Forever Young

Last night I went to a baseball game with some friends and even though our team got smoked (15-4...wah wah) and I suck at eating sunflower seeds (I just don't have the patience to get that little seed out of it's shell, is it even worth it?) it was still a good night. I really do enjoy baseball, it's easy to follow and I usually have a vague idea of what's going down on the field. We got to sit in a box because of a 'friend of a friend' situation, and that was really cool! The fireworks got cancelled, which was a bit of a bummer, but after the sun went down the blazing heat subsided leaving us with a rather pleasant evening.
In the box next to us was this family, a mom, a dad and two young daughters (I'd say probably about 5 and 7). Anyway, this happened:
Guy: "You're probably around 15, 16...right?"
Me: "Actually I'm 26"
Guy: "I'm so sorry...I was just hoping you could talk to my daughter, she wishes she was a teenager."
So I proceed to tell the girl to enjoy being a kid, growing up is not all it's cracked up to be yadda yadda...
Then the guy asks me: "Ok, now how much do I have to pay you to tell her to stay away from boys?"
Me: "That is a speech I will give for free!" Which led into my "Boys-are-gross, they-are-nothing-but-trouble, they-all-have-cooties" schpiel.
I've always looked younger than my age, so when I actually was 16...I looked more like I was 12.
In fact, I was so convincing as a 12-year-old my parents would usually make sure I got a kids' menu at restaurants. I hated it. Not only was that down right offensive, but it was also humiliating and traumatizing and 'ohmygoshI'dratherdie'. But now I think it's funny. It's a compliment. 10 years from now (when I'm close to 40...ack!) it'll be nice to get mistaken for someone in their twenties!

An actual picture of me from my high school years...I think I'm 15 here, even though I look like a 5th grader.

So blow the candles out, my dear...

Today is my birthday, and I love my birthday!!

I have gone through a lot over the past year. Moving out of my apartment and back into my parents' house four days into my 25th year led to a rocky start, but 25 ended up being a great year! I met a lot of new people, and I made some terrific friends who have blessed me tremendously! Now I can only hope that 26 is just as (if not more) great.
As amazing as this past year has been, it's still a little hard for me to cope with that fact that I'm nowhere near where I thought I'd be in my life by the time I crossed the threshold from 'early to mid-twenties' to 'mid- to late twenties'. Although, my dad was 39 for several years...surely, I can hang on to 25 for a little while longer.

I want to keep having birthdays, but I don't want to get any older until something changes. I like the birthday crowns, and the birthday wishes, and the birthday blessings, and the birthday dinners...and I love the birthday bikes!

Okay, maybe 'birthday bikes' shouldn't have been plural. I just got the one. But it's pink and it has a little basket, so I think I'm good there!

I did have a great day: my friends surprised me last night with pie and ice cream, my kiddos sang to me today and my parents took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner! I just want to keep all the fun stuff, but stay away from the birthday blues!

White Horse

I may be 25 years old...but I'm convinced that there is a teenager inside of me. And she listens to Taylor Swift!! My inner teenager relates to TSwizzle's music and feels as though these songs were written specifically for me. My outer adult realizes that this is ridiculous and is slightly ashamed to share an iTunes account with the younger version. I like her sassy 'I don't need you' songs, I like her fun, upbeat 'I have a crush on you' songs, and I like her 'I love you, but you love someone else' songs...like this one:

Are adults not allowed to have or express these feelings? Are teenage girls the only ones allowed to be sulky and moody (or sassy or upbeat or whatever) when it comes to boys? I guess by now, as an adult my life (which one would assume includes my 'love life') should be more together than this...

It's not

'Cause this ain't a fairytale

It's my life!

A Place of One's Own

Once upon a time I had my own apartment. The rent was too high, the neighborhood wasn't great, and my air conditioner didn't work. On several occasions I had to re-light my heater pilot with a match when it went out, and once my toilet broke and it took two days before someone came to fix it. My kitchen had the ugliest brown lacquered cabinets, and I swear my upstairs neighbors had a pet elephant who enjoyed tap-dancing. The frat boy wannabes (who were in their mid-thirties) across the way played their awful music too loud, and if the kids weren't using my back-patio to play hide and seek on, they would always be screaming in the pool (which was right on the other side of my patio).

But, despite all of this...I had my own apartment. I had my own living room, and my own bedroom, and my own kitchen, and my own bathroom. I could decorate however I wanted, and watch whatever I wanted on TV.

I'm starting to really miss my old place...especially today when I'm being charged with the task of cleaning 'my' room.

A sampling of photos from my apartment in Simi

First off, it's really hard to keep your room clean when you have to figure out a way to keep all of your stuff in there...which is tough, since my room at my parents' house isn't that much bigger than my queen-sized bed that's in there. I have maybe a 12"-border around my bed, and mom won't let me hang anything on the walls (which are no longer the teal of my teen-hood, but a shade of gray that reminds me somewhat of a prison cell...apparently it's supposed to be 'classy' but it just feels depressing). How am I supposed to feel like this is my room if I'm not allowed to put any of myself into it? With none of my travel pictures, or even pictures of my friends the blank walls just make me sad. Plus, I am really starting to miss my stuff. Every time I visit the storage unit, I see all my chairs, and my lamps and my decor...and I just miss it.

Working less than 30 hours a week, along with the three semesters it will take (at least) to get all my ECE certification means it's going to be a long while before I'll be able to see the light at the end of the 'living with my parents' tunnel.

I feel like the only way I'm ever going to be able to move out is if I:

a) Inherit a house that is already paid off and has no property taxes attached to it

b) Win a bajillion dollars by playing the lottery, because a bajillion dollars should cover rent for a while

-or-

c) Get married

none of these are likely solutions...especially since I don't even play the lottery.

I guess I'm just destined to live the life of a twenty-five year old teenager...

I'm in the market...

There are precious few non-towny, twentysomething, attractive, single guys in the town where I currently live. But I saw this guy at the grocery store today who seemed to be all of the above...he wasn't dressed like a towny, he actually looked like he could be in my age bracket and he wasn't wearing a ring (yeah, I snuck a peek at his left hand.)

This is one of those instances where I wish my life were a scripted TV show, we would both be reaching for the same apple and our eyes would meet and I'd say something witty and...Bam! He becomes a story arc in the sitcom of of my life. That is so much better than what really happened: I saw him getting milk out of the dairy case and then walk up to the 15 items or less lane...

What's my age again?

That's right...I'm 24. Only 24. So why am I sitting here with a heat pack on my neck and an ice pack on my head?
Maybe my body is punishing me for actually acting my age for once. Last night I went to go visit one of my good friends from college who recently moved to Costa Mesa with her husband. I'm bummed she moved away, but I'm glad it's only about an hour and a half drive instead of, y'know, like across country or San Diego (or Santiago if you're Tim after a few drinks, which would be really far away.)
Anyway, some friends and I mini-roadtripped down there yesterday afternoon, and it was so nice to be around other people my own age, which doesn't happen nearly often enough. It seems when I'm not with my students I'm just with myself. And myself doesn't necessarily act my age. I kinda twice my age and half my age at the same time. I watch TV and eat dinner on the sofa and I'm usually in bed by 10. Last night I didn't make it home until after 11...PM...gasp!
But it was so much fun. It's been so long since I've played Apples to Apples without having to say 'inappropriate!' every other turn...combinations that are banned from the youth room end up as the winning pair!
But maybe the night was too much for me. Sitting around laughing with my friends apparently took it's toll. I woke up at 2ish last night and every muscle on the right side of my body was on fire. I tried an ice pack, it worked until I took it off. I tried taking a hot bath, but when you're 5'8" and your tub is 1 foot deep, 18 inches wide and 4 feet long, it's not very relaxing. I don't know how I ended up asleep last night.
Although, given the choice between a boring weekend and a weekend spent with friends whatever the side effects, my friends will win every time. I just need more practice acting my age...

Day 01- A show that should have never been canceled

I bet you were expecting me to say Pushing Daisies. I kind of expected myself to say that too, after all, it's the most creative, whimsical show that has ever existed. The wonderfully quirky characters on this show were delightful, and the writing was genius. A 'forensic fairy tale'...it's so novel and innovative. The show was bright, colorful and witty and I do miss it a lot. However, if Pushing Daisies had never been canceled, Kristin Chenoweth wouldn't have been able to do Promises, Promises which means a)I wouldn't have been able to cross 'seeing Kristin Chenoweth on Broadway' off my 'things to do before I die' list; and b)I wouldn't have gone to New York for my birthday. That 36 hour trip was probably one of the craziest things I've ever done...and it was fantastic.
I also could've gone with Ugly Betty, because it too, was an endearingly cute show that probably could've gone longer...but for this category I choose the short-lived FOX show Reunion.
It came on after The OC my Sophomore year of college. This show followed the lives of 6 friends and the things that they have gone through in the twenty years since they graduated from High School. What we find out in the first episode, is that one of them has been recently murdered and (presumably) another one of them did it. The show flashed back and forth between present day (2006) and a different year each episode (the first ep was 1986/2006; the second, 1987/2006 and so on)...but NOT so on, because the show was canceled after 9 episodes, and it took us the first 6 just to find out which friend was murdered. Most of what bugs me about this is that we never find out who did it and why. Yes, the acting was terrible. And the make-up crew had their hands full trying to get these twentysomething actors to bounce between high school/college aged students to their present day 38 year old selves...
I don't even know of anyone besides me and my college roommates that even remembers this show, much less watched it.

A Farewell to Mugs

I feel like I should end this month with some kind of 'Circle of Life' (or 'Circle of Mugs', if you will) or a ceremony of sorts. Maybe had I chosen my first and last mugs more wisely, I could have linked them together in some kind of 'well, there you have it' phrase. Y'know something deep...or something akin to the 'in the end, we all fruit' statement the dad makes in 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding'. As hard as I try, I can't think of a way to force this mug together with today's.
Again, had my mug selection throughout the month been wiser, I wouldn't have to arrive on the 31st with 'the only mug I haven't used yet', but that's where we are.
Again, please excuse the PaintShop editing job. The text spirals and reads 'Like a warm drink it seeps into my soul'. Which is such an appropriate sentiment for a coffee mug, since coffee is usually served warm, if not hot. At least when it's served in a mug.
This is a poor replica of a mug that used to be for sale exclusively through Jamie Cullum's Website. But the price was listed in British Pounds, therefore ordering the mug off the website would mean I would have to call my bank and ask them to authorize my credit card for use in a foreign country. Then Jamie's merch people nixed the mug. So I attempted this recreation, fiddled around on zazzle, and voila...Jamie Cullum mug!!
When ever I use this mug, I feel the need to jump off a piano
I didn't take this picture, and I regret to say that I don't know who did...because they deserve mondo credit! In fact, whoever captured this is kinda my hero.
The last time I saw him in concert, I wasn't able to capture a jump with my camera. I got a pic of him standing on his piano, and then a pic of him landing...I'm not quick enough, nor do I have the mad photo skillz (or a super schnazzy camera) to produce such an image...but I feel major photog envy towards whoever did

Intro-ish

--first of all, this blog (or blah-g, rather) isn't about abstinence, or why you should or shouldn't be abstinent or why I am--
It comes from a conversation I had with a friend a few months ago after a day of shopping followed by dinner with Mai Tais:
Me: "Look at us: shopping, dinner out, cocktails? We're like the girls on 'Sex and the City'...but with out the sex"
Friend: "or the city"
Me: "okay, like abstinence and the town"
which happens to be a great description of my life. I live in a quiet suburb about an hour north of L.A. (if there's no traffic--which there always is), and I work as a youth director. While I have a good handful of 15-20 high schoolers in my group, there doesn't seem to be anyone in this town whose age falls between my youth and their parents (i.e. twentysomethings, like myself)
A couple of my girlfriends from college live in a similar town about 20 minutes south-ish from me, but have boyfriends...so its not like I have NO social life...just not a very big one.
So all I have left to say is 'the stories you will read on this blog are true, but the names have been changed to protect me (and the not-so-innocent)'