Size Does Matter

I can't imagine what life would be like if I hadn't gone to Wesleyan, and I consider it the best decision I have ever made (with the possible exception of putting an end to my days of blowdrying my hair and choosing the cello over the violin in third grade). But I've always loved Wesleyan for the friends I made there, and thought that I could take or leave most other aspects of it. Now that I am beginning grad school at an enormous university, I love Wesleyan even more because of its size. I really can't remember ever being completely confused as to how to get information, or waiting on a line for more than 15 minutes that wasn't for food or for cheap beer at frats before it was outlawed, or reading through a list of events and not being sure which ones applied to me. I took for granted how easy it was to get answers to questions and how comforting to look around at your fellow students and feel like everyone was there for similar reasons and could probably relate in some way to your individual experience of the college. I'm 25 now and have been perfectly capable so far of navigating the NYU wilderness, but can you imagine being 18 and coming to a college that is like a city within a city? I think everyone who contributes to this blog went to a small school too, but maybe you have a better imagination than I do.

Buying Fancy Jeans

Remember when jeans cost like $30 and shirts were like 15? Yeah me too. Those were the days. Especially since my mom was paying for everything anyway. It seemed like just when I was beginning to take over financial responsibility for my wardrobe, clothing prices started going insane. But at that point, ‘insane’ was like $65-80 for a pair of jeans. Those were splurge prices. Now they’re a good deal. And then a couple years ago, the $100-200 jean wave began. At first it seemed so outrageous and beyond comprehension that I assumed it was just a trend and everyone would come to their senses, or if it continued it would really only affect the very wealthy or the very shallow. But now, most people don't bat an eyelash!

Ok fine, I’ll stop the bullshit. I’m sitting here trying to contextualize and intellectualize why its ok that I just spent over $150 on a pair of jeans but there’s really no way around it. I did it. I totally gave into expensive jeans. I may pair them with my Mossimo pleather heals from Target and an H&M sales rack shirt but they are still really just a lot. Plus: its not like i'm running with a fancy crowd. I work at a nonprofit in a land of hippies. None of my friends would give a crap if I stopped wearing pants altogether. brands like rock and republic or joes jeans don’t make their hearts go a twitter. In fact, I’m hoping we can keep this little purchase just between you and me, because honestly, I’m going to lose a lot of credibility with the majority of my social group if word gets out that I succumbed to the almighty power of magazine and celebrity-approved attire for the price of a plane ticket to NY.

But I can’t hide who I am. The truth is, I read celebrity blogs every day and then when i'm really bored, i read the news. but in that order, not the other way around. I have a general idea of whats going on, but i can't wax poetic on the state of Lebanon today like i can about Lindsay or Nicole. I’m not incapable – there was a time when I was all about the information and the politicking. And its not like I have no soul - I work for an amazing legal aid place doing awesome things and I hope to someday change the world. I guess it’s just that deep down, when I picture changing the world, I’m Katherine Hepburn meets Angelina Jolie meets Cameron Diaz.

But going back to the jeans, I want to be clear: I am not looking for forgiveness or pity. You know why? Because holy crap I love these jeans! they're the best jeans i've ever owned! I want to wear them everywhere all the time. and you know what? I will! which means, if you break it down, that i'll really only be spending like 25 cents a day on my jeans. which is a damn good price! because I get dressed in the morning and I go through the rigmarole of looking into my closet for other pants to wear but the truth is, as far as I’m concerned, there are no other pants for me. I’m a one-pant kind of girl and I guess I’m ready to stop playing the field and really take stock of my needs and my desires and settle down with a pair that will treat me right, and make me feel good about myself, and flatter me, and make me smile. We’re going to have a beautiful life together.

Watching TV in bed

As some of you might know, I just moved into a new apartment. I'm in a new city, I know 3 people in town and I'm living by myself. So many things are new these days and I'm kind of in a personal test of how I want to live. I've noticed some things about myself-- I apparently don't eat or shower when I'm at home with no chance of interpersonal contact... I do drink coffee, which usually leads to eating since coffee on an empty stomach makes it hurt. I also have delighted in watching TV in bed. I never thought of myself as this kind of person, but literally the first thing I did when left to my own devices was purchase a television. And then I set it up in my bedroom (not, I think, it's ultimate resting place, but....) and proceeded to watch 6 episodes of "Weeds" while lolling in bed. Tonight I am on my second episode of "24" from the comfort of bed... I think this is the ultimate luxury of the early 21st century and the realization of a lifelong dream. Obviously I was never allowed to have a TV in my room when I lived at home... so when purchasing a computer one of the major draws was being able to watch movies in bed. So here it is, internet, I am someone who needs a TV and goddamnit, I want to lie in bed and be entertained. Is that so wrong? No, I just like it so very much and it makes me feel young and American and free. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Isn't Gatsby Great?!?

By: Kristina and Sarah. Drafted in Minneapolis on August 12, 2006.

Last week we attended the world premiere stage adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's pinnacle novel, The Great Gatsby, at the new Guthrie-- arguably the Twin Cities' most beloved theater. The play reminded us of our shared intimate relationship with the work. However, as the play progressed, we realized that although each of us consider it one of our favorite books, we didn't remember the story. We were stuck on motif, symbolism, and metaphor. Although we could anticipate and recite "key passages" in our minds, we didn't know what would happen next in the plot.

Our familiarity with the literary devices in The Greaty Gatsby was born in our 11th grade English class. Our teacher, Ms. Sexton, considered it the Great American Novel. We graduated from high school with the understanding that no one should be allowed to graduate high school without having studied the book--and in turn, obviously, loved it.

Once we left F. Scott's home state for our respective coastal collegiate enterprises, we were surprised to learn how many "smart" people have never read The Great Gatsby. For our friends, Last Stand at the Alamo, The Biography of Bruce Springsteen, and Starbucks: A Corporate History seemed to to have been graduation requirements.

Did you read The Great Gatsby? Did you love it? Do you consider it The Great American Novel and F. Scott the 20th century's Shakespeare? If not, what do you think is so good?

Maybe this is a little callous...

But looking at what has been confiscated at airports recently... it makes me once again glad, that no matter how good aveda smells, I opt for the Suave impersonations of designer shampoo. Um, can anyone say "midterm elections."

25 going on 15... and 45.

When did this happen? In May after discovering that my mother had been contemplating plastic surgery, I meditated, both in my head and out loud to some WEDYHTD contributors, about how foreign the phenomenon of aging was to me. I didn’t understand it, I am young and changes in my face and body still feel like part of growth into, who I’ll ultimately be, as opposed to a decline from who I was.
Later in the month, I turned 25 and I welcomed the flip of the calendar. Twenty five felt right, it was maturation without turning “old.” Obviously 25 isn’t old, Mid-twenties was solidly upon me and I felt fine about it.
I spent a good deal of time traveling with my 15 yr old sister in June and July and while, granted, she looks older than 15, somehow this lead people we met to think I was much younger than 25. This frustrated me. I think because I equate age with progress. So much has happened since I was fifteen, there is a world of difference between the summer after freshman year in high school and… now. I’ve lived halfway across the country from where I grew up for seven years. I’ve traveled to five continents since I was fifteen, I’ve developed talents and vices and a sense of self and confidence and direction and... I'm about to start PROFESSIONAL SCHOOL for christ's sake… being mistaken for younger than I am seems to somehow diminish the importance of what has transpired since that age.
At the same time, my sister at some point decided on this trip that calling me “old” was really the way get my goat. And while my goat wasn’t actually got (hopefully wit is something she’ll develop in college,) what stuck was that she grouped me with “adults.” Whether they’re 25 or 45 or 72, adults don’t like to be called old.
And since I’ve returned I’ve been feeling rather old. It’s not just visiting the babies of friends, or the babies of 17yr olds I’ve known since they were born… but it’s accidentally buying facial cleanser for “maturing skin” and then realizing maybe it’s not such a bad idea. It’s realizing I’d better grow my hair out now, because I don’t have too long until it’ll be tacky. It’s seeing where the wrinkles will be and looking at pictures of friends and seeing their age, not that they just don’t look like kids anymore, but they look older than they did when they stopped looking like kids. It’s worrying about something like cholesterol, a diet and lifestyle change that doesn’t have to do with vanity but with evading a stroke? This is old people stuff.
But this, I think, is the nature of the age. And it needs its own term, At twenty five, car insurance premiums go down. And at twenty-six, health insurance premiums go up. We’re in this strange limbo where we’re seeing the beginnings of wrinkles while worrying about the recurrence of pimples.

More Thoughts on Digestion

Unless the free samples are out, I generally try to steer clear of Whole Foods. It not just their prices, it the desire they inspire. I’m not someone who generally treats their body all that well – the fact that I pretty much live on sugarfree coffeemate is testament to this – but the danger of Whole Foods is that they make it look so good and fancy and lovely that I walk in there and in the course of 3 minutes I’ve decided to completely turn my life around, eat only organic meats and vegetables, remove all wheat, dairy, gluten, sugar, preservative, etc. from my diet, start using the keeper and buy only chemical free cleaning products. Its trouble.

Last night I was feeling sad and bored so I got in the car and went to Yogurt Park and got a huge container of sugar free frozen yogurt and ate it in record time. I contemplated going back for more, but somehow that seemed too embarrassing. So I actually decided to go to the frozen yogurt store in the next town. I know, I have problem. I’m well aware. But on my way, as I was thinking, ‘Oy, I love this frozen yogurt but it sure makes me feel like crap sometimes’, I passed a whole foods, set back from the street in a tree lined parking lot, glowing warmly with recycled lightbulbs no doubt, hippies swarming.
And I thought, ‘No lily. No. you are poor and you cannot afford to walk in there.’ But I was still sad and bored and had nothing to do, so I parked and went in.
I walked out an hour later having spent literally $100 on a single bag of groceries, but I have a really good excuse this time: vitamins.

Not just any vitamins – no no – food-based vitamins.

I went to the vitamin isle with a question about enzymes. Because my coworker told me that apparently there’s no point in taking lots of multi-vitamins because unless you take special enzymes along with it, you don’t break them down and just poo them out unabsorbed and I wanted to know if that was true.

“Bingo”, said the vitamin guy (really, he did), “but in addition, it’s really important what vitamins you take, because unless you take food-based vitamins, your body has a really hard time digesting any of it.”

“Oh”, I said, “So then its probably not so good that I take Walgreen’s brand vitamins, huh.”

And he laughed and said, “I have a funny story for you:

Recently there was a story in the news about a sewage plan that was on the verge of flooding and totally clogged. What they found upon investigation, was that there were literally thousands and thousands of multivitamins clogging up the place. Whole vitamins. That had passed through the city’s citizens WHOLE and then passed through the treatment plant WHOLE and eventually had collected and clogged up the final stage of the treatment system. Which is both gross and alarming. Basically an entire city full of people were spending like $50 a bottle on Centrum silver and whatnot and just pooing them out without making a dent in them. We’ve been literally shitting away our money! And I just bought a new bottle a couple weeks ago!

But whatever, I’m a sucker so I bought the fancy vitamins as well as the fancy enzymes to help break them down.
Also some milk thistle and some frozen wheat grass and a bottle of kombucha tea, in case anyone was wondering what the hell ended up being $100.

Today, just to make sure I wasn’t completely swindled, I googled it. And its true!

The morals here are plentiful:

Never ever go into whole foods when you’re feeling sad.
Throw out your crappy multivitamins and switch to food-based vitamins immediately.
Buy some digestive enzymes while you’re at it.

Also: Kombucha, while incredibly good for you, tastes HORRIBLE. Just so you know.

The end.