Feeling the Burn

April 30, 2009

I’m having a downer of a day, so if you’re not into reading Sylvia Plath-like blogs then quit while you’re ahead. I’ve come to some realizations. One, I don’t enjoy working out. I get no high from it. It doesn’t fill my bucket so to speak. I enjoy eating and drinking. I am also never going to be a size 7. I need to be happy with my size 14. So when my pants start to feel tight, I’ll start cutting back. Two, I am getting burnt out on school. While I feel I have taken some nuggets of wisdom from school, there are other areas I feel that are a little too kum-bah-yah for me. I only have three classes left to take and I have been busting my butt. I have been taking two classes at a time. It was fine at first. However, I seemed to have saved the less interesting classes (to me anyway) for last. Anyway, I’m starting to question whether this master’s degree will help me or not. I mean, do I even want to be a manager? This is where the next problem lies. What do I want to be? While I think I’m on the right path, I don’t think I’ve found my home. I don’t think I really fit in here. To make matters worse, the two people I really felt in line with are leaving! Thanks bitches. Ah eff it! I want to work in the arts. Plain and simple. Or perhaps plain and tall. (That’s my one joke, don’t expect more b/c this is a pity entry) At times I think life is falling into place. (Finally our bathrooms are going to be remodeled) In other places I feel like I’m falling behind. (Then we’ll probably have the kid talk, and decide that our place is too small, so I won’t be enjoying the bathrooms, and I’m definitely behind in the career world) Anyway, I think for now things are just OK, and I don’t want ok. I am bored with ok. When will things be AWESOME for me? Will I ever be satisfied? For those of you who know me, I probably won’t be. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be over my self loathing after I have a breakdown of sorts. It’s one of my cycles I go through and have decided to share with you. Aren’t you lucky?



April 6, 2009

I had three instances where I questioned how certain topics correlated with another.

Traveling = Food

The first came when Santi and I were driving in Omaha. We were behind a truck that was advertising hot air balloon rides. I commented on how fun that would be. Santi reminded me that we already did that once and it wasn’t so great. Yes, we did this on our honeymoon. We took a balloon ride over the desert in Arizona. We both recalled the same things. We couldn’t remember the ride at all. However, we did remember our heads being burnt to heck! We had gotten severely sunburned the day before tubing down the Snake River. The heat from the blower was not helping this sun damage. Anyway, we landed and had a WONDERFUL breakfast with mini cheeses, quiche, and mimosas. This was a group tour. There was a Canadian couple sitting next to us wearing matching Hawaiian shirts (lame). They were there on a golfing trip. Anyway, the husband leaned over and wanted to know if Santi and I wanted their meal. Um, yeah!!  Turns out his wife was lactose intolerant and he didn’t want to eat this food in front oh her as it wasn’t very nice. Here’s the deal, if this ever happens to me, I forbid Santi to do this. EAT UP! Anyway, we started discussing our other travels and came to the same conclusion. We may not remember Trinity College, but we remember the Guinness and eating the best hummus ever in Ireland. Seems all we remember from our travels is the food and drink. Thus we’ve made a pact. All of our future trips will revolve around food and drink because we won’t remember the rest anyway.

Trees + My Voice = Being a Christian

I answer the phone a lot at my job. I must have a nice phone voice. In fact, I’ve been hit on a few times. (Does anyone want to go to WI w/ me?) Anyway, one day I had call that went a lil something like this…(hit it)

Me: Good Afternoon Arbor Day Foundation, how may I direct your call?

Tree Man From the South: Yes, hello, what a pleasant voice! How is the weather there in NE?

Me: Oh it’s nice today finally! However, there is a rumor that we are in for more snow!

TM: Well excellent, well I was wanting to order some trees and hey, you have such a lovely voice, are you a Christian?

(Here is where all of these thoughts run through my head, do I say “no” and perhaps run into the risk of hearing a sermon, or do I say “yes” and hope that he agrees with me?)

Me: No, but I do have a cold

TM: No? Did you say No? Can I talk to someone else?

Me: Absolutely!


How does having a nice voice equal being a Christian? I have no idea. Further more, what does this have to do w/ ordering trees? I fail to see the correlation here. Feel free to enlighten me.

Buffet = Nice Pants

So for Easter this year we are going to a buffet. Most of you know how I feel about a buffet. However, I think/hope this will be a nice one. Anyway, I hadn’t really put much thought into what I was going to wear. Jeans and a nice shirt I guess. It’s not as if we were going to church. Anyway, my mom calls and I’m half listening, like you do. She is going on about how she doesn’t know what she is going to wear to this buffet and it’s between a dress and nice pants. I replied with “well I was just going to wear jeans.” Then there was a gasp. A scolding gasp! Oh Sarah, don’t you think you should wear something nice? Like a skirt? Or at least dress pants. It’s a buffet! I said, actually I think I should wear whatever I want. Our conversation ended after this.

I got to thinking about this. How does buffet equal nice pants? Or a skirt for that matter? I’ve never made plans to go to a buffet and thought about my outfit fitting in. Usually I wonder if I could get away with wearing my mom jeans b/c I know I’ll be stuffing my face. The only time I’ve looked nice for a buffet was for a wedding. This was b/c I dressed up for the wedding, not the buffet. Anyway, I just thought the correlation between a buffet and nice pants was worth mentioning.


April 6, 2009

I hadn’t been to a real concert in awhile. You know, the kind with no seats, people screaming, and various odors oozing from all directions. I was feeling a bit nervous to re-enter the concert going world. I discovered that it wasn’t because I was old, but because my perceptions have changed. I have been to my fair share of concerts. I was that kid who went to the show five hours before the doors opened only to stand in line so I could bum rush the door to get a spot against the railings in the front. Here I would fight all night to keep my spot while involuntarily bouncing up and down to the music. I was also screaming every lyric at the top of my lungs and trying to make eye contact with every musician on stage. It was an advantage being tall because I could leap to get that pick/drumstick/towel/set list they would throw out to the crowd. Then I would hang around for hours outside again so that I could get my ticket stub signed.

My concert going experience is different now. The first place I head is the bar next door to the venue. I need to drink as much as I can here where it’s cheap! Those beers inside cost way too much and I already spent too much for the damn ticket. I stare at the line outside of people and laugh. Those people will hold a spot for me inside which I will swoop into later because they will grow tired of trying to hold on. That’s right kids. I’ll be front row for the main event. I’ll also be here at the bar until the band I paid to see is going on stage. What’s that you say? There’s an opener? Great, wake me when they’re done. Once inside I see the kids bouncing and screaming all the words. I am happy because one kid looks very young. This means he will continue on with the tradition. I am doing something different though. I’m observing. It’s good to be tall. I have a good view. I close my eyes and listen. This band sounds good live. I like it when bands sound just as good live as they do on the radio. I look at the expressions of the musicians. The singer is feeling the music. I wonder if he thought this moment would come. I wonder how he pictured himself when he was in 8th grade. Did he tell the girls on the playground he was going to be in a band? The guitar player obviously did. He’s just playing. He’s trying to make eye contact with the next chick he’s gonna screw. The drummer doesn’t have time to look up. He’s in the zone. I appreciate the concert with a whole new perspective.

After the concert I’ll be next door at the shitty bar, singing karaoke like it matters. My feet and legs will be sore from standing. I’ll talk and laugh with my friends and reminisce about how good the show was. I’ll be making plans to attend the next show. I’ll get beer spilled on me, again. When do we eat? I’m starving.