Beyonce, all day, every day.

It is no secret that I want to be Beyonce when I grow up.  She pretty much epitomizes all that is right in the world.  A few years ago, I took the step of at least taking some dance classes from her choreographer.  Get low, get low. Anyway, just as she once wondered what it would be like if she were a boy, I wonder what my life would be like if I were her.  For one, I would not have to do do any BS work.  In general, it would literally be cut out of my life.  That portfolio I need to do for work? I would hire someone to do that ish. Realistically, who knows if I'd even have a job.  Dating. I may hire someone to go on dates for me to screen the guys.  Or, I would hire someone to create a dashing mask to conceal all of my eye rolls.

Speaking of dating, let's take a minute to discuss what the scene is looking like out there. The online sites are rather hilarious, if not kind of depressing.  So many shirtless pics, fishing pics, rocker pics, cross fit pics. So much terrible. Basically, I am just going to listen to Beyonce on repeat.

Ugh, this just in though. I told my co-worker I wanted to be Beyonce when I grow up and he said, "Aren't you like thirty? You're already a grown-up." And then I was really sad. 

In good news, I am getting taller. Yoga is doing the trick. So much so that my leg lengthened to the point of crossing into someone else's yoga zone.  Yup, my foot hit that B in the head.  She fell over. I felt kind of bad, but mainly felt awesome.

Ummm....nothing else really exciting is going on.  Let's see.  Christmas decorations are going up.  Spread cheer, holla.  That's pretty much it.  I'm hoping for non-brain dead activity in December.  You know what happens in December? I'm done with grad school.  This is very exciting stuff.  The whole working full-time/schooling full-time is making me less fun I fear, and I'm basically done with it.  Plus, all that reflecting is driving me nuts.  Hey, let's write a 2 page reflection on blah blah blah.  Hey, let's talk about a dilemma and reflect on how we could make it better. Hey, let's not.  Reflecting is killing my soul. Let me just listen to Beyonce and dance around, for the love of Pete.

Oh and hey, I woke up like this, I woke up like this. God damn, God damn!

Is this the gynecologists?

I am pretty upbeat. I value life, all that jazz. But last Monday, I woke up wanting to punch throats, and for  no apparent reason. I've had the agh this sucks moments where a legit throat punch would make sense, but this sort of edge came from a place unknown.  As soon as I left my apartment on Monday, I knew, I'd need a miracle this week. Everyone was getting on my s list. Seriously, no one was safe. You could be my grandma or in kindergarten, didn't matter; chances are you were annoying the heck out of me.  I managed to squeak by until Thursday, the day I was going to a new gyno in Providence. Perhaps part of my foul mood was the anticipation. I really hate going to the doctors. I held my head high at the dentists last week and also through various work meetings and such, but my threshold for obligatory non-fun activities was at an all time low. To make matters worse, I naturally got lost, for an hour. My GPS kept telling me to go into the Marriott. I ignored the persistent voice but finally bit the bullet. I thought, maybe the doctor's office is in the hotel? That would be sweet! I started walking towards the hotel's entrance but didn't see any signs for a gynecologist's office.  I called the office.  They told me that they were located across the street from the Marriott.  I dodged multiple lanes of traffic, darting cars, and made it to a brown building.  Once inside, a made-up lady asked me if I was lost. "Ah, is this is the gynecologists?" She laughed and I looked at the sign: I was in the ABC 6 New Building. Of course I was.  I called the doc's again. They told me they were across the other street.  I darted back across the lanes, finally making it into my car.  I took a deep breath and started over.  And then I proceeded to turn onto a one way in the complete opposite direction of where I was supposed to be going. Oh look, I'm at the state offices, great.  Thirty minutes later, I made my way to the office, which was less than a mile from the Marriott. And of course, right across the street from a plaza that I have frequented many times before.  At this point, I'm beyond flustered. I send out a text to my friend: actually I can't hang out tonight.  I fill out paperwork and play the waiting game. Super anxious because I'm about to be invaded/if I have to get a blood test I may just lose my giblets.  Finally, I'm ushered into a tiny room, the walls adorned with large posters of lady parts.  I mean, why do I need to see this?! Okay, okay, a little poster, fine, but nothing that enlarged. Terrible town.  Anyway, I manage to survive the actual exam. It all looks good down there. And the blood test ladies were great because a. they found my veins just fine b. they told me I wasn't going to pass out and I actually did NOT pass out and c. they compared me to the chick on Bones which is funny because I often get compared to Zooey Deschanel and they're sisters, so maybe they could hire me to fill-in at family functions and stuff. Anyway, I was feeling super jazzy that I didn't pass out, I managed to make it to my apartment without getting lost, and then I had nice tea with my nice neighbors, so that was nice and stuff.

I was in a slightly better mood on Friday. But then it rained on Saturday and it went all downhill.  My dear mother tried to make me feel better by putting on three disco cds and making me dance for over an hour and a half.  There is a video.  I don't want to embarrass her, but really, I don't know if I could because damn, she's got some moves! I attempted to go out last night too, but that didn't really work out.  I waited over an hour and a half for meatless food and well, meatless food and waiting for food....neither sit well with me. After dinner, my friends and I attempted to go out to bars.  Of course, I forgot where I had parked for a good fifteen minutes so that delayed the evening of not finding anywhere good to go. I also remembered that I prefer not going out but rather wearing pajamas in the comfort of my own apartment.  This does not bode well for meeting fellows, but at this point, warm apartment wins out.

Anyway. This is Columbus Day Weekend. Big doings.

Live blogging from the train, Part Deux.

The actual train ride was tolerable. Though, as I responded to student journal entries, I found myself getting slightly train sick. No biggie though. And there was the old dude rocking the Foxy Lady hat who swapped stories with the train conductor regarding their stints in rehab/jail. Sort of gave me more respect for the conductor for if it wasn't for witnessing this interaction,  I'd think he lacked personality.

Anyway. I got off at Back Bay and MIRACULOUSLY turned myself in the RIGHT direction to get to Northeastern.  Background information: I lived in Boston for five years (2002-2007), I went to Northeastern for undergrad, and I've walked these streets COUNTLESS times. Yet, somehow, for the last year as I've been attending grad school back at NEU  (alumni tuition discount, holla), I've managed to get myself lost. Literally,  lost every single time I have class. Two weeks ago, I managed to get myself lost for a good 45 minutes,  exploring parts of Boston I didn't know existed, and showing up fashionably late for a meeting.  Mind you,  the walk from Back Bay is literally a straight shot mile (or less). I feel like I should take this time to explain that I haven't always been this brain dead. Honestly,  I was quite smart until I started taking so many classes in conjunction with working and then all of a sudden my steel trap became a lint trap.

So, as I was saying,  I managed to  NOT get lost and for once had the opportunity to revel in my surroundings. Though,  perhaps I always revel and that's why I'm usually lost?! ANYWAY.  Revelling had me taking in above average looking guys playing a round of basketball.  I think I need to start hanging out at the courts, in addition to coffee shops, laundromats (find my missing sock!), book stores, and record stores, as a means to meet the fellas. I mean, I totally rocked at hoops back in the 4th grade. Killed it. I started a coffee shop scope last Sunday which went relatively well. Though,  I need to brainstorm pick-up lines....Can I go up to a barista and say: "You see that guy over there? You know the one pretending to do a report on his laptop?  Yeah, that one.  A. Do you think we'd look totally cute together? ! And B. Can you send him a frapuccino and say it's from me? Subtle like though.  Know what I mean?"

Whoa. Back to the night at hand. So, I was like, wicked stoked, that I managed to get to Northeastern with time to spare. Usually,  I'm crashing in five minutes late all Kramer-like. Ah, yes, people have actually commented on this. Unfortunately,  I got too jazzed too soon because once I got to Northeastern I found myself getting lost in the same building that A. I had class in two weeks prior and B. That I had class in for four years during undergrad aka MY BRAIN IS FRIED. Thankfully,  I did manage to make  it to class with three minutes to spare and was congratulated by my friend who was completely surprised by my non-Kramer-crash entrance. I was proud.

Class. Ah. What can I say. We did skits. I talked about my cat. Another classmate referred to "reflections" as being pointless which was awesome because A. It's true and B. It's basically the basis of this entire course/masters program. So many reflections. I am reflected OUT. I may be one of the few females out there who is officially sick of talking about her feelings.  F feelings.  Reflections, be gone!

Tonight is a really big night for me because not only did I manage to avoid the Kramer-crash, but I also ran out of class BEFORE it was over!!! I'm beyond proud. Basically,  I live an hour away and depend on the commuter rail. For the last year of classes,  I've stayed until the very last minute,  often resulting in missing the early train and having to wait around for another hour. It's my last semester,  and as you've noticed, I'm not exactly getting any smarter, and at this point,  I value sleep (what I can muster of it), so I ran out. Literally,  ran out. I felt rude,  but mainly, I felt inspired by myself for looking out for myself!!! And I made that early train with just three minutes to spare! !! Let it be known, however: running in a pencil skirt really shortens one's stride. I mean, I still made good time because I got mad sprinting skillz, but pencil skirts; flattering,  yes. Good for splits and sprints (and peeing), no.

Live blogging from the train station.

The station:

I'm sitting on a bench.  People decide to come and sit right next to me. I had to slide over.

There was all this space where they could be sitting.

The platform:

All of a sudden the horrific,  distinct sound hits my ears. Some herb is cutting his nails. I turn around.  Just a foot away,  a man naturally, in flip flops,  is trimming his fingernails as if it's the most natural thing in the world. 

Overheard:

Conversation about Lucy who is a B and is only tolerable because she gives b jobs. She doesn't even make the chicken right. Nobody wants the house special anymore.

Weird voice.

Does this happen to anyone else: you haven't talked to someone in at least 36 minutes,  and then, bam! A person is there. You're stirring your cappuccino and you look up and there's that person.  Of course, you have to say hi because it's the polite thing to do, but it's like you've forgotten to how to speak in your normal voice.  Thus, you say "hello" in a sketchy deep man's voice even though you're real voice is semi-high. Then, in your head you're like, what the heck was that? And next thing you know you're apologizing for speaking in such a crazy voice.

Also, I don't really like cappuccinos, yet I'm sitting here with a large.

Additionally,  lately when I order salads and request honey mustard dressing,  I end up legit getting straight up mustard.  While I definitely see the similarities,  they're not the same.

Gonna go drink more of this disgusting cappuccino. ..

Yoga.

I'm always looking for ways to enhance the life and yoga seemed like a good option. God knows I could work on that whole relaxing thing.  And it's been going pretty well, that was, until this week. I went on Monday. I wasn't in the mood to go, but I went anyways. I was running late, so I had to drive instead of walk. I enjoy the great outdoors, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Being all in a rush, I ended up parking in a tow zone.  Naturally, it's impossible to focus on my Ujjayi breath when I'm thinking about my car getting towed. And the incense...oh, the incense. Scent is my strongest sense which oftentimes works against me. There are a lot of things in life you just don't want to smell. Have you ever wondered why the smiley face is often missing a nose? Most likely because it wouldn't be smiling if it smelled its surroundings. Anyhoo, the incense was something fierce and something yucky when it hit my nostrils. So, I'm all "relax, or else" but literally can't because ya know my car is about to get towed and the smell is literally killing me. To top it all off, the instructor had the WORST New England accent ever.  No offense to accents or anything, we've all got them, but ya know, if you have a strong one, don't become a news anchor or yoga teacher.  Downward facing dog is something else and something not pretty when it becomes "downwahd facin dahg". Brutal.

The Black Keys and CitiCards.

Ummm....I've been feeling really uninspired lately---work, school, blah blah blah. Life, man, But, I just had a most enjoyable discussion with a dude from CitiCards. I know, you're thinking, how is this possible? But remarkably, I tend to have top notch convos with these ladies and gents from various states, countries and continents.  Today's man was coming at me from India.  Before I get into why he's awesome, I should probably start with the background information, which is kind of lame.  Lame in the sense, that I bought second row tickets to the Black Keys and was super excited to go, but reality has sunk in.  Reality being that I have to work at 7am on Monday and can't take a day off from teaching yet, and that it is not just a regular work day, but it is a work day plus grad school day aka death day, so late night fun the day before, not really an option.  Run-on sentence, long winded action, shocker.  Let's move on. Short story long, being all responsible and shiz, I offered up my ticket to one of my bro and sis-in-law's friends.  Of course, since I bought the ticket there is all this hoopla about needing my card to enter the venue.  So, I had to call and talk to CitiCards for a good long while tonight. The lovely man from India asked me what concert I was missing.  Upon hearing that it was the Black Keys, he started singing one of their songs to me which was nothing short of amazing.  We then spent the next few minutes talking about how he saw GNR the last time they went to India.  I told him I was totally jealous, he chuckled, more singing happened, followed by more chats, and finally, our goodbyes.  Now, as much as I'm sad that I cannot attend this Sunday's show on account of life happening, I am quite jazzed that I got to engage in some Black Keys/GNR singing with this lovely man.

The end.

WHOA. So, post-thought. I'm in the middle of chatting with my friend about how the guy at her bodega complimented her choice of kimchi, saying it "had good color". Duh, I need more bodegas and telemarketers in my life. This is what my life is missing!!! More talks with randoms. Though, there is that man at the park who wears wife beaters who I talk to that now wants to go on a lunch date and I don't feel good about that. So, on an after-post-thought, maybe I'm totally off with this....