little sarah Big World

Month: February, 2012

House-Sitting

 

~OR~

The Single Life

Moms are in LA for the weekend, with Rose-a-bose, so I’m on duty on the domestic front. I have a whole, clean, warm house all to myself and don’t work until Monday. Lots of quiet alone time.

I love my moms’ house. The nice sheets, big bed. Clean bathtub. I love how there are pots and pans and spices and all of the kitcheny things that I don’t have. Things like a cake carrier, which I have coveted for years, and is now, apparently, mine. Thanks, Moms.

Other than Ladies Night, it’s been deliciously uneventful. Sleeping in, eating cookies for breakfast. Watching 30 Rock and SNL episodes on Hulu. Reading magazines. Doing laundry. Catching up on my blog, with no distractions or obligations. It’s been great. Just what I needed.

*       *       *

As my Melissa friend pointed out last night, with no kids and a boyfriend halfway around the world, pretty much all my time is me time.

And I’m okay with that.

What Have You Done for Me Lately?

~OR~

Once, Twice, Three Times a Ladies Night

I’m just really stoked on friendships right now, guys. Remember how I was so excited about a platonic Valentine’s Day? And that was BEFORE I knew that there would be chocolate-dipped strawberries. These are good times, Friends.

I guess it’s extra-special for me because I haven’t ever really had a close-knit group of girlfriends. Hell, I’ve only ever been part of a friend group once, and that didn’t pan out. For most of my life I’ve had individual, free-range friends, all members of their own, separate groups. This always made birthdays hell. WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE. Very stressful.

But this birthday was a smooth integration of different friends, old and new, male and female, everyone just getting along, NBD.

Which led to Buttercheese (Stephanie Classic) hosting the platonic V-Day/Lady Pedofyle meeting. With chocolate-dipped strawberries, why not? And salad–she made salad–and mac and cheese. We all sat down to a nice meal together at the big wooden table, then we gave each other chocolate. Then we watched a movie and talked about EVERYTHING. How fucking cool is that?

I’d been feeling for a long time that it was so difficult to make close friends as an adult, because everything had to be an outing, a luncheon. But lately I’ve stumbled into a group of amazing guys and girls who are down to just hang out like there is no tomorrow. Field trip to the liquor store? Thanks, Adam! Wanna go for a run, or a walk, or feed me dinner? Thanks, Eric! Wanna come over tonight because I’m house-sitting for my Moms and just get drunk and talk about relationship troubles like everyone assumes we do? Thanks, Stephanie P. and Kristin and Nicole!

*       *       *

I think it’s easy to get caught up in being a grown-up and depending so much on your significant other or your family, then friendships are reserved for maybe just going out for coffee, or drinks, for a quick and dirty update of each other’s lives, all gossip and drama and anecdotes, before retreating back into the comfort of your small world.

And I think that’s sad. I’ve felt for a long time that quality, low-maintenance, close friendships were crucial to a happy, well-rounded life.

It’s just that now…now I have some of those. And I could not be more grateful. Giddy, really. And isn’t that what this is about? A space to be silly, keep it simple. I think that has been the best birthday gift of all–no easy feat, when you consider the incredible material treasures brought to me from far and wide:

I am feeling much loved lately, is what I’m trying to say.

Also: Thank you.

I’m a Lady

~OR~

This is How We Thursday

Oh, mans, I wasn’t even going to post tonight, DESPITE the fact that yesterday we reached a new all-time high view count of 111! (Yes, WE, Friends. We did this together!)

See, tonight is Thursday, and Thursdays I work until 9. Thursdays I eat whatever I want for dinner while watching TV. Tonight it was vegan hot wings, a side salad, and beer(s).

Hot wings courtesy of Nicole friend. Love it. Love her guts. Love Thursdays. Tell you why:

Because sometimes Life is shit, Friends. Surely I don’t even need to tell you this. You already know about Life/shit, about long-distance relationships, about working too many jobs with conflicting early and late schedules, about crying in the bathroom on your lunch break because you are so tired and walked all the way from downtown to your moms’ house and all you want to do is take a nap and eat lunch before second work, but the maid is there and you don’t want to disturb her with what you are about to do to the kitchen/fridge area. Okay, maybe that last one was mostly specific to my life.

But STILL.

Sometimes Life is shit, and it’s complicated, and you have no control (and maybe you’re a control-freak-type? I am!), and nothing is going to get solved tonight.

And is that okay, Friends? YES, that is okay! Because it is Thursday. Thursday means hot wings for dinner, and watching TV while you eat, and dancing around your apartment, and cleaning dishes, because you know that shit is gonna please you much-like in the morning, and reading a book that you can not WAIT to read, generously loaned out by a co-worker:

What’s that in the upper right-hand corner, you ask? Is that a Santigold album? IT IS. Am I going to shimmy-shimmy-shake while drinking beer and blogging?

I AM.

Thursdays.

Zines!

~OR~

The Part of My Job That I Like

I like the part of my job where I come up with ideas for zine-making workshops, write up the copy, plan out the details with my coworkers, gather supplies, set up shop, and then spend a quiet afternoon cutting, pasting, chatting, and listening to music in the sun-lit basement of a SugarHouse library.

Pretty much everything else about my job right now is driving me nuts, though. Except the part where I can work on my blog at work. Like right now.

More Zine/Graphic Novel/Alternative Press info a photos here.

My Gift to You

~OR~

Return to Cheer

My gift to you on this most Valentine’s of days…is love. Platonic love.

Cuz listen, guys: dates are fun (except for when they’re disastrous), significant others make grocery shopping and laundry so much less mundane, sex is awesome, weddings are pretty cool…

…and let’s face it, nothing beats having someone to snuggle up with, to talk to at the end of a long day, to share your frustrations and triumphs, and your late night nachos. Someone to watch bad movies with. Someone who you’re not afraid to let see you cry. Somebody you can fight openly with and know that they will still be there for you.

But.

(BUT!)

That person does not have to be your lover. Radical notions, Friends! My gift to you is the advice that you should NOT put all of your love eggs into a relationship basket, no, but give some to your friends.

Because relationships often end, and you will need your brothers from other mothers and sisters from other misters. You will need your Friendships; they are the best ships of all, prepared to sail on through turbulent times.

So let’s be friends. Let’s all be friends, Friends. Enjoy your dates tonight, if that’s what you’ve got going on, but don’t neglect to give yourself the gift of friendship. Also: flowers. For you!

Birthday Dinner

~OR~

“Did you have a good birthday?”

Dinner with the family–pasta puttanesca, roasted veggies, almesan “cheese,” wine, manhattans, and home-made apple cake with almond praline caramel ice cream.

Small, riotous children; small, thoughtful gifts; and an early bedtime.

We keep it simple 🙂

Pants on Fire

So I lied. I acted like everything was sunshine and rainbows and self-improvement and growth. And it was.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night I cried myself to sleep, and not even softly, but in a major freak-out style. Bedtime is not my best time. Sometimes I lie in bed thinking of what I’ve posted for the day, and I’m like “Ugh, shut the fuck UP, Sarah.”

Sometimes the PMA and general optimism is too much even for me. The can-do attitude. You should know that’s not who I am, or at least not all the time. You should know that I’m moody, and that I am still having Spain-related regrets, and that I bawled loud enough last night that I’m pretty sure my neighbors heard me.

I tend to get super emotional around my birthday. Probably something to do with “another year passed” -style introspection.

Because I am not where I want to be, Friends. My jobs are fine, but they are not my life’s work. They are a way to make money, to mark the days flying past. Everything’s moved so quickly, since I got back from Spain, and I don’t like it. I’m all for being industrious, but not if being so busy means not a moment to spare to look at my life and ask myself what it is that I think I am doing.

Last night I realized I don’t know what I’m doing. I know what I wanted, what could have been, but those ships have sailed. Now all I know is that I don’t want this–to live in Salt Lake, surrounded by children, and weddings, to have so many empty social engagements and not enough opportunities to just sit down and talk, to be working nearly every day, early mornings and late nights, all in an effort to save up money, and for WHAT?

I don’t know for what, Friends. I don’t know what comes next. And so I cry.

*       *       *

Incidentally, the sight of my clean, dry dishes in the sunlight this morning pleased me in an inexplicably deep and sincere way. I have not forgotten how I felt last night. I need to look into that. But today I have a rack full of clean dishes, an example of some measure of foresight. And that pleases me.

For now.

Happy Birthday to Me!

~OR~

The Lessons I Never Learned

Today is my birthday, and that is a happy thing. I am one year older, one year closer to remembering that I can’t have 7 drinks on a Saturday night and feel fine the next day. Right? This is a lesson I will learn, eventually?

Because hangovers are NOT a happy thing, and yet I’ve devoted the past two Sundays almost exclusively to honoring them. Oops.

Today I am 26 years old and not even stressed about it. I’ve been working on embracing confrontation, on standing up for myself and fighting for what I want. So 26 seems promising. I had ridiculously high hopes for 25 (that being my favorite number and all…), and though it was certainly a year of growth, acceptance, and transformation, it was also kind of a lonely shit fest.

My hopes for 26 are more reasonable. It is more about steady change and movement.

I think Lindsey friend said it best when she said “I always think odd years are going to be awesome, but the even years are usually better.” TRUE.

Especially if you put a lot of value into numbers, which I DO.

Today is my birthday, I am 26 years old, and I have received many lovely, thoughtful gifts, chief among them thing homemade e-card from Kevin. All photos were taken by him, in Madrid, and…

…and the panda thing is a reference to Saturday night. Night of the 7 Drinks. Apparently, in a late night international phone call that I do not remember, I drunkenly lamented that I would “never be as cute as a panda bear.”

Aaand then I fell asleep on the phone.

*       *       *

Oh, but that was back when I was still 25, Friends. Today I am 26, which means that last night I only had six drinks, and today I am only a little hung over. Totally different. Totally mature. Totally worth it:

Passing Time

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I am enjoying my quiet alone time lately. Funny, because I was once so scared of being alone that I stayed in a relationship for way too long (five and a half years in total), just to avoid the terrifying prospect of being on my own.

Now I can’t get enough of it.

I feel guilty sometimes, because I’d rather read in bed (or practice guitar, or bake, or go for a run…) by myself than hang out with my friends. I mean, I like my friends, but it turns out I like me more.

I can’t get enough of these quiet little moments, drinking a hot beverage, reading. Pausing to take a photograph. Listening to podcasts while I run, and the view is breathtaking, and I have nobody to share it with. Just me. Little Sarah.

And that’s more than enough.

 

 

Slight Discomfort

I’m not okay with “HAPPY MORNING” and “impregnated” existing in the same sentence, even at the dentist’s office. Okay, especially at the dentist’s office.