Okay, remember when you were in school and you just loved Fridays? Fridays meant no more learning for a full two days. No more taking notes or stressing over tests, or having to think (I guess minus the homework you enivitably took home). It almost felt like you lived for them, or something. Well, that doesn't change at all once you start working. Even if you love your job - which I do - Friday means freedom, and there's nothing wrong with wanting that. Maybe this will sound silly, but the place I hear the most mentions of "is it Friday yet?" or "thank GOODNESS it's Friday," is on the elevator. Since I work at the tippy, top of my building, I have a good 18 floors to overhear conversations, and sometimes even get sucked into them. I can't tell you how many people have walked into the elevator on a Friday afternoon, nearly collapsed and sighed, "this was the longest day of my life!" It has become quite fun to hear these people and know they're resounding the feelings of basically the whole of the working world. I've even started to look forward to this one woman who I sometimes catch a ride with. She usually gets on at about the 10th floor, and we always have the same conversation that surrounds how happy we are that it's the start of the weekend. Not until I started actually working at a full-time job did I really begin to understand what makes this day of the week - this last day before you can do whatever you want - so exciting, but also oh, so exhausting. What makes Fridays so much more important when your working 40 plus hours a week is that the next two days are absolutely, 100 percent, all yours. Forget having to study for a test or writing an essay on a Saturday or Sunday. Unlike when you're a kid, you really get a full 48 hours to say to the world, don't bother me, I'm off. With 15 minutes left of this work day, I can already feel it taking over. This is it guys. It's the weekend!
Just a City Girl
I work in a city. Sure, plenty of people work in cities, but I have always felt a deep connection to them... felt at home in them. You know the way someone who loves nature could do nothing more than sit outside - and the heat and bugs and everything else that comes along with the great outdoors wouldn't bother them at all? Well, that's how I feel about cities. I could be in the middle of millions of people, honking horns and more tourists than you'd find on a crowded summer day at Disney World, and feel completely happy - relaxed even. See, cities have always been a part of my life. I spent 13 years staring at the New York City skyline, knowing that only 15 miles away from me and my home was one of the greatest places of all time. Even today, when I make brief visits home for Christmas, I like to look out of my old bedroom window before I go to bed, hoping to catch a glance of the red and green illuminated Empire State Building. 
As I was walking through downtown today in my heels and business attire (okay, I changed into flip flops), I was thinking about this strange fascination I have with the glowing lights of skyscrapers, built to tower over the places we call cities. When I first moved to San Diego, I brushed its downtown area aside as nothing more than a wanna-be - an imposter. Where were all the taxis trying to run you over? The crowds of people walking around in a state of wonder, while busy business people dressed in black rushed to get by them? Where were the street vendors selling questionable souvenirs, and hot dog stands on every corner? I was convinced that San Diego wasn't a city. It was something like one, but lacked what I had come to love about New York City - the city, my city. But walking around today, I saw something different. I saw huge buildings, one of which I happen to work on the top floor of. I saw hints of people - busy people - with places to be. I even had to jump back on the curb while crossing the street to avoid a speeding car that was trying to fly through a changing light. This was it! This is what I had been missing! The more I explore my new home - my downtown San Diego - the more I realize how much I can, and do belong here. I may miss the hustle and bustle of New York, but for now, San Diego is the perfect place for me. The perfect city to call home, and embrace as I begin my real, adult life.
A guilty pleasure
Last night was the premiere of the Bachelor. That's right, the Bachelor - that show I love to hate and hate to love (oh, just let me say that), but still can't seem to stop watching. I somehow fell asleep before the final rose was handed out, but I'm still left wondering what leads seemingly successful, intelligent and obviously (well, mostly) beautiful women to end up on a dating show as utterly degrading as the Bachelor. I know I'm a hyprocrite because I watch, but come on! Who the heck would want to make a fool out of themselves on national tv, let alone fight for the love and affection of some random "hott" guy? Not me. It got me thinking - what makes women get to this point? Is it loneliness? Do they really think they'll find true love on a tv show? Do they just want to be on tv? Maybe they've given up all other hope. Yep, this has got to be it! In all seriousness, it must have something to do with the fact that our society sends such mixed messages (ooo, a deep one). On one hand, women are supposed to be career-oriented and driven. That's right girls, burn those bras and be a CEO! On the other hand, we are supposed to fit in time for children and husbands and keeping up house. I don't know about you but having a family and having a full-time job - at least when your kids are young - doesn't seem like the easiest of tasks. And what about me? I personally want both. So, maybe these Bachelor-loving women are just as confused as the rest of us. Maybe they're trying to figure out how to meet society's standards... how to do it all. I applaud the women who are able to achieve this goal, the ones who somehow balance the craziness. For the rest of us - the ones still figuring it out - at least there are still shows like the Bachelor to let us know we haven't hit rock bottom. Ladies and gentleman, this is the final rose today, um, I mean post.
Pass me a tissue
Allergies suck. I know this because I haven't been able to breathe because of them for most of my life. Don't bring a cat or cute, fluffy puppy around me. No way. And guess what... it doesn't end there. When I was in high school I had an allergy test done. Not only am I allergic to animals, but throw in oak trees, pollen, cigarette smoke, probably mold and dust, and get this - I'm allergic to cactus. Yep, you heard that right, cactus. I've been dealing with the fact that I can't breathe for as long as I can remember. Because of this, I had somewhat come to terms with never having a pet and living with a constant state of congestion and stuffy nose. But, then it got bad. Really bad. I don't know what is going on in San Diego, but there's something looming in the air - something allertastic, as I like to say. Anyway, I finally visited a doctor a couple weeks ago and she gave me some stuff that she said would help. Turns out that claratin I had been taking "is like water," as the doctor said. She also said I might have to get my adenoids out. Usually, this would scare the heck out of me, but I'm at the point where I'll try just about anything. The whole taking medicine thing hasn't been going so great though. I was finding myself having a hard time keeping my eyes open, especially in the morning. I figured it was just because I'm me, and well, I'm always tired... but, it wasn't. Turns out my allergy medicine causes drowsiness. It was kind of humorous. It seemed my increase in coffee drinking was beginning to make sense. My other medicine - a nose spray (sorry for the "too much info," info) - wasn't all that great either. It actually makes me feel worse sometimes. And, while watching tv tonight, a commercial came on for it. Apparently they have no idea how or why it works. Well, guess it's time for me to go take something. And blow my nose.
A Fortunate Mistake.
San Diego is amazing because there is always something to do. I don't always feel like this though. There are plenty of days when I get sick of living here and wish I was in New York or especially Boston because I feel like I could never run out of things to do there. I guess it's because of the fact that once you get used to something you seem to forget how truly wonderful it is. Well, this was one of the days when I remembered how much I love America's Finest City. Maybe it had something to do with waking up to the rain. That's right folks, it rained today. I miss rain. A lot. So the few times it happens here my spirits are instantly lifted (strange, I know). Once the rain cleared up, I found myself in Pacific Beach wondering how such a gloomy day had turned into an absolutely perfect day. The kind of day where the sky is that sparkling shade of crystal blue and the clouds look good enough to take a nap on - or take a bite out of (I swear they looked like cotton candy). So, in this perfectly, wonderful day, Todd and I found ourselves following our stomachs (surprise, surprise) to a restaurant near the bay. But when we found out the restaurant we were looking for didn't really exist, I suggested Old Town for lunch. This was a great idea. It didn't seem like a good idea when we got there and saw that all the streets were closed... but it turned into the best decision of the day when we found a spot right next to the main road and saw that there was an art festival going on. We walked the streets looking at all of the interesting artwork - things that I would never buy, and things I wished I had an extra 500 bucks lying around for so I could take it home right away. There's something about roaming around and looking at things - just admiring beautiful things people put so much time into making. It makes me happy, and it made me feel thankful for the mixup that got us there. Sometimes you have to be thankful for the little things in life. Like the unexpected finding of an interesting art fair on a Saturday afternoon.
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
I like baseball, which is weird because I'm not much of a sports fan. I don't like football, basically because I don't get it. My mom has been on me about this forever. Apparently football is really easy to understand and I need to like it because it's something I'll have to watch with my boyfriend, guy friends, etc. Well, thank goodness I'm dating Todd. He doesn't force me to watch football, I think because he gets as bored as I do after a couple of games. I don't know about you, but Sunday football is only fun for me if there is food involved (a theme you will see a lot in these posts). Anyway, I think I don't really care about sports because I never played them. My parents tried to get me to play, but found me quitting after a year, or even a few practices. Maybe it has something to do with a basketball memory that sticks in my mind even now, something like 10 years after it happened - I get the ball, I dribble down the court, my fans (aka mom) are cheering me on, I approach the basket, I shoot... I overshoot. The ball goes over the backboard. Sigh. This is why I don't like sports. So, baseball. I'm writing about baseball because tonight I'm going to a Padres game. Make that my third Padres game of the week. That's right, I've become some sort of baseball pro. Monday was a game with my family, Tuesday was a game with work and tonight is a game, just because. Padres games are fun because they're so easy to do. You park downtown, pay five bucks for a ticket, walk in and watch the game. Or, you can do what Todd and I did. We bought a nine-pack of tickets. We basically got to choose nine games to go to for pretty cheap. We sit in the same seats every game, so it's kind of like we're season ticket holders or something. Very baseball savvy. This is our last game of the pack, and I must admit, I'm a little sad. Going to the games has been fun, even if I'm feeling a bit baseballed out. Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks. No seriously, I'm really looking forward to that. And the hat shuffle. Go Padres!
TKO
I have a gym membership. This is a bold statement (no pun intended) that should mean more than what it actually does - a few hour long visits a couple times a week and a 300 dollar bill. Okay, I actually don't have the bill anymore, since I paid everything at once, but still, I should be making the most of my money. But, let's be serious... when it comes to 5:30 and I'm heading home from a long day of work, do I really want to put on my sneakers and my boxing gloves (more of that later) to be forced into near death from asthma attack for an hour? Not really. What I'm getting at is that it's so incredibly hard to get motivated to work out when all I want to do is sit around and do nothing. And the weekend is no different. Believe me, I have a whole bunch of excuses to get me out of picking myself up and going to the gym on a Saturday or Sunday. Most of them go a little something like, "it's my only day to sleep in," but really, it's just me being lazy. Oh, did I mention my so-called gym membership expires in four days? As much as I sound like someone who hates to work out, I don't. Yeah, it takes me a little longer to actually get up and do something, but once I do, I feel great. Especially after a workout at my gym. I go to the Boxing Club, and for those of you who haven't heard of it, it's basically a place to go get you butt kicked and sweat probably somewhere near a gallon of water.
The great thing about it though, is that you really feel like you accomplished something. No walking around the gym for a half hour wondering what the heck you're doing there or taking a walk slash run on the tredmill that turns into mostly walking. There's none of that at there. This place is intense. So intense that I'm pretty sure I have a mean right hook now and could probably knock a few people out. I've also become a pro at jump squats (which you do about 300 of per class) and have even come to love the old "drop and gimme 40" routine. So, with only four days left, I'm going to try hard to go every day... staring today. Maybe I'll even get up early and go to the 6:30 class tomorrow! Hmmm, I take that back. I'm sleeping in.
Spontaneity.
I just bought airline tickets. To where, you might ask? San Francisco! It's a city I've only been to twice, but still absolutely love. I think it's because I've always been there during the same time, - Octoberish - and it always feels like fall. Living in San Diego, you rarely get that fall feeling. There is something about waking up in the morning to crisp air and having to wear a jacket because, well, it's actually cold outside. So, I'm going. And, boy am I excited. Buying airline tickets is scary though. It's one of those oh my gosh I can't go back and change things kinds of purchase. I'm pretty sure I read over all my info at least ten times, but I'm still worried that I got something wrong. Why the distress? The money, of course. Being a grown-up means you have to handle your own money (in case you hadn't noticed yet), and that can be one very scary thing. I've made my share of mistakes, particularly when it comes to not checking my account to make sure I've transfered enough funds. This usually makes me mad because it's not that I don't have any money in my bank account, it's just that I'm too lazy to sign onto my account and actually make sure I've given myself enough funds to keep swiping away. For the most part, I'm okay though, and this is why... I've come up with a system that works well for me. And, while I by no means want to tell you all how to manage your dollars, maybe this will work for you, too. Per paycheck, I give myself $300. This is my spending limit for two weeks for basically everything food, fuel and fun related. The rest, I save. It's been a nice way for me to have fun and still have extra money, just in case. The best part about it is that I can go places like San Fran on a whim and not have to worry about spending too much. There's a ton or great articles about saving money, many of which I'm sure I should refer to more often. I'm pretty sure it's time for me to start a countdown though. 46 days, woohoo! Bring on the paychecks and bring on the days - I'll be in San Fran before I know it!
Mmm, Sunday
Sundays are great. Mainly because there's something about Sunday that screams you can and should do nothing. And, that is exactly what I'm doing. After church and my little sister's back to school picnic this morning, I'm back basking in the glory of a beautiful Sunday in one of my favorite places - my bed. Maybe I should be outside doing something active and enjoying yet another cloudless day in sunny San Diego. Maybe I should be cleaning my room (which seems to have exploded again), or finally washing my car. But, you know what? I don't have to, so I guess I won't. I've been thinking a lot lately about being able to do whatever I want, and I'm realizing more and more just how lucky I am. For a lot of people, it's all about growing up. Little girls want to be teenagers so they can finally wear makeup and fit into their mom's clothes and shoes. Little boys want to grow up so they can play football in the park with their friends way past dark. Even I (who would have liked to stay a kid forever) have daydreamed about being older, having kids and what my life will be like when I'm, say, 40. Sometimes I want those things. Other times I want to just lie in my bed for hours doing absloutely nothing. And those are the times that I realize how much I need to enjoy right now. Someday I'll have responsibiliteies more than work and taking care of myself and my little apartment. I'm excited for those days, but today, I just want to be happy knowing I have an entire, glorious 24 hours to just do nothing.
No more pencils, no more books, no more... WHAT?!
Graduating from college is a huge accomplishment. It means you've somehow survived something along the lines of 17 years of school (give or take a year for you super seniors). It also means you will soon be thrust into the world of adulthood. Even those who can manage putting off entering the big, scary grown-up realm by traveling or simply enjoying one last summer, will someday reach that moment where it's time to figure things out. And, while growing up is fine and dandy, realizing that it's all over - really, really over - is a big step. Since I graduated a semester early, I thought the equally hated and anticipated "back to school" time wouldn't affect me. Well, I was wrong. There is something strange about not having to buy books or pens or a million other things that used to encompass the shopping sprees leading up to school. It really hit me that school and all that goes along with it was over for me when I was shopping a few weeks ago. I didn't really have anything in particular to buy, but as I was browsing the aisles, I ended up face to face with the school supplies. It was like a standoff occured, an inner turmoil between my childhood self and the adult me, suddenly no longer needing these things. Would I ever need to buy crayons again? Probably not for myself, anyway. What about those cool binders that I used to decorate with pictures and stuff needless sheets of papers into until they were bursting at the seams? I guess not. Hmm, this was stranger than I thought. Since my shopping experience, I've realized that it's just plain weird to not be in school, but at the same time oh, so exciting. For those of you still experiencing the post-graduate freak out, check out this site. As for me, I think I'll start visiting the office supply room more often.
Why, hello there!
Somehow, it seems, you have stumbled onto my blog. Welcome! Since this is my first post, I think it's appropriate to introduce myself and explain why I'm doing this. My name is Amanda (as you may have seen in my introduction) and I'm in my twenty's. Okay, I'm 22, but I tend to avoid saying this as it makes me feel so young. It's much better than saying "hi, I'm 21" though, which I quickly got sick of a couple months post-birthday. Anyway, since I am 22 and have been going through a lot of personal and professional changes, I decided it might be beneficial to myself and others my age to blog about my experiences and tips I've found about surviving this trying time (okay, being 22 isn't that harsh, but I had to say that for the sake of pure drama). I'm hoping I'll be able to share what I've been learning (and believe me, I learn something new everyday) and maybe be able to make sense of it all. So here goes... This begins the thoughts of me, a twentysomething.