Early Riser Thursday, Sep 27 2007

When did I become such an early riser? Seems like in my younger days you couldn’t force me to sleep before 3 am nor coerce me awake before noon. Now, though I rarely have a commitment to rise for, I am functioning hours and hours earlier than ever imagined. (And going to bed hours and hours earlier, I might mention.) Is this the definition of “growing up”?

I’ve always been ready for that next stage in my life long before it actually happened. Sophomore year of high school, when the rest of my older friends were going off to college, I was more ready to be there than half of them. I was sick of teen queens, worthless classes and an 8 to 4 that was governed by bells. I’d visit their universities, edit their latest writing assignments and wonder why I was being punished with two more years of an immature hell. Senior year of college, when my friends and acquaintances were still decorating in “college chic” - John Belushi posters, Corona lights and futons – my apartment was a shrine to Hobby Lobby, with real framed pictures and intricacies that were charming, not chintzy. I cooked real meals, avoided the Walk of Shame and graduated on time. And now, while just-out-of-college yuppies wake up with hang-overs every morning and are busy declaring what they think is their independence, I take walks downtown, attend community events and start book clubs.

I’m tired of feeling like I’m always one step ahead of my environment. I am forever outgrowing my life and will push ahead with zeal for the next adventure. This is probably why I can leave friends, cities and lifestyles behind at the drop of a hat. I’m moving too quickly and you need to keep up.

“I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving…We must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.” - Oliver Wendell Holmes

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+ 5 points Thursday, Sep 13 2007

Question: Can I consider my new Coach sunglasses a business expense? They totally up my professionalism.

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The Explanation You’ve Been Waiting For Wednesday, Sep 12 2007

My makeup looks better smeared. Ok from nervous hands, better from happy tears.

So I’ve been MIA for quite a while. I have good reasons, so for all you hanging on pins and needles for my every word, don’t get angry just yet. Both of my reasons are lovely and favorable, by the way.

Reason number one: “And now, now, I have a boyfriend!” (Kelly from The Office. Watch it, love it.) I have a fantastic boyfriend who is, somehow, incredibly kind and funny and cute and pretty much just overall glorious. He digs me being a writer, so it’s not like he’s stopping me from entering LuckyRenee Land (ah, that there were such a place) but our work schedules allow us to hang out all the time, so it’s hard to squeeze in a post when I can be making out.

Your work schedule, Renee?

And BAM, reason number two: I got a job. A kick ass job, actually. Where I use my exact degree and everyone is extremely smart. (That’s all I ask, really. I just want to use my talents and not be surrounded by dumbasses.) I won’t tell you which company exactly, but let’s just say I spend my tremendously flexible working hours (yayfer sending emails in my pjs!) writing, researching and being creative. Hello perfection. This also means, however, that when I spend hours writing for work everyday, I don’t especially want to come here and write more for fun.

Unfortunately (for you) and fortunately (for me) the summary goes like this: great guy, great job, no posting in favor of making out and working. But I beg you, dear readers, to not abandon me just yet. The fall (my favorite season of all time) brings out the best in me so you can rest assured that I’ll continue in full force soon enough. Until then, I promise to make an appearance more than once every trillion years.

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On Being Older Saturday, Aug 18 2007

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older
Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long
And wouldn’t it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong”
- Beach Boys

I remember hearing that song while dating my first serious boyfriend, Joey. We were 15 years old and madly, madly in love. It seemed as though we would have to wait for forever to get married and start our lives together. Of course, our love was doubted, and we were told that it was impossible to be in love when we were so young. Puppy love, they called it. So the goal was always to grow up as soon as possible so we could spend every second together without some parental figure getting on our cases. And since then, every relationship I’ve had mirrored that exact problem – we were always waiting to “grow up” before we could really do what we wanted. We were either too young or still in school or we lived too far apart or whatever else stood in our way.

Today I heard that song and realized, hey, I am older. I don’t have to wait for anything. I could get married tomorrow if I wanted to and play the whole “wake up together, spend the day together, and hold each other through the night” game that the Beach Boys sang about. And it scared the shit out of me. It’s funny how you want to do something forbidden so badly, until you realize it’s no longer forbidden. Then you can barely catch your breath. So expect to read about the new and happy relationship I’m enjoying, but not about engagement for a long, long time. Whew.

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JW Sunday, Aug 12 2007

I just wanted to publicly thank my friend JW for constructing the mixed CD that has been the background music to every significant thing I have written in the past few years, including college work and many entries on this very blog. His concoction of Bright Eyes, Elliot Smith, Modest Mouse, The Postal Service, Rilo Kiley, The Shins and Stereophonics has inspired my mind to find the perfect word and assemble the perfect sentence more times than I could ever dare to count. Thank you, friend, for this and your many, many other positive contributions to my life.

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bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at an un-zeusly hour Tuesday, Aug 7 2007

It’s two thirty in the rainy morning and I’m home because that’s where I feel like I should be. I’m achy and sniffley and I keep thinking about two things: my interview tomorrow and a song I heard while driving tonight. Sidestepping the details of the interview because, you know, que sera, sera, the lyrics are something I can’t get out of my head. It’s some random country song I’ve heard a million times, and the general premise is that the dude is about to die but then he doesn’t, so he is singing about living life as though every moment could be your last. Very “make it count.” Anyway, the line I continue to replay is “I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter.” This is especially sound advice for me because of the general disposability of my relationships as well as my lack of control over my rather sharp tongue.

The long and the short of it is that I’ve had to change my entire group of friends quite a few times in my life, usually because my boyfriend’s friends become my own and when we break up, I tend to lose them in the division of assets. (I do always keep my dignity, though, which is much more important, I feel.) Because I’ve had to make new friends on so many occasions, my mentality has become that if I lose my friends (by horrible error on my part, elimination due to character flaws on their part, or merely circumstance), I’ll simply make new ones. This leads to very little attachment and prevents me from forming deep, loyal relationships.

The speaking sweeter concept is one to which I am foreign. I tend to be hardened, blunt; conveying my truth whether warranted or not. Compliments effortlessly escape my lips but are easily lost in my quest for perfection and propensity for casual judgment. As a rule I am overly kind to those I am fond of in my life but show little compassion for those whom I have already dismissed. In addition, my personality can be dreadfully intense, and therefore I often speak sternly and zip right pass sweet.

The world would be better if I amended my ways. I mean, not so much the world at large, but MY world, which is the thing I am to concern myself with anyway. Perhaps with unfathomable love and pleasant remarks, I wouldn’t be frustrated, furrow-browed and fully awake in the middle of the night.

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faithless Monday, Jul 30 2007

I cry because I just realized I’ve lost all my faith in God. I fought the thought for years and want so much to blame it on my father but it just isn’t so. My lack of faith can only be blamed on my cynical self. My judgment and my lack of belief in the world – my complete and utter loss of hope has crushed me and I am God-less like the common pagan. Where are the days of youth group, singing side by side with best friends? Those days are gone and I am left with a tortured heart, a God-shaped hole that exists in every one of us. I’ve known it my whole life, yet realized just this moment how I’ve been denying it. I won’t fix it, won’t fill it, because I’ve done too much and lost too much to ever be considered faithful again.

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