Wondering

if I'll be able to make it through a month of posting every day when I can barely find something to write about once a week.

Advice in a check-out line

I went to Target tonight, and while I was waiting in line I noticed a little girl lovingly caressing whatever it was she was holding. When her mom had emptied everything out of the cart, she came over to the girl, snatched the thing from her daughters hands, and set it on a nearby shelf. The girl didn't say anything but draped herself over the edge of the cart in a classic 8-year-old pout.

Apparently this was a family outing because soon the girl's dad came over. "Did your mom put that Littlest Pet Shop back?" The girl, eyes narrowed, nodded and I saw her dad notice the misplaced toy. Now that he'd identified it, I realized that she'd been carrying around a toy her parents had said no to. As her dad turned around, her little brother came over and started pushing the cart back and forth even though she was still hanging on it, saying, "You can't have that! You CAN'T HAVE IT!"

This girl must have REALLY wanted those little plastic cats and their little plastic scratching post (I checked it out when I walked past it), because believe it or not she did not react to her brother. He grew bored of teasing her and went to talk to his dad, and she stood there, mourning the toy she would not be taking home with her, pouting and talking to herself.

I sort of related to her, that little girl whose stupid little brother didn't understand her FEELINGS and whose parents couldn't understand HOW MUCH she loved those cats. Like, really LOVED them. More than anything. All those other toys she had ever wanted? Her love for those paled in comparison to those little cats. And I sort of wanted to buy them and slip them to her while no one was looking. Because even though the last time I felt like that was probably 15 years ago, I knew how she felt.

And then I snapped out of it, and I knew what I really wanted to do.

I wanted to tell her, seriously, honey, you will not care about that toy in 5 years. Truthfully, you probably won't care about it in 5 days. I know it doesn't seem like it, but that toy is not important. It will not make your life, which looks like it's probably pretty good (not to judge you on all the other stuff that your parents bought, but that's not really the point, is it?), any better, or more fulfilling.

When I got to the word fulfilling I knew that I couldn't go that direction either. Even though that's the truth. Sure, there are those epic toys that you never forget for the rest of your life, but I saw those ugly little bug-eyed things that girl wanted and those? Those are not epic childhood playthings.

By the end of this internal struggle I was fighting with myself, the family was walking out of the store, and although the little girl looked like she was feeling a little better (see? You didn't even remember for five minutes!) I realized what was absolutely the right thing to say: "Don't worry, kiddo, from the looks of your little brother he would probably just break it to make you mad anyway!"

I know I definitely could have understood that logic when I was 8.

Only 9 days early

I bought some Halloween cookie cutters last November around Thanksgiving, and they only cost 10 cents each. I was so proud of myself for finding a bargain, because Halloween cookie cutters seemed like the kind of thing I would buy on an impulse when I needed them and they weren't marked down 90%. Look! I thought. I'm a shopper!

Of course between then and now I've moved, and everything I used in my kitchen at school is currently packed up in boxes in the basement. Did I ever show you what it looked like when we emptied the kitchen in my apartment? I think I meant to and then deleted the photographic evidence that yes, we did try to cram THAT MUCH stuff into a kitchen the size of a small walk-in closet. But you never know when, between all the exams and binge drinking, you might need a bundt cake pan or a juicer. We were PREPARED.

Anyway, the cookie cutters must be buried beneath the dozens of serving spoons and collection of ceramic mugs, because I spent the entire afternoon on Saturday looking for them. I looked in my bedroom, and I looked through as many of the boxes I could find. I even thought I might have donated them to my parents' kitchen. But no dice. I could not find those stupid cookie cutters. In fact, I didn't find any that could capture the joy that is Halloween:



The only passable one, the metal pumpkin (I think that red one is a play-doh toy) is bigger than my hand, and I didn't feel like making plate-sized cookies. I wanted something more bite-sized.

Anyway, my mom picked some up for me and saved the day, thus proving that I am 1. not a shopper, 2. not able to keep track of things for more than a year, and 3. probably not capable of living on my own.

So here are the cookies, and also the mummy cupcakes I made. And! The pumpkins my family carved last night (mine's the one in the top left corner).

Perks of working overtime

Something I think to myself a lot is that it's sort of lame that I live with my parents. I know this isn't true, that there are a lot of good reasons for mooching as long as possible, one being the fact that by actually having money saved when I decide to move out, I'll be able to afford utilities and meals that don't consist of Ramen noodles. And while I am tucking money into my savings account on a pretty regular basis, in the last week or two I have been on a pretty intense shopping spree. Do you know how easy it is to buy things online? Well let me tell you: it is so easy. You click some buttons, you type in your credit card number, and then a few days later BAM you have a package. It is awesome.

Anyway, this is what I have bought:
The 3rd season premiere of How I Met Your Mother on iTunes. I love this show, but I really wish I had known it was streaming for free on CBS.com (by the way, are you watching this? You should be watching this), because I wouldn't have paid for it. Still, there are worse tv shows I could have paid $1.99 for.

Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead. First of all, both of these are on my list. Second of all, I did not have enough time to finish Atlas Shrugged before I ran out of opportunities to renew it from the library. I thought I could get over that, but in a little fit of frustration (dude, library, NO ONE ELSE is going to check out this book in the next three weeks) I went to Amazon.com and decided I'd like to have my own copy. THEN, I saw that if I bought The Fountainhead I could get them for a little cheaper, so I went ahead and bought them both. (On a side note: Every time I've used Free Super Saver Shipping or whatever it's called, my stuff shows up sort of beaten up. I am convinced that this is what they do as a way to stick it to the people who don't pay shipping.)

A Diana camera. It was a spur of the moment purchase, I'll admit, but I think it will be fun to have around. I was disappointed though that two days after I ordered mine, The White Stripes started selling their own version. Granted, I don't need to pay $130 extra for a red camera. Even though it would be pretty cool. But NO, Loren. NO.

And last but not least, I saw Bob Dylan last night and it was a lot of fun. We had pretty good seats, and the people who sat in front of us were CRAZY old people which was entertaining. Also: Can you believe Bob Dylan is still performing? Because I am pretty impressed by that.

4th Grade Logic (seems sound to me)

"How can anyone be a vegetarian when chicken nuggets exist?"

Transition

One of my friends once pointed out to me the formulaic nature of my posts here: "You set it up, you tell the story, you give the resolution. And you try to be clever about it." It's true. Although I probably can't do that anymore, now that I've come right out and admitted it.

I've been feeling guilty for writing so little lately. I signed up for NaBloPoMo again this year and I'm both excited for it and dreading it. Is there ANY way I will be able to find something to write about every single day? I can barely find anything to write about every week. Well, let me rephrase that: I can barely find anything to finish writing about.

The truth is that I've got more drafts sitting around than I know what to do with, and they all have one thing in common: they have no clever resolution, no little wrap-up paragraph that finishes the story. For example: I was looking for an apartment last week! And I called this lady, and she said to try back at the beginning of next month! So I said okay! And...I'm still looking!

Fascinating.

I think the hardest thing about graduating was the departure from all things structured around a specific path. Five years ago, I knew where I would be in a year, or two, or three. Right now I don't even know where I'll be in six months. That's kind of exciting, I have to admit, and I love the freedom of it ("Hello, Loren, it's your friends, wanna go to Las Vegas in March?" "Um, only ABSOLUTELY, and p.s. being a grown up with a paying job is AMAZIING"). But with everything up in the air all the time, there isn't much resolution to be found. I can't even find a good way to end this paragraph.

A unique experience

If the banner doesn't make sense, it's because I ripped it off. I loved this ride when I was little, but I have developed a little fear of carnival rides in my old age:

"why are you afraid of them?"

"I don't know. I think it has something to do with the fact that they get carted around. Like, 'well, i guess we'll just have to do without that handful of screws we forgot when we packed up the last time.'"

"I get that."

"Also? This one has a license plate. I don't want to ride in something with its own license plate."

"Um..."

"Except, you know, a car."