It's Been So long Since I've Seen the Ocean

This title may seem misleading as it is. I went to the ocean the past two days. For me, the water is a place for reflection. The calmness of the waves and the misty breeze in the colder months offers a sense of serenity you won't find during the crowded summer. Living a mile from the beach, last minutes trips to the boardwalk are not uncommon. This specific trip was more powerful than most, however.

Earlier in the day, I finally received my dad's Christmas package with the new digital camera I asked "Santa" for. The best gift i received was the mixed CD's he made for me in return for the mixes I made him for his birthday. My dad and I don't connect on everything. After my parents divorce when I was 12, my relationship with my them became much like a roller coaster. One second, I found myself struggling up a steep climb trying to make sense of my feelings and the frustrations I felt. Other times, we coasted and our family dynamic finally began to make sense. My mom and I have always had a strong emotional bond. My dad was the person I turned for financial advice or help with my math homework. We watched sports on the couch talking about the benefit of the latest Red Sox trade and swapped CD's. I kept the "girly" talk to a minimum. As I grew older, music became the one thing that truly connected us. Our bond over Van Morrison solidified a new chapter in our relationship. Unfortunately, it came around the time I moved 3,000 miles away from home.

When I uploaded the mixed CD's to my iTunes and started to listen to the familiar sounds in the background, I felt a sense of longness. Then, I read the descriptions of why my dad chose the songs he did. A four page document mind you. My dad is not the type of male (like most) to discuss his feelings with his children. He always played the role of the protector and I can still count the handful of times I actually saw my dad put his guard down.

Music plays an integral role in our lives for many different reasons. For me, music has always been about a feeling or a memory. I pay attention to lyrics and melodies and can pinpoint how I felt at the time I first heard a certain song. This was the first time I realized my dad felt the same way. As I read through the songs on the CD, I noticed a tune from the Counting Crows which surprised me because I was usually the one introducing my dad to current music. It was the Counting Crow's "Long December," a haunting song whose lyrics transcend any generation. We have all felt that sense of hopelessness in our lifetime. A time when you reflect and wonder when and how things will get better. I have felt it and that feeling was an integral factor in my decision to make a change in my life.

I realized that this song had a similar effect on my dad. Having been through heartache myself, I could finally relate to my dad and began to have a deeper appreciation for the toll my parent's divorce had on not just me, but him. As 2011 approaches and the new year represents the opportunity to press the refresh button on life, I can accept my family not for what we were forced to become but for who we always were. Now, I am finally capable of seeing that. We have all had year's where we hoped the next would be better than the last and I'm glad as December winds down, I can appreciate that my father was able to share those feelings through music.

While it had not been that long since I had seen the ocean, I'm glad I did this particular time.

The Purple Party People

As you all know, I welcomed my first set of visitors this past weekend. I was so excited to have them here so you can only imagine my heartache when I found out that two of the girls were going to miss their connecting flight and had to spend the first night at a hotel outside of the Los Angeles Airport out of all places. Luckily, they arrived early Friday morning looking slightly disheveled and dare I say dirty having not been able to shower or change clothes since the previous morning. As true friends do, they rallied and despite the delay in travel managed to have a kick-ass, self-serve yogurt filled weekend.

Ever since we spent a weekend down at the Jersey Shore during one summer break in college, we have taken a liking to purchasing flashy t-shirts from giftshops. This weekend was no different. We left the Pacific Beach boardwalk Saturday afternoon with a coffee mug in the shape of a pair of boobs, magnets and four purple t-shirts with neon painted palms trees with the words "San Diego" written down the side. The shirts may have been 100 percent polyester which probably explains why this rash I have isn't any better and they may have smelt faintly like a damp basement but they were by far the coolest shirts...ever.

After too many Sweet Tea Vodka and waters and intense games of Catchphrase later, we realized it was too late to take a cab downtown and wait in some line just to get our groove on. We called my old buddy Mohammed to pick us up in his blue cab and take us to the bar down the street where a 90's alternative cover band was rocking out. But not without our t-shirts. Yes, Annie, Jackie, Brenna an myself changed out of our bar appropriate ensembles and into our Gem resembling purple shirts. In Brenna's case, she decided it was okay to leave the pants behind and wear her leggings which made an appearance every day of her trip.

The moment we stepped into the bar, people stared. We knew we needed to come up with an MO stat. The initial question we were asked was always, "are you guys on a pub crawl." The reasonable response would have been "yes" and then quickly escape the conversation before any more lies spewed out. We chose not to take the reasonable route and opted to continue with our lie and claim that we were on a pub crawl to celebrate Brenna's engagement to her fake fiance Peter. Minus the fact that she didn't have an engagement ring to show as a proof point, the obvious response was of course to say that she wasn't engaged yet and that she found the ring by accident hence our premature celebration. Right, ok. Everyone at the bar was drunk enough to buy our story including the lead singer of the band who congratulated Brenna on her engagement and followed-up with a "here's to one dick your whole life," cheers. Something tells me the "Mr.Eddy Vedder wannabe" singer is not a huge fan of monogamy considering we caught him doing the walk of shame on the boardwalk with a fellow bar-mate the next day.

The purple party people (as we deemed ourselves) had to party down eventually and thus our weekend of alter-ego debauchery came to a close. It was so great seeing you girls and it means so much that you took the time (and money) to come see me in my new home. What Happens in San Diego Stays in San Diego, unless of course you post a Facebook album, and it's fair to say that you made your mark on this town- purple shirts and all.

Quote of the weekend: As said by Brenna, "I am dressed like a lesbian." In her defense, she really was. Love you ladies!

What Happens in San Diego Stays in San Diego

This past week, I have felt like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa to come down the chimney and bring me an endless supply of Barbie Dolls. Tonight, my first group of visitors comes to San Diego for the weekend! I have not seen my girls Annie and Brenna since I moved in August – not cool.

Funny that after we all graduated college and I decided I could not live in New York and that Boston was the only place for me, they too moved to Boston. Two years later, I decided I had enough of the Northeast and had to leave them to their own debauchery.

I could not be more excited to recreate Spring Break with my some of my favorite people. To top it all off, Jackie is coming down from San Francisco for the weekend. What I love about this girl is that most of the memories I have of her are not appropriate to post. We didn’t elect her social chair for nothing.

I owe these girls many thanks for giving me some of the craziest times at Syracuse. From peeing in the middle of the bar, to countless one..two..three chugs at Chuck’s, the memories are endless and I cannot wait to recreate more this weekend! If only we had Cosmo’s cheesy fries.

While I am far too old to participate in spring break activities, this weekend will officially be known as “What happens in San Diego, stays in San Diego.” Unfortunately for me, I live here now so what does happen here will stay here and all of PB will know about it thus I may want to refrain from my recreating my past spring break experiences. Drinking crappy vodka and orange crystal light out of a bath tub anyone?

It would not be an unofficial “spring break” without designated roles. While Annie and Brenna will always be Andy and Brian in my eyes and Jackie will always be referred to as balls, this weekend we will be known as:

Rachel - Most likely to be mistaken for a Mexican, oh wait I already am on most days

Jackie – Most likely to pop a squat in an alleyway on Garnet

Brenna – Most likely to get a hickey the size of Russia on her neck (had to SM)

Annie – Most like to request Kelly Clarkson’s Since You’ve Been Gone O’Neils circa 2006 style

I cannot wait to see what kind of shenanigans we get into this weekend. But most of all, I cannot wait to share my new home with some of my favorite people! Thanks to Gaslamp Girl for her awesome ideas on downtown spots. Can you tell I don’t get out of PB often?

Next up on the visitor list – Jenna and Horney aka our new recruit targets.

This one's for you Glavin

I am straying from the norm with this week's post. On Monday, I received some sad news from one of my mentors at Syracuse University. A dear professor of mine was just diagnosed with late stage lung cancer. I want to dedicate this post to Professor Bill Glavin and let him know that we are all thinking of him during this difficult time.

Syracuse is a relatively big school with lecture classes of upwards of 100 students at a time. I never imagined making bonds with my professors as I had in high school. When I finally started taking classes at Newhouse, I realized how intimidating of a school it was. There, everyone was editor of their high school yearbook and scored a near perfect score on their SAT's. Well, not me. I was one of those transfer students who was never quite smart enough to be accepted right out of high school.

Then I took critical writing with Glavin. I distinctly remember thinking, "how hard can it be to write a review?" Then, he put my first assignment on the projector for all to see. I remember sinking into my seat with my head down trying hard not to make it known that it was my debacle on the screen.

Aside from showing me how much I could improve my writing, he re-invigorated my love for the craft. I wanted to go to Newhouse because since I was 12, I wanted to write. When I was there, writing turned into work for me and I slowly lost that passion. Thanks to people like Glavin and Melissa Chessher, I am back to writing and loving every word of it. They showed me that writing doesn't have to be about perfect grammer and you don't have to publish a 2,000-word essay in the New Yorker to be a success. I thank them for inspiring me to pull together this little ditty I call a blog. It may be wrought with the verb to be and I never do a full spell check but that's what my day job is for...copywriting go figure!

To Professor Glavin - your experience and knowledge within the communications industry is vast but it was the heart you poured into your teaching that made the world of difference. To all the students, professionals, and colleagues you touched with your spirit, we will keep you in our thoughts, prayers, and most importantly our hearts.

The outpour of support for Glavin is beyond belief. Please read the comments on his fan page. We can all only hope to inspire others as he has: http://glavin.syr.edu.

Back by Popular Demand?

I don't know whether or not to thank Ms. Pavement Chaser for the shoutout or for totally calling me out but either way you can thank her for this reincarnation. Not sure how long it will last but I will try my best. If only Blogspot was not firewalled on my office computer then this would be a lot easier albeit much less productive way to spend my "working" hours.

I started this bad boy mainly because I had to and heck I wanted to win gold at Schwartz Olympics. Since then, it's turned into a place where I can keep my family and friends updated on my whereabouts but more importantly, it's where I go to write about crap I think people might find humorous and slightly inappropriate. Who I am kidding, clearly Britt and my mom are the only one's reading this and since the last thing I remember my saying to me was, "a stiffy, is that the west coast version of a woody?" I think it's fair to say that I am giving my audience what they want.

Here is a drastically summarized look at what my life has consisted of over the past six months since I packed up my little Nissan Sentra and drove 3,000 miles away from home. I'm feeling a bulleted list for this.

• I found someone to hire me and all it took was crafting a politically incorrect product brief on the "Tissue Turban." I clearly had too much unemployment time on my hands but it all paid off in the end as I have made my way back to cube land.
• I learned that I have no clue how to operate a hot tub and that the boys from the Jersey Shore are correct when they say it does take a while to heat up and seeing as we almost lost a visitor to a hot tub drowning, yes they do get slippery.
  
• Do it yourself frozen yogurt is perhaps the greatest thing to ever exist In fact, YogurtLand and Yogurt on the Rocks may actually top a Montrose Ice Cream flurry.
  
• Never watch a video of yourself skydiving if you are at all self conscious about the size of your cheeks. I mean come on, who wants to see those things flapping in the wind at 120 miles per hour, not I. Probably should have considered that when I paid the extra 30 bucks for the handheld video.
• Riding a bike was much easier as a child. This may also be because I was not trying to ride one intoxicated. Important fact, BUI's do exist.
• A winter storm in San Diego is the equivalent of announcing that it's raining outside. That being said, I will take a San Diego winter over the Northeast any day. Take that Mr. Summer Street Church man who always shoveled our cars in and complained when we parked in the spot he cleared for funeral parking.
  
• It's not always sunny in san diego....but it's pretty darn close.

I am going to give a shoutout to my favorite Pavement Chaser for convincing me to have at this again. Unlike me, she writes about real things that people should care about. Also, check out Foodies@work for some fun recipes and restaurant ideas in the New York City and Boston areas.

As for me, I will continue to fill up space with my witty banter and shenanigans. I'll be in Phoenix visiting family next weekend. At first, I didn't think I would have much blog fodder for it but after talking to my 74-year-old grandma who admitted to loving the Kings of Leon, the weekend just might be one for the books. The goal is to have her drink enough wine (for her, one glass tops) that she will sing the lyrics to Sex on Fire and this line in particular, "head while I'm driving." Please refer to the comment about my mother above to learn why I am the person I am today. Thanks Mom!

Road Trip Recap - I have a feeling we aren't in Kansas anymore, THANK GOD

I have officially been a San Diego resident for two weeks after driving from one end of the US to the other in just under 5 days. There were points were I feared my little Nissan Sentra would get swept away in the desert winds but nothing topped Prarie Dog Town.

Picture this...You are in the middle of Kansas where the only civilized person in site is an overweight farmer in overalls. Going 100 mph down the long straight road, signs enticing you to see "Live Rattlesnakes" and the "World's Only Six-Legged Cow" wiz by. How do you turn up the chance to visit a freak show farm after spending the last 12 hours driving through your worst nightmare? You don't...

I have seen the Hostel and Texas Chainsaw Massacre Movies but nothing compares to the creepiness that ensues at Prarie Dog Town. Upon Entering the "farm" an old gentleman greeted us while pointing to his collection of taxidermy two-headed cows on the wall that he delivered himself. After going out back and witnessing the random assortment of foxes, pigeons, buffalo and prairie dogs scurrying about, we saw the infamous two-headed cow. Imagine what it would feel like to poop out two of your own legs and that's what this cow looked like. After this spectacle, it was time to get the hell out of Kansas. As we opened the door back into the "gift shop" where our taxidermy creeper sat, I imagined a roaring chainsaw waiting for us on the other end. Luckily, we escaped without having our limbs being fed to the mutant animals.

All in all, the road trip was a success but if I have one word of advice it's this...do not ever under any circumstance go to Kansas.

California Dreaming

It seems every time I update this thing, I am moving. This rare post is no different as I officially signed a lease in San Diego. Fed up with street parking during a snow emergency and a June where 3 out of the 30 days it rained, I am packing my Nissan Sentra and hauling ass to SoCal.



Winter boots and knee-length puff coat stored in my parent's closet - check

Bathing Suits (when I'm beach body ready) and beach cruiser - check



I promise to be a better blogger and keep you up to speed on my California shenanigans. First on the list, 6-day cross country road trip with Jenna where we will take in the wonderful sites and sounds of Columbus, Ohio and if we are lucky the entire state of Kansas. Expect chronicles of this spectacle along the way assuming Jenna doesn't a) get motion sickness or b) we end up in a ditch.



Any suggestions on road trip landmarks and iPod mixes are welcome. Does the giant ball of twine really exist? Yes and it's in Cawker, Kansas (Yes!) How do we get to WallyWorld?



Here is a pretty cool Web site detailing road trip adventures...http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/8543



Liftoff in one week!