I'm a Vagabond... A Glamorous One!

Sometimes I get irrationally mad at inanimate objects.  Yesterday was a nail, today is Facebook.  (I've realize after typing this that Facebook isn't really an object but I don't want to get into the existential bullshit that would go with trying to define what "person, place, thing, or idea" category Facebook would go in... You'd have to look at my brother's blog for crap like that.)

The reason I'm mad at Facebook is simple:  I can't get my freaking pictures to upload.  I've read the entire feature article in this week's Newsweek as well as the funny celebrity gossipish page in the back and the book/movie reviews.  This is not a particularly short task, but was all accomplished in the amount of time it took 5 pictures to upload on Facebook.

Honestly, my Newsweek is probably to blame for my disgruntled attitude, but I love it too much to blame it.  Facebook and I have always had a volatile relationship.

The reason Newsweek is breaking my heart is because, even though it's the low, low price of only $20 for an entire year, I can't justify spending any money to renew my subscription.  I'm super broke and don't have a job and am taking a cross country road trip and am moving.  Yeah.  All of those add up to the issue I read today being my last issue of Newsweek for a while.

For those of you who don't know, I've been getting Newsweek since my senior year of high school and for a few years, was getting Time as well.  I don't know why, but I somehow feel better getting my news from a respectable, only slightly obviously biased newsmagazine than any of the crap on TV.  So that means that Newsweek has been in my life longer than most of the people who read this blog.

But sacrifices must be made.  I'm just going to pretend I'm some kind of glamorous vagabond so that I don't get sad or anxious about the fact that I'm broke broke.  (And actually in debt, thank you student loans!)  I'd rather have fun than things.  So Newsweek must go.

Oh, well.  I guess it's back to getting my news from the internet and John Stewart just like everyone else in the world.  Dumb, uninformed and broke, but loving life anyway!  (That's going to be my new motto.  You can use it if you want.)

Is It OK to Like a Guy Because of His Kid? (Bachelor, Ep. 1)

Being without cable for a year and half kind of turned me into one of those snotty, "Oh, I don't think I've ever heard of that show" people.  I pretend like I no longer care about trashy reality television and only think of important things, like literature and world peace.

But who am I kidding?  I spent my night with this:

That's right, the new Bachelor!  In case you don't know (i.e. me), this is Jason and he was rejected at the end of the last Bachelorette by a girl named DeAnna.  He actually proposed and she shot him down.  Ouch.  

All of the Bachelors have a hook.  There was the doctor, the football player (ewk), the brother of Rebecca Romijn's husband (ewkier), the Navy officer/doctor, the Italian prince (the ewkiest), and Bob.

Jason's hook is that he's a single dad.  He has a ridiculously cute 3-year-old son named Ty (who would be worth it even if his dad wasn't cute).  Ty charmed the pants off of the women of America (and me!) and they rallied hard when Jason was rejected to secure his place as the next Bachelor.

America tends to have better judgment than the producers of the Bachelor.  The best contestant ever was Trista who was rejected on the Bachelor and then met Ryan on her season of the Bachelorette (and got married and had babies!).  She rejected Bob who also got his own season of the Bachelor and was another of my favorites.  On the other side, the producers picked this guy (aka the ewky Prince):

His name's Lorenzo... I'll stop now.  We've moved onto better days.

The first episode of every season starts with 25 women.  After kind of yelling when Emily from Seattle stepped out of the car because I KNOW HER (seriously, Work Crew Malibu 2003), I settled in to quietly judge.  

My inner feminist cringed at every word.  These women throw themselves at him and actually cry when he decides that he doesn't want to marry them after a drunken night in an overly colorful mansion.  It's creepy.  

And he's no better.  He keeps talking about how he's certain his future wife is in the crowd of 25 women.  I do think there's something to be said about timing.  What I mean is, I think a lot of people get married because they decide it's time to and the person they're with right then seems like they'll do.  So if he were in a normal room of 25 women that liked him (and they would, he's cute and a single dad), I bet he could find someone.

But these women are crazy!  It's too intense of an environment to find a spouse.  I'm continually incredulous of the concept. 

That being said, I can't wait to watch the rest of the season.  I'm addicted to the drama!  See you at the Rose Ceremony!

P.S. I'm putting my money on Naomi.

I'm Not Fooling Anyone Anyway

I had an experience today that proved to me that I'm not a New Yorker.

I was walking into Starbucks and the man that holds the door open for people in the hopes of getting some spare change out of the deal caught my eye.  My midwestern self instinctively smiled at him.  I then began to hurry through the door because I remembered that New Yorkers don't make eye contact and certainly don't smile.

The man started to say something and I tried to hurry faster because I didn't want to feel guilty about the fact that I wasn't going to give him money when he asked.

Then I heard what he said which was, "Keep smiling that pretty smile, sweetheart.  God bless."

And he didn't say it in a creepy way.  He said it in a genuine way.  

I was so surprised and oddly touched that I turned, smiled again, and said thank you, completely blowing my cover.  It struck me that it was the nicest thing anyone had said to me in a long time.  It was genuinely sweet. 

So I made a resolution, a Jan. 5 resolution.  I decided that every time I think something nice about someone I'm going to try to say it out loud.  Even if I'm just thinking that I like some stranger's shirt or if I'm thinking about someone far away and I have to call them to tell them.  I'm going to do it anyway because I think we all really need to hear nice things.

We spend much too much of our time in our relationships with other people trying to communicate all of our displeasure with them under the guise of "accountability" and not nearly enough time simply enjoying the people around us.

Oh, and I'm going to keep smiling at people.  I don't want to ignore them, and it's more pleasant anyway.

Don't worry, I haven't gone soft on you.  I'm still going to avoid the crazies on the subway like the plague and silently judge people who look snotty.  It's unavoidable.

Much Love.