Law School Edition

Well, as you all probably know now, I've moved away from my beloved Chicago. I'm now living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I started law school two weeks ago.

Here are my observations so far. Law school is pretty rad. The people aren't total weirdos. Milwaukee is no Rogers Park, but it'll do.

I'm hoping to keep this better updated now that I'm not living my glamorous life of funemployment anymore.

When I went to college 8 years ago, I knew exactly what I wanted to do... I wanted to go to law school. Four years later, I knew that I didn't. I played pretty hard, tried out some new hobbies, and worked. I made new friends, took some time to try to find myself, and eventually came to the conclusion that while my pseudo-grown up life was a lot of fun, it wasn't going to sustain me much longer. And soon, I'd be thirty. And everyone knows that you need to have your life figured out by the time you're thirty, or you're pretty much screwed for the rest of your life (just kidding). That, and someone told me that it wasn't too late for me to realize my childhood dreams.

So, then I took the LSAT. And then I applied to schools. And I got in. And then I decided that the beautiful city of Milwaukee would be home for the next three years. It's closer to home, still close to Chicago, and relatively metropolitan. And they make beer here.

There is the short version of my arduous journey to law school. Things were (to borrow a phrase from my mom) "meant to be." This is it... the right place, the right time.

I believe that my next three years will be spent in a caffeine inducted blur of adrenaline. I'm excited and a little nervous. It's going to be a lot of work. Good thing that I'm here for the win.

My classes are great. I'm really fascinated by the material we're learning about. The law is like a puzzle that needs to be put together. I have a locker. I have friends. They serve booze in our cafeteria (of which I have yet to partake).

The best thing is I know that I'm really genuinely happy. Ask me how I'm feeling at the beginning of December. I'm pretty sure I'll have a very different answer. And in that case, don't ask me. I'll be too busy having a meltdown over exams.

Summer, Stress, and Silver Linings

Lately, I've been a bit of a mess. I'm going to use that as my excuse for not posting. I've been stressed and have all of these thoughts all jumbled up in my mind. You might know what that's like if you've gone through a few of those life-changing stressors all at once. I vaguely remember looking at a chart that listed major life stressors. It included things like getting fired, going to prison, getting divorced, filing for bankruptcy. Thankfully, none of those apply to me.

As you may know, I'm going to be embarking on a super exciting journey later this year. Needless to say, I've been stressing about all of the nuances, paperwork and major life-altering changes that go along with it.

Additionally, I've been having some issues with my landlord recently. The worst part is that he is none too quick to try to come to a resolution.

Finally, but certainly not the least of my current complaints is that my father's cancer has returned and the treatment is very aggressive. Which basically sucks all the way around.

All that being said, my biggest goal for the summer (and now we're officially into summer) is to find balance in my life and let my light shine. I have very specific things to accomplish: go to the Art Institute, go on an architectural boat tour, run a race with my mom, see Lady Gaga act a fool at Lolla, go on a camping trip. Less specifically, I have a bunch of other things I want to do: go to the beach, see my friends as often as possible, spend time with the fam, get into an exercise routine, get back on that vegan wagon.

Last night I posted in my Facebook status the following:
I'm ready to say fuck it. I'm ready to laugh a lot. I'm ready to celebrate. I'm ready to smile. I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to LIVE. C'mon tomorrow. I'm fucking ready.

Here's the deal with that. Some people thought it might be related to some long-awaited changes, but its not. Not yet. It is related to changes, but not those specifically. I've become cynical and withdrawn over the past few weeks. I've become kind of an angry little stressball hermit. My mind has been scattered and I'd much rather eat Cheetos and watch really awful summer programming on television than actually do anything (because let's face it... Cheetos are really good).

I think my problem is that rather than embracing all the change that is coming, I've been resistant to it. I've been thinking about how good yesterday was or how nice tomorrow is going to be. Instead of enjoying today, I've been stressing about things I have no control over. It's like that serenity prayer at AA meetings:
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

I just had to Google it because I didn't know it word-for-word. It goes on:
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
--Reinhold Niebuhr

I suppose that that captures my sentiment pretty well.

Since I was a kid, I've been plagued by two things: impatience and jealousy. Right now, I can see both of these rearing their super ugly heads. I'm impatient because I want to move on from this little holding pattern I've felt stuck in for years. I'm jealous because I look at other people and think "I should have that. I deserve it more." I suppose, like alcoholism, the first step is recognizing it and admitting that it's a problem.

Allowing these things to creep into my mindset (especially at a juncture like this) is only going to harm me and prevent from enjoying what I have right now, which frankly is a lot:
I have an amazing and loving family; I have amazing and loving friends; I have a job that I really enjoy; I have a beach and a lake; I have a beautiful city at my doorstep; I have a guitar and a sewing machine and lots of books; I have a bed and a roof over my head, and I know if that were ever to change, I'd have several places I could go; I'm on an incredible journey, and I'm about to start another.

Honestly, when I put things into perspective, the stressful things in my life seem to fade.

So there. That's what I meant in my Facebook status last night. I decided I had finally had enough of feeling hateful, angry, stressed and cynical about the negative things in my life. I'm going to embrace the amazing, wonderful and positive things that are all around me. I'm going to deal with struggles head-on when they happen, rather than dwelling on them when I feel powerless. I don't want to miss out on the beauty of this journey.

Hello, today! I'm glad you've arrived.









Original Artwork by Allison Shepard

The Legend of Non-Stoppable Star.

Hello friends,

Its been a while since I've had much of anything to say.

I'd like to take this opportunity to share an invaluable cautionary tale.

Last night, I had the pleasure of spending the evening with some friends who were visiting Chicago. We were having a lovely evening at a quaint little al fresco dining establishment called Moody's. Misty, Ali and I were sharing a couple of pitchers of sangria when Adam joined us. The reader must note that things have been a bit rocky between Adam and I since he failed to fulfill a promise to me last Saturday. That promise? To bring me to the train station. He promised he'd pick me up even after I had told him that I'd be fine getting there on my own. Which is what happened anyway. But I digress.

After listening to some truly distasteful quips, I gathered my belongings and told my party that I'd be back. Ali asked me if I really would be back. I said that I probably wouldn't be. And so, I left. I needed some time to not have to listen to the mindless drivel that Adam thought would impress his old friends. Which frankly, just creeped everyone out.

I took a stroll down Broadway and came upon a bar that I had once been to years ago. St. Andrews Inn had once been a run-down dive, but it had since been renovated. I quickly realized that I was the youngest patron, and the only woman. I sent a text to Misty informing her of my location.

Shortly, my friends joined me. It wasn't long before Ali struck up a conversation with a wise old Indian man sitting next to her. He warned us not to go to the Oasis, and instead implored us to go to Hamilton's. The conversation quickly turned to sports, and we realized we were about to partake in a life-altering lesson.

He began, "Have you heard of the Harlem Globetrotters?"
"Yeah, like Kareem Abdul Jabbar." I said.
"I do not know who that is. But I have met one of the Harlem Globetrotters. He would come into my store. He bought the vitamins."
"Oh," I said, quickly losing interest in the story.
"His name was the Non-Stoppable Star. Because, you know, they have different names than their real names," he said.
"Uh-huh," Misty said, flipping through the beer menu.
"Yes. Well, Non-Stoppable Star left the Globetrotters. He went and he got a trademark for his name. And then the people from the Globetrotters told him, no, you cannot do that. But Non-Stoppable Star said, well, I did. And then Non-Stoppable Star made all of these clothes with his name on them. And now he is homeless." The wise old Indian man had come to the end of his tale.

We sat in stunned silence. Perhaps it was because of the gravity of this man's story. Or maybe it was because we were trying to ponder the glaring contradiction of a homeless man purchasing vitamins.

Was Non-Stoppable Star a real Globetrotter? Based on my three seconds of Googling, I'd have to say no. Was he homeless? Maybe. Did he really buy vitamins from this Indian man? It would shock me. Was the whole thing completely contrived? Likely.

But here are the lessons that you, Dear Reader, can take away from this:
1. If you tell your friends that you're going to give them a ride somewhere, do it.
2. If you start a conversation with a strange person, you're going to have a strange conversation.
3. If you quit the Harlem Globetrotters and try to profit from your made-up name, you will end up homeless and buying vitamins from an independently-owned convenience store somewhere on the north side of Chicago.

Thanks to Misty, Ali and Adam for a great night! It was truly a pleasure spending my evening, night and early morning hours with you. We all learned some valuable lessons. But mostly, we just had fun.

Benadryl: This post is about nothing.

I feel like recently my blogs have been pretty thematic. Actually, all the time.

Today, I'm breaking with tradition.

So, a few days ago, I discovered I had developed a mild skin irritation on my chest and arms. Attributing it to allergies, I took a bunch of Benadryl. Also, because I couldn't sleep.

Needless to say, when yesterday rolled around, I was pretty tired. I was going to stay up though, and watch the SNL with Betty White. Not because I particularly cared about Betty White, but rather because I was excited about all the ladies coming back (Ana Gasteyer, Molly Shannon, etc).

At 8:30 pm, I was laying on my couch, looking at my phone. I dropped my phone on my face. It was not cool. I decided it was time to go to bed.

So I did.

Today, I woke up at 6 am without an alarm clock. I made breakfast, looked at the internets a bit, washed my dishes, and went to the gym. I went to work and on my lunch hour, I went grocery shopping.

I was super productive. Why, you may ask? Benadryl.

And yes, my skin is still irritated, and I have a lump on the inside of my mouth where I dropped my phone on my face. Still not cool.

Hobbies: The secret lives of your friends and neighbors.

Hobbies are an important part of living a well-balanced life. Sometimes hobbies are not healthy. Un-healthy hobbies include: binge drinking, cat or doll collecting, on-line dating. Over the years, I've participated in un-healthy hobbies. I've also participated in healthy hobbies. Today, you will enter the secret life of Allison.

Knitting:

Didn't we all go through this phase? I know that I first began my foray into knitting in high school. I made a scarf. I also knit another scarf while I was in college. And then I began another scarf. That was probably three years ago. I'm still working on it.


Cross-stitching:
My favorite magazine "Bust" once had a review of a book that rocked my socks off. It was called "Subversive Cross-Stitch." It had fun patterns in it like:

and:



Here's how far I got:



Improv:

I had an intellectual crush on Stephen Colbert. Stephen Colbert was in a really great show called "Strangers with Candy." I rented "Strangers with Candy" because I had Netflix. I was suddenly enthralled with Amy Sedaris. Amy Sedaris rocks my socks. I wanted to be Amy Sedaris. And Stephen Colbert. I decided that taking classes at Chicago's Second City Training Center would be the way to go.

I improvised in class, I was in a couple of groups, I did a couple of shows. I auditioned for and was accepted into the Conservatory program. I did it, I graduated. Since then, though, my interest has sort of waned. I still like Amy Sedaris. I'm kind of over Stephen Colbert... mainly because I don't have cable. But still, I loved my time at Second City.

The thing about improv is that its awesome. I had a ton of fun. I met some super cool and really smart people. I loved it. And now, I can do better object work than most people. And the robot. I'm really good at the robot.

Sewing:

Again, I was swayed by "Bust." I feel like at this juncture I should explain. "Bust" is a feminist publication, focused on diy-ers, indie rockers, pseudo-intellectuals. My god. It sounds like I just described hipsters who wear skinny jeans and a lot of black eye-liner and live in wicker park. Okay. Well, I'm sure it appeals to them, too. But I like it, anyway. Back to the hobby. I saw a review of a new sewing machine. It was pink. I had thought about sewing before. It seemed cool. I had ended up jamming my mom's when I was little, on accident. My mom, having forgiving the incident, bought me this beautiful sewing machine. I've actually made quite a few pieces... dresses, shirts, pants, skirts. I like it. Its always the best when people compliment what you're wearing and you can tell them that you've made it. Speaking of making clothes... I just finished a dress for a wedding I went to this weekend... I looked hot.

Baking:

My baking really started with my love affair with Amy Sedaris. She's a big cupcake baker. My foray into cupcakes started just before the big cupcake insurgence of 2008. Cupcakes are a pretty good time. You bake them, you cool them, you frost them. I always make the same kind: vanilla with vanilla buttercream. Buttercream frosting is the best. Chocolate buttercream is a close second.

Cupcakes get old. Cake, on the other hand, does not. I think we all know how I feel about cake. Cake is magnificent. Layers are essential. Because that layer is where the magic happens. I've actually found that boxed cakes are great when you want to get creative. I've made my Moxton Creme Pie (vanilla pudding, yellow cake, and milk chocolate frosting) and Black Forest Fake-Out (devils food cake, cherry pie filling, and whipped cream) more times than I can count. They rock. And decorating is rad.

Guitar:

I started playing the guitar last year. I was motivated by a drive to become a singer-songwriter. Dreams don't die.

I really like playing the guitar, and I'm not particularly good at it. I've never taken lessons, but I can play a few chords and a few songs.

Maybe some day, I'll realize my dreams of being a singer-songwriter are ill-advised. Maybe not. Until then, I'm just going to look really cool.

So, what's the point of having hobbies? I guess its that you get to express yourself in a way that will probably only make yourself happy. I'm sure that both people I knitted scarves for really appreciated them, especially when I asked them why they weren't wearing them. People love my impromptu guitar concerts, even though I ask people not to look at me when I'm "performing." And I just need to flat-out apologize to everyone who came to my improv shows. And thank you, that was the mark of a true friend... especially when you laughed. Especially then.

Hobbies are a way of filling the time between the things that you have to do, like work or do laundry. They are the ways that you express your confidence in yourself and in your abilities. They keep you out of trouble... unless your hobby is making crystal meth in your bathroom... that one will get you into trouble. And probably kill you.

In a way, I guess that blogging has become a new hobby. I just need to make sure it doesn't go the way of knitting and cross-stitching.

Summer: So close, I can nearly taste its sweet sunshiny goodness.

Today, it's like 80 degrees and just gorgeous. Its one of those days that makes you excited to sit outside with your morning coffee and gives you renewed zest for life.

I cannot frickin' wait for summer. This is going to be an awesome one for several reasons. I'm going to start a whole new phase in my life in the fall, which means that I need to make this summer really count.

Road trip!
Last year, you may have followed my Existential Road Trip blog. This year will be no different. We're not entirely settled on dates or places yet, but we know that we're taking a trip somewhere. Tent, car, cookstove, hatchet. It's going to be badass.

Lollapalooza!
I was really bummed out last year when the Beastie Boys had to cancel their engagement because someone got cancer. This year, I'm really hoping that no one from Green Day is suddenly stricken. And also that they don't run out of big cans of Bud Light Lime after the second day.

Beach!
There will never be any better beach than the one that you can walk to in three minutes. Especially when the only other people that are there are your neighbors. People are never like, ooh, I'm going to head up north to Rogers Park to go to the beach. Which means that you don't need to look particularly good, because, lets face it... it's Rogers Park.

Rogers Park!
Best summertime neighborhood ever. Outdoor dining, movie theater, local weirdos. Beach. Proximity to "cooler" neighborhoods. Best ever.

Summer Festivals!
Day drinking. Enough said.

Moving on with my life!
It's been grand, and I'll miss everything about my little corner of the world when I leave it. But, the good thing is that I get to strike out on my own again, make a new little corner.

My time off this summer is going to be brilliant! Relaxing and organizing. Preparing for the future, indulging in hobbies. Riding my bike, hanging with family and friends, chilling at the beach or out on the deck.

I'm jealous of my summer self. Only about two and a half more months till I'm home free. Right now, I'm super excited. You know how it is when you wake up and think to yourself, "Oh man, I already know that this is going to be the best day!"? That's how this summer is going to be.

Tempus fugit

*Note to the reader: I realized how much "time," as I use it here, has affected me during the writing of this entry. My apologies for the philosophical tangents and digressions.*

Time is not kind. Sometimes it is, I guess. But generally speaking, I'm going with "not."

I say this because you, my loyal readers, have been clamoring for a new post, and time has flown by. I guess I didn't realize that TWO MONTHS have gone by since my last post.

So here I am, back again. I apologize in advance... I don't have a ton of observations to make tonight. That's kind of a lie, because I do have a lot of observations to make, but not the time to give them the thorough attention they deserve. That's been the case for the last two months. I'm going to make it up to you... I promise.

So, that brings us to the subject of time. It's relative... that's for certain. Yes, the clock ticks on, days pass, months pass, years pass. That's not really what I'm talking about though.

Obvious observation #1: Time flies when you're having fun.
Duh. You're doing stuff, you're busy... or not, you're laughing, celebrating the things that are actually important.
Obvious observation #2: A watched pot never boils.
Yep, it's true. When you're waiting for something to happen (like your day off, or for the time-clock to hit 5), time drags.

Philosophical revelation #1: Some things never change. Some things do.
Think about it... some of your relationships are exactly the same as they were 6 months, 3 years, 15 years ago. Some have changed drastically. Some people you know have changed, some never will.
Philosophical revelation #2: Time doesn't heal all wounds. Sometimes they get worse as time goes on.
Yeah, it might just be merely a flesh wound. That one's probably going to be okay. But how about the loss of a first love? The loss of a family member? The ghosts a veteran carries? Its the wounds we can't see that aren't going to heal with some neosporin and a band-aid.

Okay, with those obvious and philosophical insights in mind, here goes:

It's been a year, almost exactly, since I had my existential crisis. At that time, I made some important choices in the way that I wanted to lead my life. I changed. As time went by, I lost my grip, lost my focus. That's not to say that a lot of positive things didn't happen because of it. It's just that the person I was when I made those choices and the person I am today don't seem that far apart from each other.

I have about 3 months until my life changes drastically. This happens to be one month beyond the date that I had set for myself last year for my big "life changing weekend."

Everything is set. It is falling remarkably into place. And while I feel a huge sense of relief, I'm also unnerved.

I have an uncanny ability to remember dates and the things that happened. I'm not kidding. Dates that are important to me in one way or another stick out in my mind. I'm able to recall them at a moment's notice in great detail. Strangely enough, I don't remember the date that I decided I was going to change my life. I only remember that it was Palm Sunday, and it was 6 days after my last show at Second City. Dates get sketchy here, though, because Adam's birthday happened the Sunday before my last show, the day after my friend Chris left our workplace, and two days after I went out with my friend Sara "on the prowl." I could go on like this, but as I'd like to keep your interest, I'll continue to my point.

I suppose that through the process of deduction, it was 6 days after March 29, 2009. As March has 31 days, I'm going with April 4, 2009. Exactly one year ago, despite the week difference in the religious calendar.

The point is: exactly one year ago tonight, I decided it was time for things to change. And they have. Some things are good, some things are the same, some things have not been so great.

I had a few encounters this weekend at home that are really sticking out in my mind right now. Childhood friends, friends from school, people from church. My family.

Some of these relationships are timeless. I can sit down with them, and its as though not a day has gone past since the last time we were out prowling Menominee/Marinette for a bar that takes cards. For the people at church, I'll always be "Pastor's Daughter."

For some people I encountered, time has been kind and beneficial. Families have grown and developed... become actual families. People I know have grown up, come into their own, and found their voices.

Other people have felt time's heavy weight upon them. They've succumbed to addictions and diseases. Drugs, alcohol, cancer, alzheimers.

Things change and they don't. Careers, relationships, health status. The only thing that ever truly stands as a benchmark for us is time. We can recall dates, anniversaries, and rites of passage. Monday, Friday, holiday. These things change.

Our progress as persons can't be based on dates and times. Things happen. Roadblocks, relapses and remissions change everything. Triggers of tragedy, bursts of joy, laughter and staged photos are the things that stand out in our minds.

So here I am on the one year anniversary of me deciding my life would be different. And it is, in some ways I had hoped and in others that I couldn't imagine.

I'm lucky because I have an amazing family. I have great friends. I have an awesome ability to bring in "the robot" when awkward situations arise.

Once again, I'm using April 4th as my independence day. (lolcats! i think i stole that from a movie!) But seriously. This is the date that I will forever mark in my book as the date that changed everything. It was the first time that I took a step back and realized that I took responsibility for my emotions.

Am I better looking than I was a year ago? Not really. I have bangs, though. I was also able to attain what I referred to as a "rockin' bod."

Did I achieve what I wanted to in this past year? Yes, I certainly did. I found myself, I realized my amazing musical abilities and found a new career path (the last two are unrelated... sorry if I got your hopes up in my career as a singer/songwriter).

I realized that I don't care for bullshit and cynicism. I also realized that those resolutions I set for myself last year at this time were good for me.

That being said... time is a way to measure our successes and failures. It is a way to mark the days. But it's still relative. We can manipulate it the way we want. We can mark a point in the calendar and say, "this is the day something great/awful happened." We can look back on it and say, "oh wow, its been so many years since this... i feel like i've done alot/nothing."

Transient. That is the best term I can think of. We use it the way we want it. It's not necessarily stable. It comes and goes as we need it.

Time can't measure who we are as people. The only thing that can measure that is our relationships and experiences. And the only people that can judge that measure is ourselves.

Here's to yesterday. And today. And tomorrow. And last night. And this morning. And last year. And fourth grade. And three months from now. How good it all is.

I've been listening to a lot of Tegan and Sara lately, because I went to their concert last Friday. Here's an oldie:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wdn1aCUeHX0
Skip to 0:49 for my fave part of the song.

I blame them for my current ponderings.

And, tempus fugit means "time flees," more commonly translated as "time flies." Though I think the "time flees" is quite appropriate.

Online Dating

Now, I understand that some people have success with online dating.

I'm not really one of those people.

The problem for me is two-fold. On the internets, you're making your decision based on snap judgments. And I'm a pretty big judger. Things that I'm not into whilst online dating: fatties, 40+, generally unattractive people, and people that aren't able to write a profile without using "txt". RU the 1 I WANT? Nope. Because I would probably punch you in the face the first time you sent me a "UR A QT" text.

I'm turned off by the following things:
1. In your headline: "We can tell people we met on the el." Yawn. There's really no stigma attached to online dating anymore.
2. In your headline: "Christian Lawyer." Don't get me wrong, I like both Christians and lawyers, and hope to someday use both of those descriptors for myself, but I don't think anyone should define themselves with their religion and their profession.
3. In your profile: "I've realized that I'm not going to meet the one I want to marry at a bar." Really? You just now realized that? Because according to your profile, you're 27. I realized that when I was 22.
4. In your activities: "Wine bars," "Networking Events," "Yoga," "Climbing." To me, that combination equals douchebaggery. Especially the "Networking Events." Gurl Please. You just like open bars and rubbing elbows.
5. Saying that you "Work out 4-5 times a week." Don't get me wrong... my match.com profile says the same thing. I also put that on there when I did work out 4-5 times a week. I'll get around to doing it again sometime.
6. Seeming like a normal person in your profile when you're actually a total creeper.
7. Sending a "wink" to someone who clearly states that they're looking for someone in a 10 year age range, and you miss that age range by about 15 years. Really? Are you that full of yourself? If I say I don't want to date someone who was 45, I probably don't want to date someone who's 45. They let you pick that.

All of the above are true scenarios I've found. About #6. I went to college with this guy who, while a nice guy, is no one I'd EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER in a million years be alone in a room with... much less on a date. He's just kind of a creeper and, in my opinion, kind of psychotic (just lets you know how weird he really is), but a nice enough guy to be in normal society.

HOWEVER, his match.com profile made him seem like a normal guy. Reading it, I was kind of like, "Oh hey, he's not bad." And then I scrolled back up and actually looked at his picture and thought "Oh holy --- whew. Dodged a bullet on that one."

That was when I realized that online dating and all that was a scary thing. You can end up with real creepers that you might never know are creepers had you not gone to college with them.

Maybe I'm just annoyed because the match.com people took my money-- and I serious hopes of finding some normal people. I've been out twice. Once with someone I went to college with and whom I exchanged messages with about how awkward it was that we were both on match.com. Then he told me that the girls he works with just use it to meet random hook-ups.

The second date I had was with a man my mom called "the cat man." Yeah, he had cats. He winked at me, I winked back, we messaged, I got a little drunk one night and sent him my number. He called. We went on a date. He was dull. And we went halfsies. Worst. Date. Ever. Especially when I said, "We should do this again sometime." (Which, as we all know, means, "We should never do this again.") He replied, "Yeah, you're free on Friday, right?"

The problem of online dating is that you can see who's looked at you and think to yourself "meh" or "booyah." And then you think of all those profiles you've looked at and people you've winked at once you've said "booyah." And that you haven't gotten that many winks. Apparently your profile isn't that great, after all.

Trying to be witty or cute in your profile is a hardship. Here you're trying to do all the talking you'd do if you were at your best. [Oh, yeah, I work retail, but someday, I'm going to be a lawyer. I like to sew and cook and be real domestic. I like cats and dogs. I like the water but I don't like mean people. I think I'm kind of funny and cute.] But let's face it, you're on an online dating site, and you're clearly not at your best.

I know a few people that have had success with these things. Again, I'm not one of them.

So that is the first problem with dating websites. The second is this:
In real life, I've not conformed to any of my snap judgments in dating. Appearances have very little to do with how I feel about a person. The fun part about starting a new relationship is finding out all of those good things and bad things. Actually meeting a person and getting to know them.

To me, its not about the profile picture you put up or the headline you post. Its not about your profound musings in your profile, or your interests, or the fact that you are a professional poker player.

Its about the conversation, the smiles, the way the person looks at me and makes me feel.

You just don't get that on the interwebs.

In closing: I will not be renewing my subscription to match.com.

There are several total weirdo dating websites like:
beautifulpeople.com (which kicked a bunch of people off once they gained weight after the holidays... you have to meet a certain standard.)
eharmony.com (which doesn't allow non-Christians or the gays in, and would have been a good place for my "Christian Lawyer" friend)
jdate.com (for those of the jewish persuasion)
and my favorite:
ashleymadison.com (the online dating site for people who are married and looking for an affair. seriously.)

Please check out Sarah Haskins' (my most favorite lady comedienne/feminist cultural commentator) episode of Target Women from Current TV related to online dating, called coincidentally enough, Online Dating.
http://current.com/items/89810919_sarah-haskins-in-target-women-online-dating.htm

Her other episodes, (especially Yogurt and Barbie) are pretty fantastic also.

That being said:
If you're single, don't fret. The times, they are a-changing. We're single longer; we try to do it all, all at once. Its just the way we live (way to go, women's lib! you screwed us on that one! [or did you?]).

If you've met your soulmate on match.com, well, you're a lucky mo-fo. Most of us are just shallow enough that it gets in the way of actually meeting someone.

Sexfist (Bluegrass at the Red Line Tap)

So, tonight I had the pleasure of going to listen to a really tremendous bluegrass band which plays regularly about 6 blocks from my house. Tuesday nights, a band called "Sexfist" or ("Hen House Prowlers" for you family minded folk) plays at the Red Line Tap, conveniently located next to (and owned by the same folks as) the Heartland Cafe, which is one of my favorites. :)

I just have to say that bluegrass is my most favorite kind of music, even above Scandinavian angry pseudo-pop. I think the first time that I was actually exposed to bluegrass was while my family was visiting my god-parents in up-state New York. We randomly had the opportunity to go to an outdoor festival. I was eleven, and far too cool to appreciate any thing, much less tremendous musical talent. However, I distinctly remember being eleven, sitting on and pulling out the grass, and suddenly realizing that I actually like the music.

Over the years, I've had an increased appreciation for good musical talent. I love to go and see live music played well. I like to see the musicians play their instruments and see the technique and the precision of their talent.

Since I've started "playing" the guitar, I've realized the incredible confidence and actual talent it takes to go up in front of an audience. I played the clarinet in the high school band, and I wasn't all that bad, but it's definitely not the same sort of performance experience as playing an instrument with a small ensemble and singing along; having an actual stage presence, making it seem as though the instrument is second nature. That's where this bluegrass ensemble really seems to excel.

I've seen this band a few times. The bass player has the best voice, by far. The banjo player has mad finger skills. The fiddler pops in and out of solos and vocals like it's nothing.

Tonight, we were discussing the incredible talent of this band. Someone said, "I've never seen a bluegrass band that wasn't super talented... do you think its a prerequisite of being in a bluegrass band?" I'd have to say yes.

Bluegrass music is the most hopeful music in the world. Here you have the steady and deep measure of the bass; the constant cheer of the banjo; the melody (which no one can distinctly pick up) of the guitar; the singing voice of the fiddle. The words they may be singing are those of sorrow. They harmonize, and suddenly the words are no longer of any substance. Its only the sound of the voices coming together that you hear.

I suppose that if there was one fault of bluegrass its that the actual musical quality of what you hear supersedes any of the lyrics.

Tonight we were especially lucky. One of the fellows who was sitting at our table is in the Navy band. He mentioned to one of the guys in the band that he was from North Carolina (the same as the fiddler). He came back to the bar with his soprano sax. He got up on stage (no rehearsal at all!!) and took on half of the banjo solos with his sax. It was SO incredible!!

My favorite instrument is the banjo. I have absolutely no desire to learn how to play it (as I find finger plucking on the guitar to be challenging). I love watching it and hearing it. You give me a banjo, and I am there.

Another one of my favorite things about seeing Sexfist at the Red Line Tap is the crowd it draws. Hippies, sorority girls, folks like myself, older people, and the general Rogers Park crowd (which we'll get to soon in this blog).

If you're in Chicago and looking for an amazing time on Tuesday night, I just have to say, make the trek up to Rogers Park. It's incredible. And after shouting "Sexfist" 21 times, they'll come out to do an encore.

On Cake

Last week, a friend asked me about the origins of Cake Sunday.

The concept is pretty simple: on Sunday, we eat cake.

However, I suppose its meaning is a bit deeper than that. During the spring of last year, I decided to make some positive changes in my life (See: Being Awesome). Somewhere along the lines, I made a cake. I was sitting in church that Sunday morning, and I thought, gosh, I could really go for some cake. That first cake was my rendition of a Black Forest Cake. It's made with a boxed chocolate cake, a can of cherry pie filling, and Cool Whip.

I coerced Adam into coming over with the prospect of cake. We sat and reflected on the past week. I congratulated myself on being awesome.

Let's be frank. I went through a rough patch and wasn't taking care of myself in any of the necessary ways, physically, mentally, emotionally. I was able to pull myself out of that with the help of my dear friends and cake.

I know that I'm putting a great deal of stock into this idea of Cake Sunday, but if you think about it, it's really pretty amazing. All week, you're awesome, and then you celebrate on Sunday with a cake.

Making the cake is an art in and of itself. I use 9" round cake pans. I always make a layer cake. Sometimes, I make it from a box, but I much prefer making my own frosting.

There's something to be said of the whole procedure: cracking the eggs, buttering and flouring the pans, smelling the cakes bake, letting them cool, and my personal favorite: frosting the cake.

Sometimes I get crafty with my cakes. I make a wicked (fake) Boston creme pie (yellow cake, vanilla pudding, chocolate frosting), and of course there's my awesome black forest. I once made a red velvet cake with a cooked frosting (you can't use cream cheese frosting on red velvet. I'm sorry), and a carrot cake (which MUST have cream cheese frosting).

Part of the whole deal is figuring out what to make. Its a process: what am I in the mood for? Should it be fruity? Chocolate? Spicy? Then finding a recipe: do I really want to use carob? No way am I putting applesauce in this chocolate cake? Then finally, buying butter.

Butter is the most key ingredient in cake. I learned this the hard way when I was a vegan. Butter-cream frosting cannot be made with margarine. Margarine-cream just doesn't have the same ring. Unfortunately, my brief flirtation with veganism sort of ruined Cake Sunday.

With all that said, I suppose that Cake Sunday is really a celebration of all of the good that has happened in the past week. The learning, the growth, the awesomeness. Spending time with friends, eating something delicious. I got a piece of cake tattooed on my arm as a reminder of the good things to come and to remember how far I've come.

In closing, an added perk of Cake Sunday is that the leftovers lead into "Cake Week." I lost 30 pounds the first time we did Cake Sundays. Go figure.


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Sink or Swim

Well, its a good thing I've started training for this triathlon now, several months out, I can already tell you that.

I vaguely remember taking swimming lessons when I was small. Probably through first or second grade... maybe less, maybe more. I remembered really hating it, but over the years, I'd chalked it up to already feeling awkward around other people in a swimming suit.

I decided to put away my insecurities regarding my current skin condition (which is not contagious, nor has it resulted in open sores) and just go for it today. I knew that the gym I've had a membership to for probably 6 years has a pool, but I've never been.

I packed my new Speedo, goggles, and swimcap and headed to the gym. I had to awkwardly ask if there was access to the pool through the locker room, which I figured there was, but at the same time, I didn't want to wander aimlessly around the locker room or the gym lobby in my swimming suit.

So there we were, me and the pool. Me and my Speedo gear, looking swell. Believe it or not, this suit is probably the most flattering I've worn in years, probably because it isn't exposing my ridiculously pale and unattractive stomach. Spandex is, for the one time in my many years, a dear friend of mine.

Among the rules and regulations includes the following: Those who are unable to swim one lap must stay in the shallow end.

Ha! Hahaha! I thought to myself, "Those fools! Unable to swim a LAP!"

Getting into the water, I put on my goggles, securely suctioning them to my head. I stood in the shallow end and harnessing my chi, I paused for a moment. Then I pushed off.

Aah, how nice and relaxing! Like getting on a bike! No probl- oh goodness, this is kind of difficult, OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!

I made it from one end to the other and then back again, grateful to be not swimming. I stood panting on the side of the pool.

No problem. I could totally do a lap. Doing another, was a horse of a different color.

Girding my loins, I went for it. Each lap kicked my ass more than the one before it. After about 5 or 6 of these, my whole body was crying out for me to stop. The lifeguard, I'm sure, was being given the most excitement he'd encounter all day, probably very sure that I would drown.

So, that being said, I smell like chlorine, and am very tired. But also sort of pumped! I mean, it can only get easier, right?

Twice a week, I'm going to work on this swimming thing. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to do more than one lap at a time in the next few weeks.

Looking back on it, I think the reason I hated swimming lessons so much back in the day was that it sucked. And unfortunately, I wasn't old enough to like it.

Being Awesome

So, last year, I went through what I referred to as an "existential crisis." It was basically a wake-up call that the way I was living my life wasn't conducive to "living."

I quit my vices: drinking, smoking, eating meat, and all the bad things that go along with those things. I took the LSAT, I ran a 5k, began playing the guitar. And oh yeah, looked awesome. Indeed, I believe I referred to myself as having a "rockin' bod."

So, that being said, I've had a bit of a slide back to my "old self." I guess its time to get back on that old wagon. Start back up where I left off.

Tomorrow morning when I get up, I'm going to begin a concerted effort once again to jump on the "clean living" wagon. I honestly enjoyed the runners high, the self-righteousness that comes with depriving oneself and pushing oneself.

I've already decided that I'm going to do a triathlon sprint, and I've been waiting for my skin to get better before really actively training. But. At this point, I'm not sure that waiting is going to be an option.

I want to start right now.

Tonight, I had a conversation with someone I used to date, who has recently been on a mission to get into shape. While we were talking, I realized that I missed all of that... the exercise, the eating healthy.

I want to feel that sense of accomplishment that goes along with being awesome.

I have this piece of cake tattooed on me for a reason. Its so that I won't forget how awesome I can be. It's time to earn that cake again.

So. Adam: Cake Sunday is back on. Neil: You can't get out of this one. Mom: Ask me about my workouts.

It's awesome.