Sometimes I just need to take a step back and count my blessings.
Life has been going particularly well for me recently. With the exception of no success on the job front, life this school year is off to a good start. I am enjoying my classes and I have high expectations to do well in all of them. As of right now there is not one that I dread going to and none are pushing me towards the insanity of boredom just yet (not even econ247, though that's probably because I actually really enjoy learning about economics and financial stuff. I get it from my dad.) I am living off campus, thank goodness, and by that have avoided the overwhelming, crazy, stressful, yet often fun work that comes with being an RA. It's nice to not have to worry about others. It's nice to be able to eat breakfast at noon and not have to return to my hall at 7pm for duty. It's also nice being able to sleep over in other people's houses without having to ask for the night off.
With that said, I absolutely love (for right now at least) living in my house with my housemates. I like having the comfort of a kitchen that I don't need a key to, a living room, and living next to people that I actually like. But with living in a house I've forgotten one important little detail I wish I had put more thought into before now: transporation.
I don't know what I was thinking would happen this school year. I think I had this hope that my parents, particularly my dad, would see the need I have for my car and let me keep it. I guess I was also hoping that I could successfully persuade him into letting me keep it if I offered to pay for everything; gas, insurance, oil changes, any repairs, etc. Nope. Hasn't budged. I even looked up the car details on blue kelley and found the price the car would be worth, offering to pay for it (as if I had the money to actually do that). He told me he wouldn't make me pay for even what the car is worth (he seems to think it's a lot less) but he wasn't letting me take it. The car is in his name, it belongs to him. Game over.
And it was honestly pretty stupid of me to think that I could actually win, considering all the times in the past I have begged, literally begged for the car. I guess this time around my chances were higher since I am living off-campus and the need would be greater.
But sadly no. Come next week, I'll be in Muncie, and the only transportation I have will be the little old one gear road bike that was my mom's, until I can find a nicer bike for under $200. That and rollerblades. Thank goodness for being a runner, I at least know how to walk fast.
If I were writing this blog just a few days ago, I would go on and on, and on, about how wrong this is of my parents. I would throw myself a pity party and rant about how my friends whose parents have given them or bought them cars should consider themselves spoiled and lucky. I know this because I vented almost all of that in a stupid facebook status.
Which prompted my sister, who is also in college and car-less, to respond. She didn't say this bluntly, but she implied that I was being selfish little twat who needed to give her parents a little more respect for all they have given me instead of complaining about the one thing they refuse. Well really she just implied the selfish part; the rest was my conscious telling me to wake the hell up.
And they (my sister and jimminy cricket) were right. I was being selfish. I've always been selfish when it comes to that little black sunfire. Ever since my dad bought it in 1996 I have been yearning for it to be mine. When I was little I used to crawl in the back seat and just sit there. No particularl reason, I just loved being in that car. I dreamed of the day I would learn to drive it. I was lucky in high school, because it did eventually become mine. It was mine this past summer. It's been mine for trips to the grocery store to the 6.5 hour drive to New York. I just want it to be mine now and forever.
It's not fair for me to ask of it from my parents. Yes, there are only 2 drivers living at home now and they already have 2 cars. But, my sister is in the process of getting her license, the 2 other cars are both vans that aren't always reliable, and because my dad works in Cincinnati, he gets better gas mileage with the sunfire. Not to mention that with my sister and I being at college without cars, my dad gets an insurance discount. For me to have the car here, in which I'd probably only use it once a week, would be a waste.
So after cooling down and coming to my senses that I don't have to have my car, this is what I did think about:
The incredible amount of things my parents have sacrificed for me over the past 21 years. From clothes to tuition, from a camera for a major that I didn't pursue, to this nice little computer that my dad could've used for himself. From letting me borrow the car on countless road trips to depositing money in my bank account when it was needed the most (which happened very recently). To think that I expected one more thing of my parents after everything that they've offered is a little disheartening.
So even though I'll be relying on the MITS, my boyfriend, friends, and bike for future transportation, at least I know that when I really do need something, my parents will do whatever it takes to help. And that means a lot more to me than that little black sunfire.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Bel Far Niente
Pursuit of pleasure. As Elizabeth Gilbert discusses in Eat, Pray, Love, Americans don't know how to pursue pleasure. We're too busy working. And when it is time to relax it's either in a zombie-like state of distress as we recover from our crazy work lives or we fill guilty and believe that we should be doing something. We go on vacation and we have to be distracted. We need something to entertain us. And if we can't find something, we retreat to that instinctive work ethic that is such a prominent part of our culture. As Gilbert discovers though, the Italians know how to relax. In fact they've got it down to an art; an art they actually call bel far niente, translated as "the beauty of doing nothing".
Now I don't have a drop of Italian in me, and maybe it's because I'm still a college student who's outlook on work and relaxation hasn't been tainted by the real world yet, but I'm pretty sure I'm a master when it comes to bel far niente. Now I will admit that I go get restless at some points. It was earlier this summer that I was whining about missing school and wishing that I was in England. But I don't think that was out of being unable to relax. In fact I'm pretty sure it was the result of relaxing too much. I needed something to liven up my life again.
Fortunately my wish was granted and I spent my six weeks in England, and now here I am, regretting that I ever wished that school was starting up, something I predicted in that sad little blog entry about boredom. And so now that classes are really around the corner, this weekend really is my last weekend of summer and enjoying it to the fullest.
So I came home. Well, actually I came home because I had a rescheduled eye appointment (the original one I missed because my England stay extended by an additional three days thanks to Continental), but I was happy to return home on Wednesday night. And I'm not going to lie. Even though my boyfriend wants me back at Ball State tomorrow and I've never hesitated to see him, this time I'm not ready to retreat back to a city nicknamed Funcie, in which the only "fun" part about it is really all my amazing Ball State friends. I'd rather stay here and enjoy Fairfield a little more. I was barely here this summer. Today I took a dip in the pool and realized I probably have only been in it for no more than 10 times this summer, if that even. I got to go everywhere this summer and yet I feel like I missed out on so much. I normally spend about a month in New York. This summer it was less than 2 weeks. I am normally in Fairfield a whole lot. But due to my England excursion, I'm feeling like I will have an early onset of homesickness this semester.
Don't take this as real complaining though. I loved this summer. One of the best summers of my life. But if anyone knows me, it's just as my Mom always states, I'm never completely happy. There's always something more I want or felt I should've experienced, but I can't have it all.
So I had to accept that time here in my hometown was short this time around. That's okay because yesterday and today I took full advantage of my mini-vacation here at home. Most of my friends from the field are at school, and so here I am on my own. With the exception of running my sister around, I haven't gone further than my backyard. Today I laid out in the sun with absolutely nothing running through my mind. I wasn't reading. I didn't even need my Ipod. Just me, the sounds of nature in my backyard, and the sun. It was relaxing. It was bliss. It was bel far niente.
After this year I'll soon be entering the real work force, the American work force that demands working long hours with short breaks and in some jobs or situations sacrificing weekends. You know what's really sad to me? People have accepted this. They've accepted being workaholics and have all us young college students believing that this is the way of the real world and that we "better get use to it". Well, I have one response to this: humph!! How dare you tell me to make work my life, to give up enjoying life without money or progression running through my mind. Besides, it's not the "real world", it's just America.
I love America but I think right now this is my biggest grievance with this country. We work because we're expected to and we believe this is okay. I seriously want to know who came up with this brilliant idea that working the way America works is enjoyable or desirable. Cause I'm not feeling it. I like that I can relax and not feel antsy. And I hope that once my career really does start, I'll still know how to live the life of bel far niente. And I hope that my generation will be the same way.
Now I don't have a drop of Italian in me, and maybe it's because I'm still a college student who's outlook on work and relaxation hasn't been tainted by the real world yet, but I'm pretty sure I'm a master when it comes to bel far niente. Now I will admit that I go get restless at some points. It was earlier this summer that I was whining about missing school and wishing that I was in England. But I don't think that was out of being unable to relax. In fact I'm pretty sure it was the result of relaxing too much. I needed something to liven up my life again.
Fortunately my wish was granted and I spent my six weeks in England, and now here I am, regretting that I ever wished that school was starting up, something I predicted in that sad little blog entry about boredom. And so now that classes are really around the corner, this weekend really is my last weekend of summer and enjoying it to the fullest.
So I came home. Well, actually I came home because I had a rescheduled eye appointment (the original one I missed because my England stay extended by an additional three days thanks to Continental), but I was happy to return home on Wednesday night. And I'm not going to lie. Even though my boyfriend wants me back at Ball State tomorrow and I've never hesitated to see him, this time I'm not ready to retreat back to a city nicknamed Funcie, in which the only "fun" part about it is really all my amazing Ball State friends. I'd rather stay here and enjoy Fairfield a little more. I was barely here this summer. Today I took a dip in the pool and realized I probably have only been in it for no more than 10 times this summer, if that even. I got to go everywhere this summer and yet I feel like I missed out on so much. I normally spend about a month in New York. This summer it was less than 2 weeks. I am normally in Fairfield a whole lot. But due to my England excursion, I'm feeling like I will have an early onset of homesickness this semester.
Don't take this as real complaining though. I loved this summer. One of the best summers of my life. But if anyone knows me, it's just as my Mom always states, I'm never completely happy. There's always something more I want or felt I should've experienced, but I can't have it all.
So I had to accept that time here in my hometown was short this time around. That's okay because yesterday and today I took full advantage of my mini-vacation here at home. Most of my friends from the field are at school, and so here I am on my own. With the exception of running my sister around, I haven't gone further than my backyard. Today I laid out in the sun with absolutely nothing running through my mind. I wasn't reading. I didn't even need my Ipod. Just me, the sounds of nature in my backyard, and the sun. It was relaxing. It was bliss. It was bel far niente.
After this year I'll soon be entering the real work force, the American work force that demands working long hours with short breaks and in some jobs or situations sacrificing weekends. You know what's really sad to me? People have accepted this. They've accepted being workaholics and have all us young college students believing that this is the way of the real world and that we "better get use to it". Well, I have one response to this: humph!! How dare you tell me to make work my life, to give up enjoying life without money or progression running through my mind. Besides, it's not the "real world", it's just America.
I love America but I think right now this is my biggest grievance with this country. We work because we're expected to and we believe this is okay. I seriously want to know who came up with this brilliant idea that working the way America works is enjoyable or desirable. Cause I'm not feeling it. I like that I can relax and not feel antsy. And I hope that once my career really does start, I'll still know how to live the life of bel far niente. And I hope that my generation will be the same way.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Eat, Pray, Love
I am a girl. And there are stereotypical roles about being a girl that I most certainly fill. For example, I like the color pink. A lot. It is the color scheme of my bedroom at school. It is what I would like my new bike to be the color of. It's not the best color on me, seeing as with my blonde hair and blue eyes royal blue suites me the best, but I do enjoy wearing the color a lot, and in some cases I pull off an imperfect version of a Barbie doll. But yes, like a lot of girls, I like the color pink.
I also like chocolate. Oh how I love chocolate. I asked my Mom to buy me m&ms when I returned to the states (not because England didn't have them but because I didn't feel like spending the money on them). I just made my sister and I a nutritious dinner of chocolate chip pancakes smothered in maple syrup (and I wondered why the British consider them a dessert!). When I feel sad I crave Hershey's and nothing makes me happier than a delicious fudge brownie. Yes, I love my chocolate.
I'm a hopeless romantic. While I don't sit around in my room and dream of a prince charming to come save me, I most certainly did at one point in my life. I love all the Disney Princesses and I still get excited about watching Disney movies. I love hearing proposal stories, I stalk friends' engagements and wedding photos on facebook, and yes I know what I want my wedding dress to look like and what ring I hope to sport on my left ring finger. I'm a chick; I love my romance.
With that said it comes naturally that I'm also very emotional. I cry when I do something wrong and it upsets my boyfriend. I cry when I can't succeed at something, or I lose my patience. I cry when I hear a pretty song on the radio or watch a happy movie. Stock up on the tissues, because like a stereotypical girl, I do cry a lot.
The list can go on. I love shopping, especially for shoes. I like dressing up for no reason at all. I love my girls' nights and I always look forward to going out and dancing. I take pictures of flowers, I coo over any baby animal, and if you dare ask me I will gab on and on and on about relationships and boys. I hope I've proven my point by now. I'm very much your typical girl.
And if that's not enough to convince you, then maybe this is. I love, LOVE, Elizabeth Gilbert's most famous book Eat, Pray, Love.
I am only halfway through the first third of the book (section Italy, or "eat"), and I cannot get enough. You can assume I jumped on the reading bandwagon. Although I've contemplated buying this book when I first saw it on shelves at Barnes and Noble, it wasn't until I found out the movie was coming out that I finally decided to spend my £8 ($12) on it.
And I am so glad I did.
This woman is basically living my dream. With the exception of getting divorced and having what appears to be a mid-life/identity crisis, she is a successful magazine writer living in New York City. She can afford this one-year escapade of living in three different countries for four months each because her publisher gave her an advance on the book that I'm currently in love with. She's traveled all over the world, has worked interesting jobs (she wrote about being a bartender which later inspired for Coyote Ugly). Everything I hope to get out of my life, she seems to have already achieved.
But I feel like I relate to Gilbert on a more personal level. Yes, there is a bit of an age gap between us. Yes, she's seen more of life and has gone through things I've never been close to experiencing. But she is still a woman. Or as I am more comfortable saying, she is still a girl like me (it doesn't matter what age I am, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to consider myself a woman). Naturally, we have similarities. Common ones (like crying over men…go figure) and some a little more uncommon.
For example, she wants to learn Italian. Why? Because she thinks it's a beautiful language. There is really no purpose behind it other than desire. Which is funny, because I have been talking for years of my desire to be fluent in Polish. My grandfather was 100% Polish and knew of a few words and phrases in this not so common language. Since then, I've been fascinated with learning it. There is no real reason behind. I don't know anyone who speaks Polish. I can't think of any time in my life that I would actually use it, other than if I were to visit Poland (which I would like to do). I just want to learn it. Maybe in honor of my grandpa. Maybe because I think it'd be really cool to cuss someone out in a language that almost no one knows. Or maybe because it would make me different. How many people do you know speak fluent Polish, or any Polish for that matter? See, I've proved my point.
But let's go with something a little deeper than a language. Something that I think everyone has considered or dealt with in his or her life. I'm talking religion. Spirituality. Or even more to the point, God. The big man upstairs. The One that people argue over, pray to, curse at, sing for, you name it. It's inevitable. God is a part of our lives, whether we believe in Him or not.
In Gilbert's case, she didn't talk to God until she was bawling on the floor of her bathroom in the middle of the night when she realized that she didn't want a family and she didn't want to be married to her husband any more. She claims that culturally she is a Christian, but because she cannot agree that Christ is the only path to God, she cannot call herself a Christian. But she does believe in God, or to directly quote her, "I believe in a magnificent God."
But there's always more to religion than just believing. There's always more to discover, more to learn. More questions to answer, and even more to remain unanswered. Hence, Gilbert wants to go on this religious journey.
She is in Bali on a magazine assignment when she meets a medicine man who reads her palm. She tells him what she really wants, which is a true, lasting experience with God, but without having to give up everything, like a Priest or nun would do. In her own words, "I want to learn how to live in this world and enjoy its delights, but also devote myself to God."
She basically just summed up the internal battle I've been facing since I was 15, when I decided that I really am a Christian. Wanting to experience God's supreme love, but also be able to enjoy the world (worldly desires and being a true Christian always have seemed to clash).
I don't know what she discovers out of her adventure spiritually just yet. That'll be covered in the middle section when she visits India, covering the "pray" part in the book. Italy is the pursuit of pleasure, India is the pursuit of devotion, and Indonesia is the pursuit of balance. Right now I'm still in pleasure. Next I will learn about devotion (something I should really work on) and then the end of the book I'm hoping will help me discover how I can balance the two in my life as well.
This is what I love about this book. It's the first time in so long that I'm actually excited to read. I don't want to put it down. I am so curious as to what Gilbert will learn next and not only what she takes away from her experiences but what I can take away from her experiences. I'm hoping that her self-discovery will bring me some self-discovery.
Even if the book doesn't answer my own questions about balancing my life with God, it is bringing inspiration. It is reminding me of why it is I want to be a writer. This idea that one person's story can be so inspiring and encouraging to others. One day I'd like to do some crazy adventure and then write about it, and hope that someone can take something away from it. That is my ultimate goal with writing. That it has an effect (or is affect? I will never know).
But for now I'm still just a college student with much more to learn about writing and no where near perfecting this crazy little craft. So for the meantime I'm going to be a girl and grab some m&ms, and then sit back and continue reading my beloved new book. And you can bet that I will let you know all about it.
I also like chocolate. Oh how I love chocolate. I asked my Mom to buy me m&ms when I returned to the states (not because England didn't have them but because I didn't feel like spending the money on them). I just made my sister and I a nutritious dinner of chocolate chip pancakes smothered in maple syrup (and I wondered why the British consider them a dessert!). When I feel sad I crave Hershey's and nothing makes me happier than a delicious fudge brownie. Yes, I love my chocolate.
I'm a hopeless romantic. While I don't sit around in my room and dream of a prince charming to come save me, I most certainly did at one point in my life. I love all the Disney Princesses and I still get excited about watching Disney movies. I love hearing proposal stories, I stalk friends' engagements and wedding photos on facebook, and yes I know what I want my wedding dress to look like and what ring I hope to sport on my left ring finger. I'm a chick; I love my romance.
With that said it comes naturally that I'm also very emotional. I cry when I do something wrong and it upsets my boyfriend. I cry when I can't succeed at something, or I lose my patience. I cry when I hear a pretty song on the radio or watch a happy movie. Stock up on the tissues, because like a stereotypical girl, I do cry a lot.
The list can go on. I love shopping, especially for shoes. I like dressing up for no reason at all. I love my girls' nights and I always look forward to going out and dancing. I take pictures of flowers, I coo over any baby animal, and if you dare ask me I will gab on and on and on about relationships and boys. I hope I've proven my point by now. I'm very much your typical girl.
And if that's not enough to convince you, then maybe this is. I love, LOVE, Elizabeth Gilbert's most famous book Eat, Pray, Love.
I am only halfway through the first third of the book (section Italy, or "eat"), and I cannot get enough. You can assume I jumped on the reading bandwagon. Although I've contemplated buying this book when I first saw it on shelves at Barnes and Noble, it wasn't until I found out the movie was coming out that I finally decided to spend my £8 ($12) on it.
And I am so glad I did.
This woman is basically living my dream. With the exception of getting divorced and having what appears to be a mid-life/identity crisis, she is a successful magazine writer living in New York City. She can afford this one-year escapade of living in three different countries for four months each because her publisher gave her an advance on the book that I'm currently in love with. She's traveled all over the world, has worked interesting jobs (she wrote about being a bartender which later inspired for Coyote Ugly). Everything I hope to get out of my life, she seems to have already achieved.
But I feel like I relate to Gilbert on a more personal level. Yes, there is a bit of an age gap between us. Yes, she's seen more of life and has gone through things I've never been close to experiencing. But she is still a woman. Or as I am more comfortable saying, she is still a girl like me (it doesn't matter what age I am, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to consider myself a woman). Naturally, we have similarities. Common ones (like crying over men…go figure) and some a little more uncommon.
For example, she wants to learn Italian. Why? Because she thinks it's a beautiful language. There is really no purpose behind it other than desire. Which is funny, because I have been talking for years of my desire to be fluent in Polish. My grandfather was 100% Polish and knew of a few words and phrases in this not so common language. Since then, I've been fascinated with learning it. There is no real reason behind. I don't know anyone who speaks Polish. I can't think of any time in my life that I would actually use it, other than if I were to visit Poland (which I would like to do). I just want to learn it. Maybe in honor of my grandpa. Maybe because I think it'd be really cool to cuss someone out in a language that almost no one knows. Or maybe because it would make me different. How many people do you know speak fluent Polish, or any Polish for that matter? See, I've proved my point.
But let's go with something a little deeper than a language. Something that I think everyone has considered or dealt with in his or her life. I'm talking religion. Spirituality. Or even more to the point, God. The big man upstairs. The One that people argue over, pray to, curse at, sing for, you name it. It's inevitable. God is a part of our lives, whether we believe in Him or not.
In Gilbert's case, she didn't talk to God until she was bawling on the floor of her bathroom in the middle of the night when she realized that she didn't want a family and she didn't want to be married to her husband any more. She claims that culturally she is a Christian, but because she cannot agree that Christ is the only path to God, she cannot call herself a Christian. But she does believe in God, or to directly quote her, "I believe in a magnificent God."
But there's always more to religion than just believing. There's always more to discover, more to learn. More questions to answer, and even more to remain unanswered. Hence, Gilbert wants to go on this religious journey.
She is in Bali on a magazine assignment when she meets a medicine man who reads her palm. She tells him what she really wants, which is a true, lasting experience with God, but without having to give up everything, like a Priest or nun would do. In her own words, "I want to learn how to live in this world and enjoy its delights, but also devote myself to God."
She basically just summed up the internal battle I've been facing since I was 15, when I decided that I really am a Christian. Wanting to experience God's supreme love, but also be able to enjoy the world (worldly desires and being a true Christian always have seemed to clash).
I don't know what she discovers out of her adventure spiritually just yet. That'll be covered in the middle section when she visits India, covering the "pray" part in the book. Italy is the pursuit of pleasure, India is the pursuit of devotion, and Indonesia is the pursuit of balance. Right now I'm still in pleasure. Next I will learn about devotion (something I should really work on) and then the end of the book I'm hoping will help me discover how I can balance the two in my life as well.
This is what I love about this book. It's the first time in so long that I'm actually excited to read. I don't want to put it down. I am so curious as to what Gilbert will learn next and not only what she takes away from her experiences but what I can take away from her experiences. I'm hoping that her self-discovery will bring me some self-discovery.
Even if the book doesn't answer my own questions about balancing my life with God, it is bringing inspiration. It is reminding me of why it is I want to be a writer. This idea that one person's story can be so inspiring and encouraging to others. One day I'd like to do some crazy adventure and then write about it, and hope that someone can take something away from it. That is my ultimate goal with writing. That it has an effect (or is affect? I will never know).
But for now I'm still just a college student with much more to learn about writing and no where near perfecting this crazy little craft. So for the meantime I'm going to be a girl and grab some m&ms, and then sit back and continue reading my beloved new book. And you can bet that I will let you know all about it.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Summer Lovin
Dear Summer,
Well summer, here we are again. Another goodbye to add to the previous 20 times I've met you. It seems you are always entering my life long after I've needed you, and leaving me before I'm ready to say goodbye. You come and you go in the blink of an eye. You're killing me.
I guess I shouldn't complain too much though, because this time you actually treated me well. Unlike the previous two summers that were filled with drama and heartache, this time around you decided to cut me some slack. You gave me time with my friends and family. You gave me one week with the boy in New York. You spoiled me again when you gave me both New York and Chicago within only days. I even got to visit Pittsburgh for two days this summer.
But let's not forget the biggest treat of all: England. Ah, the country I've dreamed of visiting for so incredibly long you finally provided for me to go see. For a blissful six weeks I went all over England, even took a few days to check out Ireland. I saw London, my dream European city. I had the best cup of tea I could've ever asked for in Bath. I cried on the bus ride home from Oxford because visiting the Iffley Road Track was just that special to me. I had friends to go out with on my 21st birthday. I actually learned to appreciate The Beatles. And you woke me up to the reality that The Police, as British as they were, are really an American band, and there was no need to visit their home country because there wasn't anything there to take from it anyway. They all have residences in the United States...so what was I thinking? Regardless, it was worth finding out.
So you see summer, you've been pretty wonderful towards me. No drama this time around, at least none that I can remember. Sure, I still shed a few tears, but that was out of missing a boy, not because I missed out on the boy. I did spend most of my money overseas...but everything I want here in America is already free. And after my interview today, I'm hoping I can make up for what I lost.
I do however have one little complaint. A silly complaint, so don't take it to heart, I don't want you to use it against me in the future. But the only thing I have to complain of is that because you were so great to me this time around, you're making it extremely difficult to say goodbye. In fact I don't want to say goodbye. I'm not ready to. I enjoyed you so much, there is no possible way that I'm suppose to start classes on Monday. You were great to me, summer, but you disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Unfortunately, you and I can't change the calendar. I knew since May that classes started back up on August 23rd. I know that just because you are leaving what seems so soon doesn't mean you literally are. I had my time with you and now it's time for both of us to move on. You will fade into fall, and my lazy ass will turn back into a busy, stressed-out college student. It's just the way it is.
So here we are, with only a few days left together. I will try to enjoy this time we have to the fullest. I'm back home in my beloved hometown, where sitting out under the hot sun, going for a swim in the pool, drinking sodas, grilling hotdogs, and doing completely nothing never seems to grow old. And here I am, up at 3am writing, not because I have an assignment I procrastinated on, but because I have the time and the freedom, and sleep is just not appealing to me right now. And when I do go to bed I won't wake up til noon. But I'll still brew the coffee and still make breakfast, and then go about my day of laziness. My typical summer schedule. Oh how we have it made.
But all in all, it's time for me to wrap this up, and the best way to do that is to do what I started writing this letter for anyway: to thank you. Thank you for giving me a wonderful summer. Thank you for all the traveling opportunities you provided, all the new friends I made on my adventures, and the old ones for staying in touch with when I felt a touch of homesickness. Thank you for the laughs and the tears. Thank you for the freedom and the fun. Thank you for everything you provided me, including the bad (like that time you made me spend three days in Birmingham because our flight got messed up...I did not enjoy that). Because without the bad, maybe I would've never appreciated the good (like waking up after my first night back in America with the biggest smile on my face and a feeling of complete contentment). You gave me the summer of a lifetime and I will never forget it.
Thanks for all you've done, summer. Let's enjoy these last few days. And when school starts up on Monday, well...I'll be looking forward to seeing you next year.
All my love,
Laura
Well summer, here we are again. Another goodbye to add to the previous 20 times I've met you. It seems you are always entering my life long after I've needed you, and leaving me before I'm ready to say goodbye. You come and you go in the blink of an eye. You're killing me.
I guess I shouldn't complain too much though, because this time you actually treated me well. Unlike the previous two summers that were filled with drama and heartache, this time around you decided to cut me some slack. You gave me time with my friends and family. You gave me one week with the boy in New York. You spoiled me again when you gave me both New York and Chicago within only days. I even got to visit Pittsburgh for two days this summer.
But let's not forget the biggest treat of all: England. Ah, the country I've dreamed of visiting for so incredibly long you finally provided for me to go see. For a blissful six weeks I went all over England, even took a few days to check out Ireland. I saw London, my dream European city. I had the best cup of tea I could've ever asked for in Bath. I cried on the bus ride home from Oxford because visiting the Iffley Road Track was just that special to me. I had friends to go out with on my 21st birthday. I actually learned to appreciate The Beatles. And you woke me up to the reality that The Police, as British as they were, are really an American band, and there was no need to visit their home country because there wasn't anything there to take from it anyway. They all have residences in the United States...so what was I thinking? Regardless, it was worth finding out.
So you see summer, you've been pretty wonderful towards me. No drama this time around, at least none that I can remember. Sure, I still shed a few tears, but that was out of missing a boy, not because I missed out on the boy. I did spend most of my money overseas...but everything I want here in America is already free. And after my interview today, I'm hoping I can make up for what I lost.
I do however have one little complaint. A silly complaint, so don't take it to heart, I don't want you to use it against me in the future. But the only thing I have to complain of is that because you were so great to me this time around, you're making it extremely difficult to say goodbye. In fact I don't want to say goodbye. I'm not ready to. I enjoyed you so much, there is no possible way that I'm suppose to start classes on Monday. You were great to me, summer, but you disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Unfortunately, you and I can't change the calendar. I knew since May that classes started back up on August 23rd. I know that just because you are leaving what seems so soon doesn't mean you literally are. I had my time with you and now it's time for both of us to move on. You will fade into fall, and my lazy ass will turn back into a busy, stressed-out college student. It's just the way it is.
So here we are, with only a few days left together. I will try to enjoy this time we have to the fullest. I'm back home in my beloved hometown, where sitting out under the hot sun, going for a swim in the pool, drinking sodas, grilling hotdogs, and doing completely nothing never seems to grow old. And here I am, up at 3am writing, not because I have an assignment I procrastinated on, but because I have the time and the freedom, and sleep is just not appealing to me right now. And when I do go to bed I won't wake up til noon. But I'll still brew the coffee and still make breakfast, and then go about my day of laziness. My typical summer schedule. Oh how we have it made.
But all in all, it's time for me to wrap this up, and the best way to do that is to do what I started writing this letter for anyway: to thank you. Thank you for giving me a wonderful summer. Thank you for all the traveling opportunities you provided, all the new friends I made on my adventures, and the old ones for staying in touch with when I felt a touch of homesickness. Thank you for the laughs and the tears. Thank you for the freedom and the fun. Thank you for everything you provided me, including the bad (like that time you made me spend three days in Birmingham because our flight got messed up...I did not enjoy that). Because without the bad, maybe I would've never appreciated the good (like waking up after my first night back in America with the biggest smile on my face and a feeling of complete contentment). You gave me the summer of a lifetime and I will never forget it.
Thanks for all you've done, summer. Let's enjoy these last few days. And when school starts up on Monday, well...I'll be looking forward to seeing you next year.
All my love,
Laura
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
This Year...
I can't believe the shape I'm in. Okay actually I can because I haven't really trained, or even ran for that matter, in almost a year. It's sadly humiliating to run (or jog really, since that would be the more truthful term) around Muncie going at such a sluggish pace, my arms up tight around my chest instead of swinging loosely, my stride short and my willpower weak. I'm in desperate need of some serious training. I'm in need of patience if I ever want to get back to the shape I was once in. I'm in need of determination, willpower, and a realistic sense that I may never see a sub-20 5k ever again.
More importantly, I'm in need of some faith.
I just finished reading The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb. It's taken me a year to read that book. It's not because it's particularly long, or that I didn't have enough time to read it. Surely my free reading almost comes to a complete halt when school starts. Sometimes I'm lucky to have the time to read the latest Rolling Stone issue. But the reason I couldn't finish the book is because it was boring me. This great novel about two of the greatest sporting events in history (Bannister's sub 4 minute mile at Oxford and the "mile of the century" race between Bannister and Landy) bored me. Yes, Neal Bascomb did like to throw in a lot of detail I didn't need to know about (I really don't care that Stampfl's wife was brewing a pot of tea while Bannister and him chatted away), but I'm well-aware that the real reason behind my on-again-off-again love with this book is what I've been experiencing in my life: my on-again-off-again relationship with running.
For the past two years I've experienced hot and cold feelings with my beloved sport, mostly cold. After high school the desire to run just crashed. I'm not really sure what it was. Maybe all that running, with only a few weeks break between when one season ended and conditioning began, burned me out. Maybe it was something physical, maybe my body needed a break. I wanted to run the Flying Pig half-marathon this year, and the first long run I attempted for my training ended with an injured knee and an appointment with physical therapy. Maybe my body was rejecting running. Maybe I ran out of motivation. Maybe the adjustment from high school running, where everything is so structured, to my newfound freedom of college running was too much for me to handle. Maybe without the team and the coaching and all the scheduled meets and practice, I was bound to fall to pieces.
I remember after high school ended how excited I was to know that I had the rest of my life to work with running on my own. For once, I was in charge. I got to decide what races to sign up for, what distances they were and what my goal was. I got to decide how I was going to train; when and where, how hard to push myself or how easy to go. I was so excited to be in charge. To be my own coach.
I should've known how difficult it was going to be.
In The Perfect Mile there are three runners all vying to accomplish the same goal, and they were all vying to achieve it before anyone else: the sub-4 minute mile. Of course it happened, and if you know anything about the history of running, you're probably well aware that Roger Bannister was the first to do it. But why him? Why couldn't Wes Santee do it first, or John Landy? Why after so many years, when conditions on that day weren't even very favourable, he was finally able to achieve his goal? After all his attempts before, what was so different?
It's pretty simple actually. He had a coach.
Meet Franz Stampfl, an Austrian who was kicked out of England during World War II, had to swim for his life when the ship he was being deported on sank, and then struggled in confinement in Australia. The brief summary I'm giving you isn't doing enough justice to the man. Trust me on this when I say you can define the man in one-word: badass.
After his unfortunate time spent in Australia he returned to England to coach athletes. And luckily for Roger Bannister, a friend of his introduced him to this coach.
The secret behind Stampfl's success, especially when it came to Roger Bannister, isn't a difficult training technique or some genius idea. In my opinion, it's the simple difference between what separates good coaches from bad ones: Stampfl believed in him. Stampfl believed that Roger Bannister had it in him, that he could break through the four-minute mile, and that he could be the first to do it. He showed his confidence in Roger Bannister, and then it was up to Bannister to believe in himself.
It worked.
It's not just athletes who can give credit to coaches for their success. One of my favorite quotes comes from Sting's autobiography, Broken Music, at a time of his life when he was just in the beginning stages of becoming a musician. In reference to his friend Keith, he says, "Maybe all it takes is just one person to believe in what you are doing to give you the confidence to keep trying." His friend wasn't literally a coach, but he showed faith in Sting that encouraged him to continue forward with his music. The man owns like seven houses in several different countries and is still successful writing music and touring with orchestras. But who knows. Maybe if it hadn't been for his friend, Sting would've thrown in the towel and continued with his teaching career. I like to think that it's the little things, the little influences that make a difference.
I had a coach in high school. In fact I've had several coaches. I had my running coach, who helped me with my running. I had my dad, who was always on the sidelines supporting me. I have my professors who are teaching me the craft of journalism, my boss who taught me patience and persistence (and to keep in mind the grand scheme of things). I have friends who are there to support me on a religious level. My close girlfriends are always giving me relationship advice. And my boyfriend, who is always there to remind me that my world isn't falling apart, no matter how much I believe that this time it really is.
Coaches are great. We need them. We need that one person to give us the confidence to keep trying. We need people to believe us.
I think my problem is though I've relied too much on my coaches. I've gotten so comfortable with others having confidence in me that I've forgotten to have confidence in myself. That without a voice telling me that I can do it and everything will be okay, I buckle, and think that if no one else is telling me it's going to be okay then it really isn't going to be.
This is the year that changes. This is the school year that I stop depending on others for their faith in me, and learn to have some faith in myself. This is the year I tell myself to push harder on a training run, not a coach. This is the year I don't need to have several talks with my professors on how I'm doing in my classes. Whether it's running or writing or friendships and drama or whatever else that is bound to be a bump in the road this year, I'm determined to have the faith in myself to get through it. I will be my own coach. This year will be the year where my voice is the one to tell me that I can do it and everything will be okay.
And of course when my little voice fails, I know who to call on to help me through it.
More importantly, I'm in need of some faith.
I just finished reading The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb. It's taken me a year to read that book. It's not because it's particularly long, or that I didn't have enough time to read it. Surely my free reading almost comes to a complete halt when school starts. Sometimes I'm lucky to have the time to read the latest Rolling Stone issue. But the reason I couldn't finish the book is because it was boring me. This great novel about two of the greatest sporting events in history (Bannister's sub 4 minute mile at Oxford and the "mile of the century" race between Bannister and Landy) bored me. Yes, Neal Bascomb did like to throw in a lot of detail I didn't need to know about (I really don't care that Stampfl's wife was brewing a pot of tea while Bannister and him chatted away), but I'm well-aware that the real reason behind my on-again-off-again love with this book is what I've been experiencing in my life: my on-again-off-again relationship with running.
For the past two years I've experienced hot and cold feelings with my beloved sport, mostly cold. After high school the desire to run just crashed. I'm not really sure what it was. Maybe all that running, with only a few weeks break between when one season ended and conditioning began, burned me out. Maybe it was something physical, maybe my body needed a break. I wanted to run the Flying Pig half-marathon this year, and the first long run I attempted for my training ended with an injured knee and an appointment with physical therapy. Maybe my body was rejecting running. Maybe I ran out of motivation. Maybe the adjustment from high school running, where everything is so structured, to my newfound freedom of college running was too much for me to handle. Maybe without the team and the coaching and all the scheduled meets and practice, I was bound to fall to pieces.
I remember after high school ended how excited I was to know that I had the rest of my life to work with running on my own. For once, I was in charge. I got to decide what races to sign up for, what distances they were and what my goal was. I got to decide how I was going to train; when and where, how hard to push myself or how easy to go. I was so excited to be in charge. To be my own coach.
I should've known how difficult it was going to be.
In The Perfect Mile there are three runners all vying to accomplish the same goal, and they were all vying to achieve it before anyone else: the sub-4 minute mile. Of course it happened, and if you know anything about the history of running, you're probably well aware that Roger Bannister was the first to do it. But why him? Why couldn't Wes Santee do it first, or John Landy? Why after so many years, when conditions on that day weren't even very favourable, he was finally able to achieve his goal? After all his attempts before, what was so different?
It's pretty simple actually. He had a coach.
Meet Franz Stampfl, an Austrian who was kicked out of England during World War II, had to swim for his life when the ship he was being deported on sank, and then struggled in confinement in Australia. The brief summary I'm giving you isn't doing enough justice to the man. Trust me on this when I say you can define the man in one-word: badass.
After his unfortunate time spent in Australia he returned to England to coach athletes. And luckily for Roger Bannister, a friend of his introduced him to this coach.
The secret behind Stampfl's success, especially when it came to Roger Bannister, isn't a difficult training technique or some genius idea. In my opinion, it's the simple difference between what separates good coaches from bad ones: Stampfl believed in him. Stampfl believed that Roger Bannister had it in him, that he could break through the four-minute mile, and that he could be the first to do it. He showed his confidence in Roger Bannister, and then it was up to Bannister to believe in himself.
It worked.
It's not just athletes who can give credit to coaches for their success. One of my favorite quotes comes from Sting's autobiography, Broken Music, at a time of his life when he was just in the beginning stages of becoming a musician. In reference to his friend Keith, he says, "Maybe all it takes is just one person to believe in what you are doing to give you the confidence to keep trying." His friend wasn't literally a coach, but he showed faith in Sting that encouraged him to continue forward with his music. The man owns like seven houses in several different countries and is still successful writing music and touring with orchestras. But who knows. Maybe if it hadn't been for his friend, Sting would've thrown in the towel and continued with his teaching career. I like to think that it's the little things, the little influences that make a difference.
I had a coach in high school. In fact I've had several coaches. I had my running coach, who helped me with my running. I had my dad, who was always on the sidelines supporting me. I have my professors who are teaching me the craft of journalism, my boss who taught me patience and persistence (and to keep in mind the grand scheme of things). I have friends who are there to support me on a religious level. My close girlfriends are always giving me relationship advice. And my boyfriend, who is always there to remind me that my world isn't falling apart, no matter how much I believe that this time it really is.
Coaches are great. We need them. We need that one person to give us the confidence to keep trying. We need people to believe us.
I think my problem is though I've relied too much on my coaches. I've gotten so comfortable with others having confidence in me that I've forgotten to have confidence in myself. That without a voice telling me that I can do it and everything will be okay, I buckle, and think that if no one else is telling me it's going to be okay then it really isn't going to be.
This is the year that changes. This is the school year that I stop depending on others for their faith in me, and learn to have some faith in myself. This is the year I tell myself to push harder on a training run, not a coach. This is the year I don't need to have several talks with my professors on how I'm doing in my classes. Whether it's running or writing or friendships and drama or whatever else that is bound to be a bump in the road this year, I'm determined to have the faith in myself to get through it. I will be my own coach. This year will be the year where my voice is the one to tell me that I can do it and everything will be okay.
And of course when my little voice fails, I know who to call on to help me through it.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Traveling England: My Top Ten Tips
Back from England and finally given the chance to really think about all that took place within those six weeks. The good, like walking through Hyde Park, visiting the Iffley Road Track, and having High Tea at the Pump Rooms in Bath, and the bad, such as being charged £20 for forgetting my rail card, getting sick from Indian food, and being stuck in Birmingham for three days. So after all that has happened and everything I've experienced from my stay in England, here are my traveling tips for visiting the UK.
(In no order of importance.)
1. Keep the change – You'll never know when you'll have to use the restrooms, and you never know when it's going to be a pay toilet. Train stations will usually charge you, as well as parks and malls. There's a good chance you can find somewhere else to go, but when in doubt, carry at least 40p on you.
2. Always look out for cars…always – In America, pedestrians have the right of way. In England, it's cars. And some drivers have no problem trying to beat you to it (yes, even if that means you might get run over). So be wary of cars whenever you're crossing any street. British drivers are not always the nicest!
3. Keep an eye on the clock – In America we're use to malls staying open until 9pm and we have the convenience of 24-hour stores. But unless you're in London, expect most stores to close around 5:30pm to 6pm and some grocery stores staying open until 9pm or 10pm. But when in doubt, try to get to the store early.
4. Using public transportation: Trains
1) Buy a rail card and always keep on you – A rail card is a little photo ID card you can purchase for £26 and it will give you 30% off on all train ticket purchases. So if you plan on using the trains a lot, I would definitely recommend buying one. You will also need a passport size photo of you. They have photo booths at the train stations where you can buy the photo (they print off 5) for £5. For more information check it out at railcard.co.uk. Also, if you order tickets using a rail card you MUST keep this card on you whenever you're on the train! I forgot mine before leaving for Liverpool but my friend assured me they never check for it. That was a lie. I was charged for the difference of my train ticket and also charged a £20 fee. So buy one and don't forget it!
2) Purchase tickets at the station, NOT online – Online is convenient but it will cost you. My friends and I discovered after a few weeks of using the trains that by purchasing tickets online we were being charged for two singles instead of a round trip. Meaning we were almost paying double for our trips! Also, online will charge you £3.50 to use a credit card for payment. My recommendation is to know the dates, times, and train stations you want to travel to (double check which stations you want because some cities have multiple stations) and then buy them in advance at the train station. You can check out train schedules and prices at thetrainline.com.
5. Drink tap – Purchasing soda at a restaurant isn't what you normally expect at home. For starters, the glasses are usually smaller, or they come in the option of regular or large. Which should give away my next reasoning – refills, at least free ones, are hard to come by in England. In fact, I don't think I found a single restaurant where refills were free. With that said, drink water. And make sure you order tap.
6. Peace sign isn't always peaceful… - In some parts of Greece and Italy it is offensive to give a thumbs up, how you present "peace" with your hands can go different ways. If you do the peace sign with your palm facing out, it means exactly what you're trying to convey (which I'm assuming is peace). But if you face your palm toward yourself, it is another form of giving someone the middle finger. So unless you want to tell someone to double eff off, make sure your palm is facing out. Or just don't make that sign at all.
7. Be polite – I think in America we have this mentality that we're not afraid to piss someone off (especially if they're pissing us off). And I love that. But overseas I tried to be on my best American behavior. Not all Brits are nice, but most will try their best to have manners towards you. I suggest doing the same (especially because customer service over there isn't as great as it is in the states…they're not going to kiss ass to make you happy).
8. Staying in Touch: The Options
1) If you're going to be in England for a longer stay, such as six weeks, I recommend purchasing the cheapest pay-as-you-go phone you can find, and I recommend buying that phone from T-Mobile. While I was over there they had this great international deal. All I had to do was text INT to 441 and I was now only paying 5p per minute to the USA and texts cost 15p. They had other costs for other countries but the USA was my only concern. So if you plan on making a lot of calls back home, I suggest this deal. But…
2) Skype-To-Go – Another great deal with making phone calls back home is to set up a skype to go number. You need to have skype credit or a monthly subscription (both are pretty cheap) set up in order to set up a number. Here's how it works. You sign in to skype, skype gives you a number, you store the number in your phone, and when you want to call someone back in the states, you simply call the number and choose the contact you wish to call (you can store numbers for skype to go on the skype website). How does this save money? When you call skype, you're calling a local number. Skype takes care of the international part, and calls the person you're contacting from a local number. So you're both being charged for making local phone calls instead of international. An important thing to note: BE CAREFUL IF YOU'RE USING AN INTERNATIONAL PHONE. My friend was charged $600 from Verizon because he was using skype-to-go to call his girlfriend. Why was he charged so much? He was using an international phone, so his number was a US number, but he set up skype-to-go with a UK number. So even though his girlfriend wasn't charged anything (because she was being connected to a local number), he was charged a whopping $600 because every time he called skype-to-go he was technically calling internationally. So if you're using skype-to-go, be careful. Check out more at skype.com.
3) Skype – Not the most reliable for phone calls (it cut me out a lot), but it's definitely the cheapest option. My boyfriend and I both have skype so we could do skype video chats (which are free). It was a great way to stay in touch.
4) International Calling Card – Another option to skype-to-go would be purchasing a cheap cell phone and then an international calling card. I don't have any recommendations on this, but if you're looking for an alternative to skype, I would say this would be your next best bet.
9. Watch your bag – It's pretty simple but you'd be surprised how many of my friends had things stolen just because they trusted the wrong person or were naïve enough to think that no one would touch their stuff. If you have something you don't want to get stolen, either leave it at home, keep it on you, or watch it with a close eye.
10. TAKE IT ALL IN – England is a beautiful country, and while I didn't get to visit Wales or Scotland, I've heard great things about both. There is so much to do and see, my six week stay was almost not enough. Take photos, keep a journal, record videos…whatever it takes to remember your time spent. Do the stereotypical things we all think of (drink tea instead of coffee, go inside a red telephone booth, ride on a double deck bus). Learn the history and the culture. Get to know the people. However long you're in England, enjoy every single minute of it. It's a wonderful country I would recommend anyone to visit.
Sometime in the near future I will provide a blog of recommendations on places to visit and things to do, and what I enjoyed most about England. But right now I'm in Pittsburgh and have another beautiful place to take in before I head home tomorrow. Hopefully, whoever may come across this blog, these tips will provide some use.
Cheers.
(In no order of importance.)
1. Keep the change – You'll never know when you'll have to use the restrooms, and you never know when it's going to be a pay toilet. Train stations will usually charge you, as well as parks and malls. There's a good chance you can find somewhere else to go, but when in doubt, carry at least 40p on you.
2. Always look out for cars…always – In America, pedestrians have the right of way. In England, it's cars. And some drivers have no problem trying to beat you to it (yes, even if that means you might get run over). So be wary of cars whenever you're crossing any street. British drivers are not always the nicest!
3. Keep an eye on the clock – In America we're use to malls staying open until 9pm and we have the convenience of 24-hour stores. But unless you're in London, expect most stores to close around 5:30pm to 6pm and some grocery stores staying open until 9pm or 10pm. But when in doubt, try to get to the store early.
4. Using public transportation: Trains
1) Buy a rail card and always keep on you – A rail card is a little photo ID card you can purchase for £26 and it will give you 30% off on all train ticket purchases. So if you plan on using the trains a lot, I would definitely recommend buying one. You will also need a passport size photo of you. They have photo booths at the train stations where you can buy the photo (they print off 5) for £5. For more information check it out at railcard.co.uk. Also, if you order tickets using a rail card you MUST keep this card on you whenever you're on the train! I forgot mine before leaving for Liverpool but my friend assured me they never check for it. That was a lie. I was charged for the difference of my train ticket and also charged a £20 fee. So buy one and don't forget it!
2) Purchase tickets at the station, NOT online – Online is convenient but it will cost you. My friends and I discovered after a few weeks of using the trains that by purchasing tickets online we were being charged for two singles instead of a round trip. Meaning we were almost paying double for our trips! Also, online will charge you £3.50 to use a credit card for payment. My recommendation is to know the dates, times, and train stations you want to travel to (double check which stations you want because some cities have multiple stations) and then buy them in advance at the train station. You can check out train schedules and prices at thetrainline.com.
5. Drink tap – Purchasing soda at a restaurant isn't what you normally expect at home. For starters, the glasses are usually smaller, or they come in the option of regular or large. Which should give away my next reasoning – refills, at least free ones, are hard to come by in England. In fact, I don't think I found a single restaurant where refills were free. With that said, drink water. And make sure you order tap.
6. Peace sign isn't always peaceful… - In some parts of Greece and Italy it is offensive to give a thumbs up, how you present "peace" with your hands can go different ways. If you do the peace sign with your palm facing out, it means exactly what you're trying to convey (which I'm assuming is peace). But if you face your palm toward yourself, it is another form of giving someone the middle finger. So unless you want to tell someone to double eff off, make sure your palm is facing out. Or just don't make that sign at all.
7. Be polite – I think in America we have this mentality that we're not afraid to piss someone off (especially if they're pissing us off). And I love that. But overseas I tried to be on my best American behavior. Not all Brits are nice, but most will try their best to have manners towards you. I suggest doing the same (especially because customer service over there isn't as great as it is in the states…they're not going to kiss ass to make you happy).
8. Staying in Touch: The Options
1) If you're going to be in England for a longer stay, such as six weeks, I recommend purchasing the cheapest pay-as-you-go phone you can find, and I recommend buying that phone from T-Mobile. While I was over there they had this great international deal. All I had to do was text INT to 441 and I was now only paying 5p per minute to the USA and texts cost 15p. They had other costs for other countries but the USA was my only concern. So if you plan on making a lot of calls back home, I suggest this deal. But…
2) Skype-To-Go – Another great deal with making phone calls back home is to set up a skype to go number. You need to have skype credit or a monthly subscription (both are pretty cheap) set up in order to set up a number. Here's how it works. You sign in to skype, skype gives you a number, you store the number in your phone, and when you want to call someone back in the states, you simply call the number and choose the contact you wish to call (you can store numbers for skype to go on the skype website). How does this save money? When you call skype, you're calling a local number. Skype takes care of the international part, and calls the person you're contacting from a local number. So you're both being charged for making local phone calls instead of international. An important thing to note: BE CAREFUL IF YOU'RE USING AN INTERNATIONAL PHONE. My friend was charged $600 from Verizon because he was using skype-to-go to call his girlfriend. Why was he charged so much? He was using an international phone, so his number was a US number, but he set up skype-to-go with a UK number. So even though his girlfriend wasn't charged anything (because she was being connected to a local number), he was charged a whopping $600 because every time he called skype-to-go he was technically calling internationally. So if you're using skype-to-go, be careful. Check out more at skype.com.
3) Skype – Not the most reliable for phone calls (it cut me out a lot), but it's definitely the cheapest option. My boyfriend and I both have skype so we could do skype video chats (which are free). It was a great way to stay in touch.
4) International Calling Card – Another option to skype-to-go would be purchasing a cheap cell phone and then an international calling card. I don't have any recommendations on this, but if you're looking for an alternative to skype, I would say this would be your next best bet.
9. Watch your bag – It's pretty simple but you'd be surprised how many of my friends had things stolen just because they trusted the wrong person or were naïve enough to think that no one would touch their stuff. If you have something you don't want to get stolen, either leave it at home, keep it on you, or watch it with a close eye.
10. TAKE IT ALL IN – England is a beautiful country, and while I didn't get to visit Wales or Scotland, I've heard great things about both. There is so much to do and see, my six week stay was almost not enough. Take photos, keep a journal, record videos…whatever it takes to remember your time spent. Do the stereotypical things we all think of (drink tea instead of coffee, go inside a red telephone booth, ride on a double deck bus). Learn the history and the culture. Get to know the people. However long you're in England, enjoy every single minute of it. It's a wonderful country I would recommend anyone to visit.
Sometime in the near future I will provide a blog of recommendations on places to visit and things to do, and what I enjoyed most about England. But right now I'm in Pittsburgh and have another beautiful place to take in before I head home tomorrow. Hopefully, whoever may come across this blog, these tips will provide some use.
Cheers.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
I'll have a coke please, no rum
I'm going to need a lot of help from God this next year.
There are several reasons my religious beliefs are going to be tested and depended on for my final year of college, but as of right now there is only one thing on my mind that is going to test me, I'm going to struggle with it, and I'm going to have to pray to God for as much help as He is willing to provide to avoid myself from any slip-ups.
Starting today, I have decided to remain sober for one year.
Before you jump to conclusions, I would like to defend myself in saying that I don't have a drinking problem. I am not dependent on alcohol, I don't drink very often, and when I do drink it is very rare that I drink enough to the point of drunkenness. I won't lie and say I have been an innocent angel when it comes to drinking; I have been drunk, I do enjoy getting tipsy, and I realize that giving up alcohol will be a struggle because I have attempted this feat a few times before, all resulting in failure. Of course this time I am hoping I have the right motivation and willpower to break my unfortunate quitting streak.
So why have I decided to give up alcohol? If I am not dependent on it, I don't drink very often, and now I am at the golden age of 21 where I can finally stop worrying about getting busted by the cops for underage drinking, what has pushed me to decide that for one year I want nothing to do with the drug?
You could guess that it has to do with health reasons. While alcohol isn't exactly going to kill you, there's no denying that it does take a toll on the body. Perhaps I've decided I want to be nicer to my liver or to save myself from empty calories while my metabolism is still on my side. Or you could assume it has to do with financial reasons. Alcohol is expensive. I thought I knew that beforehand, but my six-week stay in England reassured me just how costly it is for a few drinks at a bar. While others didn't seem to mind wasting £20 (about $30) on a night's worth of drink, the thought of spending that much money on alcohol made me cringe. $30 could be a new pair of heels! And because my England trip left me in such a terrible financial state (I believe I haven't been this poor since I was 10), giving up alcohol because of its cost does seem like a pretty wise choice.
While these are good reasons to go on this one-year ban of alcohol, and I'm sure they will help keep me in check while I attempt this, they are not the major reason I am doing this. In fact, the reason I am doing this is actually pretty simple. It all boils down to one little word.
Love.
It's not my place to delve into details as to where this all started, so I will make this brief. My boyfriend has never touched a drop of alcohol because alcoholism runs in his family. And despite not drinking on his 21st birthday and being able to make it through three years of college without caving, he has recently told me that the devil on his shoulder has him thinking that maybe it's not all that bad. Maybe he's being too cautious, that just because he tries it doesn't mean he will end up on the road to alcoholism. And now that his girlfriend and his closest friends are all legally allowed to enjoy alcohol, the temptation to say "the hell with it," has been stronger than ever.
This of course breaks my heart. And scares the shit out of me.
Our talks of alcohol have come up more frequently and every time I talk to him it's the same as it was before: he tries to understand what the appeal is in drinking, why I do drink, what's so great about being drunk (which in my opinion is nothing), etc., while I'm on the other end of the line trying frantically to come up with the right words to express to him why he shouldn't drink, why I have a much better time with him sober than I ever do under any influence of alcohol, and how proud I am of him for standing his ground after all this time. But no matter how hard I try, the conversations keep coming back up, and it seems he is slowly creeping towards throwing in the towel.
If it's not obvious by now, writing is what I want to do with my life. It’s my major and it's my passion, it's what I obsess over and dream of all the time. I have this strong belief in the power of words, and I believe that when used carefully and intellectually, they can have a strong influence on a person and his or her life. But I also strongly believe in the saying "actions speak louder than words." And since we continue to have the same conversation over and over, I've realized words are failing me right now. Talking is doing no good. I can never convince him that alcohol isn't as great as everyone makes it out to be while I continue to crack open a beer. The only way he is going to believe me is if I show him. And the only way to show him how awesome alcohol isn't is to not drink it myself.
This isn't going to be easy. As I said before I've already attempted this and I've failed. But I have a strong hope and determination to succeed this time. This time I'm not doing it for myself. I'm not trying to prove a point (well, okay I am, but indirectly). This time there is a fear in my heart, a fear that I will watch my boyfriend will crumble under these false impressions of alcohol left in his mind and I know if it does happen I will be partially to blame. I know that he is his own being and I cannot stop him from doing what he wants. But I have hope, this strong hope that maybe if I'm not drinking, that will be enough to influence him to stay sober. I don't know that for sure, but I'm hoping that that small possibility will help me stick to my goal.
I hate saying this, even before I type it I dread writing it because it is such a cliché. But the truth of the matter is I'm doing this for love. I love this boy and I don't want one small slip-up to have a domino effect that will affect him for the rest of his life. And perhaps if that isn't enough, that I desire to have a drink despite all that I've just written about, then I am putting my trust in the Lord, that His love for the both of us will keep me from putting one ounce of alcohol to my lips.
So here's to a year of sobriety, here's to a year of love.
There are several reasons my religious beliefs are going to be tested and depended on for my final year of college, but as of right now there is only one thing on my mind that is going to test me, I'm going to struggle with it, and I'm going to have to pray to God for as much help as He is willing to provide to avoid myself from any slip-ups.
Starting today, I have decided to remain sober for one year.
Before you jump to conclusions, I would like to defend myself in saying that I don't have a drinking problem. I am not dependent on alcohol, I don't drink very often, and when I do drink it is very rare that I drink enough to the point of drunkenness. I won't lie and say I have been an innocent angel when it comes to drinking; I have been drunk, I do enjoy getting tipsy, and I realize that giving up alcohol will be a struggle because I have attempted this feat a few times before, all resulting in failure. Of course this time I am hoping I have the right motivation and willpower to break my unfortunate quitting streak.
So why have I decided to give up alcohol? If I am not dependent on it, I don't drink very often, and now I am at the golden age of 21 where I can finally stop worrying about getting busted by the cops for underage drinking, what has pushed me to decide that for one year I want nothing to do with the drug?
You could guess that it has to do with health reasons. While alcohol isn't exactly going to kill you, there's no denying that it does take a toll on the body. Perhaps I've decided I want to be nicer to my liver or to save myself from empty calories while my metabolism is still on my side. Or you could assume it has to do with financial reasons. Alcohol is expensive. I thought I knew that beforehand, but my six-week stay in England reassured me just how costly it is for a few drinks at a bar. While others didn't seem to mind wasting £20 (about $30) on a night's worth of drink, the thought of spending that much money on alcohol made me cringe. $30 could be a new pair of heels! And because my England trip left me in such a terrible financial state (I believe I haven't been this poor since I was 10), giving up alcohol because of its cost does seem like a pretty wise choice.
While these are good reasons to go on this one-year ban of alcohol, and I'm sure they will help keep me in check while I attempt this, they are not the major reason I am doing this. In fact, the reason I am doing this is actually pretty simple. It all boils down to one little word.
Love.
It's not my place to delve into details as to where this all started, so I will make this brief. My boyfriend has never touched a drop of alcohol because alcoholism runs in his family. And despite not drinking on his 21st birthday and being able to make it through three years of college without caving, he has recently told me that the devil on his shoulder has him thinking that maybe it's not all that bad. Maybe he's being too cautious, that just because he tries it doesn't mean he will end up on the road to alcoholism. And now that his girlfriend and his closest friends are all legally allowed to enjoy alcohol, the temptation to say "the hell with it," has been stronger than ever.
This of course breaks my heart. And scares the shit out of me.
Our talks of alcohol have come up more frequently and every time I talk to him it's the same as it was before: he tries to understand what the appeal is in drinking, why I do drink, what's so great about being drunk (which in my opinion is nothing), etc., while I'm on the other end of the line trying frantically to come up with the right words to express to him why he shouldn't drink, why I have a much better time with him sober than I ever do under any influence of alcohol, and how proud I am of him for standing his ground after all this time. But no matter how hard I try, the conversations keep coming back up, and it seems he is slowly creeping towards throwing in the towel.
If it's not obvious by now, writing is what I want to do with my life. It’s my major and it's my passion, it's what I obsess over and dream of all the time. I have this strong belief in the power of words, and I believe that when used carefully and intellectually, they can have a strong influence on a person and his or her life. But I also strongly believe in the saying "actions speak louder than words." And since we continue to have the same conversation over and over, I've realized words are failing me right now. Talking is doing no good. I can never convince him that alcohol isn't as great as everyone makes it out to be while I continue to crack open a beer. The only way he is going to believe me is if I show him. And the only way to show him how awesome alcohol isn't is to not drink it myself.
This isn't going to be easy. As I said before I've already attempted this and I've failed. But I have a strong hope and determination to succeed this time. This time I'm not doing it for myself. I'm not trying to prove a point (well, okay I am, but indirectly). This time there is a fear in my heart, a fear that I will watch my boyfriend will crumble under these false impressions of alcohol left in his mind and I know if it does happen I will be partially to blame. I know that he is his own being and I cannot stop him from doing what he wants. But I have hope, this strong hope that maybe if I'm not drinking, that will be enough to influence him to stay sober. I don't know that for sure, but I'm hoping that that small possibility will help me stick to my goal.
I hate saying this, even before I type it I dread writing it because it is such a cliché. But the truth of the matter is I'm doing this for love. I love this boy and I don't want one small slip-up to have a domino effect that will affect him for the rest of his life. And perhaps if that isn't enough, that I desire to have a drink despite all that I've just written about, then I am putting my trust in the Lord, that His love for the both of us will keep me from putting one ounce of alcohol to my lips.
So here's to a year of sobriety, here's to a year of love.
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