tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689041439301017692024-03-27T02:38:13.957-04:00eleemccarthy.blogspot.coma place for heartfelt rants, general observations and all things dog/fitness/grammar.erin lee mccarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14223338132113066354noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-24792454579900347782019-11-19T11:15:00.002-05:002019-11-19T11:37:04.502-05:00Aspiration 29<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<br />
I'm doing this birthday thing again.<br />
<br />
I'm starting this first day of 29 with some reflection. I'm feeling joyful, but a little sorrow. I'm feeling grateful, but a little want. I'm optimistic but uncertain. At peace. A little anxious. I can't believe how far I have come. But I do find that I'm more proud of myself for — not the things I've done — the things I've overcome. I've been fighting <i>weird</i> mental illness. I've been grieving. I've just blatantly been really bad at some things. And here I am despite. I think it's okay to be a little proud on your birthday.<br />
<br />
And before I start, I have to say, I always get a little bit of a hangover from these blogs. I really don't like talking about myself. And I don't know if it's vulnerability or my insatiable, irrational desire to be liked by everyone always. I used to always share the things I've learned that year, (see: <a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2014/11/twenty-four-things-i-have-learned-in.html">24</a>, <a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2013/11/twenty-three-things-ive-learned-in-last.html">23</a>, etc.) but honestly, I wouldn't even know where to begin. I've learned a lot this year.<br />
<br />
So instead, I've decided to write 29 aims for me to live by. You guys, keep doing your thing. You're wonderful at it. Here's what I'm working on:<br />
<ol>
<li><b>Pursue things. </b>Creative things. Challenging things. Surprising things. </li>
<li><b>Feel.</b> Freaking let yourself feel what is happening around you. Don't let the world tell you to not do this. You're an emotional motion and if you want to bawl at mayonnaise commercials or really happy cry while shouting at strangers running a marathon, feel every second.</li>
<li>If you're proud of something, <b>be proud.</b> See #2. </li>
<li>Know that there are some people who think it's their job to correct your grammar and you should just let them do that because it makes them happy. </li>
<li>But also don't listen to them and write however the hell you want to write. <b>Grammar is meant to be intentionally, purposefully, beautifully broken. </b></li>
<li>Recognize the people in your life who make the time for you, and more importantly, <b>make time for them. </b></li>
<li>Recognize the people in your life who spend a lot of time saying a lot of "we should"s but who never follow through. Avoid them. They're the worst. </li>
<li>Work your ass off to understand others and what you can do to respect their differences.</li>
<li>Apologize when you've messed up. </li>
<li>Say "I don't know" when you don't know. </li>
<li>Don't be okay with people who can't be bothered to understand differences, tolerance, and...</li>
<li>Don't be okay with people who think their rights to discriminate are as valuable as others' rights to not be discriminated against. </li>
<li>Maybe more importantly: <b>show grace.</b> Show grace to those <b>who are trying</b> their best to love others, and may be confused, misguided or unintentionally hurtful. Be thankful for those who are trying. Again: grace.</li>
<li><b>Fight for — </b>be an ally for — <b>things that matter </b>even though they may not affect you. They actually do affect you. Being bitter or hurtful or ignorant does affect you. </li>
<li>Love your husband. He's an absolute miracle of a human being. </li>
<li>Let him get a kitten. </li>
<li>Fall in love with the kitten. </li>
<li>Forget about your grades, the score, your finishing time. </li>
<li>Take the classes you want to take. Go to the places you want to go. </li>
<li><b>Be the person you wish you'd had when you were in their shoes. </b></li>
<li>Never be the smartest person in the room. <b>Surround yourself with giants.</b> Brilliant, creative, driven, giants. </li>
<li>And make sure you tell them often and with vehemence how GD brilliant you think they are. </li>
<li><b>Get nostalgic.</b> Talk about old feelings, and great times. Talk about painful times. Talk about how incredible of a human your grandmother was. Find joy in this. Find rest in this. Remember grief and where you've come from. Let it all drive you. </li>
<li><b>Thank. </b></li>
<li>Wear paint clothes. Stop wearing nice clothes thinking oh it's just a quick project. You will spill. Put on one of your 12 ruined shirts and avoid making another one. </li>
<li><b>Listen to the fire in your belly.</b> It exists for a reason. </li>
<li>Listen to that emptiness in your belly. You are hungry. Go to the kitchen and feed it when you're hungry it's not that hard, Erin. </li>
<li>You have so much more to learn. </li>
<li>You have so much more love to give and grow. </li>
</ol>
emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-19310776533296647042017-03-08T17:52:00.000-05:002017-03-09T10:16:57.036-05:00Because I was told. I was told at age 6 that girls couldn’t play with boys.<br />
But I grew up in a neighborhood that told me otherwise.<br />
<br />
I was told at age 7 that I was too smart.<br />
But I grew up with the smartest person in the world as a mom.<br />
<br />
I was told at age 10 that I was too bossy for a girl.<br />
But I grew up with models of women in leadership roles.<br />
<br />
I was told at age 11 that my ideas for student council were unrealistic.<br />
But I grew up with female role models in public office making real, empowering change.<br />
<br />
I was told at 15 that my skirt made me ask for it.<br />
But I grew up instilled with an understanding of autonomy and consent.<br />
<br />
I was told at 16 that women just weren’t as funny.<br />
But I grew up in a family of comedians.<br />
<br />
I was told at 17 that my passion for justice was not feminine.<br />
But I grew up with women who marched for their rights. And fought against every wrong. <br />
<br />
I was told at 18 that my knees looked knobby. My skin was ugly. And I’d never look good enough.<br />
But I grew up with beautiful women of every shape and size.<br />
<br />
I was told at 19 that women couldn’t be pastors.<br />
But I grew up with one as the head pastor of my church.<br />
<br />
I was told at 21 that I was too nice for a leadership position.<br />
But I grew up learning that those things were not mutually exclusive.<br />
<br />
I was told at 23 that good writers weren’t women.<br />
But I grew up inspired by their work.<br />
<br />
I was told at 24 that I should pursue a sport less demanding on my body.<br />
But I grew up with women who pushed themselves every day.<br />
<br />
But I grew up with women and men of wisdom. Who proved that they were wrong. That I can be strong.<br />
By their words and their actions, I’ve learned what is true, what is right, what is real.<br />
That I can. And that I will.<br />
<br />
I’m forever thankful.<br />
Because now I get to pass it on.<br />
<br />
<br />
"She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.”emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-66994608766686753142017-02-21T13:30:00.002-05:002017-03-09T08:00:42.543-05:00Choosing the sun<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vpo3nnsSmrA/WKyHYaBqW2I/AAAAAAAAAok/a1Q1ydd73PcJoCdNNEFVWeoWKfo1QKuLwCLcB/s1600/14463142_10157525375565015_1933568165892057630_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vpo3nnsSmrA/WKyHYaBqW2I/AAAAAAAAAok/a1Q1ydd73PcJoCdNNEFVWeoWKfo1QKuLwCLcB/s640/14463142_10157525375565015_1933568165892057630_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">One morning on my way into work the office a few years back, I heard
a <a href="http://www.npr.org/2015/03/24/395001565/500-mile-free-ride-beats-crowded-train-during-china-s-new-year-celebrations" target="_blank">story on the radio</a>. A reporter was traveling in China and he'd offered to take a few
young men back to their hometowns to celebrate Chinese New Year. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">One of the young men
he was driving home offered to connect his iPod through the radio. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt;">His song of
choice: Country Roads by John Denver.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I was immediately taken back to an 18-hour
road trip to Ft. Lauderdale with my college friends. Screaming classics like
Wagon Wheel and Country Roads, munching on Slim Jims and slurping gas station
slushies til our mouths turned to blue and our bellies to grease. 18 hours in a five-seat Subaru Forester. All seven of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I immediately connected with these strangers
in this story — I immediately felt more attached to their heading home for
Chinese New Year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">As the piece fades out, the song is played
again. Denver’s milky soulful melodies slightly washed out by the cracking,
off-key sounds of a bunch of dudes in a car singing — enjoying a trip I’d taken
before. Immediate connection. My eyes filled with tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Needless to say, this isn’t the first time
I’ve cried at NPR. Perhaps it’s the perfect concoction of a 9AM city commute,
combined with the ironically private experience of being in your car by
yourself (ironic because anyone and everyone who passes you can see exactly
what you’re doing … or singing). Mix in the addition of the perfect balance of
catchy transition music, personable and human reporters, and just enough
curious background noise to suck you in. Nonetheless, there is power in good
storytelling, and there is also power in telling a good story. (Those seem like
they’re the same, but they’re not.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Research shows that more people are drawn to
news that is more negative in nature: this disease, that trial, this horrible
cabinet member cough cough, that terrible company (Tonight at 5).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">But research is also starting to show that
when it comes to online social, people aren’t looking for the next negative
thing. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/19/science/good-news-spreads-faster-on-twitter-and-facebook.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0">They
want positivity</a> — stories that make them feel good. This little girl
committed 600 acts of kindness in a year. That manufacturer is becoming completely
zero-waste.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Last night on the <a href="http://www.wnyc.org/shows/indivisible/engage" target="_blank">Indivisible radio </a>podcast —
which is an incredible and open conversation talking through the new administration’s
first 100 days — the two
commentators leading the discussion mentioned that the 2016 presidential
campaign was the most negative in American history. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">All throughout history, the most positive,
optimistic campaign has won. Every time. Except this year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">All the more reason for us to embrace a
positive story. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the more we shine
when we start fighting for what is right. All the more we must stay focused on
the truths we hold to be self evident — keep our eyes, our words, our
actions on the things that make America so freaking great.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">How do we make for a positive story? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We start with living a positive story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We treat people well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We go the extra mile for close friends, new
friends, and strangers on the street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We share life's joys and connect with people from all walks of life — over weird-it's-a-small-world-kevin-bacon strong connections or simple little things like John Freaking Denver. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We pick up the phone and call our
grandmothers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We smile at panhandlers even when we don’t
have any change.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We stop dragging our feet at the mundane.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We start skipping in the sun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">One of my favorite authors, Donald Miller,
says it well:</span></div>
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Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We
live in a world where bad stories are told, stories that teach us life doesn't
mean anything and that humanity has no great purpose. It's a good calling,
then, to speak a better story. How brightly a better story shines. How easily
the world looks to it in wonder. How grateful we are to hear these stories, and
how happy it makes us to repeat them.” – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A
Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></span></div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify%3Atrack%3A1YYhDizHx7PnDhAhko6cDS" width="300"></iframe>
emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-39079432671942088432017-02-09T13:35:00.002-05:002017-02-09T14:27:11.082-05:00Quit yer complainin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8If2XT6zvb8/WJyzmlCrlbI/AAAAAAAAAoA/jOIfBkezRUoXVyg7SG5qh5iUPPmUD8HfwCLcB/s1600/7e83f895bb94aeb0f6c01680e684c382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8If2XT6zvb8/WJyzmlCrlbI/AAAAAAAAAoA/jOIfBkezRUoXVyg7SG5qh5iUPPmUD8HfwCLcB/s1600/7e83f895bb94aeb0f6c01680e684c382.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sometimes I catch myself complaining about really freaking
stupid things. This blog is one of those. But I need to get this off my chest to make room in my brain for more meaningful content. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here we go:<br />
<br />
It really bothers me when I go to restaurants — most commonly the fast-casual type, like Panera — and the water cup they give me is the size of a
thimble. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It bothers me to my core.<br />
<br />
Okay, so because
14-year-olds think they can cheat the system and fill their cups with Sprite,
I, a good, honest and paying customer must be punished with undeserving thirst?!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you know how much it costs to sell soda? Like, boogers.
It costs boogers. (<a href="https://www.quora.com/How-much-would-I-need-to-drink-for-a-restaurant-to-lose-money-on-a-2-fountain-soda">One
blog found</a> the cost breakdown was something like this: $0.12 for the soda, $0.07
for the cup, $0.01 for the lid, $0.015 for the straw.. and what do they
charge.. $2.00? With that profit margin, you could technically afford 8 cheaters for every cup of soda purchased. I'd say those odds are in your favor.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Those little water cups are my scarlet letter. “Here sits
this cheap-ass woman, who couldn’t be bothered to buy our 450-calorie green tea
mocha sunrise splash with whipped cream because she was too busy spending 20
dollars on a French baguette."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What's even more annoying is movie theatre water cups. Like, I just spent $7.00 per piece on popcorn, which, by the way, is also another ridiculous profit margin. You seriously can't give me a full cup of water? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I get that as the sole refreshment provider while I'm trapped in the theatre, you have a monopoly on solving my hunger, and I vow to always buy into that buttery, salty goodness in a bucket, but <i>why</i> must you require my thirst to be quenched with either bottled tap water or sugary soda? And why is your solve this tiny dixie cup that won't even get me through one trailer? WHY MUST I BE PUNISHED?!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I once asked for my water refilled like 12 times throughout a movie just to take a stand — and the squeeky-voiced, acne-covered teen working the concessions stand eventually gave me a free ICEE to get me away. (I'm just kidding, that didn't happen. I wish it did.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I was a <i>real</i> radical, I’d stop going to these places. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d
start the biggest boycott since Chik-fil-a circa 2012, and I'd demand civilized treatment for tap water-drinkers everywhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not right! I demand equality!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead, I started carrying my own water bottle. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Problem solved. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Planet saved too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
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Next week, we’ll discuss how simple-minded you must be to
assume you are an exception to using a turn signal while driving. <o:p></o:p></div>
emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-12260028333908901932016-04-20T17:53:00.000-04:002017-02-09T14:28:50.658-05:00Remembering the good<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dsJqJlo0XR0/Vxf9l6SSueI/AAAAAAAAAiY/VNbSQyHXiP8_Ar8EHxkijXnJA7nYMYj_gCK4B/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2016-04-20%2Bat%2B6.04.08%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dsJqJlo0XR0/Vxf9l6SSueI/AAAAAAAAAiY/VNbSQyHXiP8_Ar8EHxkijXnJA7nYMYj_gCK4B/s640/Screen%2BShot%2B2016-04-20%2Bat%2B6.04.08%2BPM.png" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
I never got my senior yearbook.<br />
<br />
It was something like $65 at the time. And I thought that was astronomical. It kind of was.<br />
<br />
I didn't like asking my parents for money with the whole impending college thing, and I had a $6.85/hour job but spent all of my money on chipotle and gasoline. Gas was $4/gallon at the time and I drove a Jeep Wrangler for the better part of my senior year, which just guzzled the guzz out of it.<br />
<br />
I was pretty involved in high school. Choir, cabinet, TI, theatre. I worked with the superintendent on a huge presentation. I was voted Most Outgoing. I should have cared, but I just didn't then.<br />
<br />
I'm sure I rationalized not getting one in some way or another — maybe I'd just eventually marry my senior crush and we could share.<br />
<br />
At the time, I think I wanted to just get out of there.<br />
<br />
As it turns out, I am not marrying my senior crush. (For the record, thank Jesus.)<br />
<br />
And so, a half-inch size slot on my bookshelf remained empty.<br />
<br />
But nearly a decade later, the fact that I never had it made me really sad. I'd never even seen the thing. And as people from my school started living their stories — some really tough, others deeply beautiful — I realized the longer I waited to track it down, the harder it'd be to ever see it.<br />
<br />
I emailed my wonderful guidance counselor who sifted through storage and tracked it down for me. It was nice to catch up with him, and see that he's still there doing great things. He even shipped it to my house. (Sidenote: Who knew all I had to do was wait seven years and I'd get it for free.)<br />
<br />
I found the book on my doorstep a few days later.<br />
<br />
Naturally, the first thing you do is look for yourself, so I opened it and went to my photo.<br />
<br />
I looked like hell.<br />
<br />
A memory came back that they'd decided you had to use their in-school photographer instead of everybody's senior portraits, and so I'd actually never seen my photo. I was in that awful greenish stage between dying my hair brown and fixing it back to its natural blonde. And I hadn't quite figured out what to do with my cowlick.<br />
<br />
I flipped to the choir page. Buncha sophomores.<br />
<br />
Went to the cabinet page. I'd missed the meeting on picture day.<br />
<br />
Turned to the big panorama of my entire class, thinking I don't remember all crowding into the gym to take a senior photo. That's because I wasn't there that day.<br />
<br />
Was this a conspiracy?<br />
<br />
As I kept flipping, I was reminded about how much I'd grown since then. How much my heart had grown. And I was really, truly proud of the pages that I did appear on. Speaking about character to underclassmen at a Teen Institute retreat. Working on Verve, our student magazine, where I first discovered my passion for storytelling.<br />
<br />
It was as if the universe wanted me to remember the good stuff, and forget the bad.<br />
<br />
I smiled.<br />
<br />
I flipped through class photos and pointed out people to my fiancé. My best friends Lucas and Maddie, of course. But also people who surprised me.<br />
<br />
"She was in choir with me. Made me laugh so hard every day."<br />
<br />
"He was an amazing artist. Brilliant designer."<br />
<br />
"Some of my favorite conversations happened with her in AP Calculus."<br />
<br />
I wanted him to know about <i>these</i> people — these incredible people — the ones who've made lasting imprints on my heart, even though I hadn't talked to them in years.<br />
<br />
The little things — the day-to-day things. The little, positive bites of memory are the things I end up cherishing the most.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vvhp0RD9FGM/Vxf5cLsUTBI/AAAAAAAAAiM/QIa4c1NCEB0i8svA8-DYItg6FgZ-2haAwCK4B/s1600/3218_67895389610_3642759_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vvhp0RD9FGM/Vxf5cLsUTBI/AAAAAAAAAiM/QIa4c1NCEB0i8svA8-DYItg6FgZ-2haAwCK4B/s1600/3218_67895389610_3642759_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the only photo I could find from HS journalism class. Notice giant 'Yearbooks for Sale' sign above my head. I had no excuse.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-58384424837590823092016-04-05T14:27:00.001-04:002016-04-11T10:34:59.526-04:00A story about poop<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ejde1ej0t4w/VwQEg5nS4bI/AAAAAAAAAg0/Xu_H2dbIScUW-kqK8J0jBCSHmAycTzVsg/s1600/IMG_1445.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ejde1ej0t4w/VwQEg5nS4bI/AAAAAAAAAg0/Xu_H2dbIScUW-kqK8J0jBCSHmAycTzVsg/s640/IMG_1445.jpg" width="478" /></a><br />
<br />
Those who know me know there is nothing that gets my blood boiling more than litter.<br />
<br />
"Oh, no, she's said the word ... here we go guys." - those who know me.<br />
<br />
It's not just the very act of littering, which, of course, is an effing horrible thing to do — you know, the whole completely disregarding the planet and the wildlife who live in it thing.<br />
<br />
It's the <b>people</b> <i>who have the nerve</i> to litter that really rankle me.<br />
<br />
What I hate most is this: the <b>mentality</b> that throwing a piece of trash somewhere is actually an acceptable behavior.<br />
<br />
Because what kind of mentality must you have to not only overlook the environmental damage you're making, but even just to blatantly shirk the general landscape of the place that you live. And to think that your tiny contribution to a bush's litter-to-leaf ratio would not add up to a greater, larger, more devastating, ecosystem-ruining and human-life-as-we-know-it-ending problem is pure self-regard.<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
And it's not just this one thing, littering, in a person's psyche that makes them do that. In fact, I believe littering is just a symptom of a more horrible psychological problem — one psychologists like to refer to as narcissism. It's a problem that plagues this nation, and it's this tragedy of the commons that makes driving on I-70 through Frackville, Ohio such a goddamn miserable experience.<br />
<br />
To think that if you're finished with an item the best place it should travel next is in some bushes on the side of the road willy nilly, my god.<br />
<br />
What kind of people litter? The answer is garbage. Garbage people.<br />
<br />
So that not-bitter litter rant brings me to my poop story.<br />
<br />
On my dog, Pete, and my usual walk this morning, we waited for a woman in a mini van to pull out of her driveway as she blocked the sidewalk waiting on traffic. (Don't worry guys, I waved her ahead and she waved back in appreciation. She's not the bad guy in this story.)<br />
<br />
Pete clearly hadn't seen my little hand conversation with this nice woman, because he was very impatient, pulling from side to side as the 10 pounds I had on him worked its booty off to keep him in check.<br />
<br />
She pulled away and we proceeded.<br />
<br />
Then Pete pooped in her yard.<br />
<br />
Almost as if to spitefully say, "I'll show you, slow van." (Of course not to say that. After all, he's a dog. Not a cat.)<br />
<br />
Shit, I thought.<br />
<br />
Not cuz he was, but because I'd forgotten the cute little plastic bone that goes on the end of his leash and is filled with little green biodegradable bags so I can be a good neighbor and also not leave crap around the world like I so passionately loathe. (Sidenote: Leaving poop in the woods or in a bunch of bushes is completely different than a 16 oz. styrofoam MegaFreeze cup on the side of the highway because fertilizer, biodegradation, etc.)<br />
<br />
I felt horrible.<br />
<br />
There it was.<br />
<br />
Pete's steaming pile of stink.<br />
<br />
Staring at me.<br />
<br />
I looked around.<br />
<br />
The giant dog at the end of his leash tugged on my wrist.<br />
<br />
I'll finish the walk and put Pete in, then return with a bag and dispose of the waste, I thought.<br />
<br />
We continued our walk.<br />
<br />
We got closer to the baseball fields just down the street, a park where I usually let Pete sniff and pee.<br />
<br />
We approached some bushes I have to pull Pete away from on a daily basis. They're filled with giant burrs that stick to his cotton-ball furr like bubble gum, and apparently they have the best smells.<br />
<br />
I started to tug to keep him out of the bush. Until I saw it. Sitting right on top of the sticklers, practically floating with an angelic glow behind it. The voice of monks singing praises. There it was. A perfectly intact plastic bag.<br />
<br />
I grabbed it with only the kind of joy a child feels when Santa brings exactly what she'd always wanted. I dusted it off. I held it high above my head.<br />
<br />
Not today Garbage People.<br />
<br />
Not. Today.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-52354639272058653492015-10-23T15:35:00.000-04:002015-10-23T16:25:50.976-04:00The things I wish I'd had the confidence to say in my first interviews<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D7tPY3SjKQ0/ViqL4HPrQhI/AAAAAAAAAd8/1jSPX3MmheI/s1600/IMG_0102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D7tPY3SjKQ0/ViqL4HPrQhI/AAAAAAAAAd8/1jSPX3MmheI/s400/IMG_0102.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I sat in the interview for the major publication — a big newspaper for a big city and its big surrounding metro.<br />
<br />
I was a 22 year old college senior, desperate for a place to go and write when I was finished with school, but with no real experience besides a handful of unpaid internships and an editorial position at an online student publication.<br />
<br />
I didn't even want to write for this newspaper. I wanted to be a copywriter. But I suppose I figured I'd take this interview to get practice.<br />
<br />
The editor sat across from me at a giant metal desk that took up two-thirds of the tiny, bare bones room they'd given him for the day to conduct interviews. <br />
<br />
He'd come all this way to do some recruiting at our j-school. So there I was.<br />
<br />
I shared with him some clips and attempted to charm (aka bullshit) the crap out of the editor.<br />
<br />
"Well, unfortunately, we have all of our entry writing positions filled," he said, "And, we actually only hire Yale grads."<br />
<br />
"Then why are you here?" I said.<br />
<br />
"Why are you wasting my time?"<br />
<br />
"Why are you wasting <i>your</i> time?"<br />
<br />
Only I didn't say that. I didn't say any of that.<br />
<br />
What I did say was nothing. Nothing memorable. I shrank into the itchy, woven chair I was sitting in that demanded slouching. The little confidence I did have deflated like a sad balloon.<br />
<br />
-<br />
<br />
I've heard horror stories about insane questions and hoop jumps interviewers ask of applicants. I guess It's not unusual that people holding interviews come across kind of … douchey.<br />
<br />
But what I think interviewers forget is that just as they're interviewing an applicant for a right fit, applicants are also interviewing a job, a company, a culture, a boss.<br />
<br />
But when you're 22 and the economy's in the toilet — especially the economy that hires WRITERS... with ZERO experience — you tend to lose sight of that fact. You put up with a douche bag or two.<br />
<br />
I had seven interviews for a job once. Six on the phone. And for the seventh, they flew me down to meet the team. I left at 6am. The cab dropped me a mile away from the office. I walked to their high rise in 100 degree Texas heat in the middle of July.<br />
<br />
I interviewed with the team for eight hours. They told me they liked me. They seemed cool. The work was copywriting. It wasn't the sexiest copywriting. But it was a start.<br />
<br />
And in the final hour, the whole team and I met in a conference room for rapid fire insanity. "Do you ever cry at work?" "Are you scared of moving away from Ohio?" "Do you clash with people?"... DO I CLASH WITH PEOPLE? Like, if I did, I wouldn't tell you anyways.<br />
<br />
You'd think I was going for a C-level gig. I wasn't.<br />
<br />
I'd wished I'd had the cajones to tell them their interviewing was ridiculous. That they should know by now if they liked me or not. I wished I'd had the walk-away power to, well, walk away.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I had no confidence.<br />
<br />
None.<br />
<br />
Yet, I did have work ethic. And I had proof from keeping a minimum wage job for seven years. I had an auto-sorting brain that created outlines as stories unfolded. I had a ginormous heart. And spirit. And I also had drive.<br />
<br />
If I could do it all over, I'd forget the bullshit. Because that's all it is … bullshit.<br />
<br />
I'd tell them straight up, "look, I don't have experience. But I can promise you that I will work my ass off. And I won't settle for good work. I won't stop until I've done great work. And I can't prove that until you give me a chance to."<br />
<br />
And if it was a company who decided they'd want to string me along for seven interviews and ask me questions about how likely I was to cry at the office, I'd walk away.<br />
<br />
Imagine my surprise when I interviewed at my current company and they were interested in my heart. And my years spent volunteering. And they were excited to <i>invest in me</i> as a writer. And show me what kind of stuff we'd be doing <i>as a team</i>.<br />
<br />
Our graphic designer and my now great friend applied to a position at our company right out of college that required 5-10 years of experience. In her interview she was honest and passionate (and had a kick ass portfolio which helped.) She told us straight up, "Obviously I don't have ten years of experience, but I do have raw talent. And I know I'll do great work."<br />
<br />
And we were sold. Our CEO and creative team <i>created a position for her</i>. And now she's kickin ass.<br />
<br />
Honesty in interviews, imagine that. That's no bullshit.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-2199149389160219382015-10-01T14:21:00.000-04:002015-10-01T14:31:46.469-04:00No judgment. No problem.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iniKoSc2mbk/Vg13FguFAwI/AAAAAAAAAdc/r5NjJVesego/s1600/e34015d3dad5c548eeae7c3fa146509e.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="411" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iniKoSc2mbk/Vg13FguFAwI/AAAAAAAAAdc/r5NjJVesego/s640/e34015d3dad5c548eeae7c3fa146509e.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I stood there waiting to hand my ID and boarding pass over for the TSA agent to scan, he looked down at my shirt. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
It was a white Nike tank with a pinkish filtered photo of stairs on it. "No Gym. No problem," it said.<br />
<br />
"That's my motto," the TSA agent said.<br />
<br />
I looked at his heavy build. He was big — at least 300 pounds. He stood at the counter, his chair a good foot away from him, but I immediately thought his comment to be sarcastic. I thought thoughts no one should think. I questioned my purchasing the shirt, not realizing no gym, no problem could also be interpreted as, "I'm fine just never going to the gym" or "I'm fine just sitting on my ass all day and never doing any physical activity. No gym? No problem. Fine by me!"<br />
<br />
All those thoughts pouring in a matter of milliseconds.<br />
<br />
I snapped out of confusion as he scanned my information and I gave him a smile, thinking about how much of a smart ass he was for that comment.<br />
<br />
"It's that very logic that's gotten me to where I am today," he said, "I used to be twice this size."<br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
He continued, "It's that kind of thinking — that the world is your gym — that's gotten me moving, and has kept me going."<br />
<br />
"Wow!" I exploded. "That is so awesome! Keep up the good work!" I was so inspired.<br />
<br />
But in my head I felt so ashamed, for immediately jumping to "he must be using sarcasm."<br />
<br />
I have always had a strict no judgment rule when at the gym or on a track or in a race — or when just generally seeing a person who was working on their health. Because you can't see an overweight person going on a walk and think, "they should really do something about that overweight problem," obviously, because they are.<br />
<br />
But why stop there? That's total bullshit. Because we don't know everybody's stories. We really don't know where they are or what they've been through.<br />
<br />
If I had lost 200 pounds, but still had work to go, I'd want everybody to know. I'd shout it from the rooftops, "I KNOW IT ISN'T OBVIOUS BUT I'VE COME SO FAR!"<br />
<br />
But at the same time, I would have grown so much patience, and quiet confidence and perseverance. Things I often struggle with.<br />
<br />
I could have hugged that man that day. I can't imagine the kind of pride he must have, and I think about him often. No gym no problem likely saved his life.<br />
<br />
When I think I'm in a rut, or I'm not noticing any differences in my speed or weight lifted or ability, I think about him.<br />
<br />
When an athlete I look up to breaks a PR and I know I will never have that kind of speed, I think about him.<br />
<br />
When the people I love finally understand what I mean when they experience a new level of health, I think about him.<br />
<br />
Everybody's journey looks different, but most people never know how good their bodies were made to feel. He's on his way there. And he's proud.<br />
<br />
We were meant to find our own gyms. And they don't all look the same. Fitness isn't the same for everyone. Perfect form is relative.<br />
<br />
There's another great Nike line: There is no finish line.<br />
<br />
Great, because the finish line is always moving forward with you. It's dynamic and different for every person.<br />
<br />
No gym. No problem.<br />
Just freaking do it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iniKoSc2mbk/Vg13FguFAwI/AAAAAAAAAdc/r5NjJVesego/s1600/e34015d3dad5c548eeae7c3fa146509e.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a></div>
<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-16880690492209433392015-08-04T16:50:00.000-04:002015-08-05T09:47:52.738-04:00Yesterday"I could be in Bora Bora by now."<br />
<br />
There's something about airports that makes everybody savages.<br />
<br />
All of a sudden we lose all perspective and immediately wherever you're going becomes so much more important than where anybody else is going.<br />
<br />
I once saw a woman ask if she could get in front of a man in the security line because her plane was boarding and the man replied with, "I have a plane to catch too." I then saw him at my gate. For my plane. And I was two hours early.<br />
<br />
I usually try way too hard to be exceptionally friendly and abnormally patient. I thank every employee. I let people in front of me in line even when they don't ask. Because I'm grossly nice. Like, disgustingly nice. But today I hit the end of my airport patience rope.<br />
<br />
Two words: Stand by.<br />
<br />
I fly a lot. I spend way too much money on airfare. So when a Southwest airlines employee who's a friend of my family gave me the opportunity to use a standby pass for free I took him up on his offer.<br />
<br />
But I didn't think flights would be so full and I'd spend hours waiting to make flights. Even, worse I didn't know I'd be treated like the scum of the airport.<br />
<br />
Empathy and good manners can only help so much when employees have no interest in helping you. That capitalized NON-REVENUE on my ticket was my scarlet letter. And no please and thank you rainstorm was going to get me out of this one.<br />
<br />
I sit in the Seattle airport praying for the misfortune of others as flights fill up with paying customers — a slow TSA employee, a missed connection, the adorable drug dogs I'm not allowed to pet to find something in someone's bag, an alien abduction. "Please, God, anything. One can only watch so many miserable retirees who hate their spouses lose patience with each other. I know you like me more than them. That's how prayer works, right?"<br />
<br />
The only thing that is getting me through this incorrigible experience is the families I've seen. I could watch five year olds who can't sit still excitedly squirm in uncomfortable airport chairs for hours.<br />
<br />
Twenty four hours ago, when I was waiting to get onto my original flight, a great family sat next to me. The children — two, probably aged six and eight — were so genuine and polite and excited and well-spoken. They laughed with their grandparents and listened to each others' stories. None of them had pads or tabs or airs or beats. Just conversation. And it was so refreshing.<br />
<br />
I didn't even care when the little boy playing with grandpa accidentally ran over my Quiznos with his roller suitcase.<br />
<br />
He apologized.<br />
It was still delicious.<br />
<br />
After a handful of full airplanes and cries on the phone to my boyfriend, I make a flight to Baltimore 27 hours after my initial attempt. I'm just thankful I got the heck out of one airport, even if it means spending more time in another before heading to Pittsburgh.<br />
<br />
"This is all to get to effing <i>Pittsburgh</i>?"<br />
<br />
As I'm double checking with the fifteenth Southwest employee of the day and first one in Baltimore what my odds are looking like for getting home, I think about the rollercoaster of emotions I'd experienced in the last twenty four hours. (Pardon my cliche.) I'd gone from sad-to-leave-Seattle to a "we'll get them next time" optimism and on to complete and utter hopelessness. At this point in Baltimore, I'm just feeling numb. Just a "whatever happens, man" kind of way.<br />
<br />
I'm not interested in smiling at the employees or really even having any friendliness. I'm simply exhausted.<br />
<br />
But as the PIT-bound flight starts to load, a middle-aged man who's missed his connecting flight starts screaming at the employee at the counter next to me.<br />
<br />
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO PAY FOR MY OWN HOTEL?! THIS IS YOUR FAULT. I FLY SO OFTEN AND NEVER HAVE I EVER EXPERIENCED SUCH BULL SHI* AS WITH SOUTHWEST. YOU GUYS ARE F***ING A** HOLES."<br />
<br />
F bomb. F bomb. F bomb.<br />
<br />
"I am canceling your flight in the morning, sir. You will have to find another flight home."<br />
<br />
Man doesn't comprehend that he just got himself kicked off his flight and walks away screaming. He's going to have a great morning.<br />
<br />
"How are you doing?" the employee asks me.<br />
<br />
"Better than him," I say.<br />
<br />
I was being honest.<br />
<br />
Yet at the same time, I know that my day had been three times longer than that man's. I'd been bumped back from eight total flights. I'd been talked down to by employees all day long. And yet here I was. Certainly not cursing at anybody.<br />
<br />
Patience is a real virtue. I sound like Master Po, but it's freaking true.<br />
Nonetheless, you don't have to have patience to treat people with general respect, and not think others as less than yourself. You could be the most impatient person in the world, but never in a million years consider to call someone a name because <i>you </i>missed a flight.<br />
<br />
It's nice to be able to make light out of a situation like that with the Southwest employees. "I'm so sorry you guys have to deal with people like that," I say. And I mean it.<br />
<br />
"It's part of the job," they reply.<br />
<br />
I sigh and thank them for all they do as the man who yelled before starts walking back up to ask another question, as if he hadn't just cursed them out. That's what happens when you think you're better than others. You think it's your right to scream at anyone and get away with it. And then nonchalantly ask a question as if nothing happened. You lose sight of the fact that these people you're screaming at have a little more authority than they let on.<br />
<br />
If patience is a virtue, arrogance is its evil twin.<br />
<br />
I cheer as my boarding pass prints, give it a big kiss and head to board the plane before I have to witness the man lose his mind again, doing heel clicks all the way down the jet bridge.<br />
<br />
In the end, I got a round trip flight to Seattle for free. I got to spend an awesome weekend with my brother and an extra night in a pretty cool city. Flying non-revenue is a privilege I am thankful for, and I think I still came out on top.<br />
<br />
32 hours later, I was headed home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-25224227804704954692015-05-21T14:51:00.000-04:002015-05-21T17:32:06.906-04:00I like to go to movies by myself<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3Apt-HyGFeg/VV4gCZQ2OmI/AAAAAAAAAak/gausxNU8Q-k/s1600/1423594985_pitch-perfect-zoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="386" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3Apt-HyGFeg/VV4gCZQ2OmI/AAAAAAAAAak/gausxNU8Q-k/s640/1423594985_pitch-perfect-zoom.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Universal Studios, Gold Circle Films</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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After a long day at work yesterday with too many minutes spent getting upset about things that don't actually matter — curse those darn days when I forget perspective — I looked up show times for Pitch Perfect 2 at a red light on my way home. (Bad, I know. Don't check showtimes and drive, Erin.)<br />
<br />
But hey! There was one starting at 6:30 at the theater five minutes away. And it was 6:30! I'd miss the previews, but show up just in time.<br />
<br />
I entered the theater and ordered my ticket and a small popcorn — six popcorn kernels for $9.00 each. What a steal! I made a quick comment to the three teenage boys working the counter about how the minions version of sour patch kids was total bull shit — they're just yellow and blue blobs. They then informed me of all of the different sour candy scams, like the Jurassic Park Mike and Ikes that are literally just Tropical flavored Mike and Ikes. Again, bull shit.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rldQzPd_AgU/VV4gisyfTDI/AAAAAAAAAas/PePW1p9Jnj4/s1600/655956001818_e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rldQzPd_AgU/VV4gisyfTDI/AAAAAAAAAas/PePW1p9Jnj4/s400/655956001818_e.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin's my favorite. So much sass.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I asked where the movie was, and one of the kids said, "It's going to be Theater number five on your right."<br />
<br />
I went to my left before actually comprehending what he said, turned around and headed in.<br />
<br />
The movie had already started, which made sense because I was a few minutes late. I was weird to me how the movie began with the Barden Bellas already at the Acapella World Championships in Copenhagen, but I figured perhaps the premise of the movie took place after college, where Anna Kendrick's character takes on post-collegiate 'capella or something.<br />
<br />
Immediately pumped though. Awesome performances. (Won't give any spoilers.) But, wait ... who were these mean German people singing Fall Out Boy? And who was this other girl? I don't remember the little girl from <i>True Grit</i> being in this movie? Maybe I had forgotten a part or two from the first Pitch Perfect.<br />
<br />
Or maybe, the movie was going to be made up of flashbacks. Everybody likes a good out-of-order story. They remind me of color-by-number pages where you don't get the picture until you've used all the colors. You fill in the holes until you have the whole picture. What a cool way to do it, I thought to myself. Bravo, Elizabeth Banks.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JiaFecKizZs/VV4fbmtWqpI/AAAAAAAAAaU/Pz1HcbsPKTI/s1600/color-by-number-coloring-pages-for-kids-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JiaFecKizZs/VV4fbmtWqpI/AAAAAAAAAaU/Pz1HcbsPKTI/s400/color-by-number-coloring-pages-for-kids-5.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This color-by-number is so obviously a mariachi puppy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
They then initiated the girl from <i>True Grit</i> into their Barden Bellas, made her go through their rituals, and then the title sequence began.<br />
<br />
Only it wasn't the title sequence.<br />
<br />
It was the credits.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Yesterday I went to a movie that I thought started at 6:30pm, but it turns out I'd had checked showtimes for the wrong theater. The next showing of Pitch Perfect 2 wasn't until 7:45pm, and I'd watched the end of a 4:50 start. I walked out and joked with those three teens from before about how big of a doofus I am. I guess it happens all the time, they told me. But I think they were just being nice. Fortunately, they let my come back at 7:45 with my half-eaten bag of popcorn to watch the whole movie. Everything was much less confusing the second time around. Everything was in order. The German singers were still mean.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
My friend Joe used to laugh about the concept of going to the movies in a big group. It's true that it's not exactly the most social of activities.<br />
<br />
"Let's all sit in a dark room and not talk to each other," he'd say sarcastically.<br />
<br />
And, for someone like me or him, who find great energy in conversations about both topics that don't matter and topics that matter a lot, going to the movies and not talking doesn't seem like much bonding.<br />
<br />
But there are people who find comfort in spending <i>time </i>with people, not necessarily conversation. My boyfriend is one of those people. He feels close with people who he feels like he can be alone with. People he doesn't have to be "on" for.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-story-of-extroverted-introvert.html" target="_blank">I've mentioned before</a> how much I like hanging out with myself. I enjoy being the kind of person who can sit at a lunch counter and enjoy a sandwich without having to have someone with me. Without having to stare at my phone.<br />
<br />
Which means, that while I don't particularly enjoy going to movies with a big group of friends, I do enjoy going alone.<br />
<br />
Since finding this joy, I've noticed how many other people do it, too. Seriously, next time you're at a movie, look around. I'm sure there will be tons of people there by themselves. And it isn't because they're creepy. It's because they like the movies. They like the big screen. They like getting a bag of $18 popcorn and just spending time with themselves. It's therapy.<br />
<br />
You have to take yourself out sometimes. You have to love yourself, and to love your own company. Because you're the only person who's going to be with you everywhere you go.<br />
<br />
And if, by chance, your favorite kind of alone time also happens to be in a movie theater, remember to <b>always </b>double check the show time. And never while you're driving.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-18628400572456570862015-03-24T20:11:00.001-04:002015-05-21T17:19:07.092-04:00The runner wave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
When running first began as a recreational craze in America it looked like the book below.<br />
<a href="http://assets.sbnation.com/assets/945515/jogging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://assets.sbnation.com/assets/945515/jogging.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
That's the cover for a book called <i>Jogging</i>. It was written by William Bowerman in 1967, and it was one of the first takes on running for your health. If you can't read it, the cover quotes <i>The New York Times:</i> "Jogging is an in sport." Thanks for that <i>Times</i>. Thanks.<br />
<br />
<i>Newsweek,</i> apparently having just learned what a pun is, is also quoted on the cover: "Many doctors recommend jogging, literally tell patients to 'RUN FOR YOUR LIVES'." Good one <i>Newsweek.</i> Good one.<br />
<br />
Some think that recreational running only appeared within the last few years, but remember the olympics are a thing. A really old thing.<br />
<br />
Nonetheless, a culture of recreational running started to develop in the mid-sixties, when people started to tap into that endorphin resource that comes with a good jog. (mmm endorphins...) Companies like Nike developed special running shoes and the coveted swoosh, and now we get to wear kick ass tights <a href="http://images2.nike.com/is/image/DotCom/PDP_HERO_M/Nike-Epic-Lux-Eternity-Womens-Running-Tights-646665_901_E_PREM.jpg" target="_blank">like these</a>. The rest is history.<br />
<br />
Today, everybody does it. Everybody has at least <i>been on </i>a jog (many to realize that it really does suck most of the time). I can't tell you how pumped I am about this. I'm pumped about the high percentage of my Facebook friends who have somewhere in their profile pictures a shot of them crossing a finish line, or holding up a medal or chugging a post-race IPA. Hell yeah! I'm pumped about cities that once found themselves the fattest and are now <a href="http://www.gallup.com/poll/168230/boulder-colo-residents-least-likely-obese.aspx" target="_blank">among the fittest</a>. Average people are pushing themselves to compete in things like ironman triathlons, ultra marathons in the middle of deserts, and CrossFit (haha, just kidding).<br />
<br />
Running culture is a really cool thing.<br />
<br />
I like to talk to my older running friends, who've been at it for a while. Whose miles could have got them to the moon by now (… you know if running to the moon was an actual option…) "What was it like?" I ask, "What did you wear? How was an East Coast winter without $100 running tights and thermal Under Armor?"<br />
<br />
I'm thankful to have had people in my life who've been in the jogging game since practically its inception, mostly because they were able to teach me one sacred thing: the runner wave.<br />
<br />
What is it?<br />
<br />
When you're on a run and you see someone else who's also on a run … you wave.<br />
<br />
It's awesome.<br />
<br />
It says, "Hey, we're both running, and I'm acknowledging this."<br />
<br />
But it also says <i>so much</i> more.<br />
<br />
It says, "Hey, I'm not a murderer."<br />
<br />
It says, "Hey, I don't take myself too seriously."<br />
<br />
It says, "Hey, I may be running 30 miles and you may only be running two, but I think it's awesome you're out here."<br />
<br />
"Hey, we both have icicles on our mustaches and snowflakes on our eyelashes and we're in this together."<br />
<br />
Most importantly, it says, "You've got this."<br />
<br />
No matter what you look like, or how much of a hard time you're having, no matter how far you're going, or how far you've gone, it says, "You've. Freaking. Got this."<br />
<br />
So why don't as many people know about the runner wave any more? My theory is this: The population growth of running culture happened so widespread and so quickly that education on proper waving protocols was not adequately delivered to new members of the running tribe.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to change that.<br />
<br />
I'm determined to spread awareness of the runner wave. Because it's a really awesome thing. My goal is for an entire wave of people (see what I did there?) to know about it, and practice it regularly on a run.<br />
<br />
And it's important to note that there are people out on the trail/pavement who are on their run to get away from the world. Trust me, I get that. The last thing these people want is to smile and wave at a stranger. They'd rather just face forward and get in the zone, and put on their Bitchy Resting Face and be left alone. They're still worth waving at.<br />
<br />
Because motivation matters. If you're a runner, you get that. There is a battle going on in your head, telling you to slow down, telling you to walk, telling you that you're wasting your time, telling you that there is a Hot Pocket in the freezer at home. It's our duty to not be a holes. It's our duty to wave each other on.<br />
<br />
Smile at strangers, and wave at other runners. (Hell, wave at walkers too.) Let the others know that you feel their pain, that you meet them where they are. Let them know that you get it.<br />
<br />
Alas, those of you who decide to take this wave and roll with it, know that not everybody knows about the wave yet, and not everybody is going to wave back, but whatever you do, don't stop waving. If they ignore your awesome gesture of motivation, that's on them. Not you. So rock on.<br />
<br />
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<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-81774950182458823152015-02-16T17:31:00.000-05:002015-02-17T10:16:39.376-05:00The burden of being observant and kind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z4Ujkz9B4l0/VOJvuiqHDNI/AAAAAAAAAV0/eyQWCO0z_gI/s1600/10311943_10202135512176037_236130672670330346_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z4Ujkz9B4l0/VOJvuiqHDNI/AAAAAAAAAV0/eyQWCO0z_gI/s1600/10311943_10202135512176037_236130672670330346_n.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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There is incredible burden that comes with being simultaneously observant and kind.<br />
<br />
For starters, you're always noticing great ways to help others.<br />
For another, you notice all the time how very often, you're the only one.<br />
<br />
I'd argue that this combination can be exhausting. Ones who share such a burden think, "I'm always the only one noticing the old lady with the groceries and helping her cross the street," "How come I'm the only one who thinks to send the thank you note?" "Why am I the only one who understands how freaking loud that ridiculous Dyson air blower is in this bathroom and some people who might have sensitive ears like I don't know maybe this infant in the room might be bothered if I use it to dry my hands for an exceptionally long period of time?"<br />
<br />
First of all, take a deep breath. If this is you, you aren't the only one. I swear! There are tons of people like you! And there is hope!<br />
<br />
I've deduced that there are four types of people in these possibility-of-helping-another-if-only-someone-was-paying-attention situations:<br />
<ol>
<li>Kind, but not observant.</li>
<li>Kind and observant.</li>
<li>Unkind, but observant.</li>
<li>Unkind and unobservant. </li>
</ol>
<b>Situations:</b><br />
<br />
<b>Type 1:</b> A pregnant lady gets onto a crowded subway. This person, seated, does not observe the pregnant lady's situation and therefore doesn't think to give this lady his or her seat. (Perhaps someone taps her on the shoulder and points out the pregnant lady. Then this kind person will give up his or her seat for the pregnant lady.) I believe there are lot of people who just don't pay attention, no matter how big their hearts are.<br />
<br />
<b>Type 2:</b> A pregnant lady gets onto a crowded subway. This person, seated, notices the struggle and invites the pregnant lady to take his or her seat.<br />
<br />
<b>Type 3:</b> A pregnant lady gets onto a crowded subway. This person, seated, notices, but does not want to give up the seat to anyone, as getting a seat is hard. Perhaps person type three will justify not giving up his or her seat because they had to stand the last time, or perhaps they let an old lady sit there once before. It's someone else's turn to give it up. Being unkind also doesn't mean you're conniving, it just means you don't want to go <i>out of your way</i> to do nice things for <i>strangers</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>Type 4: </b>A pregnant lady gets onto a crowded subway. This person doesn't notice because they're too busy pickpocketing the old blind man in front of her.<br />
<br />
I'd also like to point out the <b>bystander effect</b>. Perhaps we see someone in need of help and assume someone is coming for them. For example, a car blinking on the side of the highway. We assume, "they've got a tow coming" or "someone else will help." I'd argue that the widespread use of cell phones has helped millions of Americans escape the perils of a flat tire or a dead battery, but it has also created an alternative scapegoat. I don't think it's right to assume "someone is coming," however, I do see its justification.<br />
<br />
It's fair to say that <b>these four people "types" are fluid</b>. For example, you may be an observant person, but if you're always looking at your phone or stop practicing your observation skills, you become less observant.<br />
<br />
There is the possibility a person started out as kind and observant, and over time, became a little hardened by noticing general disregard all of the time. This is the burden I'm talking about. It is exhausting to constantly notice how shitty people treat each other. It can lead to some serious cynicism.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, you may be very kind, and decide you want to help people more often, but you rarely know how. Being alert and on the lookout for situations where you can lend a hand helps. Keeping the thought on your mind gives you a greater awareness of those around you. <br />
<br />
Being a thoughtful and observant person has its burden.<br />
<br />
Yesterday as I was walking up to Starbucks, I noticed there were two entrances: One was a double door — the kind where you walk through a small room to get to the actual entrance — the other went straight into the Starbucks. I noticed the doors and I thought to myself, "hmm, it's furiously cold out. I should use the double door because then people won't get as bad of a chill."<br />
<br />
I posted up in Starbucks and spent the next hour being blown in the face by one hundred people using the single door. Some even threw open the door and it didn't shut behind them. I am one of <i>four people</i> who used the double door during the entire hour I was there. Even the Starbucks workers didn't think to put a sign up that says please use other door because it's cold.<br />
<br />
It's not that people are bad, or trying to make everyone in the Starbucks cold, it's that they just aren't making this observation and applying it to possibilities for the future. Kind people walked through the single Starbucks door, obviously. Unless you're a supervillian, I really doubt any conniving ass holes walked through the door thinking "I'm going to make everybody freeze!" Unlike me — the freak of nature — people just didn't think about it at all.<br />
<br />
Nonetheless, <b>If you're one of these people — the thoughtful, observant and kind — it is imperative that you not give up hope. Surround yourself with the kind of people who take pleasure in the amazing people around them. Surround yourself with the kind of people who would give their seat to the pregnant lady on the subway. </b><br />
<br />
In the end, I would rather be the kind of person who thinks about doing nice things and does it, than someone who thinks about it and doesn't?<br />
<br />
I'd rather pull up close in traffic so the person behind me isn't stuck in an intersection, even though nobody will ever know that's why I'm pulling up.<br />
<br />
I'd rather see my neighbors garbage bin rolling down the hill and put it back in its place, even though they will never know it wasn't properly put back by the garbage collectors.<br />
<br />
I'd rather notice the little boy with the armful of books who's about to walk into the library behind me and push the wheelchair button . (I also have an empathy theory that refers to how a kid in high school pushed my books out of my hands and pushed me on the floor (I know wtf?!) but this blog is getting long.)<br />
<br />
I believe that cynicism is a horrible and contagious disease of the heart. I don't think it does any good for anyone.<br />
<br />
Subsequently, I believe doing nice things for people is good for your heart. It makes you feel good, even if nobody ever sees. Because<b><i> you</i> see.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I am not good at distracting myself on a train, so I will likely remain observant until my brain fails me from observing. I don't see avoiding observation skills to be a choice. If I'm going to be observant for the long haul, then I'm stuck deciding between two options: Am I going to be unkind or am I going to be kind? Am I going to open my heart to the places it needs to spread or am I going to avoid eye contact and cynically justify the shear numbers of how little helping one person could make on the world?<br />
<br />
The answer is obvious.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-20580735635943682442015-01-17T16:42:00.002-05:002015-03-24T22:50:24.189-04:00100 things cooler than my phone<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8mVNrATRsF8/VLrh7f0PZfI/AAAAAAAAAVI/SELBrpwv_aI/s1600/monalisa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8mVNrATRsF8/VLrh7f0PZfI/AAAAAAAAAVI/SELBrpwv_aI/s1600/monalisa.jpg" height="280" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took this photo at the Mona Lisa while visiting the Louvre.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I just read about a new fear called nomophobia — the fear of losing your phone. A <a href="https://www.securenvoy.com/blog/2012/02/16/66-of-the-population-suffer-from-nomophobia-the-fear-of-being-without-their-phone/" target="_blank">survey found </a>that 77 percent of people aged 18-24 years old felt they had some sort of this fear. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?<br />
<br />
I'm thankful for Google Maps that get me around the godforsaken pile of spaghetti they call roads in Pittsburgh and great Snapchats of unexplainable things to my best friends, but for the love of god 77 percent?<br />
<br />
People are always on their phones. I once sat in a room trying to spend time with like six people from college I hadn't seen in months... and their idea of hanging out was sitting on their phones. I ended up leaving early and going on a sweet walk or something.<br />
<br />
I made this list with 100 things that are cooler than my phone. I'm not sorry that at least 34 of them are food and beverages.<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Mustard</li>
<li>The last green leaves holdin' on for dear life and holy chlorophyll on the trees in October</li>
<li>Golden Retrievers</li>
<li>Winning the lottery</li>
<li>When icy roads get salted before you need to drive on them</li>
<li>The sun peeking through the cloud all like "HEY! IT'S ME GOD!"</li>
<li>How to Train Your Dragon</li>
<li>How To Train Your Dragon 2</li>
<li>Positive vibes</li>
<li>Cloudless sky</li>
<li>Cards Against Humanity</li>
<li>Napping</li>
<li>When the brakes on your car work</li>
<li>When you drive down a huge hill after just filling up your Prius and your fuel economy reads 100 MPG and you're all like "I HAVE A CAR FROM THE FUTURE."</li>
<li>Having a license plate with an otter on it</li>
<li>The fact that paying for stranger's coffee is a thing that happens frequently</li>
<li>The first 70 degree day in the spring</li>
<li>Downton Abbey</li>
<li>Hiking</li>
<li>Feta cheese</li>
<li>Penguins</li>
<li>When your favorite book becomes a movie... and it's actually really good</li>
<li>People who use the word whom correctly</li>
<li>Red wine blends</li>
<li>Board games </li>
<li>More specifically, word board games</li>
<li>When I don't have to explain what a copywriter does</li>
<li>When you run into another Ohio University Bobcat 1,000 miles away from Ohio</li>
<li>Climbing on top of giant rocks and shouting profanity</li>
<li>Having actual designated pajamas that you wear every night</li>
<li>Curiosity</li>
<li>National Public Radio</li>
<li>Catching every green light on a long road</li>
<li>How quickly poop stories escalate</li>
<li>Emerald Green</li>
<li>Using map my run after a jog and finding out you've gone longer than you thought</li>
<li>Getting actual physical pieces of mail from friends</li>
<li>French fries that still have a little bit of potato skin on them</li>
<li>Giant pickles</li>
<li>Books you can't put down</li>
<li><a href="http://themoth.org/radio" target="_blank">The Moth radio hour</a></li>
<li>Dog adoptions</li>
<li>Amazon Prime</li>
<li>Cold winter air filling your lungs on a run</li>
<li>Finally peeing after having to hold it for way too long</li>
<li>Genuine in person compliments</li>
<li>Buffoonery</li>
<li>The person who decided putting fruits like berries and apples on salads was a good idea</li>
<li>Vanilla ice cream</li>
<li>Velveeta shells and cheese</li>
<li>Coffee naps</li>
<li>Voting</li>
<li>Getting quoted in the newspaper</li>
<li>Hockey</li>
<li>Fleece</li>
<li>Not referring to college as the "best years of your life"</li>
<li>Scarves</li>
<li>Getting tomato juice on airplanes</li>
<li>Waking up feeling good before your alarm clock goes off </li>
<li>Getting to Chipotle right before the lunch rush and not having to wait in line but then you look behind you and the line starts to form and you're all like "hell yeah, my timing is perfect."</li>
<li>The actually <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/news" target="_blank">well done news stories</a> side of BuzzFeed</li>
<li>Crayons</li>
<li>The first sip of apple cider in the fall</li>
<li>The crazy drugged-out person always talking to himself on the bus</li>
<li>The insane amount of inspirational metaphors on The Biggest Loser</li>
<li>Nurses</li>
<li>The fact that Betty White just turned 93 and she's peaking</li>
<li>Twice-baked potatoes</li>
<li>The invention of ground turkey to replace ground beef</li>
<li>Meaningful lyricism</li>
<li>Marching bands</li>
<li>The smell of a blown out match</li>
<li>Pop culture references</li>
<li>Glass ceiling crackers</li>
<li>Cracker crackers</li>
<li>Fresh new kicks</li>
<li>An oddly trafficless commute</li>
<li>Ab-hurting laughs</li>
<li>Sharing dessert</li>
<li>Gift cards</li>
<li>Paint</li>
<li>Seeing children at restaurants without tablets in their faces</li>
<li>Being invited to your neighbor's 4th birthday party — especially when it's dinosaur themed</li>
<li>Diving to ship wrecks 100 ft. under the sea</li>
<li>Chapstick</li>
<li>When two friends start dating and everybody's baffled they didn't think of how perfect they were together</li>
<li>Smoothies</li>
<li>S'mores</li>
<li>Nachos</li>
<li>Having a clean car in the middle of January</li>
<li>Actually taking the time to understand other religions</li>
<li>Family dinners</li>
<li>No phones at the dinner table rules</li>
<li>When you aren't the only one who isn't on her phone</li>
<li>People who make a point to keep their phones away while they're driving</li>
<li>Being able to confront humans when there's been a miscommunication or we're feeling confused or upset</li>
<li>Looking people in the eyes</li>
<li>Giving actual, physical hugs</li>
<li>Having actual, real conversation</li>
<li>Spending actual, physical time with a human being</li>
</ol>
emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-85204444431867530462014-11-18T17:37:00.000-05:002014-11-18T18:03:27.325-05:00Twenty four things I have learned in the last year.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
I started this tradition on my 20th birthday. I remember writing it in my 12'x18'6" dorm room (yes, super long and skinny, but suspiciously perfect for dancing). I excitedly shared bits and pieces of my thoughts with my bubbly roommate Kelley as I wrote. I'm not the same person I was when I wrote my 20 things, and I'm thankful for these written ideas, as not often do people have such a concrete list of their priorities and newly gained insight each year. I didn't think this list was going to be a thing, but I think after four times, something becomes an official thing. I just made up that rule, but it's a good one.<br />
<br />
I couldn't have guessed all of the things that would come and go in my life in just four short years. Since the autumn that I wrote my 20 things blog, I've fallen out with people I really cared about, failed miserably at the job search, and cried in my father's arms about what the hell I'm suppose to do with my life. I suffered with the rest of the world in watching greed, disagreement and intolerance turn into anger, resentment, violence and terror. I held the hands of friends gone to hell and back, watched them battle depression, addiction and pain. I gave the eulogy at my grandfather's funeral. I laid my childhood friend to rest, and I grieved over the losses of four people younger than me in just one year. I experienced incredible anxiety and stress over my future and the thought of losing my friends and family.<br />
<br />
I was reminded of life's brevity, yes, but I also learned of life's incredible worth. I experienced sloppy, wet bucketfuls of joy in my life every single day. I fell in love and learned what healthy meant. I traveled across the world, surprised myself, and spent a year nannying for the most amazing two boys and awesome family. I stood next to my cousin as she committed her life to her best friend, became closer with my brother when he moved 2,507 miles across the country, and surprised a sister a long drive away. I hit the jackpot in the job search, dove down to shipwrecks at the bottom of the ocean, and celebrated and cultivated incredible friendships — some brand new, some twenty years old. I met and lived with my soul sister and two black cats, moved to a new city, started a new career, found my inner athlete. I restored my faith in humanity through long runs, coffee dates and StoryCorps tears.<br />
<br />
At the end of it all, the world still awaits. I celebrate the fact that I am still so young, and I thank the people (and animals) who have made me who I am. Because I'd be a super boring, lonely person without their conversation, advice and gooey warm hugs.<br />
<br />
Internet, I give you this year's 24 things I've learned in the last year:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1. People who don't think dogs are worth the shedding don't understand dogs.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2. Joy doesn't just happen to certain people by chance. </span>Joyful is a state of mind that is deliberately chosen and cultivated.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3. Being a writer actually means being a reader who occasionally strings words together. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">4. There are better uses of your time in line than on your phone.</span> Look up people!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">5. Or how about I just forego the phone altogether?</span> Forget your phone sometimes. Spend time with people who won't be on theirs the whole time you're with them. And hang out with people who will tell you to put yours down. Those are the kinds of people who get it.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6. Surround yourself with giants.</span> I am currently working with brilliant minds! The things I have learned in my short time at this company have taught me so much. And it's because I'm surrounded by people who, not only are incredibly intelligent, but who have included me in on the conversation. They've brought me into meetings and interviews and let me write for big projects from the start. Surround yourself with people who are going to help you grow, and who won't squander your ideas or make you feel small.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">7. Watching childhood friends grow into real, functioning and amazing people is a very wonderful thing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">8. I used to think lateness had to do with a person's character... and then I moved to a city where parking was impossible. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">9. Be the friend who pays for the coffee. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">10. Be the 'first responder friend'.</span> Be the friend who is going to answer the phone, grab the pot of coffee, and head over at 2AM when there's been a eureka! moment, a bad break up, or somebody needed to eat Lay's and french onion dip with.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">11. Be the friend who doesn't ask questions when your best friend borrows your favorite T-shirt and then holds onto it for a little over four months because you know she's enjoying wearing it all of the time.</span> Of course this is really just because you have like 45 articles of her clothing still and don't want to have to give them back.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">12. Surely you can't be serious.</span> Nothing should be taken too seriously. When we take things too seriously, we get offended. When we get offended, we become sour and bitter. And as I've aged, I've found I don't like either of those flavors.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">13. Don't call me Surely.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">14. Writing requires a lot of vulnerability.</span> When you write, you're basically putting your panties on a line for people to critique. When you write about yourself, it's like taking those panties, turning them inside out and showing everybody their skid marks. You have to expect people to forget that those are your mistakes, and thank them for pointing out your poo.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">15. There are some kinds of people who don't understand that they have the option to write their own books, make their own maps.</span> Show these people that this choice exists. Give them a taste of what it's like to create something.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">16. Your online persona is not an accurate representation of your life, your relationships or the quality of either.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">17. Cynicism is a disease.</span> It's a contagious, contagious disease that I have decided to quarantine myself from.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">18. Good stories need to be told. People crave real, powerful and beautiful stories. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">19. You can learn a lot about a person's soul by what they think is funny. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">20. </span>"Once you live a good story, you get a taste for a kind of meaning in life, and you can’t go back to being normal; you can’t go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time." - Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4wT0UWWI5Po/VGvN9uaxuwI/AAAAAAAAARU/qZtZeN_V2pI/s1600/10154062_10153997897520015_1968939891_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4wT0UWWI5Po/VGvN9uaxuwI/AAAAAAAAARU/qZtZeN_V2pI/s1600/10154062_10153997897520015_1968939891_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">21. The older you get, the more you look forward to Thanksgiving Day with family than what is under the tree Christmas morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">22. Make every day extraordinary. </span>Days fall together when you let monotony take hold. Weeks go by quicker when you do the same thing every day. Don't live for the two days tacked on to the end of the week. Do extraordinary things with every day of your life. You'll remember them.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">23. Life is about giving someone else your last piece of gum. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">24. I am by no means wise, I am by every mean still learning. </span><br />
<br />
<b>See: </b><br />
<b><a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2010/11/twenty-things-ive-learned-in-my-twenty.html" target="_blank">20 Things</a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2011/11/21-things-ive-learned-in-last-year.html" target="_blank">21 Things</a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2013/11/twenty-three-things-ive-learned-in-last.html" target="_blank">23 Things</a></b>emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-25196003291211348902014-09-25T11:14:00.000-04:002014-09-26T13:37:21.204-04:00Two things we can't forget about Beauty at Every Size. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cdn.theatlantic.com/newsroom/img/posts/2014/08/bootybump/37c972150.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.theatlantic.com/newsroom/img/posts/2014/08/bootybump/37c972150.gif" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After being told for 24 years that my body wasn't perfect enough -- by the media, by myself, by my gym, my peers and more -- I tried something new.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I stopped listening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every time I thought a thought that made my chubby cheeks feel like they didn't belong, I told myself to shut up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every time I heard some comment on television about crazy ideals of beauty, I didn't let it get to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every time I tried on pants and had to choose between fitting my waist or my muscley legs and ballet-given booty, I'd just start twerking the crap out of the dressing room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually, I started to see a me that I liked when I looked in the mirror. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm telling you it wasn't always this way, and not every day is perfect, but when I stopped counting the pounds on the scale and started counting the pounds I could dead lift or bench press or row-- when I started counting my miles on the pavement -- I immediately started loving myself more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is a beauty at every size movement that's been going on around me and I got really excited about this because I'm a huge proponent for this very truth. I think it's great that women are joining together and forgetting the silly standards that have been put out there... but I have two cautions we need to keep in mind for this trend:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">1. Body acceptance does not mean we don't have to take care of ourselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are some sizes that are not healthy and it isn't okay. Body acceptance is good, but no one who is morbidly obese can be living a full life. Having to sit out of things is not living life to its full potential. Being sick all of the time is not living life to its full potential. You must take care of yourself. Living with the health issues associated with obesity is no way to live.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Obesity causes THOUSANDS of other health issues, but here are ten, all of which are life-threatening conditions: Depression, Reproductive Problems, Cancer, Diabetes, High Blood Pressure, Stroke, Kidney disease, Osteoarthritis, Sleep Apnea and Asthma.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Celebrating curves does not give us a Get Out of Health Free Card.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Childhood obesity has more than doubled in children and quadrupled in adolescents in the last 30 years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The number one killer in America is heart disease. Its number one cause is obesity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Obesity is one of the leading causes of breast cancer, a leading killer of women. New research finds that "<span style="background-color: white; color: #282828; line-height: 20.7199993133545px;">An increase of two skirt sizes per decade, between the mid-20s and mid-50s could <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/11119055/Women-who-go-up-a-skirt-size-raise-breast-cancer-risks.html" target="_blank">increase breast cancer risk by 78 per cent."</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
I'm not blaming the victim either. I understand that obesity is a deep problem with tough roots and thousands of factors. In college, I studied extensively the various socioeconomic factors related to obesity. It is an epidemic that America's poor are malnourished, yet morbidly obese. It is an epidemic that we have to feed our children boxes of cancer-causing food because that's the only thing we can afford. It is an epidemic that people aren't receiving the proper education about nutrition and the human right that is health care they deserve.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Those of us who know about health and value nutrition are obligated to work towards teaching others about healthy living.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Those of us who have battled with the shit that comes with obesity and the self-harming extremes of dieting and not loving your body that are pushed on us by society must work towards helping others.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We cannot stop prioritizing healthy living because body acceptance is a thing, although it is a beautiful start.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">2. This being said, body acceptance must come to <b>love every size. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is hard for me to say. For a long time I've been very ashamed of this because I didn't want to be a brat for speaking up about being small. But I have to say it: <b>Beautiful at Every Size is not Beautiful at Every Size Except for Size 0s.</b> It is not Beautiful at Every Size except for Size 2. It is Beautiful at Every Size, you get it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I mean, it's AWESOME that Meghan Trainor is dancing with curvy women <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PCkvCPvDXk" target="_blank">singing about grabbable booties. </a>Who doesn't love a grabbable booty? (and I actually really love the catchy song) But they're straight up <i>hazing a skinny girl</i> in her video. Why is the skinny girl's size not acceptable, too?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Look, I am a size 0. We exist. I'm not a size 0 because I starve myself, and I'm not particularly always 100 percent of the time in love with my body. I have fat on my legs, too. I have weird butt dimples in the muscle from the time a <a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-time-i-almost-crushed-entire-left.html" target="_blank">trailer fell on me</a>. We can't keep thinking that to be this size you have to have serious body issues. Some people just are this size. Because it is a size too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So why has it become so popular to bully skinny people now in popular culture?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I guarantee those petite women have some real self-consciousness inside of them too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">If we can't accept women at every size, then we're just back to where we started -- we'll just have gone to the other end of the spectrum and neither does anyone any good. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">From both ends, it's important that we<b> just simply start taking care of ourselves and people around us.</b> There are people who are naturally skinny and eat garbage every day. There are people who are naturally larger and they're healthy as can be. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We need to love the way we look and be proud of who we are, but if we aren't working towards becoming the best versions of ourselves that we can be, then what reasons do we have to be proud of who we are?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Embrace Beauty at Every Size, but don't forget to be inclusive and to not stop taking care of yourself too.</span>emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-2493944490019218342014-09-17T13:52:00.000-04:002015-03-09T12:11:45.345-04:00The Story of the Extroverted Introvert<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2e_sKCQtt3o/VBnOTi_7TuI/AAAAAAAAAPk/AKiRKgAXvZ8/s1600/10574262_10154487713815015_8518483133244624561_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2e_sKCQtt3o/VBnOTi_7TuI/AAAAAAAAAPk/AKiRKgAXvZ8/s1600/10574262_10154487713815015_8518483133244624561_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<h3>
<b>Erin, Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert? </b></h3>
<br />
Those who know me know this question is silly.<br />
<br />
I'm ridiculously outgoing (and super annoying).<br />
<br />
But it's actually a question I've asked myself a lot lately as I've moved to Pittsburgh and had to really make an effort to meet new people.<br />
<br />
It's weird when you move to a new place because you kind of forget how you made all those old friends in the first place. You are no longer surrounded by thousands of people your age that you know. It forces you to take a good look at what you want in a new relationship and a deep dive into who you are.<br />
<br />
I always took being called an extrovert as somewhat of an insult. I mean, I'm a writer! I'm supposed to fly-on-the-wall the crap out of every situation! I can't break down that fourth wall and actually gather my own life experiences, right? To participate <i>and</i> observe creates a skewed, conflict of interest to a story, right? <br />
<br />
I spend a lot of time with myself. I like shopping alone and eating alone. I like watching boats pull bigger boats down the Allegheny River on my lunch break. I like putting up my ENO hammock and hanging out by myself as all the sidewalkers stare. So naturally, I thought of myself as an introvert.<br />
<br />
But I think I confused introversion, independence and observation skills as being mutually exclusive.<br />
<br />
I thought because I was able to spend days hanging out with myself and not getting self conscious -- because I could go out to lunch with myself without feeling the need to stare at my phone -- that I was an introvert. Really, it's just that I am independent.<br />
<br />
When it comes down to it, as in most areas of life, we can't simply organize ourselves as one way or another. Humans are more complex than that. Even when we gather MORE boxes and MORE descriptions (like the ever popular Myers-Briggs tests), people <i>still</i> don't fit into our tidy little categories.<br />
<br />
There are super self-conscious extroverts and insanely conceited introverts. There are extroverts who hate talking in front of others and their are introverts who can sing the Star Spangled Banner in front of millions on national television.<br />
<br />
Introversion/Extroversion really explains where you get your energy from.<br />
<br />
The other day, we bumped into someone who I think it's safe to call a legend in the organization I was involved with in college (called Younglife) at Dave & Andy's (an awesome homemade ice cream shop in Oakland). He and his family had just moved to Pittsburgh to start a new YoungLife chapter here and I had known this from mutual friends, but had never actually met him. Casually, I approached the man and we held a titillating conversation for a few minutes before I got my strawberry ice cream and we headed on our way.<br />
<br />
As we walked to the car, licking our cones, I was bouncing off the walls. My boyfriend pointed it out that my energy level literally changed because I had just met a new person. He laughed. hard. Because we've argued before whether I'm an extrovert or introvert. He was right. My attitude and mood after meeting this new person had gone from 0 to 60. So obviously so that it was kind of hilarious.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, my confidence, extroversion and independence all come from the same roll of quarters. They all work together to make me who I am.<br />
<br />
Everybody is different and it's really awesome to see how we all fit together. We need all kinds of people to make it all work.<br />
<br />
While, introversion and extroversion are things we need to know about ourselves in order to best take care of ourselves, there are also different skills that make us who we are that we can practice and perfect. These can change as we change.<br />
<br />
It's so important that we all figure out where we get our energy (you probably already know this answer). It's important that we figure out the skills we love about ourselves and keep practicing them, and that we figure out the things we're awful at and, after scrutinizing them, we exercise them.<br />
<br />
You are a unique person with some kick ass skills that you can use to make the world suck less.<br />
<br />
Forget what box you fit into and figure out who you really are. Then go be that person. Be the best damn version of that person you can be.<br />
<br />
Signed,<br />
<br />
The independent, somewhat introverted outgoing extrovert who enjoys hanging out with herself but also gets really excited about meeting new people.<br />
<br />
<b>Update: </b>I was approached about this blog and told that I'm not an extrovert or introvert because I'm an ambivert — the person who fits in between. My point in this blog is to show that people are complex beings, inadequately categorized from simply getting their energy from alone time or social time. To take this blog and attempt to categorize my feeling that every person is unique completely misses the point.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0Pittsburgh, PA 15221, USA40.4368825 -79.85768280000002140.340196500000005 -80.019044300000019 40.5335685 -79.696321300000022tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-59698009087156324232014-08-14T11:12:00.000-04:002014-09-18T11:47:32.210-04:00People Observation: Cat videos killed the curiosityMy next door neighbor is a professor Emeritus of Physics. He's an incredible man who I could chat with all day. On the subject of our college town's academic quality, I asked him what he notices with students these days compared to those he's taught in the past. He gave me one answer: they just don't have any curiosity.<br />
<br />
He teaches physics. His students are studying to be scientists. But they never seem to care anymore to know the fascinating answers we are finding to some of the universe's biggest questions.<br />
<br />
My neighbor's observation isn't unaccompanied. I've noticed this myself.<br />
<br />
I babysat for a wonderful little boy who has a creative brain that I loved to pick. While many people find Right Brains to be the math experts, I would argue the most successful problem solvers are the ones who can best mix that Left Brain creativity with that Right Brain critical thinking to find unique and new routes for finding solutions. This boy I babysat is one of those people. His math homework was kind of a mess, and he loved to use one of those extra smooth and inky purple pens to write his answers (which drove me kind of nuts). His answers were always right, but he always seemed to find them in ways I never understood. One day, he brought home a couple of wrong answers on a math quiz. He was very discouraged. He said his teacher told him he wasn't good at fractions. I was livid. What kind of third grade teacher tells an eight year old he isn't GOOD at something? Then, as I looked through his answers, I found she was the wrong one. The questions had been ambiguous, and when the boy attempted to ask for clarification, he was shot down. Only because this boy had misinterpreted a quiz question was he told he was incorrect, and even worse, he was told he wasn't good at it.<br />
<br />
We have all had similar experiences: When I was in second grade I used to get really excited about the books we were reading. If I read ahead I would get in trouble. (Sidenote: My brother Sean used to read ahead to parts in books with swear words -- obviously 5th grade swear words like hell and ass-- so he could volunteer to read out loud during the raunchy parts of class novels)<br />
<br />
Eventually this getting in trouble for our curiosity takes a toll on us. We get sick of our excitement about all of our questions. We're told our questions are stupid. So we stop asking. Eventually, the only questions we ever ask are, "is this going to be on the test?"<br />
<br />
As a young person who was insanely curious in college, I felt this kind of punishment all of the time. <a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2013/06/principles-i-lived-by-in-college-part.html">See my story about getting a C- in a class I took for fun</a>.<br />
<br />
But I have found that the rewards for my curiosities always outweigh any kind of "punishment" I'd ever receive for them. Rewards like further understanding of people who aren't like me (or, as it turns out, end up being more like me than I think). Rewards like empathy. Rewards like meeting new people and noticing the little nuances and paradoxes of every day life.<br />
<br />
I've talked about New Years Resolutions before. They're an easy way for me to make a drastic change towards becoming the person I believe a person should be. I like to do drastic things (mostly so I can brag about them but also) to test myself and learn something along the way. This year, my resolution was that I wasn't allowed to look at my phone while I'm in a line.<br />
<br />
You see, people are looking at there phones everywhere they go. Every single line you've stood in in the last three years has been loaded with phone lookers. And I hate it. I absolutely LOATHE it. People constantly checking their screens are missing some incredible stuff.<br />
<br />
We miss the eye contact with strangers at a coffee shop that turns into the observation that they, too, visit the same coffee shop every morning, which maybe then becomes a friendship. We miss the opportunity to ask people about their days. We miss noticing the puppy walking down the street. We miss real, genuine smiles to and from strangers that over the course of an entire day can change a person's emotional wellbeing. The things I notice that others don't notice baffles me. The things I've noticed and enjoyed since this year's No Phones While Waiting rule baffle me.<br />
<br />
While you watch that video of that (probably adorable) kitty on your phone, you're missing your own cat's short nine lives. While you're letting your child sit on that tablet at the dinner table, you're missing an incredible conversation about his life -- he is missing an incredible interaction with his family.<br />
<br />
<b>Here's the truth: </b>Nothing on your phone will ever be more remarkable than the person sitting in front of you.<br />
<br />
I would like to challenge you to tickle your curiosity muscle every now and then. I would rather have friends who don't know but want to know than friends who know everything. I would rather have friends who can find answers with me than friends who tell me all the answers. (Chances are if you think you know everything you're probably wrong because there is no possible way that you do.) Read ahead and find the swear words. Get distracted with a new hobby. Use your freaking imagination.<br />
<br />
There is nothing more attractive than a person who has curiosity.<br />
<br />
Put down your phones and step away from your screens. Because they don't have the answers. Go explore the world.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-67698856321799777552014-07-16T12:48:00.000-04:002014-09-26T13:38:34.323-04:00Find Your Math<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F5R1dzyQfvI/U8asXvlhwWI/AAAAAAAAAOY/lUFUmR5Aeb8/s1600/200138_1002764244099_3809_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F5R1dzyQfvI/U8asXvlhwWI/AAAAAAAAAOY/lUFUmR5Aeb8/s1600/200138_1002764244099_3809_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends and I working hard in high school math class. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Lately, I've read a bunch of lists on <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/erinchack/thoughts-every-jogger-has-while-out-for-a-running" target="_blank">Buzzfeed</a> and the Clymb about things you think about while you're on a run, and they're probably true for most people. But there is something they all fail to mention that I spend doing at least two thirds of a run, no matter the distance: Math.<br />
<br />
As my feet hit the pavement and my heart works my butt off (literally), my brain maths all the math it can math.<br />
<br />
I calculate distances and time and miles per hour. I calculate the number of houses I've passed and what my average house per minute is. I take educated estimates on how many trees are in a forest taking into account acreage of its area and average tree trunk sizes and distance between trees and other absolute absurdities. I look at my watch. And then I try to speed up and calculate my time and miles per hour all over again.<br />
<br />
I calculate calories and heart rates and what percentage I've finished of my run. Dang, that's a lot better than having to positive-think my raging heart through to the end of a jog.<br />
<br />
I'm a distractonaut. I live for the exploration of distractions. I lay in my bed and thoughts unravel. Plans for my life and death unfold, bills and loans to be payed pile up on the hall table of my mind, and the to-dos of weeks and months to come lay their heads onto the pillow next to me. At my desk, it's a fight to make sure I keep my keyboard-tapping fingers on the task at hand. It's a challenge to not be constantly thinking a million miles a minute about anything and everything that's happening outside the refrigerator I like to call my office.<br />
<br />
On a run, though, I ignore all that garbage. And I just math.<br />
<br />
If you hate math, this probably sounds repulsive to you, but god, thinking about math is so much better than running each step at a time and thinking about the next step and the next and the next.<br />
<br />
Mathing on a run is my favorite distraction. I don't have to turn it in or pay it off or tell anybody about it later. Hell, half the time I don't remember any of the solutions or equations to tell myself. If math isn't your schtick, find your something that gets your brain occupied on other things for a while. Things that don't matter. You don't have to be running to give your brain a break from the world. Do it while you're meditating or laying in bed or taking a minute on a park bench during your lunch. Write a little story in your mind. Think about good memories. Think about something you don't have to remember to write down or do later. Think about pie. Or, if you're like me, think about pi.<br />
<br />
Even for an insane extrovert like me, solitude is where I find my sanity. Find your math and run with it.<br />
<br />
<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-16406873885387753632014-07-11T16:29:00.000-04:002014-07-11T16:58:20.957-04:00People Observation/No More of That: Musical Snobbery<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5-MZMItl1wE/U8BI0Ilrl0I/AAAAAAAAANg/TEhRNhMhiyc/s1600/bootleggedtapes_large_verge_medium_landscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5-MZMItl1wE/U8BI0Ilrl0I/AAAAAAAAANg/TEhRNhMhiyc/s1600/bootleggedtapes_large_verge_medium_landscape.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of The Verge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This blogpost is inspired by a post a good friend of mine named Eric put on Facebook a couple days ago reading this: </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">Helplessness Blues is a great album by the Fleet Foxes. So late to the game."</span></i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">First of all, Helplessness Blues is amazing. Eric, I'm so glad you found such a wonderful album. So many feels. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">Second of all, I know you didn't mean it in this way, but IT ISN'T A GAME! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is something empowering about being unique, the first, or one of the few in the realm of knowledge. It makes you feel special, I understand. This stupid thing that happens in fandom that I have dubbed Musical Snobbery, however, has got to stop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've explored a lot of genres. I like to sing music and play music and dance to music on a morningly, afternooningly (that's a word..) and nightly basis. With the exception of country music sap songs because those are awful, I like music that grabs my heart straight out of my chest and gives it a good smackin'. I like music that leaves my heart alone, but instead yanks at my brain and tickles my curiosity HQ. I like lyrics that mean something. I like lyrics that mean nothing. I'm a classically-trained Soprano with a secret love for a little bit of screamo. </span>(I guess it isn't a secret love once you put it on your blog.)<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I can recognize a Strokes' bass line from three houses away. I can shout Bruce Springsteen lyrics at the top of my lungs and only mess up on the parts that he's mumbling his face off and I've never understood. Just like most of you, I, too, had an emo phase. And going to college in Appalachia turned me into a lover of anything with a banjo. I'm lookin' at you, Steve Martin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In high school, I took advantage of the surprisingly awesome bands that would come through Columbus (thanks for being a good stop-through town CBUS!), and -- without any actual expenses -- I spent every last dime that I earned at my minimum wage job on the relatively cheap basement shows. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Possibly like you, I have memories of talking to bands after shows and accidentally elbowing middle school girls in the face for being the worst crowd members in the history of rock. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While 90s music envelopes the brilliant nostalgia of early Generation Y, I find the early 2000s to be a musical dark age. I thank heaven for things like Myspace, which would eventually lead the way for new and creative musicians to gain followings without having to sign to a major record label. I love the things that are happening currently in the music world (for the most part). (Sidenote: It isn't a coincidence that the 90s and now are both musical eras of awesome as pop culture cycles every 20 years... but that's another blogpost for another time).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Alas, here we are. With so much music being home-brewed and accessible to fans all over the world every day, I can see how a subculture of music snobs could emerge. In every kind of category and hobby and subculture of anything you've ever seen or heard or smelled, there's always some group of snobs trying to make it exclusive. (It's all somewhat preschoolesque in a Neener-neener-neener-I-know-something-you-don't-know kind of way). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But what kind of true fan of a band would want to hide the music they enjoy? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have friends from college who stopped liking Mumford once everybody knew who they were. Why wouldn't you celebrate their success? Why would you not want something you love to live on? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A true fan of a band would want to support the band and share it with people, not keep its supposed awesomeness to him or herself. Hide it under a bushel, no; blast it in your car with the windows down and scream it at the top of your lungs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Take these non-musical, yet also applicable references: I love <a href="http://www.fox.com/bobsburgers/" target="_blank">Bob's Burgers</a>. I need everyone else in the world to love Bob's because without their according fandom, Bob's will get cancelled. (See: Arrested Development.) <a href="http://www.jacketbackers.org/" target="_blank">My love for the Columbus Blue Jackets represents a similar situation</a>. I've loved the Blue Jackets since their Inaugural season in 2000. No true fan would get upset that a bunch of bandwagoners are hoppin' on after this year's playoff run. More fans leads to more tickets, jerseys and other random crap with a CBJ logo on it, which leads to more money, better players, and thus, a better team. As Paul Brown used to say, "There's always room on the bandwagon."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't let the hipsters fool you. Music is meant to be enjoyed regardless of how obscure it is. Classics are meant to be heard. And thank God for it too. Cheers to all of those times I was recommended a great song or band, and double Cheers to the times they have led to friendships and experiences and, a lot of times, easing some pretty harsh pains. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Which takes me right back to Helplessness Blues: </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I was raised up believing I was somehow unique<br />Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see<br />And now after some thinking,<br />I'd say I'd rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The music game is not a game. It's an awesome collective of fandom and shared experiences that were meant to be shared. You are a functioning cog in some great machinery of amazing sounds and lyrics and beats serving something far beyond a little music ego. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My message to hipsters: Revel in the obscurity of the songs that you find. Enjoy that strange sound that tickles your ears in a way you've never heard. And then, when you've downloaded it (probably illegally) and played it on repeat for ten or twenty times straight, share the crap out of it. Good music is meant to be heard. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bkwm7ScfioU/U8BI8s4kooI/AAAAAAAAANo/g2eIa5Jmivo/s1600/FleetFoxesHelplessness_Blues2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bkwm7ScfioU/U8BI8s4kooI/AAAAAAAAANo/g2eIa5Jmivo/s1600/FleetFoxesHelplessness_Blues2011.jpg" height="320" width="317" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-63845282328948999312014-07-08T10:15:00.000-04:002014-07-08T17:38:02.399-04:00Lessons from Lucy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rmiM3Im6zLU/U7v8RhYHCOI/AAAAAAAAANM/5YAopq16mc8/s1600/1621728_10153871803040015_1824855163_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rmiM3Im6zLU/U7v8RhYHCOI/AAAAAAAAANM/5YAopq16mc8/s1600/1621728_10153871803040015_1824855163_n.jpg" height="320" width="315"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy and me the day we met.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hate those phone calls.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.563634872436523px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The ones you get where you can tell the minute you pick up that there is bad news to be delivered. The extra hesitancy that lingers on the other line; It is endless. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.563634872436523px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This weekend I had to say goodbye to my sweet dog Lucy. She was relaxing in the living room smiling those dog-breath riddled teeth one second and the next she was gone. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lucy was an incredible dog.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.563634872436523px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ORPbEeaaXaY/U7v8RjTr6UI/AAAAAAAAANA/O8iW5AQ54Sg/s1600/148810_10150296684930015_5318522_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ORPbEeaaXaY/U7v8RjTr6UI/AAAAAAAAANA/O8iW5AQ54Sg/s1600/148810_10150296684930015_5318522_n.jpg" height="320" width="276"></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lucy taught me how to love others unconditionally, to forgive, to not care so much about the little things, and to cherish every second that you have with your people. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What if we loved like our dogs? What if we really decided to be the people that our dogs saw in us? What would that look like? </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.563634872436523px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When nobody is ever mean to you, there is no understanding of such a concept. </span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.563634872436523px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When humans are hurt by others, they build walls, they stop trusting others, they turn bitter and sometimes get angry or violent. The same is true with dogs no question, except their ability to rehabilitate after abuse is a lesson for us all. When a dog has been hurt, accepting love begins to come easy. <i>It's like they know that love is exactly what they need.</i></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nobody was ever mean to Lu. She was brought home as a furry ball of squish and she didn't go a day in her life treated badly. Sometimes we came home late to feed her dinner, and sometimes she couldn't hold herself anymore and had to defecate on the carpet in the dining room. (Of course, then she'd put her tail between her legs in shame, as if it was <i>her fault</i> that <i>we left her</i> in the house too long.) And don't get me wrong, I'm not watering down the pain that associates with holding your bowels for too long. 'Tis is a pain no one should have to go through, It does, however, bring home the point that Lucy lived an incredibly loved life.) Can you image your life if no one ever hurt your feelings? A life where no one ever stole all the good sharp crayons from the box or laughed at you the first time you tried to work out in the weight room or told you that you needed to lose some weight or said that you just weren't good enough for this or that?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A little girl once told Lucy she was fat, and asked me if I fed her hot dogs, but Lucy had a limited English vocabulary so her getting bullied by a chubby girl on a ferry to Kelley's Island doesn't count.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As a result, the concept of "mean" was foreign to her. She had no understanding of what it meant to treat someone badly.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Such a life is pretty impossible for humans. Babies are brats. And adults are babies. And there are cynical butt holes that are going to be rude, and selfish and irrational. But that doesn't mean we can't try. We can welcome our people with the joy that a dog brings us when we enter the room (even if we've only been gone for twenty minutes). We can treat each other like we've never been hurt, like "mean" is a foreign concept. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Who cares what you look like? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lucy was born with a defect that required a surgery and left a crooked scar on top of her head. She was completely ignorant of her abnormality her entire life. She was 75% fur, and this would sometimes lead others to mistake her fur for fat.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lucy didn't care. Because Lucy didn't know. She didn't sit in front of the computer looking at less fluffy dogs. She didn't research surgeries to remove the scar tissue and straighten out her crooked face. How would a dog be able to even understand the idiotic concept where we all strive for perfect bodies? <i>So why should we?</i></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br></i>
<span style="font-size: large;">Cherish every second you have with your people.</span></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is no joy in the world like coming home to a happy dog who is indubitably enthusiastic at your arrival. You could have had the world's worst day. People could have told you that you were an idiot four million times, but when you walked in that door and there was someone there <i>crying with joy</i> at your mere <i>getting home</i>, all of a sudden you don't feel like an idiot anymore.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had to pack my bags and leave for college at the end of every summer to a dog that would cry. She knew I was leaving and she cried. It made me cry too. Every time. </span><br>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6fSy1sbn1B0/U7v8Rq_hK7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/BzWgFq6KcRY/s1600/387254_4904832265381_1050167736_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6fSy1sbn1B0/U7v8Rq_hK7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/BzWgFq6KcRY/s1600/387254_4904832265381_1050167736_n.jpg" height="320" width="240"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hope to greet the people I love with a bit of that genuine excitement. I hope to cherish the minutes I get to spend with the people that I love. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As a believer who's questioned every bit of a God's existence on a weekly basis, friendships like mine and Lucy's have served as a witness for me to keep faith in a Father with a heart so big it rivals Lucy's. As a believer, I hope to love others like she did, helping others try to understand what it means to believe in a higher power who represents love. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not sure I'll ever meet a person with as big of a heart as my sweet Lucy. But I know if I approach the world with even a sliver of the love she did, I am set.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lucy, I will miss you so much. Thank you for teaching me how to appreciate everything, to love unconditionally, and that sometimes you have no other choice in life than to just poop on the carpet.</span><br>
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emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-38753966323384123092014-05-27T10:12:00.003-04:002014-05-27T15:33:23.556-04:00My toxic relationship with ranch dressing. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bDIm11zaGZE/U4ScG669rgI/AAAAAAAAAKU/QxRsbhRqupA/s1600/533686_397802726898092_974448970_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bDIm11zaGZE/U4ScG669rgI/AAAAAAAAAKU/QxRsbhRqupA/s1600/533686_397802726898092_974448970_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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My friend Lucas refers to celery as "Ranch Spoons."<br />
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Which is clever, but ranch sucks.<br />
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It's time I've come clean. I have a bitter rivalry with ranch dressing.<br />
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Ranch was invented by Satan himself to help carry out his Obesity Agenda.<br />
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Do you remember salad shakers? They were this cool thing McDonald's had for a while, where you got a salad in a cup with a bubble lid. After dumping your ranch dressing in and shaking it up, you'd have yourself a nice lil' cup'o'salad covered in the worst thing that ever happened to salad: incredibly <br />
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unhealthy dressing.<br />
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I got a salad shaker when they were around, and, like many times as a little kid, I immediately ran around outside and upset my stomach and puked it up.<br />
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The next time I ate ranch was in the seventh grade. I was an obnoxious little thing. I stormed into the cafeteria one day and threw my friend Kerry's binder onto the table in some dramatic rampage of attention-seeking, only to have it land onto a puddle of ranch that had spilled on the table. It splashed onto my face and got all over Kerry's binder. She played it cool. She shoved the ranch-covered binder about six inches from my nose and said, "lick it!" Obviously, she was kidding. But obviously, I was a ridiculous human being. I licked it all up. When I realized the ranch had been left from the eighth grader's lunch the period before, I immediately ran to the bathroom and threw it all up.<br />
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I still can't eat ranch.<br />
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When people I'm with choose ranch as their salad dressing, I cringe.<br />
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I find the way that ranch sits on a salad to be one of the grossest things.<br />
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It just sits there, a goopy glob staring at you.<br />
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Trying to eat vegetables is a good thing. Some people don't like vegetables. I get it. But it isn't even breaking even. It's breaking under. And I understand that it's okay to eat unhealthy things in moderation, but if you're going to let yourself splurge on the calories, why would you splurge with your salad? Donuts, fries and a Coke every now and then is splurging. Putting ranch dressing on your salad is not splurging.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmWPXf-nGZk/U4ScG-MbfJI/AAAAAAAAAKY/NUxFbpqWxC4/s1600/20120508-ranch-group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmWPXf-nGZk/U4ScG-MbfJI/AAAAAAAAAKY/NUxFbpqWxC4/s1600/20120508-ranch-group.jpg" height="217" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gag.</td></tr>
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Americans' obsession with ranch dressing has got to stop.<br />
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Hidden Valley should not be allowed to sell their product as "kids are finally eating vegetables!" Frankly, I'm glad this valley they speak of is hidden, because all of the children there are probably chubby. Ranch is giving veggies a bad rep. Vegetables are good. Broccoli is little trees and there is nothing more appealing to children then eating little trees.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The minute we started smothering vegetables in milk fat was the minute we gave kids the idea vegetables were only good if they were smothered in milk fat.</span><br />
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The culinary world is finally pioneering some incredibly creative and delicious salad dressings. The world of vinaigrettes is a beautiful world that blows Hidden Valley and all of its chubby kids out of the water. You can make them at home. They practically mix themselves. They make even the bitterest of romaines an absolute marvel.<br />
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And when it comes to dips, ranch has got to be the lamest. There are so many different kinds of brilliant dips for anything you think you currently "enjoy" with ranch. Hummus was the best thing that has ever happened to carrots. If you're going unhealthy, eat spinach and artichoke dip or buffalo chicken dip.<br />
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It's time we stopped this culinary inadequacy and stood together to defeat the ranch agenda. We can join as one and collectively choose to teach our children that vegetables can be eaten without being smothered in milk fat. We can come together and make it known that the nutrient-packed salads that make our bodies so happy deserve a better dressing!<br />
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Ranch sucks.<br />
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Your chicken nuggets deserve better. Your cheesy bread deserves better. Your salad deserves better. YOU deserve better.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WkS05VFp-ok/U4Sc1IV0cBI/AAAAAAAAAKc/kQmn8gtbuao/s1600/fence-mtns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WkS05VFp-ok/U4Sc1IV0cBI/AAAAAAAAAKc/kQmn8gtbuao/s1600/fence-mtns.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The good kind of ranch. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.hiddenvalley.com/assets/nutri-facts/HVR%20Bottle%20Dressings/Original%20Ranch/HVR_Ranch_ezSqueeze_original.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AlILfzh6lBk/U4SdHLsnhcI/AAAAAAAAAKk/szXo9PeIsmk/s1600/HVR_Ranch_ezSqueeze_original.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.hiddenvalley.com/assets/nutri-facts/HVR%20Bottle%20Dressings/Original%20Ranch/HVR_Ranch_ezSqueeze_original.jpg" target="_blank">The bad kind of ranch. </a></td></tr>
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<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com91tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-41557101688327408912014-05-15T10:19:00.000-04:002014-05-23T14:50:27.541-04:00No more of that: Phones at the dinner table<br />
There doesn't need to be a discussion for this. I'm sick of sitting at the dinner table having a conversation with people while they sit on their phones.<br />
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We don't need some stupid "everybody put your phones in the middle and the first one to grab their phone pays" thing either. Just don't use your phone at the dinner table. It isn't that hard. Keep it in your pocket or your purse and enjoy your real life.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jANpT6h8I7c/U0VspIObKfI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/AVSXQsDxN_Y/s1600/blogsegment.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jANpT6h8I7c/U0VspIObKfI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/AVSXQsDxN_Y/s1600/blogsegment.png" height="109" width="400" /></a>The iPad parenting that is sweeping restaurant tables across the country has got to stop. It is lazy parenting and it is absolutely ridiculous. Your child needs to know how to sit and have a conversation with older people. The family dinners I had growing up are a memory I cherish. In fact, I could argue most of my people skills have been acquired during family dinners. Parents who allow their children to sit in the corner of an Applebee's booth with their headphones in and their iPad on are robbing their kids of an incredible experience.emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-70916220067177870422014-04-28T19:56:00.003-04:002014-05-01T11:27:52.237-04:00More of this: Doing something about it. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jANpT6h8I7c/U0VspIObKfI/AAAAAAAAAIM/953uxz4nWwU/s1600/blogsegment.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jANpT6h8I7c/U0VspIObKfI/AAAAAAAAAIM/953uxz4nWwU/s1600/blogsegment.png" height="87" width="320" /></a>I'm starting a new weekly segment on here I'm calling "More of This, No More of That" where I rant and rave about two completely unrelated things that have been on my mind. I have a lot of things that bring me frustration. I have a lot of things that bring me joy. Here's my opportunity to tell you about them.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>More of This: </b>Doing something about it</span><br />
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The United States doesn't have an official language, but if we did, it would be complaining. We love complaining, and most of the time not doing anything to help the situation, just sit around and complain. I think it's okay to complain if you're in an unfair situation, but it's better when you're complaining turns to action. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-exiBP8rih8g/U1E8AwCCxoI/AAAAAAAAAJA/dUxK7IWWtnc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-04-18+at+10.34.40+AM+(2).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-exiBP8rih8g/U1E8AwCCxoI/AAAAAAAAAJA/dUxK7IWWtnc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-04-18+at+10.34.40+AM+(2).png" /></a>I was inspired by a friend of mine, Ashley Beatty-Smith, a graduate student at Ohio University who realized the need for new programs for student-parents at the University when she found herself not getting the kind of care and help she and her family felt they needed and definitely deserved. Ashley created an organization called PrOUd Parents on Campus and they have made incredible strides for student-parents for years to come.</div>
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I spoke with Ashley and asked if I could share her story. Here are her words:</div>
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"During the summer of 2012, I learned that the only family-friendly housing, The Wolfe Street Apartments were scheduled for demolition. After viewing between 15-20 different apartments and houses, we settled for an apartment that we would later learn would not fit our needs; numerous middle-of-the-night fire alarms, car alarms, all-night partying, busted beer bottles, and even the neighbors urinating down from their balcony. We chose to sign a lease to move for the third time in three years. (We have since moved, and once again have signed a lease to move for the 4th time in 4 years).<br />
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During the time of our second move, I was turned away for childcare at three different care facilities, including the OU Child Development Center. The CDC listed us at 63 on the waiting list; however, my supervisor’s daughter, who is several months younger than my own daughter, was offered a spot from the waiting list at only 5 months old. Now at 19 months old, we are still buried on the waiting list with no time frame for when we can expect care. </div>
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Many of these factors exhausted me; I felt let down by the university I cared for so much. </div>
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<b>Realizing something needed to be done</b></h4>
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The turning point for me was the moment I felt bullied by my peers in a campus dining hall with my daughter. I accepted an invitation from friends to the Nelson Dining Hall, and many of my “fellow bobcats” stared, pointed fingers, and took to Twitter to express their feelings about a baby in the dining hall. The tweets said, “Would it be rude of me to ask to borrow this girl in the dining hall’s baby for the white trash party tonight?” and “Okay teen mom parading your baby around Nelson, you’ve officially made us all uncomfortable. #awkward.” </div>
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I felt alienated for the first time on the campus I had been proud to call home for nearly 4 years.</div>
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I started speaking with fellow classmates I had met who also had children. Their stories were the same: no housing, no childcare, and reluctance in taking their child on campus. I realized that something had to be done, not only for myself, but for all of us living under the same circumstances. I felt that we deserved equal access to resources necessary for our success.</div>
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Doing Something about it</h4>
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I first approached Dr. Jenny Hall-Jones, the Dean of Students, and Dr. Susanne Dietzel, the director of the Women’s Center. Next, I approached Dr. Ryan Lombardi, Vice President for Student Affairs. Additionally, I reached out to The Post asking for their coverage of the issues. </div>
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My goal was to raise awareness, and finally administration was aware of the issue and the community was able to engage in dialogue about this invisible, but significant, population. Around this time I was graduating and starting my graduate program in College Student Personnel, working as an academic advisor in the Allen Student Help Center.</div>
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Through my advising work I started meeting at least one or two student-parents per week who shared many of the same struggles. I started connecting them to one another, forming an unofficial support community. With the help of a fellow student-parent, I co-founded PrOUd Parents on Campus to have an official avenue of support for these students. </div>
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I became so entrenched in each of their stories. While their struggles were all so different, the need was the same- some type of resource not offered by the university. I put together a list of these needs and started meeting regularly with Dr. Lombardi. </div>
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Because of his support, the university has chosen a more inclusive healthcare policy that will include additional prenatal coverage; the university is actively seeking a family housing replacement; we are building a resource website including information on healthcare, housing, childcare, and support groups; we are implementing a poster campaign to combat the negative culture; and we are beginning work on a medical/parental withdrawal policy inclusive to both support partners during the birth of a child. </div>
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Visualizing Real Change</h4>
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I have felt more fulfilled by this work than anything I have done previously. I remind myself that although my time as a student here is limited with graduation just a year away, these policy changes will positively impact other students for generations to come. There are freshman students in my support group who will likely see change prior to their time ending here. And that is what keeps me going. After becoming a parent, finishing their education becomes more important than ever for these students. So it is my hope that these positive changes will empower them to continue on to the finish line."</div>
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I am so encouraged by people like Ashley who have the guts to actually do something about the real mess they found themselves dealing with. It takes nothing to complain, but it takes a lot of work, courage and heart to actually get up and do something about the problems we face. </div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">(<a href="http://eleemccarthy.blogspot.com/2014/04/no-more-of-that-posting-about-weather.html" target="_blank">Click here to view the No More of That portion of this week's MOTNMOT</a><span id="goog_456752430"></span><span id="goog_456752431"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>)</span></div>
<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-11841258984205221322014-04-18T11:06:00.000-04:002014-04-18T12:00:44.647-04:00No More of That: Posting about the weather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In a perfect world, there would be no more posting about the weather. </div>
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Why? Because it's boring. It makes <i>you</i> seem boring. You're not boring. You eat sushi! You Instagram sunsets! You, who has a family and a cute dog and really great hair, are <i>not </i>boring. <br />
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So follow the rule that's been around forever: Don't talk about the weather. </div>
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And apply this rule to social media.</div>
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If it's raining outside, all it takes is someone with a mere<i> one</i> of the five (or six) senses to figure this out. <i>ONE OUT OF FIVE.</i></div>
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I get that people aren't observant. It confuses me, but I get it. And I'm trying to grasp that not everyone remembers everything everyone said, was wearing, was with, walked by and coffee shop they frequent in a five mile radius. I get that people aren't psychotically observant like yours truly.</div>
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But the weather is <i>so obvious</i>. </div>
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Why do we have to post the obvious? Why does anyone care?<br />
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I understand that it's nice to get on Facebook and see that other people just like you got soaked in the rain storm this afternoon. I get that you now have a knee-jerk reaction to tweet "OMG ANOTHER DAY OF COLD?!" the minute you pull up AccuWeather on your iPhone.</div>
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I get that people like to make clever little posts about the weather.</div>
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But what bothers me is usually they are not clever. </div>
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Humor is based on real, meaningful observations. Things are funny because they're true. They're also funny because they hold the kind of truths you've never had pointed out to you before. Humor comes from being surprised. All comedians are doing in standup is calling out truths you've never noticed, but that are so true you chuckle at yourself. Posting some snarky little ditty on the fact that it's April and it's snowing is freaking<i> trite</i>. </div>
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On the matter of it's April and it's snowing: IT. ALWAYS. SNOWS. IN. APRIL. </div>
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Every. year. </div>
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Sometimes it gets cold in the Spring. That's what Spring does. Spring is the 22-year-old of the four seasons, always trying to figure out what the hell it's doing with itself. </div>
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"Three snows after the forsythia bloom" is an old wives tale, but it's<i> almost always accurate</i>. </div>
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Snow in April does not make your state have the KOOKIEST and MOST unpredictable weather. Knock it off. That's a competition only somewhere in Tornado Alley or tsunami territory or somewhere arctic is going to win. Columbus, Ohio in all of its temperate, four-season-having splendor, is among some of the mildest, least kooky climates in the world. </div>
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Look, I think it's kind of cute how, no matter how young or old, if a person steps outside to find flakes falling onto their nose, they inevitably have to state the obvious, "it's snowing!" It's cute! And if all of your friends live in Cleveland and you're in sunny Colorado on a beautiful day, and you're into being a ginormous ass hole, I guess it makes sense to gloatingly tweet that it's a beautiful day.<br />
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There are always cool observations about the weather. This year, parts of Ohio got just the right bit of wind and snow and cold. Snow rollers developed and my friend Julia posted a great picture of her mom trying to steal one from a park to take home. THAT kind of post is a weather one worth reading.<br />
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Post about the fact that you went on a run and saw and smelled fresh-cut spring grass for the first time since September. </div>
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Post about the sweet older gentleman who you saw hold his umbrella over his precious wife to keep her dry in the rain. </div>
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Post about the giant hole that windstorm left in your parent's living room roof and how surprisingly overjoyed they were because that meant insurance would be getting them the new roof they'd actually been needing for years.<br />
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But for the love of sunshine, don't just post that it's raining.<br />
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emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268904143930101769.post-46252658783595284302014-04-13T20:18:00.002-04:002014-04-14T19:09:42.289-04:006 Things I'll cry about on the spotThis post is inspired by an adorable girl I knew in college named Jessica who posted on Facebook a couple days ago about how sad she gets when she thinks about all the dogs who don't have homes. I read that post and immediately started crying. Not kidding. I'm holding back tears right now. It just isn't fair. They just want homes. They want nothing more than to love you unconditionally and teach you about being an optimist who a, love to eat and doesn't care if they get a big gut and b, love to chase squirrels and doesn't care if they never catch one. Oh God, now I'm crying.<br />
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I've never been a big cryer, at least not in the arms-to-the-heavens PRAISE JESUS mega-church let-there-be-light revival cryer sense.<br />
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I have a friend who hears a good song and can be filled with a spirit that manifests itself in 138 tablespoons of salty tears. She looks so cool and I am so jealous. SHE LOOKS SO COOL, but I've never been like that at all. I've always been the person who awkwardly sits next to the sobber, patting her on the back saying super-creative and wisdom-filled robotic things like, "there, there" and "don't cry."<br />
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I can count the number of people who've seen me cry on my ten fingers. I just don't like people seeing me cry. I'm an ugly crier.<br />
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This means, that when I do cry, it's out of nowhere and catches people by surprise. I've always wished I could explain it to people so they can better prepare for possible impending sob fests, but my crying muscle is a completely arbitrary and involuntary character of its own. My tears have cute little tiny raindrop-shaped brains of their own, but this is my attempt to try and explain what I've learned might trigger their appearance.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. I've already mentioned this, but<b> anything about dogs that don't have homes gets me every time</b>.</span><br />
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My boyfriend and I were outside of Target a few weeks ago and they had shelter dogs to play with. I played with them so long the volunteers thought I was about to buy them all. We then realized that we had to go into Target to get the one thing we came in for (plus the other $65 to spend on other cute things we didn't need) so we headed passed Target's big red balls and into the dollar spot. My boyfriend was about ten yards in front of me when he turned around to see me crying uncontrollably screaming "THEY JUST WANT A HOME!!" We had to leave the store.<br />
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The worst part is that while my boyfriend was telling the story to my parents later that night, I was in the other room crying to myself. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Onions</b></span><br />
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I once cut up four ten pound bags of onions into bits for thanksgiving stuffing in our church kitchen to take to the food pantry downtown. I chose this task because I'm an arrogant ass hole and I had been bragging about how onions never make me cry.<br />
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The onion particles hit my nose like the truck that delivered them to the grocery store. I didn't stop gagging and crying for hours. It was a horrible experience. I couldn't even serve the stuffing at the soup kitchen.<br />
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To this day, even the thought of that experience makes me gag-cry (which everyone knows is the worst kind of cry).<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">3. Dads</span></b><br />
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I'm a sucker for a loving dad. I love living in an era where Dads aren't just called to be breadwinners who sit in the living room with a Scotch after a day at the office. Dads are finally allowed to display the mushy love they've always felt for their sons and daughters publicly and it's wonderful. If I see a dad holding his daughter on his shoulders for the Princess Parade at Disney World, I start crying. I saw a dad pick up a little kokopelli stuffed doll for his kid at the Phoenix Airport last week and almost melted.<br />
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My dad has done a lot for me and we have a great relationship. He's totally awesome. But so is my mom. In fact, my mom is the one to blame for most of the reasons I cry. What isn't rational is that moms always do this kind of stuff. I just won't turn into a giant puddle on the floor when I see them do it. It's like it's just expected of them. But they should get the credit they deserve too. It totally isn't fair and I'm really sorry that I don't cry when a mom gives her kid a hug. I really am sorry.<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. When people go out of their way.</b></span><br />
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I cried on my 21st birthday.<br />
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I was in the middle of an attempt at following the gluten free fad and hadn't eaten cake in a good week (SO HARD, OMG). We were about to go enjoy ourselves at some of Athens, Ohio's finest establishments when my roommate brought out a big chocolate gluten-free cake with adorable decorations and candles and everything. I immediately started crying.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J3zVldSUQXE/Uzs5C2UopYI/AAAAAAAAAH0/8HXVpesGuyI/s1600/316852_10150958315520015_1481009707_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J3zVldSUQXE/Uzs5C2UopYI/AAAAAAAAAH0/8HXVpesGuyI/s1600/316852_10150958315520015_1481009707_n.jpg" height="204" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am crying with Santa as my best friend Sarah presents my gluten free cake. I would also like to highlight my friend Brian laughing at me.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4. StoryCorps</span></b><br />
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Since 2003, people have been recording almost 45,000 stories and emotions associated with real, human lives via StoryCorps. <a href="http://storycorps.org/%20" target="_blank">StoryCorps</a> is an incredible project. The stories they feature are those of normal people. People who have been through the craziest garbage together sit down behind a microphone and they talk about it. I first heard about the Corps on NPR's Morning Edition a couple years ago and I haven't heard one yet that hasn't made me cry. There is an incredibly brilliant beauty in people sitting down and having honest, meaningful conversations. They're just real people having real conversations about their connections and what brought them in.<br />
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If you feel like restoring your hope in humanity, <a href="http://storycorps.org/listen/collin-smith-and-ernest-greene/" target="_blank">here's this week's.</a> This is the story of Collin Smith, 23, and Ernest Greene, 72. Smith was in a car accident his sophomore year of high school that left him a quadriplegic. Greene was a member of the Smiths' church and decided he was going to help him however he could. Ernest Greene became Collin Smith's helper. He did everything he could for Smith. And when Smith wanted to go to college, Greene went with him. They graduated in 2013.<br />
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People sometimes confuse my blonde hair and bubbly personality for me being a total doofus. I have spent enough time philosophizing and weighing pros and cons. I've decided that world is already shitty enough. It's a great thing to be able to not make it suck less. My bubbly personality is the product of a lot of DECIDING to not be a grumpy downer all the time. (i.e., Less Squidward. More Spongebob.)<br />
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Reading about stories of other people who've also decided to not be selfish buttheads all the time makes me cry. There are some really amazing real-life human beings in the real, actual planet Earth world. I love reading about the incredible things that people do for one another. No fictional movie or book or television show will ever be able to capture the beautiful things that people do for each other, things we do for no further reason than the need to love and be loved.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. A Wholesome, Happy Ending</b></span><br />
<b><br /></b>It doesn't matter how long the story is. If I've just finished the Harry Potter series or if I've just watched this thirty second <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N26WJvdajXw" target="_blank">Subaru commercial</a>. I feel for the characters and I start wailing.<br />
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I don't cry during sad parts of movies or books...or commercials. Because the world is already shitty without having to watch a movie. When something happy happens, I'm in tears because I'm just overwhelmed with a surprising joy. That's what having a good cry is all about.<br />
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Three Examples:<br />
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<li><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9mtZhEiH2Zg#t=115" target="_blank">When Shadow, The Goldenest Retriever of all time</a>, comes over that hill in <i>Homeward Bound</i>. (I've talked about this before)</li>
<li>The happy family ending to any episode of<i> Parenthood</i>. The Bravermans hold the remote that controls my tear duct dam.</li>
<li>When the all the chubby people in <i>Wall-E </i>land back onto Earth and find a plant and get really excited about making pizza.</li>
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Happy endings get a lot of cries. There is always something emotionally stimulating about joy and hope and peace wrapping you up in a giant fluffy happiness blanket.</div>
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Some people cry when they're angry or sad or nervous or stressed. I think I cry when I'm surprised. I like when people surprise me in a good way and my reaction is tears.<br />
<br />emchollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09483914270445592583noreply@blogger.com0