"When people show you who they are, believe them."

Wednesday, January 28, 2009
11:30 pm My messy desk

A famous writer once told me that you can tell a lot about a person from their desk. Okay, I made that up. But I believe that you can gain a lot of insight into a person this way. It's like snooping in someone's medicine cabinet. Not that I've done that before...

Lucky for you, I'm bored right now and not tired enough to go to bed. There are many things I could be doing (17 things, in fact, according to my To Do List), but instead I am choosing to share a little bit of my life with you. I'm hoping it will motivate me to clean.

To the far left of the photo you can see the side of my television with the movie "The Wedding Date" propped up against it. It's a classic chick flick I very much enjoy, except Debra Messing's hair looks terrible throughout the entire thing. I first saw it in theaters January of my senior year of high school. I went on one date with the guy. He held my hand. I was really nervous.

Below the TV and DVD you can see my purse, thrown there sometime this weekend, partially covering various binders, papers, and text books. The one on top called "Thinking with Type" is the most boring book I've ever read in my life. There was literally an entire chapter on the importance of spacing. The chapter after that was margins. Shoot me. Winding across the book you can see the BU lanyard that holds my keys.

Next, there are some chords (Ipod, printer, computer, etc). Towards the back you can see a stack of sticky notes on top of something clear. The clear thing is a pack of gel insoles that Stephanie gave me when I saw her for lunch and shopping last Saturday. She bought the wrong size, so I got a present! Beneath the insoles is a recipe she printed out for me for portabella-broccoli stir-fry. Mmmm. I'm going to make it if I can ever go grocery shopping (To Do List!!!).

Up on the wall behind my computer there is a hanging sun that Grandma and Leo gave me, and it's surrounded by various papers. The one in the top left corner is a comic from The New Yorker of two guys sitting at a bar. The guy on the left is saying, "No, I don't need an alarm clock - anxiety is my alarm clock." I liked that because it's the story of my life. Below the comic is a quote from Grey's Anatomy I wrote on a sticky note a while ago. It says, "When I like somebody, I make sure they know it. Life's too short to live any other way." Draped over the hanging sun are purple Mardi Gras beads I received one night at Jake Ivory's. The bouncers were having a "hot girl contest," meaning girls they thought were cute got beads. It was a really defining moment in my life...:P. On the other side of the sun are two more sticky notes. One says, "When people show you who they are, believe them." The other says, "If you always do what you always did, you'll always get what you always got."

Up above this stuff, on the wood frame of the desk is a sticky note that says "Strive!" in red. That's because I read in Body & Soul that leaving inspirational words around your house can make you perform better at your job or elsewhere. I put it up on the first day of my internship. I like it, I guess, but I'm not sure if I've striven more because of it. Is striven a word? Next to that sticky note is another sticky note with the hours the gym is open. All the way down on the right is a note from my old boss at the Improper, thanking me for interning etc. It makes me feel good to know someone thinks I do a good job, so I keep it up.

Below that note is a framed paper that says, "T.G. Call Home." Grandpa and Anita gave it to me as a reminder when I left for college. In front of it is a picture of me and Greg from a few summers ago. Next to the photo is a bottle of Midnight Pomegranate hand sanitzer from Bath & Body Works (they're cruelty free!). The paper that's partially covering the photo is Dr. Andrew Weil's Self Healing, which is a newsletter that is produced at Body & Soul.

In front of the newsletter is a box of band-aids because I still have to bandage my toes up, even though the surgery was weeks ago. They're just not completely healed yet. In front of the box is my student ID and in front of that is a Red Sox pen and another pad of sticky notes. Next to the sticky notes is a cup of tea I'm regretting making because I don't really feel like drinking it anymore. Behind the tea is my new Ipod, then a tube of Neosporin (for my toesies), and then a bottle of Advil from last weekend's hangover. To the right side of the mug of tea is my Charlie Card and two dollars, because I know my Charlie Card is running low, but I'm not sure how low, so I just carry two dollars with me anytime I take public transportation so I don't get on the bus or the T and not have enough money. This is the kind of stress I deal with.

By the money is another binder - one that I actually use. This is my personal binder, where I make all my crazy lists and keep important stuff. It has things like my clothes lists, notes on work I need to do for classes, dreams I remember to write down - stuff like that. It's resting on top of another text book, from last semester, entitled "The New Journalism." That one was actually interesting, hence the reason it's on my desk even though I'm not using it this semester.

And finally, behind the binder, we have a bag from Victoria's Secret. As I mentioned before, Stephanie and I went shopping last weekend. I, of course, had no money, but I did have gift cards from Christmas (woo hoo!). So I bought some Victoria's Secret 5 for $25 underwear. It made me pretty happy.

It's the small things, people.

Love,
Tara

"Bad enough to sit through dinner with him? Sober?"

Tuesday, January 27, 2009
9:30 pm Eating a Cinnabon

I took a page from Maria's blog (ok, not a page really) and decided to include a little section called: Funny Texts from My Friends and Family. Because they really do say the darndest things...

Andrea: (1/5) 1:29 am: Shoo, girl- I think I walked outcho house ‘thout my camera! Ima get it from yo ass next time we kick it, Aight? :-)

Stephanie: (1/5) 10:42 am: I don’t hear any screaming!

Kaitlyn: (1/6) 4:41 pm: Snizzowww dizayyy

Lauren: (1/8) 9:12 pm: Um the windows r barred and the boys were frisked. I’ll update u when the lesson starts

Karen: (1/9) 6:18 pm: Damn kids stole my cars

Maria: (1/12) 4:32 pm: I just want to catch up over a drink or five

Kaitlyn: (1/12) 9:57 pm: Put on your boy entrances and some lippy and get to it!

Mark: (1/12) 11:32 pm: Tara the nursing home called. You left your knitting materials

Christina: (1/13) 5:28 pm: Ohhhhh girl!!!!

Maria: (1/14) 3:02 pm: Are you really going to Denver?

Dad: (1/16) 8:15 am: I didn’t know shwink was a textable response but having seen you do it a thousand times, the text version did work for me.

Dad: (1/18) 5:22 pm: Do you mean? …Shwink!

Kaitlyn: (1/18) 8:39 pm: Eh just keep weedin em out. You go girl!

Maria: (1/21) 1:08 pm: Bad enough to sit through dinner with him? Sober?

Erica: (1/22) 7:31 pm: When are you going to learn that ignoring them doesn’t make them go away?

Mom: (1/23) 8:12 am: It’s going to be a shwinkalicious day!

Maria: (1/23) 11:42 am: Sometimes I question my thought process

Sebastian: (1/26) 7:05 pm: So does that mean ur like one of those UFC fighters now?

If you don't understand any of these, you probably shouldn't try to.

Love,
Tara

"No, thanks"

Sunday, January 25, 2009
8:21 pm I haven't left my bed all day.

Holy hangover, Batman. What a weekend. Let's talk about Friday.

Friday morning I woke up and actually caught the bus to Watertown. Yay! I was busy all day at my internship, and before I knew it, I was riding the bus back to my apartment to begin the evening's festivities. It was my friend Sasha's 22nd birthday, so everyone was going to Gypsy to dance the night away. I'd never been to Gypsy before, and when I heard it was a club I was a little skeptical, but I ended up having a really good time.

The thing with clubs is, you have to be on your guard. When you're dancing with your girlfriends, you never know when you're going to find yourself surrounded by 30-year-old men with slicked back hair and too many shirt buttons undone. It can be a scary place. Luckily, my friends and I have a lot of experience rejecting men.

The first incident occurred when we ran into a "Bitter Guy." Bitter Guys are a fairly common breed in the downtown Boston area. They tend to travel in groups of two or three, hitting on anything that moves. When a Bitter Guy is rejected, as he usually is, he becomes aggressive, attacking his rejector. One of these guys was slithering around the dance floor when he bumped into Maria, probably on purpose. He said "My bad," took a look at her rack and then said "Wow, maybe not my bad." Recognizing all the characteristics of a Bitter Guy, I stuck my hand in his face and told him he could go. That's when he turned on me and said "You're not that hot anyway," before slinking away. That would have been a hurtful comment had it been even remotely true. I mean seriously, he was like a three. We survived the encounter unharmed, though Bitter Guy skulked around our group of friends for the rest of the night.

Later on, I ran into a "Wingman." A Wingman is a prominent species in most urban bars and clubs. Wingmen work in teams to help their fellow Wingmen find mates. It's touching. Kind of. So, I'm dancing and this guy taps me on the shoulder. "My friend thinks you're beautiful." So? "Will you dance with him?" "Do you always do the talking for your friends?" I asked. "Well, no, I, uh, he just wanted me to see if, uh..." One thing about Wingmen is they are easily confused when forced to answer simple questions. Anyway, his friend walks up to me and says "You're dancing with me." I was pleased with his more direct approach, so I let him dance with me. He kept telling me I was beautiful. I told him to stop talking.

Then the original Wingman did something I have heard can happen but had never experienced before. He got jealous. The problem with the Wingman strategy is they do all the work (approach the girl, talk to the girl, convince the girl to go with the friend), but they are left with little reward. So, while I was dancing with the friend, the Wingman grabs my hand, twirls me, and basically steals me away. I was so impressed by the twirly move, I let him. And it was pretty hilarious. The friend stormed away, and I danced with the Wingman until I got bored and he started dancing really strangely. I just boogied away with my friends.

Shortly thereafter, I encountered a breed I had never seen before. It's a breed that's extremely hard to classify, but I think I nailed it. Let me explain. I briefly make eye contact with this cute guy while on the dance floor. Moments later, he appears by my side. "Hi, I'm ____. I saw you over there, and I just wanted to tell you you're beautiful." The line was pretty corny, but he was very cute and seemed genuine, so we kept talking. Good smile, nice eyes, wearing a necklace... hmmmm, something wasn't right. He told me he was going to go find his friends, but if he saw me later, maybe we could "have a dance." I nodded, but I was perplexed. Later, he found me again, but I wanted to leave and was trying to track down all of my friends. I nodded patiently as he gesticulated wildly as he talked about business school when suddenly, it hit me. I gasped, taking in the rare creature before me. I had heard of this breed was fairly common in parts of the South and Midwest, but this was a rare find for Boston. The corny but sweet pick-up line, the impeccable dress with one major flaw, the uncreepy demeanor, and the excitement over school and the direction of his life- it all made sense! I was looking at an "In-the-Closet Gay Guy." In-the-Closet Gay Guys usually don't know they are gay... to the point that they talk to girls in clubs and bars because they think this is what they are supposed to do. Pretty and dumb, they may never realize they are not actually attracted to the girls they go after.

As I sat in the cab on the way home, I looked wistfully out the window and crossed my fingers hoping that one day, he would join the Gay Guys.

Love,
Tara

P.S. My sister is SO talented. Take a look at this hilarious video she made with her friends last night. Most productive sleepover, ever.

"If I was going to Watertown, it would say Watertown."

Wedenesday, January 21, 2009
11:08 am COM Student Services (on the lap top)

Sooo, transportationally speaking, yesterday was not a good day. I was all ready to blog about how great and wonderful the bus was, until yesterday when the MBTA bus system screwed me.

Friday the bus worked like clockwork, but I got to my internship 25 minutes early, so I decided to take a slightly later bus yesterday. Big mistake.

I had a hard time sleeping Monday night, so I was in a less than pleasant mood Tuesday morning as I stood at the bus stop in the freezing cold. Finally, a 57 appears (late), but it’s only going to Oak Square. That’s not far enough. I roll my eyes and continue to wait. Then, 10 minutes later, another 57 to Oak Square. I’m starting to panic. I flag down the bus anyway and ask the driver if he’s maybe going to Watertown Square and forgot to put it up. He was less than pleased and said something along the lines of, “If I was going to Watertown, it would say Watertown.” Duh.

Now, I’m pretty much sure I’m going to be late – on the SECOND day of my internship. I call my boss and leave a message letting her know I might be late. Then, I try to look up the bus schedule on my Blackberry. It doesn’t make any sense. The bus should have been here! I start to cry.

Okay, I mean, I’m not full-on crying, but tears of frustration definitely started to trickle. And then they trickled more because I kept thinking “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re crying in public over this. Stop crying. Seriously, you’re 21. Stop crying!” The only thing that made me stop was the thought of getting my Blackberry wet.

Then, over the horizon, I see a bus. Squinting through the tears, I try to make out the sign. 57. To Oak Square.

Now I’m just mad. I decide to hail a cab, but I have no money, so I have to run (in heels) to the ATM which is a block away. Just as I’m walking into the bank, a bus zooms by me. 57. To Watertown.

Now, I’m beyond mad. I take out money, run into the middle of the street and get a cab right away. He must have sensed my anger because he FLEW to Watertown. I told him I needed to be to work by 9, half-joking because I knew it was impossible (it was 8:50), but he actually pulled it off.

It cost me $30 and my emotional well-being for the day, but I walked into my office building at 9 am, and except for the frantic message I left on my boss’ machine, nobody was the wiser.

Oh, and then, even though I was on time, I missed my bus on the way home. So, I stood in the cold for 20 minutes, waiting for the next one.

And now everywhere I go I see 57 buses to Watertown.

I heart public transportation.

Love,
Tara

"Dreams: Vomit"

Monday, January 19, 2009

11:32 am My room

I just woke up extremely nauseous. Why? Because I was puking my brains out all night...

...in my dream.

I've been interested in dream interpretation since freshman year of high school when we got to do an I-Search paper on any topic we wanted. It's the one paper I remember really enjoying researching, and after that I began asking for dream dictionaries and books for holidays and birthdays. I now have several of them.

While there is no steadfast rule about the meanings of dreams, most experts agree that there is something to the pictures and people we see while we sleep. I personally believe that while some images are random (If you spend all day in the car and then you dream you're in a car, I don't think that's particularly significant), most of the things we see in our dreams are our subconscious' way of blowing off steam - of somehow relaying a message that we ignore or repress or simply look over.

For example, years ago I lost my wallet. It wasn't especially important because I was like 14 and didn't have a license or much money, but still, I wanted to find my wallet. One night I dreamt of opening my closet and my wallet was resting on a shelf. The next day, I found my wallet on that shelf.

There are more significant messages too. A lot of times sayings or phrases we use in dreams hold literal meaning. I had a dream a few weeks ago that I was trying to get into this room where all my friends were, but the door was too small (think Alice in Wonderland). I was still trying to squeeze into the room when someone asked me what was wrong. Frustrated, I yelled, "I can't fit in!" That dream and quote probably had to do with my own insecurities about "fitting in" with that particular group of friends.

Anyway, dreams can especially affect the way you feel. Ever dream of seeing someone you don't want to see? Or do? Or dream that someone you love is especially mean to you? It can affect the way you're feeling in your waking life.

Last night's dream affected me physically, instead of emotionally. I'm not feeling nauseous because I'm sick - I'm nauseous because I dreamed I was. I actually have these dreams fairly often. I eat something that doesn't taste good or that's "hard to swallow" (get it???), and I start vomiting... except I usually have a hard time puking it all up, so I'm like vomiting in slow motion. Did you get a nice visual there?

I finally looked up the meaning in a dream dictionary, and vomiting in a dream usually has to do with removing something negative from your life. BIG SHOCK. This can include angry feelings, emotions, a painful past, etc.

Before puking in my dream, I was carrying these really heavy blankets uphill to this house, but they were so heavy I had to pass them off to a friend. Before that, I dreamt I was walking through mud. Hmmm...

While I enjoy the interpreting of the dreams, I usually end up feeling frustrated. Because while I understand the instructions (expel the negative, get rid of what's weighing you down, etc), I don't know what my dreams are referring to.

I may need to dream more for clarification.

Love,

Tara

"Don't let Martha see that!"

Saturday, January 17, 2009
6:22 pm I'm still in my pajamas.

Martha took away my freedom of speech!

I would love to tell you all about my first day at my internship yesterday, but I can't because as soon as I got there they spritzed me with lavender, threw me an organic cookie, and slapped me with a five page confidentiality contract. I think they may have slipped something in the herbal tea too because before I could realize the consequences of signing a confidentiality agreement, I had already signed everything and was discussing eco-friendly window treatments with the staff.




I'm exaggerating (or flat-out lying), but I really can't talk about my job on my blog anymore, which is an idea that I hadn't thought of before. Not talking about office goings-on through a public, Internet forum where anyone can see? How... professional. How...appropriate. How...mature. It feels weird.

Anyway, to be vague, the day went well, and I didn't get lost while schlepping out to Watertown at 8 in the morning. They only hired one other intern, but she works on different days than I do, so I was the young kid. I wish I could tell you more. All day ideas for things to include in my blog kept popping into my head, and then I would realize that I couldn't use them so I would grow frustrated, and then someone would tell me I looked stressed and would send me to spend time in the meditation room that Martha decorated.

I'm kidding.

Maybe.

Love,
Tara

"Is it cold outside?"

Thursday, Jan. 15, 2009
1:10 pm Nervous for classes!


Right now, Tara is wearing... (aside from the necessary undergarments)

- leggings
- knee socks
- jeans
- tank top
- thermal shirt
- hoodie
- scarf
- winter jacket
- gloves
- hiking boots

I think I might be able to walk to class without becoming frost-bitten now. Maybe.

Wish me luck...
Tara