I love this.
A brief update.
This week has been insane. Absolutely, wonderfully, horribly insane. I feel like I haven't had a second to think... make that breathe. So, now it's Friday. And I couldn't be happier. I don't know what it is about certain weeks, but sometimes they're just so, so stressful. Work has been incredibly busy, and by the time I get home, I just want to get as far away from a computer as possible - hence the no after work blogging. As crazy as this week has been though, I have something good to talk about. My friend Amanda (yeah, we have the same name. And the same birthday. And were born in the same hospital, but that's a whole other story) is here. She flew out from New Jersey yesterday and we're jam packing a bunch of fun, San Diego things in before she leaves on Sunday. Last night, we went on a haunted tour of San Diego. I was pretty freaked out and didn't want to see any ghosts, but I was really interested, so we went. The tour was pretty cool. More full of history than scary apparitions, but still very interesting. Today, Amanda had a day full of tourism, while I somehow made it through work (it was one of those days). Now, we're ready to celebrate. I think you know what that means. Beachcomebers, here we come!!
So much for tonight
I just wrote a really long message. It started out okay, but after a while, I could feel the words jumbling together and the sentences growing weak. After re-reading it, I decided I was too tired to be writing. So here I am - starting over, but at the same time giving up. Sometimes, no matter how many thoughts are running through your head, when you write them down, they just don't sound right. These are the times you need to just put your pen (or computer down) and catch up on your sleep. More tomorrow - when I can think.
Yes, Friday
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!