organic brain syndrome, or REM behavior disorder.
Pretty much it just means I can't get too stressed or too tired. I can't drink, have anxiety or conflicts. Well, I guess I'll work on it.
In the meantime, I'm creating an elaborate doorblocker since I can apparently unlock my doors. I'll also be wearing a straitjacket to bed.
Until next time, wear your PJs.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
fried food, bad jokes and uncomparable strength
Well, here I am again.
I'm lying in my bed recovering from the vast amount of friend food I ate last night and from the 4 hours of sleep I had the night before. The good news is it's only Saturday so the weekend is still in full swing.
I've continued my study on the people of Indiana and I've found three things I'd like to comment on. This blog will be a little longer than in the past but I think it's all important.
Hoosiers love Fried Food
Last night I attended the State Fair. The Indiana State Fair is.....unlike anything I've really ever seen before. The entire length of the fair on "main street" is filled with food vendors. All of which provide their own unique disgustingly unhealthy but incredibly delicious food. Emily and I started the night off with some pineapple freeze from Dole. Figured, we'd get our serving of fruit in for the day. As we continued to walk past the fried corn stands and chicken parfait stands (chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy) I spotted it. There it was, in all it's glory. Sandwhiched in between "Twisted Burger", where you could get a burger served on French Toast, and a french fry cart was Deep Fried Treats. Deep Fried treats was promoting their newest item, fried Kool Aid.
I was deeply saddened when we arrived at the cart only to find they were SOLD OUT of deep fried Kool Aid. Not until later did I realize....it's utterly disgusting how much they must have sold in order to sell out. I settled on Deep Fried Cookie Dough and Emily chowed down on her Deep Fried Snickers. I've never eaten anything better and I never will. I understand the obsession, Hoosiers, and I respect it. The end.
I forgot to mention we also had a corn dog and fresh lemonade at some point. Then we went on the "blizzard", the ride formerly known as the Himalaya, and almost died from wanting to barf/laughing so hard. Also, I won a fish. His name is either Tater or MacBait (in honor of Hamlet the Hamster who passed earlier this year). He isn't responding to either yet and it also living in a wine glass.
THANKS INDY STATE FAIR!
Hoosiers have great jokes....just kidding.
In my hours at the fair and in discussing trends among the Hoosier race, I noticed another common thread beyond the love of fried food. There is one joke that is utilized at any moment possible. "Just kidding". On the way to the fair, Emily shared a moment in which she was crushed when a waiter told her they were OUT of chicken fingers and french fries (she's a hoosier). He followed her look of disappointment with a "just kidding!'. As Emily would say "WHO DOES THAT, WHO JOKES ABOUT NOT HAVING CHICKEN FINGERS."....well Hoosiers would.
As we pulled into the fair, after waiting in traffic and pulling a highly illegal U-Turn in the middle of a 6 lane road, we were approached by the parking man. Because of the weekends events (more on that next) the fair was free and so was parking! Also, we had seen Maroon 5 (mmm) and Train the night before which meant free admission and parking, also. Pretty much they should've paid me to go to the fair because it was double-free. As the parking man approached the car he said "alright, 2? That'll be 10 dollars each". The Jersey in me gets instantly defensive. How dare they try and make me pay. I'm getting in for DOUBLE FREE. Instead of yelling this I whip out my ticket stub and explain calmly that "I thought with this ticket we get in for free and get free parking." The man just looks at me and says "uhhh I was uh just kidding. everything is free."
Not funny.
Once that was over and my heart rate was back at baseline it was into the fair we go. Our first stop, the pineapple freeze, was actually in a pineapple similar to spongebob's house. A girl walks up next to me and requests the same delicious treat that I have just been served to which the woman dressed in a Hawaiian print shirt states "I'm sorry we're all out"..................."JUST KIDDING OF COURSE YOU CAN HUNNY".
Why, Hoosiers, why? It's not funny.
Just imagine my disappointment and SHOCK when I'm told that they are out of Fried Kool Aid and it isn't followed by a "just kidding". Torture.
Hoosiers are absolutely incredible and inspiring
Last weekend I was at the Jersey Shore, getting in touch with my inner east coaster by swimming in an OCEAN and being able to see the shore line. I spent all day Saturday lounging on the beach, starting a 1,000 piece puzzle (that would be COMPLETED by the time I left on Tuesday) and reading my book. Around 10 pm a wonderful Hoosier friend of mine broke the news to me about the state fair. I was heartbroken.
Over the next 24 hours video, photos, and stories from the scene were pouring out into the media. Twitter was covered in #prayersforindy that was trending worldwide after a few hours. It was devestating. But out of all the terror and heartbreak there was an overwhelming theme. The moment after the stage hit the ground, everyone who had been running from the scene turned around and ran towards it to help.
Groups of people were trying to lift the metal structures, emergency first aid departments were set up almost immediately, and lives were saved. One of the greatest articles I've read was published by the Indianapolis Star and follows a 3 year old from when the stage collapsed to her time at Riley. The RN, Natalie, in the story works on the Peds Rehab unit where I'm currently interning. I had seen her earlier in the morning on Thursday at staff rounds, not knowing what she had done to save this little girl. Her shift was over by the time I read the article but you better believe I'm buying her something to recognize her strength in a time of crisis. The video attached to the article is nothing short of bone chilling but to see and hear the strength of the Hoosiers is absolutely inspiring.
Train and Maroon 5 were set to perform at the grandstands the following Thursday. Having bought tickets, the last thing on my mind was if that concert would go on at all. But, it did. On Thursday night, Conseco fieldhouse donated their space, everyone working from the janitors to the stagehands donated their time, and Train and Maroon 5 donated 100% of the money they make to the Memorial Fund for those lost in this tragic accident. To be at that concert was a beautiful opportunity and far different from what I had imagined when we bought the tickets over a month ago.
As the lead singer of Train said "the fact that you are all here really shows that Indianapolis is the greatest city on the planet....people could learn a lot from coming here for just one day."
So bad jokes and obsession with fried food aside, the Hoosiers are a beautiful people and I'm happy to identify myself as one.
I'm lying in my bed recovering from the vast amount of friend food I ate last night and from the 4 hours of sleep I had the night before. The good news is it's only Saturday so the weekend is still in full swing.
I've continued my study on the people of Indiana and I've found three things I'd like to comment on. This blog will be a little longer than in the past but I think it's all important.
Hoosiers love Fried Food
Last night I attended the State Fair. The Indiana State Fair is.....unlike anything I've really ever seen before. The entire length of the fair on "main street" is filled with food vendors. All of which provide their own unique disgustingly unhealthy but incredibly delicious food. Emily and I started the night off with some pineapple freeze from Dole. Figured, we'd get our serving of fruit in for the day. As we continued to walk past the fried corn stands and chicken parfait stands (chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy) I spotted it. There it was, in all it's glory. Sandwhiched in between "Twisted Burger", where you could get a burger served on French Toast, and a french fry cart was Deep Fried Treats. Deep Fried treats was promoting their newest item, fried Kool Aid.
I forgot to mention we also had a corn dog and fresh lemonade at some point. Then we went on the "blizzard", the ride formerly known as the Himalaya, and almost died from wanting to barf/laughing so hard. Also, I won a fish. His name is either Tater or MacBait (in honor of Hamlet the Hamster who passed earlier this year). He isn't responding to either yet and it also living in a wine glass.
THANKS INDY STATE FAIR!
Hoosiers have great jokes....just kidding.
In my hours at the fair and in discussing trends among the Hoosier race, I noticed another common thread beyond the love of fried food. There is one joke that is utilized at any moment possible. "Just kidding". On the way to the fair, Emily shared a moment in which she was crushed when a waiter told her they were OUT of chicken fingers and french fries (she's a hoosier). He followed her look of disappointment with a "just kidding!'. As Emily would say "WHO DOES THAT, WHO JOKES ABOUT NOT HAVING CHICKEN FINGERS."....well Hoosiers would.
As we pulled into the fair, after waiting in traffic and pulling a highly illegal U-Turn in the middle of a 6 lane road, we were approached by the parking man. Because of the weekends events (more on that next) the fair was free and so was parking! Also, we had seen Maroon 5 (mmm) and Train the night before which meant free admission and parking, also. Pretty much they should've paid me to go to the fair because it was double-free. As the parking man approached the car he said "alright, 2? That'll be 10 dollars each". The Jersey in me gets instantly defensive. How dare they try and make me pay. I'm getting in for DOUBLE FREE. Instead of yelling this I whip out my ticket stub and explain calmly that "I thought with this ticket we get in for free and get free parking." The man just looks at me and says "uhhh I was uh just kidding. everything is free."
Not funny.
Once that was over and my heart rate was back at baseline it was into the fair we go. Our first stop, the pineapple freeze, was actually in a pineapple similar to spongebob's house. A girl walks up next to me and requests the same delicious treat that I have just been served to which the woman dressed in a Hawaiian print shirt states "I'm sorry we're all out"..................."JUST KIDDING OF COURSE YOU CAN HUNNY".
Why, Hoosiers, why? It's not funny.
Just imagine my disappointment and SHOCK when I'm told that they are out of Fried Kool Aid and it isn't followed by a "just kidding". Torture.
Hoosiers are absolutely incredible and inspiring
Last weekend I was at the Jersey Shore, getting in touch with my inner east coaster by swimming in an OCEAN and being able to see the shore line. I spent all day Saturday lounging on the beach, starting a 1,000 piece puzzle (that would be COMPLETED by the time I left on Tuesday) and reading my book. Around 10 pm a wonderful Hoosier friend of mine broke the news to me about the state fair. I was heartbroken.
Over the next 24 hours video, photos, and stories from the scene were pouring out into the media. Twitter was covered in #prayersforindy that was trending worldwide after a few hours. It was devestating. But out of all the terror and heartbreak there was an overwhelming theme. The moment after the stage hit the ground, everyone who had been running from the scene turned around and ran towards it to help.
Groups of people were trying to lift the metal structures, emergency first aid departments were set up almost immediately, and lives were saved. One of the greatest articles I've read was published by the Indianapolis Star and follows a 3 year old from when the stage collapsed to her time at Riley. The RN, Natalie, in the story works on the Peds Rehab unit where I'm currently interning. I had seen her earlier in the morning on Thursday at staff rounds, not knowing what she had done to save this little girl. Her shift was over by the time I read the article but you better believe I'm buying her something to recognize her strength in a time of crisis. The video attached to the article is nothing short of bone chilling but to see and hear the strength of the Hoosiers is absolutely inspiring.
Train and Maroon 5 were set to perform at the grandstands the following Thursday. Having bought tickets, the last thing on my mind was if that concert would go on at all. But, it did. On Thursday night, Conseco fieldhouse donated their space, everyone working from the janitors to the stagehands donated their time, and Train and Maroon 5 donated 100% of the money they make to the Memorial Fund for those lost in this tragic accident. To be at that concert was a beautiful opportunity and far different from what I had imagined when we bought the tickets over a month ago.
As the lead singer of Train said "the fact that you are all here really shows that Indianapolis is the greatest city on the planet....people could learn a lot from coming here for just one day."
So bad jokes and obsession with fried food aside, the Hoosiers are a beautiful people and I'm happy to identify myself as one.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
A lesson in investments
I know. It's been a month. I apologize. Work has been incredible and in the month of July I have only been in Indiana for 1 weekend (most of which I spent napping). I promise I've continued to learn lessons and I will blog about them all. The most recent lesson I've learned is about investing.
One week a year I escape to Sandy Island in New Hampshire. Every year has been "our last year at camp" and somehow I find myself back on the porch of my cabin every third week of July. This year was no different. I had said my goodbyes last summer knowing that I'd be interning this summer and accepted that I wouldn't be in attendance. Until about May. Then I decided I just had to go back. So I made the arrangements with work and was able to make it to the island on Thursday of the week. It hit me the first night that there were reasons I was drawn to Sandy Island that stem beyond the beautiful lake and the bugs that share the shower. It is part of who I am.
Sure, it isn't tough to love a camp that has 3 meals a day prepared for you and signaled by a bell. It isn't hard to love a place with so much to offer from kayaking to bocce to an absurd water carnival. It isn't a challenge to want to be a part of seriously hokey traditions that were started when the camp opened in 1898 in a lodge that was built in 1938. But it's something else that brings me, and many others, back year after year.
It's the emotional investment, not only that I've put into the island but also that the people have put into me. When I was six that investment was nothing more than having thirty surrogate parents making sure I was okay. But now that I'm 22, it's the investment each of them have made year after year. It's the reason that without second thought someone volunteers a boat to come pick me up. It's the reason I heard more than five times "If there is anything I can do to help in the job search, please call". It's the reason that people I see once a year read my blog to see what I'm up to. And it's the reason that, though I no longer need parenting in the disciplining sense, I could ask anyone on the island for advice and receive more than I bargained for.
The best part is that it has essentially come for free. Sure at age 5 I had cute looks on my side, but we all saw me between the ages of 11-14 and know that looks were not included as a redeeming quality. But it is without hesitation that the people at camp want to be involved in my life. And I'm so grateful.
It isn't just the adults, it's also the kids I've grown up with. Sure, now we aren't kids, in fact we are far from it drinking our cocktails at dinner, but our friendship comes as easily as it did on the 4-square court 15 years ago. It's easy. It's fun. It's real friendship. It's why I received text messages and phone calls and pictures and facebook posts for the 4 days I wasn't at camp. And it's why I was up until 3 am my first night on the beach, solving the problems of the world and hearing about what has happened in the year past.
In the same line of thought, I've learned that your investment in relationships is the best investment you can make. And that doesn't stop with strangers or friends. I had the chance to spend a lot of time with family while I was home, though they "love you unconditionally", it doesn't hurt even a little bit to invest in your family relationships. Whether it was my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my cousins kids, I realized that I could be better at thanking them for their investment in me. So pick up a pen and paper, the phone, or your email and send your family a letter. Whether it's a postcard to say hello, or a long detailed description of your day to your great-aunt, it will be appreciated and you'll feel better about doing it.
I forget which lesson number I'm on, but this is it: make one investment that doesn't cost you anything. it'll pay you back more than you realize.
One week a year I escape to Sandy Island in New Hampshire. Every year has been "our last year at camp" and somehow I find myself back on the porch of my cabin every third week of July. This year was no different. I had said my goodbyes last summer knowing that I'd be interning this summer and accepted that I wouldn't be in attendance. Until about May. Then I decided I just had to go back. So I made the arrangements with work and was able to make it to the island on Thursday of the week. It hit me the first night that there were reasons I was drawn to Sandy Island that stem beyond the beautiful lake and the bugs that share the shower. It is part of who I am.
Sure, it isn't tough to love a camp that has 3 meals a day prepared for you and signaled by a bell. It isn't hard to love a place with so much to offer from kayaking to bocce to an absurd water carnival. It isn't a challenge to want to be a part of seriously hokey traditions that were started when the camp opened in 1898 in a lodge that was built in 1938. But it's something else that brings me, and many others, back year after year.
It's the emotional investment, not only that I've put into the island but also that the people have put into me. When I was six that investment was nothing more than having thirty surrogate parents making sure I was okay. But now that I'm 22, it's the investment each of them have made year after year. It's the reason that without second thought someone volunteers a boat to come pick me up. It's the reason I heard more than five times "If there is anything I can do to help in the job search, please call". It's the reason that people I see once a year read my blog to see what I'm up to. And it's the reason that, though I no longer need parenting in the disciplining sense, I could ask anyone on the island for advice and receive more than I bargained for.
The best part is that it has essentially come for free. Sure at age 5 I had cute looks on my side, but we all saw me between the ages of 11-14 and know that looks were not included as a redeeming quality. But it is without hesitation that the people at camp want to be involved in my life. And I'm so grateful.
It isn't just the adults, it's also the kids I've grown up with. Sure, now we aren't kids, in fact we are far from it drinking our cocktails at dinner, but our friendship comes as easily as it did on the 4-square court 15 years ago. It's easy. It's fun. It's real friendship. It's why I received text messages and phone calls and pictures and facebook posts for the 4 days I wasn't at camp. And it's why I was up until 3 am my first night on the beach, solving the problems of the world and hearing about what has happened in the year past.
In the same line of thought, I've learned that your investment in relationships is the best investment you can make. And that doesn't stop with strangers or friends. I had the chance to spend a lot of time with family while I was home, though they "love you unconditionally", it doesn't hurt even a little bit to invest in your family relationships. Whether it was my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my cousins kids, I realized that I could be better at thanking them for their investment in me. So pick up a pen and paper, the phone, or your email and send your family a letter. Whether it's a postcard to say hello, or a long detailed description of your day to your great-aunt, it will be appreciated and you'll feel better about doing it.
I forget which lesson number I'm on, but this is it: make one investment that doesn't cost you anything. it'll pay you back more than you realize.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Lesson Number 4
So here I am! Have you missed me?
Once you read today's blog entry you'll realize why last weekend was just way too taxing for me to put together my thoughts for you to read. However, this weekend has been full of ... a lot of nothing, leaving me plenty of time to share yet another lesson I've learned, landlocked in Indiana.
I know I've been talking about my lesson in obesity, but the fact is everyday I find something else about the fat people here that is shocking. So I'm giving it another week to keep track of all of the factors that go into being a fat person in the mid-west. I kid you not, I heard a 2 year old say McDonalds at Target the other day. She said it 5 times, I was NOT hearing things.
So instead of my lesson in how to avoid entering the 30% of people in Indiana that are overweight (stats as of 2009, congrats NJ...only 22% of us are tipping the scales) I will share with you a lesson I learned last weekend.
After another exhausting week of interning (it's kick ass by the way...I am LOVING every bit of it!) I was feeling a little down. I was missing friends, pouting over the fact that 2 of my best friends are backpacking through Europe and 1 is on the sunny beaches in Jamaica offering Music therapy services to small villages, and overall just being a Debbie Downer.
I read through a great book, called "Walking Backwards in High Heels", which I highly recommend to any ladies out there looking for a new perspective on things, and then got the urge. About a 5 minute walk from my house is a place called yogulatte. It is incredible. The frozen yogurt is the best I've ever tasted and they make the most delicious oatmeal and shakes with fresh fruits! (They also sell gift cards, if anyone wants to send them my way!) So, yes around 10:00pm, the urge hits and I try and stop it. But while I've moped around all day, I tell myself that if I eat the frozen yogurt I need to perk up. I then convinced myself that I had to make sure everything was clean before I left. Well, that lasted all of five minutes but I had at least compromised and tied up the garbage to take out.
This is where the trouble starts.
I live in a 15 or so story building, which is actually one of the tallest buildings in Indianapolis and I can spot it from work!! On each floor, by the elevator, is a "rubbish room". I am quite fond of the name. There is a "rubbish shoot" in which you can place tied up garbage bags that "shoots" somewhere or another into the depths of the building or leave boxes and such in the closet.
Lesson Number 4, don't hold your keys in the same hand as your garbage.
Yup. There went the keys right down the "rubbish shoot". I stopped for a moment in disbelief. Could this have REALLY happened? No. It couldn't have. There must have been something in my trash that just sounded like keys...right? Wrong. I checked my purse and lo and behold no keys.
So now what. Thoroughly embarrassed, I arrived at the front desk knowing full well they would give me a spare set of keys to my apartment. But I could feel my face heating up as I started to say the next question "So, uh, do you know where the rubbish shoot leads to?" Only a blank stare met me in return. Then after what felt like an eternity "Um, no, I just started here last week."
Great.
Let me also share another background detail.....my only spare car key is in Succasunna, NJ. And for the record, that trick where you can unlock a car door through a cell phone, does NOT work halfway across the country.
The way the story ends is that I actually follow my nose into a creepy stairway in the basement of my building with a friend of mine and convince the doorman to give us a key to let us in to said unmarked smelly door. Then my friend proceeded to search all of the garbage from my building until...yes...we found the keys. Dirty, next to a chicken bone, and greasy as all get out. However, if you ever need to wash your keys, know that the clicker will still work even after you wash them, clorox wipe them down, wash them again and anti bacterial them.
Remember this friends. Put your keys somewhere else before you throw away the garbage.
P.S. I never got the frozen yogurt. So I treated myself on Friday after another successful week of interning and a 10 hour shift :)
Once you read today's blog entry you'll realize why last weekend was just way too taxing for me to put together my thoughts for you to read. However, this weekend has been full of ... a lot of nothing, leaving me plenty of time to share yet another lesson I've learned, landlocked in Indiana.
I know I've been talking about my lesson in obesity, but the fact is everyday I find something else about the fat people here that is shocking. So I'm giving it another week to keep track of all of the factors that go into being a fat person in the mid-west. I kid you not, I heard a 2 year old say McDonalds at Target the other day. She said it 5 times, I was NOT hearing things.
So instead of my lesson in how to avoid entering the 30% of people in Indiana that are overweight (stats as of 2009, congrats NJ...only 22% of us are tipping the scales) I will share with you a lesson I learned last weekend.
After another exhausting week of interning (it's kick ass by the way...I am LOVING every bit of it!) I was feeling a little down. I was missing friends, pouting over the fact that 2 of my best friends are backpacking through Europe and 1 is on the sunny beaches in Jamaica offering Music therapy services to small villages, and overall just being a Debbie Downer.
I read through a great book, called "Walking Backwards in High Heels", which I highly recommend to any ladies out there looking for a new perspective on things, and then got the urge. About a 5 minute walk from my house is a place called yogulatte. It is incredible. The frozen yogurt is the best I've ever tasted and they make the most delicious oatmeal and shakes with fresh fruits! (They also sell gift cards, if anyone wants to send them my way!) So, yes around 10:00pm, the urge hits and I try and stop it. But while I've moped around all day, I tell myself that if I eat the frozen yogurt I need to perk up. I then convinced myself that I had to make sure everything was clean before I left. Well, that lasted all of five minutes but I had at least compromised and tied up the garbage to take out.
This is where the trouble starts.
I live in a 15 or so story building, which is actually one of the tallest buildings in Indianapolis and I can spot it from work!! On each floor, by the elevator, is a "rubbish room". I am quite fond of the name. There is a "rubbish shoot" in which you can place tied up garbage bags that "shoots" somewhere or another into the depths of the building or leave boxes and such in the closet.
Lesson Number 4, don't hold your keys in the same hand as your garbage.
Yup. There went the keys right down the "rubbish shoot". I stopped for a moment in disbelief. Could this have REALLY happened? No. It couldn't have. There must have been something in my trash that just sounded like keys...right? Wrong. I checked my purse and lo and behold no keys.
So now what. Thoroughly embarrassed, I arrived at the front desk knowing full well they would give me a spare set of keys to my apartment. But I could feel my face heating up as I started to say the next question "So, uh, do you know where the rubbish shoot leads to?" Only a blank stare met me in return. Then after what felt like an eternity "Um, no, I just started here last week."
Great.
Let me also share another background detail.....my only spare car key is in Succasunna, NJ. And for the record, that trick where you can unlock a car door through a cell phone, does NOT work halfway across the country.
The way the story ends is that I actually follow my nose into a creepy stairway in the basement of my building with a friend of mine and convince the doorman to give us a key to let us in to said unmarked smelly door. Then my friend proceeded to search all of the garbage from my building until...yes...we found the keys. Dirty, next to a chicken bone, and greasy as all get out. However, if you ever need to wash your keys, know that the clicker will still work even after you wash them, clorox wipe them down, wash them again and anti bacterial them.
Remember this friends. Put your keys somewhere else before you throw away the garbage.
P.S. I never got the frozen yogurt. So I treated myself on Friday after another successful week of interning and a 10 hour shift :)
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Week One in the Real World
Well, thank GOODNESS for the weekend. I've never had a normal weekly schedule. My classes were always at odd times, the weekends usually meant some random rehearsal or work, and Friday was just like any other day. But man oh man, after this week I truly understand the meaning of TGIF.
Other than adjusting to the schedule, I am in love with my internship. It's been 5 days and I want to work there for the rest of my life. I want to be at work right now. I can't stop thinking about the kids and what we'll do next. But, instead of turning this into a Music Therapy blog, I'll try and remain on task with what I've learned out here in the mid-west.
Lesson number 3 comes as less of a lesson and more of a pleasant surprise. As I was rushing around last week trying to get things together before I started being an adult (with a pager...I have a pager at work), I had two encounters. Some might say this is chance, others might say it's my good looks and charm, I however blame it on the mid-west. In both of these encounters, I ended up with a free item. Now, I'm not talking about "encounters" as I'm walking down the street and my free item is a pamphlet saying "Sorry we messed up, but the world IS ending soon....Don't stone us, even though that's what the bible says to do to false prophets". Although this did happen, and I obviously didn't stone them...mainly because stoning in this day and age serves little to no purpose. I'm talking about incidents in which I walked away with items of significant value.
Fist encounter. While driving to orientation, I spotted a Starbucks. Not only was it a Starbucks, but a Drive-Through Starbucks. You can read more on this later in the week in Lesson number 4, obesity epidemic. I had to stop. It might just be me but I've never come across a drive-through Starbucks before. Seeing that it has been 98 degrees here and I felt like I needed to walk into orientation with an iced coffee to help solidify the image of the girl from New Jersey, I decided to test my drive through skills. I also stopped because I have no idea how long it takes me to get anywhere in this city and I would have been about a half hour early. For the record, ordering a venti hazelnut iced with skim and two splenda doesn't sound any less pretentious over a drive through window. As I pulled around to the window to pick up my order, I was thrilled. An iced coffee before a 4 hour orientation? Yes please! Then the minutes began to pass. Two minutes turned into five minutes, then seven minutes and before I knew it I began to sweat. HOW COULD THIS BE? Just moments ago I was going to be a half hour early and now I'll probably be sprinting to the auditorium. I didn't even know where the auditorium was! Was I even wearing appropriate attire? I think it was then that I began to feverishly check my phone for alternate routes to the hospital. I looked behind me to see several cars lined up. Then I started to get mad...IT'S JUST AN ICED COFFEE, IT SHOULDN'T BE THAT HARD TO MAKE! The people behind me would now think I ordered 14 specialty drinks just to piss them off. "Great, look at that car from new jerrrseyy holding everything up...doesn't she know I'm a neurosurgeron and I NEED to get to the hospital!?" The shame, the embarrassment, and it wasn't even my fault. What were you doing in there starbucks baristas?!
Then it happened, the windows opened and she said "Um, my computer isn't working...have a good day" and handed me an iced coffee.
Confused, I grabbed the coffee, looked at my hand holding three singles and said "But I didn't..." and she said "Have a nice day" before very politely closing the window in my face.
One free iced coffee for Sam.
The next encounter occurred just a few days later as I rushed to meet deadlines for my online class. I thought I could use the fax machine in my building to fax all of my assignments to the instructor, but as it turns out it only makes local faxes. So I found a FedEx that did faxing and rushed to get there before it closed. As I ran inside (with 10 minutes to spare) to the copier, I read that each long distance fax would cost me 3 dollars. This just wouldn't do. I had at least 10 pages to fax. So I asked the guy behind the counter if there was a way to use the scanner. After giving me the run around, telling me it would cost 99 cents to scan each page then 90 cents a minute on the computer, I felt defeated. The thought *I can just take the class next summer* popped into my head. That's when I knew things were bad. As I started to weigh the options, failing the class VS a 30 dollar charge at FedEx that would most likely wipe out my debit card, he spoke. "Hold on, I think I have an idea". He pulled out a flash drive and said "I'll just scan them on this scanner back here on to the flashdrive..then you'll just have to pay for the time it takes you to email it out." Genius. Genius and thrifty. This was going to work out quite well. Finally all the documents were scanned and I entered my credit card into the computer. I raced to gmail like never before and sent off those assignments into cyberspace. For all I know I had emailed them to my grandmother. I didn't care, I just wanted to get off the computer ASAP. As I got up to leave, I walked up to the counter where my new found best friend was helping another kind mid-westerner who was stressed about getting her presentation laminated before she presented it at the conference being held at the hotel. I said "Thanks so much, here's your flash drive." To which he responded "Oh keep it, someone left it here a few weeks ago and there is nothing on it so we can't give it back to them...it's yours".
A free flash drive. Thanks, Indiana.
Now you might question his intentions in giving me the free flash drive. However, what I left out was that we bonded over color guard. He used to be a music student and is now teaching color guard at a local high school. He was most definitely a friend of Dorothy.
Lesson Number 3: Free means free in Indiana
Speaking of friends of Dorothy, today is Pride Parade and from my window I can hear the marching bands. I'm about to head over to Mass Ave and share some support. My week has been awfully busy but there is so much that I want to share. Hopefully I'll find time to manage the cR@zI333 social life I have here, work, and blogging. Stay tuned for Lesson 4: Obesity Epidemic.
Other than adjusting to the schedule, I am in love with my internship. It's been 5 days and I want to work there for the rest of my life. I want to be at work right now. I can't stop thinking about the kids and what we'll do next. But, instead of turning this into a Music Therapy blog, I'll try and remain on task with what I've learned out here in the mid-west.
Lesson number 3 comes as less of a lesson and more of a pleasant surprise. As I was rushing around last week trying to get things together before I started being an adult (with a pager...I have a pager at work), I had two encounters. Some might say this is chance, others might say it's my good looks and charm, I however blame it on the mid-west. In both of these encounters, I ended up with a free item. Now, I'm not talking about "encounters" as I'm walking down the street and my free item is a pamphlet saying "Sorry we messed up, but the world IS ending soon....Don't stone us, even though that's what the bible says to do to false prophets". Although this did happen, and I obviously didn't stone them...mainly because stoning in this day and age serves little to no purpose. I'm talking about incidents in which I walked away with items of significant value.
Fist encounter. While driving to orientation, I spotted a Starbucks. Not only was it a Starbucks, but a Drive-Through Starbucks. You can read more on this later in the week in Lesson number 4, obesity epidemic. I had to stop. It might just be me but I've never come across a drive-through Starbucks before. Seeing that it has been 98 degrees here and I felt like I needed to walk into orientation with an iced coffee to help solidify the image of the girl from New Jersey, I decided to test my drive through skills. I also stopped because I have no idea how long it takes me to get anywhere in this city and I would have been about a half hour early. For the record, ordering a venti hazelnut iced with skim and two splenda doesn't sound any less pretentious over a drive through window. As I pulled around to the window to pick up my order, I was thrilled. An iced coffee before a 4 hour orientation? Yes please! Then the minutes began to pass. Two minutes turned into five minutes, then seven minutes and before I knew it I began to sweat. HOW COULD THIS BE? Just moments ago I was going to be a half hour early and now I'll probably be sprinting to the auditorium. I didn't even know where the auditorium was! Was I even wearing appropriate attire? I think it was then that I began to feverishly check my phone for alternate routes to the hospital. I looked behind me to see several cars lined up. Then I started to get mad...IT'S JUST AN ICED COFFEE, IT SHOULDN'T BE THAT HARD TO MAKE! The people behind me would now think I ordered 14 specialty drinks just to piss them off. "Great, look at that car from new jerrrseyy holding everything up...doesn't she know I'm a neurosurgeron and I NEED to get to the hospital!?" The shame, the embarrassment, and it wasn't even my fault. What were you doing in there starbucks baristas?!
Then it happened, the windows opened and she said "Um, my computer isn't working...have a good day" and handed me an iced coffee.
Confused, I grabbed the coffee, looked at my hand holding three singles and said "But I didn't..." and she said "Have a nice day" before very politely closing the window in my face.
One free iced coffee for Sam.
The next encounter occurred just a few days later as I rushed to meet deadlines for my online class. I thought I could use the fax machine in my building to fax all of my assignments to the instructor, but as it turns out it only makes local faxes. So I found a FedEx that did faxing and rushed to get there before it closed. As I ran inside (with 10 minutes to spare) to the copier, I read that each long distance fax would cost me 3 dollars. This just wouldn't do. I had at least 10 pages to fax. So I asked the guy behind the counter if there was a way to use the scanner. After giving me the run around, telling me it would cost 99 cents to scan each page then 90 cents a minute on the computer, I felt defeated. The thought *I can just take the class next summer* popped into my head. That's when I knew things were bad. As I started to weigh the options, failing the class VS a 30 dollar charge at FedEx that would most likely wipe out my debit card, he spoke. "Hold on, I think I have an idea". He pulled out a flash drive and said "I'll just scan them on this scanner back here on to the flashdrive..then you'll just have to pay for the time it takes you to email it out." Genius. Genius and thrifty. This was going to work out quite well. Finally all the documents were scanned and I entered my credit card into the computer. I raced to gmail like never before and sent off those assignments into cyberspace. For all I know I had emailed them to my grandmother. I didn't care, I just wanted to get off the computer ASAP. As I got up to leave, I walked up to the counter where my new found best friend was helping another kind mid-westerner who was stressed about getting her presentation laminated before she presented it at the conference being held at the hotel. I said "Thanks so much, here's your flash drive." To which he responded "Oh keep it, someone left it here a few weeks ago and there is nothing on it so we can't give it back to them...it's yours".
A free flash drive. Thanks, Indiana.
Now you might question his intentions in giving me the free flash drive. However, what I left out was that we bonded over color guard. He used to be a music student and is now teaching color guard at a local high school. He was most definitely a friend of Dorothy.
Lesson Number 3: Free means free in Indiana
Speaking of friends of Dorothy, today is Pride Parade and from my window I can hear the marching bands. I'm about to head over to Mass Ave and share some support. My week has been awfully busy but there is so much that I want to share. Hopefully I'll find time to manage the cR@zI333 social life I have here, work, and blogging. Stay tuned for Lesson 4: Obesity Epidemic.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
A Jersey Girl in the Medium Sized City
So here I am.
Sitting in my apartment, on the floor, eating an icepop and staring at 16 & Pregnant. I just got cable/internet and I can feel my productivity reducing rapidly. However, that hasn't been the case since I've arrived. But let's start at the beginning shall we.
In November, I accepted a great internship opportunity at Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. I hate that it's called an internship when it literally determines the large majority of my undergraduate career. This "internship" comes after countless hours of undergrad work, more hours of applications and interviews, followed by even more stressful hours of waiting. Then for six months we work at our chosen location before sitting for the board exam.
Six months. No stipend (at my location at least). Full-time Monday through Friday. Hardly deserves the title of internship to me.
But regardless, here I am in Indiana.
On Thursday I packed nearly my entire life into my (little) car and drove west. Several pandora stations, our first trip to KFC, and about three hundred miles on route 80 later, we were nearing Cleveland. After stopping for the night at DoubleTree (free cookies!) we got up early for the free breakfast and to check out the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Talk about inspiration. I've never wanted to be a rock star more than that morning....good thing I'm moving to Indiana? Standing next to the jacket from the Thriller video was a little much for me...but that's a story for another day.
Then it was back on the road and even more driving west. By Friday evening we were in Indianapolis. After we moved in furniture, ate pizza, and took a 1 am trip to Meijers (pronounced meyers for all you East Coasters) for pillows it was time for bed.
I woke up only to find a Indy 500 parade....standard Saturday in Indianapolis? Not so much. When I say parade, I mean parade. I mean, the little sister of the Thanksgiving Day parade. I've seen a lot of parades in my day (oddly enough) and this was a great one. Mostly because the people are so nice and move out of your way so you can see. But what a cool weekend to explore. After walking downtown, finding some lunch and seeing some celebs in the parade (hellllllo Silver Fox), we checked out the Zoo and the canal area of Indy.
Big day, huge day I guess. Another run to Target and some "bloset" (my bathroom/closet) organizing ended the day at 2 am....before Amy's 5:20 am flight.
As I drove home at 5:30 am through a city (that does indeed sleep, unlike NYC) that was new and unfamiliar, I noticed a tinge of excitement run through my blood. Here I am, on my own.
So here's where I'll start the point of this whole blog
From the point that I left Amy at security on I've been here, learning about the city and myself. I've read a book and a half. I've got a sunburn, I've learned that walking to the mall at 10:30 when its 70 degrees is a good idea but walking home at 12:30 when its 95 is a bad idea. I've donated to Indianapolis' own homeless, I've also learned how to avoid them.
But I've learned, above all, that people in this part of the county LOVE to talk. I think I'll fit right in..
No matter where I've been, or what interactions I've had....everyone wants to talk...about nothing and everything. About "the race", about my sunburn, about the price of corn, about the temperature, about the holiday, about the parking meters (oh the parking meters). There is nothing too mundane to have a 30 minute conversation about, trust me.
The Parking Meters deserves it's own explanation, as I've spoken to three different people about the meters and I've only lived here 6 days. The city of Indianapolis is switching to parking meters that you pay at those boxes instead of putting in coins...just like NYC...just like MSU's campus...just like...well, a LOT of places. But it is causing an UPROAR here in the midwest. People. Are. Mad. (as hell, And they aren't going to take it anymore)
The first person I heard talking about this was a rather large woman and her daugher (oh another thing, the obesity epidemic is HERE with a vengeance, more on that later). They were walking to the parade in front of Amy, Emily and I complaining about the change to the new meters.
The next time I heard about the meters was at my (new) local grocery store, Marsh. And yes, I did just have to go find my little key ring card to remember the name. The woman at the register asked me if I wanted help carrying my (2) bags to the car. I explained that I had walked 5 minutes from my apartment to which she responded "Well, at least you don't have to park at those stupid metered spots then".
PEOPLE. THEY ARE JUST METERS.
The last time was this morning when my comedy/cable troupe of dumb and dumber came in to install my internet and cable. The first people I've met that didn't want to talk but seeing that my studio apartment has no where else for me to go, I had to make conversation. I talked about going down to the mall without realizing where this conversation would go. Yup, the meters. Note to self, ever need a conversation starter...ask their opinion on the meters.
So, lesson number 1, people love to talk.
Lesson number 2, the parking meters are a HUGE deal.
Sitting in my apartment, on the floor, eating an icepop and staring at 16 & Pregnant. I just got cable/internet and I can feel my productivity reducing rapidly. However, that hasn't been the case since I've arrived. But let's start at the beginning shall we.
In November, I accepted a great internship opportunity at Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. I hate that it's called an internship when it literally determines the large majority of my undergraduate career. This "internship" comes after countless hours of undergrad work, more hours of applications and interviews, followed by even more stressful hours of waiting. Then for six months we work at our chosen location before sitting for the board exam.
Six months. No stipend (at my location at least). Full-time Monday through Friday. Hardly deserves the title of internship to me.
But regardless, here I am in Indiana.
On Thursday I packed nearly my entire life into my (little) car and drove west. Several pandora stations, our first trip to KFC, and about three hundred miles on route 80 later, we were nearing Cleveland. After stopping for the night at DoubleTree (free cookies!) we got up early for the free breakfast and to check out the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Talk about inspiration. I've never wanted to be a rock star more than that morning....good thing I'm moving to Indiana? Standing next to the jacket from the Thriller video was a little much for me...but that's a story for another day.
Then it was back on the road and even more driving west. By Friday evening we were in Indianapolis. After we moved in furniture, ate pizza, and took a 1 am trip to Meijers (pronounced meyers for all you East Coasters) for pillows it was time for bed.
I woke up only to find a Indy 500 parade....standard Saturday in Indianapolis? Not so much. When I say parade, I mean parade. I mean, the little sister of the Thanksgiving Day parade. I've seen a lot of parades in my day (oddly enough) and this was a great one. Mostly because the people are so nice and move out of your way so you can see. But what a cool weekend to explore. After walking downtown, finding some lunch and seeing some celebs in the parade (hellllllo Silver Fox), we checked out the Zoo and the canal area of Indy.
Big day, huge day I guess. Another run to Target and some "bloset" (my bathroom/closet) organizing ended the day at 2 am....before Amy's 5:20 am flight.
As I drove home at 5:30 am through a city (that does indeed sleep, unlike NYC) that was new and unfamiliar, I noticed a tinge of excitement run through my blood. Here I am, on my own.
So here's where I'll start the point of this whole blog
Lessons from Landlocked America
(An East Coast girl meets the Mid-West)
(An East Coast girl meets the Mid-West)
From the point that I left Amy at security on I've been here, learning about the city and myself. I've read a book and a half. I've got a sunburn, I've learned that walking to the mall at 10:30 when its 70 degrees is a good idea but walking home at 12:30 when its 95 is a bad idea. I've donated to Indianapolis' own homeless, I've also learned how to avoid them.
But I've learned, above all, that people in this part of the county LOVE to talk. I think I'll fit right in..
No matter where I've been, or what interactions I've had....everyone wants to talk...about nothing and everything. About "the race", about my sunburn, about the price of corn, about the temperature, about the holiday, about the parking meters (oh the parking meters). There is nothing too mundane to have a 30 minute conversation about, trust me.
The Parking Meters deserves it's own explanation, as I've spoken to three different people about the meters and I've only lived here 6 days. The city of Indianapolis is switching to parking meters that you pay at those boxes instead of putting in coins...just like NYC...just like MSU's campus...just like...well, a LOT of places. But it is causing an UPROAR here in the midwest. People. Are. Mad. (as hell, And they aren't going to take it anymore)
The first person I heard talking about this was a rather large woman and her daugher (oh another thing, the obesity epidemic is HERE with a vengeance, more on that later). They were walking to the parade in front of Amy, Emily and I complaining about the change to the new meters.
The next time I heard about the meters was at my (new) local grocery store, Marsh. And yes, I did just have to go find my little key ring card to remember the name. The woman at the register asked me if I wanted help carrying my (2) bags to the car. I explained that I had walked 5 minutes from my apartment to which she responded "Well, at least you don't have to park at those stupid metered spots then".
PEOPLE. THEY ARE JUST METERS.
The last time was this morning when my comedy/cable troupe of dumb and dumber came in to install my internet and cable. The first people I've met that didn't want to talk but seeing that my studio apartment has no where else for me to go, I had to make conversation. I talked about going down to the mall without realizing where this conversation would go. Yup, the meters. Note to self, ever need a conversation starter...ask their opinion on the meters.
So, lesson number 1, people love to talk.
Lesson number 2, the parking meters are a HUGE deal.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thanksgiving
Today I'm Thankful for so many things it would be impossible to list them all. From huge issues like my health to trivial things like Jugs of Wine, I feel lucky and thankful every day of the year. But I'm most thankful for where my life has taken me and the opportunities I've been given. I'm learning more and more about myself as a person and doing what I need for me. It's working, I'm the happiest I've ever been and the good things are coming to me in handfuls. This year is going to be the best one yet.
What're you thankful for?
What're you thankful for?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)