Peace out Baby

Holy cow. It's time. I never thought this day would come, but I'm leaving on my mission tomorrow. Cleveland, Ohio, bring it on baby.
I am going to miss all of you, but hello... 18 months is not that long. My mom will continue to update my blog from time to time, so read on friends.... and don't forget about me. Love you all, keep it real.
XOXO Ang

My favorite voice mail ever....

Andrea:
It's me. It's monday night at ten thirty-ish. Um if I don't talk to you before you go, I will send you a letter bomb and anthrax in the mail so you die. Hahahahahahah. I was going to say I would come to the MTC and kill you, but um I really hope you don't die and they check this and they're like, "oh, jonny killed andrea" cause i'm not really a psycho. Well, clearly after last friday I am a psycho, because I broke into my ex's house and stole my stuff. But anyway, um I think I deserve one last phone call, and you better @*^& well do it, or else you're getting NO LETTERS FROM ME- there's my threat. No letters from me your entire mission. Not even an email or a single word if you don't call me back before you go, no letters from me, that's my threat, there we go. Anyway, we'll talk to you later. I mean I better talk to you later or else you're dead. Love you, Bye.

Time Capsule

I've always thought that Time Capsules were stupid, unless you left them unopened for 50 or so years. Last night my family opened a Time Capsule that we assembled in 1999. 8 years ago. Surprisingly, it was quite enjoyable, and it gave me a good laugh to look back. Maybe I'll change my opinion of time capsules.

Here were the highlights of my life as a 14 year old:

1. Andrea got her braces off. I've already told stories about this miserable experience. Good to put an end to that period of my life.
2. Andrea got her ears double pierced. These were the days when having five piercings up your ear was super sexy. I had been begging my parents to let me get more piercings, because one set was so not cool anymore. They finally agreed that I could get second holes in both ears. However, before doing so, they made me sign a contract promising I wouldn't get more piercings in my ears, get my belly button pierced, or get a tattoo. I guess they were that worried I would do something foolish.....what good parents I have. Sidenote: I let the second holes grow in a year or two later. gross.
3. Andrea went on Pioneer trek this past summer. This is where I encountered the most awkward and humiliating experience of my life to date. An older boy totally walked in on me while I was in a porta potty, completely naked from the waist down. I screamed and shrieked in complete horror, until he finally ran away. All throughout the rest of pioneer trek he gave me the nasty eye. If that wasn't bad enough, it got much worse when his whole football team had heard the story a week later. Who brags about something like that? Sick. I still think about that one.
4. Andrea started 9th grade, and she is busy as a Student Body Officer, and singing in Madrigals. The most amazing part about this, is that I truly thought my life was chaotic. Little did I realize that walking around the halls of CJH talking about boys, coloring posters for basketball games, and stealing candy from our advisor in officer prep period hardly qualified as busy.
5. Andrea hates her math teacher, Mr. Smith Still do. (I don't dare post his real name on the internet. I think secretly I'm still afraid of him.) He was a real nut job. My friends and I always talked about egging his house, but none of us ever had the guts to follow through.
6. Andrea is President of her Mia Maid Class. Enough said.
7. Andrea went to St. George with her best friend Jessica over fall break. .. We thought we were so cool because we met and hung out with older, hot boys. Hello they were in High School! This was kind of a big deal.
8. Andrea really loves music. Some things never change. I was especially into the Dixie Chicks at this time, because included in the time capsule was a concert ticket from their fly tour.

So there you have it, Andrea 8 years ago. It makes me wonder where I'll be 8 years from now.... I honestly can't even venture a guess.

9 days left to live......

I have 9 days left to live........ I am making a list of the most essential things that I need to do before I check out of life as I know it.

So far, here it is:
- eat sushi at happy sumo
- go rollerblading
- sleep in till noon
- watch A Christmas Story
- have a dance party
- dress up: wear high heels and bright red lipstick
- kiss. a lot. (just one boy though..)

Please let me know if you have any other activites you suggest I add to my list. What would you do if you were going to exit life in nine days? Many thanks.

Respect on the street in SLC

Good part of my day: When a stranger man stopped me on the street and told me I looked "so pretty and very fashionable" and started drooling over my polka-dot rain boots.

Best part of my day: Realizing that the man was gay. Now I was truly flattered.

Braces: My Worst Nightmare

Last night I wore my retainer to bed.... and I slept with it secured in my mouth the entire night. I can't remember the last time this has happened. Just in case you were wondering, my mouth has been throbbing all day. I can barely move my jaw. Maybe this means I should wear it more? Probably. Will I? Definitely not.
I have a love/hate relationship with my little pink retainer. I know that it serves me well in keeping my teeth nice and straight, but it also takes me back to those miserable afternoons spent lying on a moldy green plastic covered chair, holding back the tears and silently cursing my orthodontist for digging at my mouth and making my gums bleed, with FM 100 soft hits blaring in the background.
My orthodontist was a nut. He seemed like a normal guy at first, but after he impressed my parents at the beginning consultation, and they turned me over to his care, his true character was unleashed. He was literally crazy. First of all, the man never wore gloves when he worked on his patients. Never. If that wasn't bad enough, he had the hairiest fingers I've ever seen. I hate to get too graphic, but he would shove his bare (most likely un-sanitized) fingers in my mouth, and every time I choked on the inch-long hair. It was a horrific experience, to say the least. One that I wouldn't wish on anybody.
Not only did Dr. B lack all sense of personal hygiene, he also took absolute pleasure in hurting me, and all of his other adolescent victims for that matter. He always got this wild look in his eyes, and this devilish grin on his face when I cried out in pain. When my orthodontist appointment rolled around every month, I always hoped and prayed that my mother would forget, or I'd make up great excuses to get out of going. Sometimes, they actually worked.

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday. Truly, it is. Ever since I was a little girl, I've adored it. The only problem that I have with this fine holiday, is the assortment of desserts that are consumed at the dinner table. I am not a pie lover. Especially not a pumpkin pie lover. I would much rather have a piece of chocolate cake to celebrate the first harvest. Every year I try to convince my mother to switch up dessert, but she is too steeped in tradition to bend to my modern ways. There's a new sheriff in town when I'm in charge of Thanksgiving dinner.

My Favorite Things 2007

Yesterday I watched Oprah's most anticipated and beloved episode of the year, "My Favorite Things." It was more than slightly disappointing. Oprah's favorite things were super lame. Since my favorite things are better, and in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I decided to make a list of my favorite purchases this past year.

1. Harold's Red Trench coats
2. "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho
3. Bath & Body Works CO Bigelow Mentha Lip gloss
4. Nordstrom's Scrapbook Sweatshirts
5. "Favorites" cookbook
6. Pentax Optio T20 Touch Screen Camera
7. Burberry London Perfume
8. Pure Mirabella Mineral Makeup
9. Moleskin journals from Strands Books
10.Target's Polka Dot Rain Boots

High School: Breeding grounds for Insecurities

This week my little sister was voted "Best Accessorizer" of the Senior Class at Viewmont High School. Other awards handed out were "Best eyes", "Best shoes", "Best style" and so on. She told me and I started laughing out loud. Not that my sister isn't a fantastic accessorizer, I just think the whole scenario is completely ridiculous.
Here are the reasons why I am morally opposed to such a contest:
1. Don't you think it's a little bit outrageous to pick one person out of 700 people and proclaim them as the 'best' at anything? Entirely impossible.
2. Suicide rates among young people are on the rise. Thank you Viewmont High School for contributing to the epidemic of teenagers that hate themselves in America.
3. My sister wears MY accessories EVERY SINGLE DAY. If they were going to give anyone an award, it should have been me.

Disclaimer: My sister wants it known that she did not campaign for this award. On the contrary, she was completely horrified.

My Body Hates Me

I have been waking up with a stomach ache for the past few days. I realized this morning that this is due to my atrocious eating habits as of late. Normally I am a very healthy eater, but ever since Halloween it's been bad news. It hit me today that I haven't even been eating real meals.... instead, I've been substituting them for desserts.

Case in point: Here is what I ate yesterday..
Breakfast: piece of toast and an egg
Lunch: roll and a piece of chocolate cake
Dinner: popcorn and hot chocolate

No wonder I feel like crap. I can't remember the last time I ate a piece of fruit that wasn't covered in chocolate. My body hates me right now. I think I'll find a detox diet to try.

Better left undone....

Last week there was a guy riding on the subway in NYC that spotted the girl of his dreams, but didn't have the courage to approach her. Afterwards, he regretted it so much that he created a web site and posted an ad on craigslist to find her. Well, found her he did, and they are well on their way to a blissful future together. True story. Google it if you don't believe me.
Sounds like a sappy chick flick doesn't it? Something you'd watch after a break-up to convince yourself that there really is someone perfect for you out there. I think it's a great, successful love story. I mean, who isn't at least secretly looking to be swept up?
With that said, I have to admit that I think some things are better left undone. Some things just aren't supposed to be. Sometimes the best stories are the simple and uncomplicated occurances in life. Two examples come to mind..
1. One evening last summer, I stepped onto the train in NYC at 124th street, and noticed an attractive, frenchman across the aisle. We played the eye game for a couple of stops, until he stood up, walked over, and sat by me. For twenty minutes we conversed on the crowded train. He had very broken english, and I speak zero french. Communication was confusing at best. The only thing we both understood was that there was a mutual attraction. When we got to 42nd street, we simply went our separate ways. He was on his way to a wedding, and I was going to meet a guy for dinner that was much less intriguing than this french mystery. That was it. Two strangers forging a short-lived connection. I wouldn't have wanted it to end any other way.
2. Last March, I was dragged to a Sunday night dessert party in Provo by a friend. I didn't feel like being social since I was exhausted from a sleepless weekend. I stood there wrapped in my own thoughts, when suddenly a guy I'd never seen before was standing in front of me. He blurted, "I saw you from across the room.... and I want to kiss you." Only a tool would say something like that so I gave him a smirk and said, "Ha. You wouldn't dare." Before I knew it, he grabbed me, and was kissing me on the mouth, tasting my cinnamon lip gloss. Who does that? I pulled away, utterly surprised. I wanted to slap him for having the audacity to think that he could just kiss me, but another part of me thought that his confidence was almost commendable. If more people were that confident, there would be more relationships, and more happy people in this world. So I simply said, "Wow... you don't even know my name." Then I walked away.

*Disclaimer: The real end to this story is that somehow the sweet bro found out where I lived, and for the next week I had to hide everytime the doorbell rang. I refused to speak to him again, because I was kissed by a stranger, and I wanted to keep it that way. It makes for a much better story, don't you think?

Like I said before... some things are just better left undone.

Beware of Fragrance Bulbs

My mother is all about Bath & Body Works fragrance bulbs. You plug them into an electrical outlet, and Walah... sweet fragrance fills the entire room for 6-8 weeks guaranteed. They are a woman's dream. Her patronage alone certainly prevents these little bulbs from being discontinued; she keeps an endless supply on hand at all times.
I walked into the house this afternoon and the most potent smell I've ever encountered literally knocked me over. I immediately felt naucious, and seconds later I was dry-heaving. The smell was a combination of teeth being drilled at a dentist's office, and really bad, cheap men's cologne. It was absolutely horrifying. At first I truly wondered if it was a dead animal. After pacing the house for a few minutes, I found the nasty culprit... a fragrance wall plug-in. It's name, you ask? Sensual Amber. Okay, who really wants their house to smell sexy? (Besides my mother, apparently). I am here to tell you that Sensual Amber is anything but a turn-on. Bath & Body Works seroiusly disappointed me this time. I quickly made it my charge to destroy every box of Sensual Amber bulbs I could find in the house.
Let this be a word of caution to you all. When purchasing fragrance bulbs, it is in your best interest to be extremely selective.

Keepin it fresh baby

Today my boss walked into my office, took one look at me, and said, "You are the most thematic dresser I've ever met. I never know if you are going to show up looking like a business woman, an east coast preppy, a military dictator, a cowgirl, or a punk rocker. Every day I'm intruiged to see what you will wear next."
Before I could say anything, he turned around and walked away.
I am just going to assume that what he meant to say was, "Andrea, thank you for keeping this stagnant office alive." Yeah... that has to be it.

Words I hate

Here is a list of the words I literally despise. Everytime I hear them I get the uh-oh feeling.

1. Probe
2. Ointment
3. Supple
4. Moist
5. Groin
6. Panty-hose

My 12 year old brother tries to construct sentences using all of these words just to annoy me. Once I went out with this boy and he said the word 'probe' six times in one night. It bothered me so much I couldn't bring myself to go out with him again.

Social Responsibility?

One of the qualities I truly appreciate in a person is the ability to be open, honest, frank and candor. Especially when it comes to human foibles. I am sincerely grateful when somebody has the decency to quietly inform me that I have a piece of corn in my tooth, I spilled soy sauce on my blouse, or I have mascara running down my face. It is the mark of a true friend when a person will eagerly tell you if you look like an idiot.
This morning I rode the elevator with two men, I'm guessing in their late fifties. Immediately I noticed that one of the men was sporting slacks with a completely exposed, and unzipped zipper. I was torn. Part of me felt that it was my social responsibility to help this poor man before he made a complete fool of himself throughout the day. On the other hand, I didn't feel it necessarily appropriate to point out that he was flying free for these reasons..
A) He was a complete stranger.
B) Another man was riding in the elevator with us and there was no possible way of quietly divulging the problem.
C) I didn't want him to assume that I was some young hussy, checking out his 'area' in an enclosed elevator.
Before I knew it, the doors opened and we were on floor 6.. my stop. As I slipped off the elevator my heart sank. I felt like a horrible person for failing to speak up, and allowing this man to subject himself to humiliation and embarassment in the workplace.
Seriously though, could I have done anything differently?? Four hours later, I just hope that he's not still walking around with his zipper down.

Laundry woes

A small part of me died last week. My favorite khaki vest. It has basically taken me seven days to feel emotionally capable enough to blog about this tragedy.

In most aspects of life I am a pretty easy going person. However, when it comes to laundry, I am completely neurotic. I trace this back to my first real experience of doing my own laundry. I was getting ready to move away to college. I am embarassed to admit it, but I had never washed my own clothes. My mother told me it was time that I learned to do my own laundry, and so I gave it a go. This wasn't so bad, I thought. What was the big deal anyway? I pulled my clothes out of the dryer and to my complete and utter horror, everything had shrunk. Cabbage patch doll size. As a young (yes, somewhat materialistic) eighteen year old, I was inconsolable. I honestly cried. For a couple of hours. From that day forward, I was never the same.

I am very particular about my laundry. I wash everything in cold/cold water on a light cycle. Instead of using dryers, I hang everything to dry on a drying rack. I am also extremely picky about what goes into each load. As a result, I usually wash about 7 loads each time I do laundry. Yes, I acknowledge the fact that this is slightly high maintenance, but I have never had an article of clothing destroyed since that first disastrous experience. That is, until last week.

Now to my beloved vest. It was a great vest. I found it on a trip out to Washington D.C. last October. My friend Tricia and I were walking through the shops near Georgetown one night and immediately it caught my eye. I had to have it. It was the only one of its kind. Since the day I bought it, it's been a wardrobe favorite. That vest and I were made for each other. Seriously.

The other day I was in the middle of doing laundry. A new, burgandy shirt (which was still bleeding shades of red) was lying on the drying rack. My khaki vest was in the middle of a wash cycle (alone, because I didn't want to chance washing it with anything else). I left the room for a while, and when I came back my vest wasn't in the washing machine. I found it lying on the drying rack. On top of the bleeding burgandy shirt. I bolted across the room to try to remedy the situation, but it was too late. The damage was already done. My khaki vest was covered in burgandy spots.

I was devastated. I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell at whoever was responsible. But I didn't. Maybe this is a sign of newfound maturity. I tried every trick I knew to remove the blood-like stains, and when nothing worked.... I simply had to give up and quietly mourn my loss. One week later, I am slowly recovering. I am still heartbroken about the unexpected death of my khaki vest. I am quite certain that I will never be able to find an adequate replacement.

Janice, It really hurts

This video brought more joy to my soul than I ever thought possible. I am so blessed to have found it. Please enjoy.

My getaway to Santa Fe

I went on a little getaway this past week with the parentals. We went to Santa Fe. Some people questioned, "Of all places, why Santa Fe?" Well, why the heck not? Besides, who else goes there?



I fell in love with New Mexico. Santa Fe was so dreamy. The charming little city boasted art gallery after art gallery, delicious restaurants, and exquisite, high class shopping. I highly recomend a visit there to any of you art lovers. I found a fantastic painting... next time I have $28,000 lying around, I think that I'll buy it.

Rain Day

Today when I woke up to the pouring rain and thunder, I decided to forget my alarm clock, roll back into bed, and make the day mine. Lately I've been feeling super overwhelmed. Probably in more doses than ever before. It's ironic, because my life is disturbingly simple right now. I have already detached myself from most of the components that would normally produce stress. I decided to take this day to do a little unwinding and reconnecting: spiritually, emotionally, and mentally.
I took a walk in the pouring rain while listening to Sia's song "Breathe Me." It proved to be just the fix I needed. It's the perfect rainy day song because it is so raw and packed with emotion. It made me feel validated in every way.

Yes, that's right... I'm an animal hater

Today I opened up an email from a friend that had pictures of cats. They were all in really weird, unnatural positions. I almost lost my lunch it was so gross. I thought about posting a picture for you to see, but decided against it. Be very thankful.

CONFESSION: I hate cats. Now that I've said it, I can't stop there. I HATE ANIMALS. So sue me. Turn me into the animal rights activists. Blame it on Scott L. and Alison C. Hymas. As a child I begged for a puppy but they told me that pets were gross, and smelly, and that they would buy me a swing set instead. Swings and monkey bars were much more fun than any pet would ever be.

Over the years I've developed a callous heart. I have turned into the adult I despised. I'm a full-blooded pet hater. This means I can't marry a pet guy. I just don't think it could ever work. End of story.

What is your dream job?

A few days ago we took a poll at work to find out everybody's dream job. "If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?" Jackie wants to be a cocktail waitress in the French Riviera. Carla wants to run a presidential campaign. Christena wants to be a photo journalist. Carlie wants to be a butterfly (I'm still not exactly sure what that means..)
Here are my top 5 dream jobs.
1. Fashion buyer/marketer
2. Host a show on the travel channel
3. Open my own bakery/restaurant
4. Singer in a band (actually I'd be willing to do anything...)
5. Own a bookstore

So.... what is your dream job??

Return of Polygamy?

The other day my boss asked me to drop off a script at a radio station. I was assigned to make sure that it was recorded correctly before it went on air. Not a problem. I got there, and right away the man I was working with gave me the creeps. I tried to dismiss the fact that he was blatantly hitting on me, and he was my father's age. 46. To make it even worse, he had pictures of his wife and kids all over his desk. At first I ignored his sloppy flirtatious remarks, until out of the blue he looked at me with crazy eyes and said, "You know, when polygamy is legal again, I want to take you for a wife." WHAT????? PERV!!!!!! Who says that? I was horrified. Quite honestly, it scared the living daylights out of me. I tried to keep my composure and replied, "That is absolutely disgusting." Two minutes later I was out of there. Needless to say, I won't be going back.

Here's to you Brooke

My mom gets annoyed with me because I call everybody my 'best friend.' She says calling everybody my 'best' friend diminishes the word best, and that I use the word much too lightly. Not so. I figure I have been fortunate enough to have many great friends over the years, and refering to them as a plain old friend doesn't do our friendship justice. Therefore, I have many people I identify as best friends.

With that said, I can honestly say that Brooke Svendsen is truly a best friend. This is no stretch. She would definitely make the top three list if I were forced to make one.

Brooke and I were destined to be friends. Our grandmothers, Darlene and Jytta, had been best friends for the past 40 years, until Jytta died this past summer. If that wasn't enough to seal the deal, we were randomly assigned as roommates in a London Film study abroad program a few years ago. Although I thought her high maintenance sleeping patterns (eye masks and ear plugs every night) rather odd, we clicked right off the bat. I put up with her drama, and she listened to me when I over-analyzed. I was intrigued by the way she viewed the world, and she laughed at all of my jokes. For the past three years, it's been a perfect combo.

Today I really missed Brooke. Maybe it was because I got a letter from her yesterday and started laughing so hard I had tears running down my cheeks. Or maybe becauase it was such a perfect autumn day, and normally we would have been rollerblading, bike riding, lounging on the grass on campus, or hitting up the swings at Kawanis Park. Not this year though. Today Brooke was in the jungles of Malaysia, shuffling along dirt roads in the sweltering heat spreading the good word. And I was stuck in an office, staring at a computer screen. Sound depressing?

So Brooke, here's to the good old days. Here's to dancing in the bookshelves in the HBLL with our ipods in sync. Here's to making music videos, and staying up talking until 4:00 a.m. Here's to journal writing, molasses cookies, and The OC. Here's to indie music, sundance films, and complicated love triangles. Here's to chocolate fountain parties, coldplay, and modern art. Here's to laying out at your pool, getting out of dates so that we could chill at home, and living in the Brimhall. Here's to fireflies. Here's to India. Here's to you baby.

Post Script: Wow... this sort of sounds like a wannabee love letter. I promise we aren't lesbos. Just BFF.

Late Night Eating Confessions

I have a confession to make. It is 11:09 p.m. I just ate a huge homemade coconut cupcake with cream cheese frosting, and before I could stop myself I polished off the top half of another one. I seriously disgust myself.

Mission Call Baby

Mission calls. I don't think I've ever felt more nervous in my entire life than when I ripped open the envelope sent from church headquarters that would change the course of my life forever. I was completely shocked to read "Cleveland Ohio Mission". Who goes to Cleveland anyway? Nevertheless, I am super excited. My uncle later informed me that the Browns play in Cleveland. I had to ask him which sport the Browns play, but I'm thinking that football might be a new love for me now. My friend Tiffany also reminded me that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum is located in Cleveland. Yeah baby. One more thing.. I failed to mention that I will also be serving a bit at the historic Kirtland sites. I'm thinking that maybe I'll do some negotiating while I'm there and get us back the temple.

Do blondes have more fun?

Today I'd like to pose a question... do blondes really have more fun? I recently discovered that fellow advertising guru Shirley Polykoff coined the phrase in the 1950s for a national Clairol advertising campaign. I was somewhat surprised to find that this revolutionary slogan was just a brilliant marketing scheme. I don't know what I really expected.. proof maybe? Scientific studies to show that women with blonde hair actually possess a higher quality of fun in their lives than all other women? Possibly.
Well if Shirley Polykoff can throw around expressions that change the course of history, than so can I. I've got one for you. Brunettes are more mysterious. I seriously believe this. Last week I traded in my platinum locks. I was tired of the maintanance that comes along with being blonde, and I was ready for a big change. And so I dyed my hair chocolate brown. Yes, you heard it, brown. I love it. I love being a brunette. Not only do people take me more seriously in the workplace, but there is also this aura of newfound mysteriousness about me. It's crazy. Another perk I've noticed is that nasty construction workers don't check me out as much anymore. If you blondes out there don't believe me, just make the change and you will know exactly what I mean.
Maybe blondes really do have more fun. Maybe. But as far as I can tell, all in all, being brunette isn't half bad.

I'm back..

Creating a blog is easy. I did it a few months ago, and had high hopes of providing literary snacks for friends and family who found themselves surfing the web long enough to read this. Like I said, that was the easy part. The real trick, I've discovered, is thinking of something astounding and brilliant to write about.
Obvoiusly I've had a pretty lazy, blogless summer. Blame it simply on a lack of motivation.
Rest assured, my lackadaisical days are over now. That's right. I'm going to start blogging again. Jessica 'tagged' me, and so ladies and gentleman, for my second blogging debut, you get a survey describing yours truly. Oh goody....

5 things I was doing 10 years ago
1. listening to the Spice girls and Jewel
2. writing notes in my seventh grade classes to boys
3. eating 1,500 calorie lunches at CJH and staying skinny(Chick-filet sandwich+ giant cookie+ strawberry kiwi snapple= daily routine)
4. obsessing over the current heart throb for all 7th grade girls- Leonardo De Caprio
5. painting my room yellow and decorating it with Anne Geddes pictures (yuck...)

5 things on my to-do list today
1. go running
2. do my laundry
3. write in my journal
4. get a pedicure
5. make wheat bread

5 snacks I enjoy
1. caramel popcorn
2. watermelon
3. chocolate cupcakes from Magnolia's bakery
4. fruit and yogurt smoothies
5. chips and salsa

5 songs I know the lyrics to
1. breathe- sia
2. 1234- Feist
3. Here- Hello Goodbye
4. Rebellion- Arcade Fire
5. Free Fallin- Tom Petty

5 things I would do if I was a millionaire
1. travel the world
2. live comfortably
3. give... start a non-profit saving children around the world
4. collect art
5. start my own fashion line

5 bad habits
1. leaving clothes on my floor
2. leaving my bathroom a mess everyday
3. not answering my phone
4. wasting time on the computer
5. being insensitive

5 things I'd never wear again
1. white eye liner (vomit)
2. Doc Marten Sandals
3. hemp (need I say more?)
4. overalls with one strap undone
5. skorts

5 favorite toys
1. ipod
2. rollerblades
3. camera
4. my hammock
5. swingset

Words to live by

One Saturday morning a few weeks ago, my friend Brooke and I were exploring thrift shops in a quiet Soho neighborhood. There were only a handful of people out, and we were enjoying the tranquility that is seemingly impossible to find in the city. Suddenly, out of nowhere (I'm still not exactly sure where they came from), a group of boistrous men sporting wife beaters and gold jewelry started parading down the street, fully equipped with a couple of boom boxes blasting euro dance party music. They ventured down the street with purpose- on rollerblades, bicycles, skateboards, and yes, even big wheels. They started cheering, campaigning, and shouting at me and the other four people in sight. It was incredible. These were grown men. Men uniting as one. For a cause that they believed in. "What was this Cause?" you might ask. I have absolutely no idea. However, as the last man peddled away we caught site of a home-made poster taped to the back of his shirt. In big block letters it read, ' BECOME YOUR DREAM'. So there it is folks. Free advice to live by from these NYC visionaries.

Blogging? Who me?

Today I decided to start my very own blog. Six months ago I would have shrunk at the very thought; I was in a phase that led me to believe I was too good for facebook, myspace, and other social networking sites. Blogs were no exception. I wanted to live a simple, profile-free life with no complications. Well, I moved to Manhattan and things have changed. In order to appropriately document the fascinating adventures I am having in this bustling, chaotic city, I decided to give it a shot. Create a blog. Here goes...