Lists For No Reason #3: Things I Have Lost

1) My first pair of glasses. Electric blue, with tiny rectangular frames. The last day I remember having them, I was at a cafe with some friends, celebrating the last day of the 5th (or 6th?) grade. Then after I lost them, I had to wear my backup glasses, which were this light purple color and oddly football shaped. Terrible decision. Kids, go with black for your first pair of glasses. Both pairs. And don't let your dad rush you through the decision making process. Frames ARE important. It's an accessory that lives on your face, and if you lose a pair, tiny purple footballs are flattering to NOBODY. Except maybe Emma Stone. Or Emma Watson. Everything looks good on the Emmas.

2) The sweatshirts.

a) The pink one. I was ten or so, and it was a hot pink sweatshirt with like a turtlenecky neck...Something like this grey one, but like a serious shade of pink. This pink was not messing around.  It was about four sizes too big for me, this being the 90s. I also wore it with stirrup leggings at least once.

This was my anti-pink phase, so it was weird that I even liked this sweatshirt, let alone LOVED it. I think it was too comfortable to rebel against.

b) The turquoise velour one. I left it in my high school library.

c) The black one with the tan splattery/swirly paint pattern across the front. That thing fit perfectly, and it had frayed cuffs and no fleece on the inside, just that nice worn cotton. It was a wardrobe staple. I have no idea where I lost it, but it was a bittersweet goodbye... I knew I would have to get rid of it soon, given that it was falling apart and I was starting to discover that a person often looks less like a cartoon character when they don't wear the same zip up hoodie every single day. But still. It was there for me through so much, and it always gave off the perfect vibe of nonchalant artsyness.

3) Socks & hair pins. I swear there is a gremlin living somewhere in my house with very warm feet, rocking a killer updo. Considering that I live with my family, he also probably gets into bars using my brother's old ID and reads a lot of important tax documents with flowery +2.5 reading glasses.

4) The things my parents have gotten rid of. I know this doesn't really count as me losing stuff, but it FEELS like loss, okay?!

a) That doll I used to play with in the bathtub. I include her out of respect for my eight-year-old self, who used to frantically search for her in the basket of tub toys (yeah, we had a whole basket of tub toys, go judge someone your own size) only to give up, hoping she would appear someday among Esau's hot wheels and my Barbies. Though I no longer remember her name, I am certain it was beautiful. As was her little purple tail. (Did I mention she was a plastic mermaid?)

b) My Cinderella cup. It was one of those ones where there were two layers of sides, so that it was a sort of snow globe. It had sparkles, it had stars, and it had Cinderella. (SARAH'S mom didn't throw out HER old Disney cups.)

c) The conversion van. Granted, this was never actually mine. But it was awesome. I could revolve my seat all the way around, and it had a built-in TV. With channels. And a VCR. And a seat in the far back that RECLINED ALL THE WAY INTO A BED. Best road trip vehicle EVER. And I do not recall being consulted when my parents traded it in. Er, sold it off the driveway. Scrapped it? Damn, where did that thing go?

5) The Best Jeans Ever. They were Levis. Bootcut. Size 3. These are technically still in my possession, but...they have had a pair of scissors taken to them and I don't know if they will ever walk as pants again. Why, you ask? I'll tell you.

I was in my seventeenth year. I was taking a tap class in which we were dancing to "Another One Bites The Dust" by Queen. The costume was t-shirts that one of my classmates graffitied with our names, ripped jeans, and a chain attached to our ankles. (It was actually pretty badass. Or at least I thought so.) Our teacher asked us to bring in jeans so he could rip the living hell out of them. Yes, I knew what was coming. I just didn't expect the emotional turmoil that became the fallout of watching someone I loved, respected, and had seen fart purposefully into other dance classrooms on numerous occasions (the man has skills), tear apart my most comfortable pair of pants.

Let me be clear: If you ever, for any reason, are thinking of getting rid of, or further ruining, a pair of PERFECTLY BROKEN-IN JEANS that fit your butt IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY and hit your ankles IN EXACTLY THE RIGHT PLACE just because they have ONE RIP in the knee, DON'T DO IT. The regrets involved are too high a price to pay.

Since this trauma suffered at the hands of a pair of craft scissors, I have worn the jeans only once: at the dance recital in which I performed said number with all the badassery of Freddy Mercury himself. (I may have worn them again at the premier of RENT, which I went to as Mimi. With fishnets underneath. We don't really have to talk about that.) They now sit in the bottom of my closet, waiting to be patched in some crazy funky way or turned into a comfortable pair of shorts whenever I am brave enough to face them or have time to take on a craft project that requires reliving heartache. Which will probably be never.

And no, since you ask, I have not yet found a pair of jeans that fit that perfectly, though I have searched high and low (i.e. Gap and Salvation Army).

Now, if you will excuse me, I will dry my tears and get on with my ridiculous life. Thank you for your sympathy.

How I Feel About Turning 23

Forewarning: On the range of physical positions in which I write (from sitting up at my desk to lying propped up on an elbow in bed, typing with one finger), I'm already slouched against my headboard, half-squinting to see the screen. So this post may be somewhat lacking in coherency.


How I Feel About Turning 23 In Late Night Thoughts:

Is my metabolism going to slow down now?
I have the best friends!
Future????!??!?!
I should phase "awesome sauce" out of my vocabulary soon.
Definitely time to start that craft business on the Internet.
Opan Gangnam Style!
23 is a prime number. Adds up to five. Also, two more years until I'm my birthday on my birthday. 
Someday I would like to see penguins in their natural habitat.

How I Feel About Turning 23 In Pictures:

More on this topic another time. GOODNIGHT. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Lists For No Reason #2: Five Things I Would Tell Myself If I Knew I Was Listening

Five Things I Would Tell Myself If I Knew I Was Listening:

1) Your to-cut-or-not-to-cut hair debate is boring for other people. I mean, everyone loves a good "Styles That Are Good For Your Face Shape" article, but just because your best friends have a high tolerance for your yattering does not mean that you should take advantage. Your time with them is precious. Do not waste it (or at least not often) on explaining your inner debates about layers and bangs.

2) You are probably not going to be a professional figure skater, ballerina, actress, or aerial fabric...-er. You should start the process of trying to get over that sometime soon.

3a) Life is short. Throw out the uncomfortable underwear.

3b) Picking wedgies is likely considered an unattractive quality in an intern.

4) Putting more vegetables on your plate than you used to is not actually the same thing as eating more vegetables. Also, if you are going to make New Year's Resolutions involving your diet, you should probably do some of the grocery shopping, or at the very least take stock of what is in the refrigerator on a daily basis. Food that is delicious and good for you will probably not levitate into your lunch bag. But thank you (and you're welcome) for the imagery of carrot sticks and ants-on-a-log sack racing in Ziploc bags.

5) Giving pretend interviews in the shower with Conan and Ellen about the bestselling novel-turned-hit screenplay that you just wrote is not helping you a) Get to work on time, or b) Write a bestselling novel or screenplay. Unless you are planning to write the bestselling novel or screenplay The Girl with the Delusions in the Bathtub. Also, you will probably never be interviewed by James Lipton on Inside the Actor's Studio. That is a pipe dream. Nobody cares what your favorite swear word is. Also, you are not going to be a professional actress. (See #2.) I don't even want to go into the Academy Award acceptance speech. Yes, writers sometimes get those, but from what I understand, they usually have to write a screenplay first. (See "b" of this section.)

Lists For No Reason #1: Why I Miss High School

Reasons Why I Miss High School:

1) Getting dressed mattered more. The best way I can explain this is by saying that clothes are one of my favorite things. They are my tattoos. They are my extra piercings. They are how I give off the vibe of funky/artsy/cute/elfin/demure/chic/fairylike/ future novelist. Which, in case I am unclear, is what I am attempting to do absolutely pulling off on a daily basis. Note: Work clothes and yoga pants do not count. I mean, I try really hard to make my work clothes reflect my personality, and it's not like I'm wearing pleated pantsuits in pastel colors every day, but honestly, there is just so much I can do with a dress code on some days. And if I'm in yoga pants, it means I have given up most of the way, but I have retained some pride in the fact that I am skinny and I have an okay little butt. So basically, I have very lofty fashion goals, but if I am not achieving them, assume that it's because my jobs or my athleticism are holding me back.

2) Activities. I want to take a free art class, be in a choir, play an instrument for which I take free lessons, be in a band for that instrument, and go see games where I actually feel loyalty for a team. (A short aside on why this would be significant: I am a terrible sports fan. Not only do I not understand or care what is happening, but when I do make an effort to understand and care, I always look at the TV at the wrong time. Like when the quarterback is tying his shoe or or the manager is squinting aggressively into the sun for five minutes while the analysts analyze what he might be thinking about. This is a chronic problem for me. High school was so much easier; you go, you play "La Bamba" on the flute, you have a band geek explain what "Fourth Down" means, and you are very very proud of the men in green and white. Because you, too, are wearing green and white. On your pep band windbreaker.)

3) Theatre people. I did a lot of theatre in high school. School plays, community plays, plays that were kind of like camp/classes that your parents paid for. I miss running around the Civic Center in a leotard. I miss singing all the time with people. I miss dressing rooms! Oh my God, no wonder I don't have any fun putting on my makeup anymore. I am just now realizing that it's not fun unless there are seven other girls squished into a mirror meant for three, your retinas are being burnt by forty light bulbs, and you're inadvertently in the background of another cast member's sixteen turned-around camera pictures. (Which are a lot easier these days with smartphones--just in time for them to no longer be age appropriate unless I'm drinking alcohol. Shame.) So really, I guess this one is theatre people/makeup. But mainly theatre people--they were the BEST. I'm sure they still are, I'm just no longer sure where to find them or how to fit them into my schedule when it's not "Rehearsal 9th period" anymore.

4) Buses. I actually love school buses. I'm not saying this to be cute or ironic. I'm aware that it's weird. I also got my license really late in life (this past July at the age of 22) and I'm sure this is something like Stockholm syndrome--I embraced my big yellow prison on wheels because I really had no control over my method of transportation, being afraid of operating any motor vehicle larger than a golf cart. But whatever the reasoning, I sincerely loved (and still probably would love) riding a school bus.

For one thing, my high school bus driver was insanely awesome. His name was Randy, he would wait for me at my stop, (yeah, before you judge me for not being outside at my stop on time, which I am defensive about even if you weren't gonna be judgmental about it, know this: I was the first stop in the morning. I was picked up at 6:50 am. Boom.) he had highlights and wore a leather jacket, was insanely skinny, smoked like a chimney, and had OCD. We talked about his kids and his need to get up at, like, 4 in the morning to vacuum every day. My mom made him brownies for Christmas. He was great. I wish I had his contact info, actually. We were real buddies by the end of my senior year.

Other than my everyday bus, I just loved buses in general. There's a very specific camaraderie that comes with using public transportation that is free and full of other people whose ages are within three years of yours. Where some people riding are actually friends, and you all know each other. And you all know where each other lives, but not in a creepy way. Where else does that happen?

5) (I always feel like I need at least five things in a list before it's legit.) I miss feeling well-known. Not that I had an inflated sense of self-importance in high school (or at least not any more than any other 14-18 year old) but that everyone kind of knew where I stood, and I kind of knew where everyone else stood. I was idealistic and smart and artsy and kind of a smart ass and I sucked at gym. And all of those things were assumed to a certain extent--people knew stuff about me. And I knew stuff about them. And as the Cheers theme song says...


Now, I would like to point out that any of these things could easily also be a reason why I don't miss high school at all. I love not feeling stressed out about not owning Hollister jeans, I love having my independence, and I am glad that not everybody I meet knows that I'm an unathletic Christian band geek who is completely afraid of boys. (Although on some level, I'm pretty sure I still manage to give out that vibe. If anyone knows any way to stop this, please let me know.) And as much as I miss the activities and the theatre, these are the most re-creatable things in this list--I could easily take an art class (though it wouldn't be free) and if I looked, I might be able to find a place to perform again. But I will probably never again be able to take free French Horn lessons with a borrowed instrument and play the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean in a band. And I am not entirely over this.

Five Resolutions

I am a big believer in New Year's resolutions. I like having goals. I like setting the bar high for myself. The fact that setting resolutions and keeping them are two entirely different endeavors can result in some challenges and frustration (such as the frustration in trying to actually finding the time to go to the gym three times a week or choose a night every week to do something new and crafty.

Even so, mine is an optimistic soul. Plus, making lists is fun.

Lizzy's Top Five New Year's Resolutions 2013

1. Visit Pittsburgh and Providence

Pittsburgh

My friend Katy lives in Pittsburgh, and so does Mike's friend Nick. I love being shown around a new city by someone who loves it there.

Providence 

Providence is such an artsy place--I was actually researching some grad schools there recently, and there are some great programs. Plus it's on water.













2. Join a book club

I feel better mentally (more imaginative, more mentally exercised, more...well-used) when I'm reading something good. Good mental health = much higher chance of Lizzy achieving dreams and goals. And a book club would ensue that I actually set a deadline for myself to read stuff that somebody else decided was good. Plus there would be other people there who like to read. So it's a litmus test for friends and books. Now, if I can only find one that works with my regular schedule... or lack thereof...

3. Sketch at least one thing per week

I already write every day, and I should really sketch every day too. But I'm trying to stay realistic here. And sitting down with my sketchbook once a week would be good for keeping me in practice.

This is from a blog about remaking $1 dresses every day. 

4. Sew/modify some of my own clothes. 

I think the blogs about this are so cool and I really want to try some of the techniques, for like turning a frumpy shirt into a sleeveless shift dress, or an old lady dress into a cute dress, or a scratched up purse into a  cool, funky one...You get the theme here.












5. Set myself a writing deadline, like one chapter per week.

This one is really important to me. I am serious about this book. And I have to make it happen.

Awesome cartoon with a freakish resemblance to my life!

Happy New Year everyone! :)

Ode to coworkers

Inspiration is a ridiculous thing to even attempt to discuss. It works in ways so convoluted and odd that it doesn't seem appropriate to announce inspiration when it does strike, as it is often the case that the person struck is the only one who sees the connection between the inspiring object, and whatever was produced by said inspiration. (Can you tell I work for lawyers now?) What I'm trying to say is that I feel like a dork when I start to write things like "I'm inspired by the colors outside today." The expression of inspired-ness often turns into a cliche because there are few ways to express the value of being inspired.

That being said, inspiration is a fact of daily life. There are triggers which inspire us to create physical objects, form ideas, start relationships, strike up conversations, and make humorous remarks. The crazy thing is that these triggers are everywhere, and often lying around unlooked-for in places buried under uninspiring and mundane facades.

To put something concrete to these ramblings, one of the things that inspires me lately is my coworkers at my retail job. (I have two jobs--one in customer service at a clothing store, one at a law office as a typist/intern.) Don't get me wrong--my coworkers often drive me crazy. In an environment in which the tone of your entire day's interactions is often set by the moods of everyone around you, it is hard not to get caught up in useless irritation sometimes. But the fact of the matter is, I am often in awe of them.

Being a writer, I am nosy as all hell. (This may seem like a non sequitur. It's not. You're welcome for the clarification.) I also tend to think I am very clever. (I am.) Through those two traits, I have cobbled together the basic pictures (some more detailed than others) of each of my colleagues' various insecurities, ambitions, histories, and daily lives. Creepy statement. But relevant, I promise.

Not wanting to be all that specific for fear of overstepping my bounds (or getting even creepier), here is what I have to say:

Working together, you can learn a lot about people. Their issues. Their tics. Their weird fantasies. Their obsessions. The things they think make them look good. The things they think make them ugly. The things YOU think make them look good or ugly. You wonder how much they've figured out about you. You wonder if they know stuff about you that you haven't figured out yet, like you're pretty sure you do about some of them. (SO MANY PRONOUNS.) You work toward a common goal but you learn about everyone's personal goals. You figure out what they do in their outside lives that affects their attitudes in the workplace. (Ew, "attitudes in the workplace"...I sound like an employee handbook. Enough of that.)

You sympathize, commiserate, and share cookies, pizza and bagels. And at the end of the day, you realize that you spend half of your life with people who are something like family, something like friends, and something like inmates. (Okay, I had to infer that last one. I haven't actually been in prison. Well, I was in one once. It was for a tour senior year of high school.)

The point is, when you work with people and pay attention you inevitably learn a bunch of crap about them.
 
And sometimes the things you learn can teach you about respect. About boundaries. About having kids. About being strong. About owning up to your bullshit. About not apologizing for the person you are and the way you choose to live, because hell, that's who you are. Sometimes the things you learn can keep you up until 11:11 (MAKE A WISH) thinking about how much you've changed for the better (and definitely for the thicker-skinned) since you descended into the scummy pit of doom that is customer relations. (It's getting late. I'm getting moody. Abort! Abort!)

Anyway, I've decided that I'm pretty lucky. I've found a place where I can be a total smart-ass and get away with it, in company with others highly skilled in the arts of smart-assery. (It's a thing. Look it up.) And I also get to be totally nosy, eat free pizza, and feel like I'm at least learning a bit about human nature (capitalism, greed, the rich, the poor, the identification of self with personal style...oh, it goes on. I think a lot.). Okay, I'm losing focus here. I just wanted to pay homage to these humans with whom I spend 20-30 hours per week in the best way I know how--rambling on paper (okay, a screen, but you get the idea). Even if none of them ever reads this (Please, God, don't let any of them ever read this. They'll think I like them or something.) I want to admit that I admire them for just showing up every day and trying really hard to do whatever they have to do to stay awesome, whatever their definition of awesome is.

I know that's a really vague description in a lot of ways, but there will be a lot more details about all of them when they show up as random fictional characters in my future novels. 

So, coworker-creatures. If you're actually reading this, stay awesome. And thanks.

My Google Search of Future Careers

What will you be when you don't grow up, Lizzy?

One of my favorite Mary Englebreit drawings

I'm in a rather cheery frame of mind regarding my future at the moment, so I thought I'd make myself a nice, multimedia list. Job descriptions, listings, and illustrations included. Kind of like a fun way of "doing my homework"?

Anyway, read on if you are interested and feel free to comment with thoughts. 

1. Obviously I will be an author. I say "obviously" because it is my dream. The occupation that I will never, ever give up on occupying. And now I've published that on the Internet, so (for those of you who didn't already know) it's official.

 It's kind of impossible to provide a job description for an author, because they/we all have their/our own methods of working, hours, etc. So here's J.K. Rowling's wiki page, 'cause she's basically living the dream, as far as I'm concerned. And here's an interview with Tamora Pierce, where she says things about fantasy that very much expresses my own thoughts on the genre. She's another of my favorite authors, who once said, either in a reading I went to or an interview I read, that she starts writing at noon every day and spends her mornings doing whatever she wants. Hello, my future.

Listing: You can't apply for author-ship. You can only write, submit, and pray. Or, write, exercise, and shower. Either way, or all of the above, but unfortunately without sending anybody your resume.

2. Journalist

The thing about journalism and me is that it's not the THING that I've wanted to do forever. You know, there's that kid who wrote for all his school papers and has already done four internships at various newspapers and watches the news like it's his favorite sitcom. And I'm just not that kid. I watch my favorite sitcom like it's my favorite sitcom. Period. (Actually, I have more than one. Specifically, they are New Girl and How I Met Your Mother. And then in the category of drama, there's Glee and Once Upon a Time. And I miss Gilmore Girls like crazy.) Writing fiction is my THING. I majored in creative writing, wrote stories starring my dolls and stuffed animals, and pranced (yes, pranced) around the house "reading" aloud something I made up out of my head while holding a book. (I have since honed my creative process. A little.) The point: I look at journalism not as a career path, but as a possible conduit for writing experience.

Listing: Editorial Intern, Syracuse, 2nd Nature LLC

3. Art director

I realize this is not a position one starts in, and this is an entirely unrealistic listing. So basically it's a pointless one. But I already looked up some stuff about being an art director, so it's getting included anyway. Plus I found a cute picture to go with it. So judge me.

Listing: Creative Director, Syracuse, Bankers Healthcare Group, Inc.


4. Public Relations

This is something I think I'd be good at on the writing side. No idea about anything else it entails, but it might be worth an internship to find out. I actually already applied to this listing, but I missed the (unspecified) fall deadline, so I'm planning to reapply in the winter. The cool thing about this one, though, is that I'd also get to work in an art museum, thus pleasing my artsy side. And actually, several of these internships look good to me as possible experiences, given that I am very open-minded about what I'd like to do career-wise outside author-ship.

Listing: Public Relations Internship, Syracuse, Everson Museum


5. Advertising/Marketing/Copywriting

Weird picture. I know. But relevant, in a tattoed-baby kind of way. (?)
Basically, my reasoning behind trying copywriting would be the same as my reasoning behind being a journalist or working in PR. It's another avenue for gaining writing experience. However, it is another really competitive field (anyone else noticing a pattern here?) in which I have only marginal interest. Basically, it would be a use-my-skills-to-pay-the-bills job until I can devote myself to being a full-time J.K. Rowling. Ahem, author.

Listing: Marketing Internship, Syracuse, Daily Orange, Corp.


6. Illustrator

Illustration by Page Tsou, more of his work here

I know this one is a bit out of left field. And it would require an education search, rather than a job search. But if I had unlimited money, this is only one of the things I would get a degree in. I love illustrations. I love art that inspires a story or a vision, that deepens the way you imagine a setting or characters. (Clearly I'm talking about book illustration here.) But again...super-competitive field. And a huge commitment, time-wise. If I were really going to be an illustrator, it would have to be my dream at least almost as much as writing is my dream. So it remains a big, fat, maybe. But it is still included in the list, as much because I want to explore a future in something artistic as anything else.


7. Something in design.

Okay, clearly, I'm getting lazy. And tired. Ouchy eyes tired. Making up words like "ouchy" and typing them out tired.

Anyway, those are the career possibilities I've given real thought to. Top choice is, as always, making up stories. Second choice would (if money were not an object) be something artsy, which would involve going back to school. (Actually, I will probably go back for my masters within the next few years, it's just that I want to do more artistically than I do now. I don't care if it results in a BFA, but my dream life includes art as well as writing. But I digress.) Third choice would be all these money-making using-what-I-learned-in-college-to-sell-stuff-to-people options.

Next time, on Lizzy's Career Decisions Lists:
Basket Weaving
Scuba Diver Instructing
Porpoise Training
Circus Motorcycle Driving

 Actually, I would love to run away with the circus...I wonder if Cirque du Soliel is hiring art directors with tons of imagination and no experience...