I'll do better.

As much as I hate cliches, I don't hate self-improvement and I think everyone should always be attempting to become a better version of themselves. Unless you suck as a human being. Maybe it's just best you start from scratch. So for that reason, I like to at least have goals in mind for the New Year. This past year I didn't quite conquer my list which is unpublished as I didn't want the whole world my few readers to be aware of my shortcomings. But lo and behold, my failures and criterion met, await:

met: 

• I moved (to Seattle)
• I got a job right when I moved
• I exercised more 
• I traveled a fair share and went somewhere new (Park City, Canada, Barbados, NYC, Vegas-in a matter of hours)
• I ate better

shortcomings: 

• I didn't reach my reading goal 
• I didn't write more
• I didn't exercise as much as I should have
• I'm still a "realist" which is my euphemism for pessimist

In spite of the failures, I still had a good year. Plenty of fun was had. Good people were met, bad people were tolerated. Pages were turned, stories unfolded. Poor decisions were made, consequences paid but bad times don't endure when you're stronger than them. Or at least my people are stronger than them which gives me everything I need. Life lessons were learned. Adventures were sought and conquered. Memories, oh the memories, were captured in photos, in heart and written.

[With mom in Barbados. July 4, 2011]

So next year, I'll do better. And maybe on December 31 2012, I'll feel so inclined to share that list.

365 more. Oh-twelve, here we go.

First World Problems: Woes at the Symphony

It should first be noted that I don't dislike all children. In fact, I quite often talk about the most adorable one of them all on here. Maybe that's because she's related to me.

I dislike bad parenting. With that said, proceed.

S and I decided to be festive and classy this holiday season and add a trip to the symphony to the Christmagenda. We were pleased when we found out our moderately priced tickets were in close proximity to the stage. Our happiness semi-ended there.

Sitting next to me was an innocent enough looking family of four. Dad-Child 1-Mom-Child 2, sitting in that order, Dad sitting next to me. This was until the music began. Child 2, sitting the furthest away, decided that the music was his cue for playtime. Child 2 was about 5 years old.

He first starts to run in the very narrow and limited space between his mom and dad doing some sort of tap dance, until he climbs in his dad's lap where he decides that jungle gym would be a fun game to play at this moment. Dad doesn't protest. Child 2 begins to twist and contort his body in awkward positions; his favorite one being where his head was almost in my lap, looking up at me, hand outstretched in front of my face, obstructing my view of the stage.

What in Hades was going on here?!

If that were me at 5, my parents would've promptly taken me to the lobby for a "talking to." And by talk, I of course mean spanking.

But that would never be me. Because unlike these parents, my parents were well aware that a symphony is not a place to take your 5 year old child. It's called a babysitter and/or finding another family-friendly holiday activity. Like the Zoo lights. Or Peacock Lane. Or PIR lights. Or anything that's not using my lap as an extended part of dad's jungle gym. How inappropriate of the dad to think that his child's head in a female stranger's lap is acceptable behavior. I glanced over at the mom and saw she was wearing a knitted stocking cap. At the symphony.

We were dealing with hippy parents. AKA Let my child do whatever the [obscenity] they want. Discipline will only taint their artistic vision.

[I think Fred Armisen should really consider this as an upcoming storyline for 'Portlandia' .]

In addition to this being brutally annoying, I of course couldn't stop laughing at the Dad's content with the situation and this child looking up at me with his upside down eyes. It was weird. I looked over at S to only hear her start to laugh too. It was like that scene from Seinfeld where Jerry puts the Pez dispenser on his knee and Elaine starts cracking up laughing during the maestro's performance. Except our "Pez dispenser" was an overgrown 5 year old.

When the symphony began to play Tchaikovsky, I knew I would kill this kid if he ruined it. Instead, a 60 year old woman 3 rows in front of us did. And why? Because of a 4 year old kicking her seat.

"This isn't working!" She whisper-yelled at the mother holding the 4 year old. "She will not stop kicking my seat!"

She turned back around to face the stage, but only for a second before she returned to yelling. I wonder what she would've done if she were sitting in my seat...

When intermission came, we for sure thought they'd be leaving given the restlessness and disinterest of their children. We instead heard the worst words ever uttered: "Oh no, it's not over. It's just break time. They'll be back."

We looked at each other, exchanged a wordless message, and found different seats.

I know I'm not a parent and I don't know what it's like to have children. But I have parents. The best ones, in fact. And they taught me how to behave in public. If yours can't, leave them at home. Or better yet, teach them. With a good old fashioned spanking.

Ode to a Soulmate.

It was around 20 years ago when we were on rivaling soccer teams that I met my best friend. The story goes, or so she tells it as my memory sucks, that we both went after the same loose ball and somehow I got it away from her.

[Not sure if there is truth to me prevailing, as she has always been better than me at the game.]

Mad at her misfortune and my case of luck, the trash-talk of an 8 year old got the better side of her.

"Dummy!"

Not being familiar with such profane terms, I turned back to her. "What did you say?"

"Nothin."

A few weeks later, I'd be her teammate and some most of my best memories have been with her since.

• Our bus rides to and from soccer games. I never had to be Forrest Gump because it was known, the numbers 2 & 3 sat together. No question. We might've created a few handshakes in transit inspired by the one, the only, Fresh Prince of Bel Air (it was the 90's).
• Attempting to exterminate our ladybug infested 8x8 dorm room in Bloss Hall. With scotch tape.
• Watching Nick @ Nite before bedtime and other Disney Channel shows recommended for a tween audience, not for college students. We were in Bloss at this time.
• Entering a drawing during a road trip in California to go to the Academy Awards, actually winning, and returning a year later to be on the red carpet.
• Trying to speak Greek when we decided that was the place we needed to be during Junior year.
• Oh, and Barcelona.
• Road trips that led us to Canada, Tijuana, Disneyland.
• Living together all four years of college. It's unheard of for most women to maintain friendship status, let alone best, at the end of that.

I bought 'Soul Pancake' the other day. It's a book by Rainn Wilson and a few others that poses really difficult questions about life. Seriously, really thought provoking questions that challenge your brain piece to think about your life's philosophy or help you to create one. There was a page that asked you about soulmates; whether you believe in them, how to define them, how not to define them. Most of us use this term exclusively in the context of the romantic and I'm not sure that I believe in them in that whole context. But I do believe in them in another.

To find the same things funny (some of it dark, weird and utterly unfunny to anyone else), to create some of the most elaborate inside jokes (too many to remember or name), to have a common history, and to be able to truly be myself with no censor involved and never hear an ill word to judge me (there have been times where I judged me)-I believe that to be a soulmate.

I don't believe everyone has or even is lucky enough to find their soulmate. I'm glad I met mine when I was 8.

In earnest, I have no idea where I'd be without her and I credit her for some of the biggest adventures and risks I've taken in my life. I'm sure we'll be making them well into our 80's.

It was around 20 years ago when I met my best friend. She turns 28 today. She's never been much for celebrations, but there's no way I cannot not celebrate her and her place in my life.

You slowbug, are my favorite. You are my soulmate.

[In Crete at The Palace of Phaestos.]

The day I met Phil Dunphy

A week ago, I was at one of my favorite spots in Portland, enjoying one of my favorite delicious holiday beverages with one of my favorite people.

In order: Deschutes Brewery, Super Jubelale, Mike.

As I strategically picked off the tomatoes off of our Flatbread pizza and Mike & I traded stories to catch up on our lapse in seeing one another, Mike halts the convo.

"Phil Dunphy is behind you!"

Of course I believed Mike to be simply referring to a Dunphy Doppleganger. I turned around and there, 5 feet away from me was Ty Burrell. I freaked out.

Let's back-up. 'Modern Family' has been a favorite of mine since it came on the air and I am an addicted fan. More importantly, I ADORE Ty in particular and claimed him as one of the year's best people last year-here. Not just best, but #1. I can't begin to explain how many ab muscles I credit him with for all the laughs that come from Phil Dunphy moments. Let's just look at a recent example that really doesn't need any context:

"I'll admit it, I'm turned on by powerful women. Michelle Obama, Oprah, Condoleeza Rice, Serena Williams...wait a minute..." -Phil Dunphy

In my craze, I stood up from my barstool and started rifling through my purse that was hanging by hook, to search for my camera while Mike and I repeated, "I can't believe Phil Dunphy's here" and other fan-like things. In the process, my purse falls off the hook, I'm giggling uncontrollably as a woman about 12 inches away from me looks in my direction. We would later figure her to be Ty Burrell's wife, as she was sitting next to him at the head of their table.

Ty exits to the facilities and I await his return. I know this sounds cray, but I'm sure if one of your favorite comedic personalities was in the same vicinity as you, you might react in a similar fashion.

As he came out of the bathroom and I secretly hoped he was a hand washer, I approached him. I apologized for interrupting his evening, but told him something along the lines of how much I enjoyed the show and Phil Dunphy. He put his hand out.

"What's your name?" -Phil Dunphy, I mean Ty Burrell

"I'm Teela." -Me

"Hi Teela, nice to meet you. I'm Ty." -Ty Burrell

Yes, we're on a first name basis. I asked him to take a picture with us, he happily complied, and went on to eat with his family/friends/wife who saw me freak out over her husband in the bar.

[Mike, Ty Burrell, Me]

What made this moment so great is that I was with a fellow 'Modern Family' lover and it was in the beauty of the unexpected. I can't say that I enjoy all surprises, but this one definitely perked up my evening. And for the duration of that night, I would somehow integrate this momentous occasion into completely unrelated discussion:

"Always a line for the ladies room, huh?" -Woman stranger waiting for the restroom

"I know, tell me about it. So do you watch Modern Family?"

Thankful for these givings.

In no particular order...(but sort of..mostly the Top 5).

15. Lists.

"To-Dos," "Bucket" or "Favorites." It really helps prioritize my life.

14. 'Really?'

It makes discussing the nonsensical so much more fun. For instance...

13. GOP Presidential Debates.

For allowing me to use #14 frequently.

-"Libya...Libya...?"

-"I can't remember the third...Ooops."

Not knowing geography in general. Like that Africa is indeed a continent, not a country. Come on! (said in the stylings of Gob Bluth)

12. Scarves.

I have hangers that have lost their lives to my little obsession, but can't stop, won't stop.

11. Phone calls.

I know, I know, what is this, 1990? Remember when it was such a big deal to make a 3-way call? Now we just "cc:" each other on email. Booooring.

I love a good phone call. From the sound of the personalized ringtone I've chosen for the selected people that actually call me, to actually hearing someone's voice and laughter as we share the insanity of the daily.

10. Hazelnut Hot Chocolate.

Subconsciously, I think it's because the Hazelnut is Oregon's state nut. Consciously, it's liquid love.

9. My job.

Although it might not be the final career for me (mostly because I hyperventilate at the word 'career' as that's something adults have which I can't possibly be), I have to admit, it's pretty cool to teach college kids. Which brings me to...

8. My Students.

I had the stark realization last week that I have the pleasure of conversing and working with people from roughly 10 different countries on a daily basis. Not just their countries of origin, but immigrants of this generation. Russian, Ukranian, Taiwanese, Japanese, Chinese, African (Kenya, Sierra Leone, Nigeria), Iraqi, etc. I have two students who actually fled Iraq at the beginning of the war, watched family members being murdered before them, and were forced out of their country because of their religious beliefs. And they're still standing and getting an education...from me. I feel like they could teach me (and are) even more.

7. Meeting good people.

I try...I mean really try to be optimistic and see the goodness in strangers and people in general. Then "they" or someone does something douchey to taint my hope. Then you meet a new somebody that really restores your belief that there are people still left worth meeting.

6. Flannel sheets.

Even though sleep and I have nightly disagreements, there is not a more comfortable place to struggle in.

5. Semi-Independence.

This past weekend I had an autonomous Saturday. I went to a book signing for my beloved Mindy Kaling and by nightfall, went to a comedic benefit for the Mona Foundation featuring Rainn Wilson, Mindy Kaling, Anna Faris and Chris Pratt. I hang out by myself all the time (See #2, I do indeed have friends)...movies, coffee shops, lunch dates, exploring a new part of town, etc. but this was semi new territory.

For some reason we tend to be ultra self-conscious when we venture out alone (sadly some people avoid the public all together if they can't find a boyfriend in time for the wedding or friend to drag to a concert).

However when you're out with other people, you don't find yourself consumed by noticing and identifying other people for being alone. You stare and notice them if they're good looking or not. Or have on a super cute scarf or shoes.

4. Sense of Direction.

As I was driving toward Portland for the holiday, I began to contemplate various routes that would take me to my dad's house, depending on traffic. I've just begun to have this same type of comfort in my new home, Seattle, where I now know various routes through trial and error, that will take me home. It feels good to silence the navigation system.

3. Literacy.

I got frustrated the other day when I missed my exit due to inattention and some pretty serious car singing, and then thought, what would it be like to miss my exit because I couldn't understand the signs? Which led me to wondering this same concept while walking down the aisles of the grocery store 10 minutes later. Which led me to continue wondering this as I sat down that evening to indulge in my favorite pastime; reading for pleasure. How lucky I am to be born where I was, with the people I was born unto, and have the public education I did.

2. Friends.

My expectations of a friend are high and I expect the same of myself to my friends. This might be the reason I constantly struggle with having 450+ Facebook "friends" because I carry great weight with that word and it's impossible for me to be that person to 450 people. So for the ones whom I share real phone calls, dinner dates, travel adventures, or can do close to nothing and wake up sore in the abs from laughter, I'm so thankful for you. You really can't imagine how much. You're the family I choose.

1. Family.

I've always felt bad for people who loathe hanging out with their family, because I love hanging out with mine. And right when I think I realize how much I am loved by them, they show me a new way. I'm nothing without their love.

So as you sit down at the kids' table, in front of the TV or in a restaurant on this holiday, let us not celebrate Thanksgiving in the way of the first:

"I celebrated Thanksgiving the old fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land."

-Jon Stewart

Instead, bathe in wherever it is you find your love.

Unrelentless Love.

One.

It was almost 365 days ago that I recounted the most joyous occasion that has come to pass in my 27.45 years.

Life is anything but ordinary with this little girl in it:

I had a total of 28 hours to spend in Portland this past weekend to help her more-or-less blow out ONE very special birthday candle. I was more grateful than ever for Daylight Savings Time to afford me one more hour to soak up her sweetness.

She hollered at me for a good five minutes upon becoming reacquainted with me, as this cruel evil auntie had selfishly spent 2 months away from Her Adorableness. Not by choice, but at the unfortunate hand of teaching a night class on Friday evenings, leaves me very short weekends in which to travel to and from the hometown.

She got over it and we became the best of friends once again.

The last time I'd seen Muffin Bear she had just started to eat real people food and sit at the table with us in her high chair. She had also become more vocal but mostly just rambled on in a language unique to her.

This time I was waddling behind her holding her tiny clenched fists to ensure she didn't take a nasty spill on the hardwood, as she navigated around by her new gift of mobility on foot. After a couple laps this way around the kitchen island, she stopped for a moment, looked back at me, and kindly straightened her hands from my grip and pushed them away.

She would do it herself. PS. This was on Saturday and she had just started walking on Wednesday.

It's amazing how one small action can make you feel so proud and joyful, but simultaneously makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry uncontrollably. She is growing up too fast and is already gaining her independence! How much we already have in common (good luck parents :D ). If this is just the first year, how quickly will the first eighteen going to go? Which would then make me...oh, phew, Aunties don't age, just parents.

Thank goodness the holiday season is rapidly approaching so I can absorb myself in her presence for uninterrupted days on end.

Towards the end of her party, my brother said some very touching words in prayer about the change Olivia has made in his life and how she is continuing to teach him how to be a father. I too am amazed that this little 20 pound ham has transformed my heart which is so full of love for her. She makes me want to do better just to open up her world and show her the possibilities.

Oh, my love. You are the absolute BEST thing in life.

an iTypical day.

My alarm vibrates. Then rings. Then vibrates and rings. This is the only electronic device I have in my possession that doesn't bear an Apple logo.

Once I negotiate with my alarm on giving me a few extra minutes of [non]rest, I slowly peel back the covers and shield my eyes with the comfort of rubbing hands, as I flip on the light switch with my elbow. That cruel first piercing light of morning.

I stumble into my bathroom and all-too-soon stare at the hot mess that is presented before me that can only be explained as my retched doppleganger. The day must get better.

I reach for my iPad sitting on the corner of the counter.

What type of day will this be? My finger glides through my premade playlists giving me a plethora of options from my 2,000+ song library. What will it be? I’ll let the Apple gods of fate decide.

I gently tap shuffle on my iTunes.

Ahh, yes. 'Glee' was a good choice for this morning. Suddenly my Medusa-like reflection isn’t looking so badly anymore.

Coffee is made, clothes are on, make-up has made be presentable for interacting with other human beings, so I suppose I can now interact with these people.

I lift open the lid to my MacBookPro.

Emails are sent, Facebook statuses are liked, news websites are scanned. I pack up my MacBookPro in my bag and walk down to the garage to start my commute to work. I get in, lock the door [yes parents, this is really the second thing I do], and fish out my auxiliary cord from the center console.

I plug in my iPod Touch.

When I return home from the day and my shower’s been taken, dinner’s been made, and my DVR queue is unappetizing, I reach for the sleek, thin, familiar remote on my end table.

Ahh, the Apple TV. Let’s see what else is on.

How wrong the doctor was about just needing one apple a day. iNeed 5. I wonder if they've made the same oversight with wine...

Until today, I hadn’t realized, or perhaps my embodied habits shielded me from recognizing, what a huge part Steve Jobs iNNOVATION has played into mine and many of our routines.

In the way we wake up.

In the way we communicate.

In the way we create.

In the way we think what's possible.

In the way we consume entertainment

56 is far too soon, but wow. What a legacy to leave behind. I don't know if you'd call it ironic, fantastic or eerie, that by way of the technology you've created, would be the way the news of your death would spread within minutes around the globe.

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on."

Thank you, Sir.

Fallabulous

This past month has been completely and utterly wonderful. Busy and stressful, but mostly wonderful.

...I had the sincere pleasure & honor of standing next to one of my lifetime girlfriends as she said her I do's to her guy in the most glamorous affair.

...I went to NYC to visit a couple of my fabulous girlfriends from college.

...I moved.

Oh, it should be noted that all of these events transpired within 10 days time. I'm pooped but still relishing in each moment and reliving them through pictures.

The Snellebration.

One of my favorite girlfriends said 'I do' to her guy and became a Snell on 9.10.11. Even though she's been with him for 5 years, it's still a bit surreal to me that it finally happened. When the name change was made official by ways of Facebook (forget the law, FB is really where it really matters, right?), I thought I had accidentally accepted a friend request of some distant classmate from high school as I had a lapse in putting 2 & 2 together. Like I said, it's been a crazy past week & a half.

[right before THE moment in the green room]

Everything was spectacular. She transformed this space at the Gerding Theater into an absolutely gorgeous wedding, which was expected, as she has no limits to the imagination and can create anything. This wedding was made even more special by the fact that most of the wedding party have been friends since childhood. Mrs. Snell, if one day someone is brave enough to enter the bonds of holy matrimony with me, guess who will be called upon to plan it?

[at the rehearsal dinner]

There was dancing.

There was the red velvet cake from heaven.

There was the teaching of the dougie.

And to the couple's surprise/enjoyment/shock, a few of us in the wedding party serenaded the couple with a karaoke sing along of 'Don't Stop Believing.' Yes, you most definitely do want me at your wedding.

The Empire State.

To say that New York is one of my favorite places is an understatement. I absolutely am infatuated with this city. I say infatuation instead of love as I don't think New York loves anyone back in the same way we adore her yet we keep coming back for more. She can be cruel and abrasive to her residents and visitors, but at other times, can be surprisingly kind. Hmm, so maybe in fact it is love after all.

Since I've been to New York a handful of times before this trip (literally a handful-5), I didn't have much tourist ground to cover and wanted to focus on the theater. My friend Carey and I have a shared affinity for musicals and because she loves me so, she even agreed to go see "Spiderman: Turn off the Dark" due to (a) my love for superheroes and (b) my obsession love for the actor portraying Spiderman, Reeve Carney. Note: The picture I've included doesn't quite do justice to him. You must hear his voice and then you'll understand. With my luck he's probably gay. And yes, his sexual preference is obviously the only thing standing between us being together.

[Throwin our webs; Reeve Carney AKA Spidey & me!]

The show did not disappoint. It was Cirque du Soleil meets Broadway. After seeing it, you understand why so many were injured in creating this blissful piece of art. It's intense. At one point, I jumped as the Green Goblin came soaring at me in the audience right before Spiderman jumped on his back and takes the villain down. Spoiler alert. I'm certain Carey has bruises on her forearm from my incessant grabbing and loud whispers of excitement. It was that awesome.

We also spent an evening at the Imperial Theater at "Billy Elliot." If you want to feel as if you have accomplished nothing by your late twenties or whatever age you are currently occupying, go see this show because these nine, ten, and eleven year olds will make you feel inadequate. Or at least will give you that invigorating feeling of fearlessness that allows you to take risks and believe anything is attainable. At their age I was proud to be reading a few grade levels ahead and being semi-good at running around on a field chasing a black and white ball. One of these kids was this adorable actor who played Michael. He must've been about 9 and was already a fantastic actor and tap dancer. We watched as he exited the stage door after the show, waved to a few of his adoring and age-appropriate fans (Carey and I would probably not be included in this category), reached up for his mom's hand and walked anonymously home. It warmed my heart. To be nine and already on Broadway. How fabulous.

We also took a trip to a free fashion exhibit at FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology) of a collection of Daphne Guinness' (heiress to Guinness) personal pieces, spent a night in the Lower Eastside with co-eds that made us feel much older than we are, celebrated a bachelorette party in SoHo, and enjoyed a Frozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity. Wondering what Fro-Hot-Choc is? It's a really good Chocolate milkshake with little ice shavings in it, covered in a blanket of homemade whipped cream.

[the menus here were astronomical. I feel like everything about this place was inspired by Lewis Carroll as you were meant to feel a bit small with the portion sizes]

[Gracie & me on the LES]

However, our very first stop of the weekend was an emotional visit to Ground Zero where 3 days earlier we had marked the ten-year anniversary of 9.11. It breaks my heart, but I visit every trip I take to New York. It is indescribably humbling and incredibly sad to walk on this street where so many suffered, but I think it is important to mourn and celebrate these heroes.

[Memorial across the street from Ground Zero & The Freedom Tower]

The move.

I returned from NYC on Monday evening, moved Tuesday morning, and here I sit Wednesday night/Thursday morning writing from my new digs in Wallingford. I've unpacked every box within 24 hours and just have a few more things to place, nail and hang along with a [very] large trip to Goodwill and the recycling bin. It's starting to feel like home.

---

After any big event or vacation, I find myself in a slight funk from being overstimulated and dropping from 150 to zero. In this case, I had been at about a 300. I missed my friends. I missed the city. So yesterday evening I took about 30 minutes to breathe and to allow myself to absorb all of the goodness of this last week and a half. I did this from my new rooftop with a cup of coffee and this breathtaking 360-view of a twilight Seattle. That did it.

And it's now officially fall. Which is my favorite.

are you RECording?

'The universe isn't made of atoms. It's made of tiny stories.' -anon.

For every stressful thing that happens in my life (see previous blog) it contributes to an entertaining story which I then share with you. We constantly are relaying these inconsequential things to our friends and sometimes even strangers while waiting in lines, sitting at the doctor's office, and in the airport. I've had people at these very locations do their fair share of oversharing. No, I do not need the details of your current diagnosis and medical history and no it is not okay to set me up with another random stranger you just met in the terminal that lives in a different state just because we're both single.

Stories. Aren't they fun? And oh-so-much more entertaining to talk about than whether the sun has made an appearance today or not. There are better things to talk about. And that's where Joseph Gordon-Levitt comes in.

Last week, I had the wonderful pleasure of seeing Joseph Gordon-Levitt LIVE. I love this guy. I almost spoke with him after getting within 5 feet of him at Sundance in 2010, then chickened out on saying hi.

JGL was in Seattle promoting his site hitRECord. Promoting isn't the correct word to use as that has a self-indulging ring to it and the site itself is anything but. hitRECord is a collaborative site for artists. Everyone can play.

You can write something.

You can photograph something.

You can film something.

You can d-r-a-w something.

You can siiiiing something.

Then you upload.

Once you upload your original work to this site, all its other members can edit it, while giving you credit for your contribution. If anything stellar is created and can be sold, guess who the profits go to? You. Well, if you contributed.

So if you were to write something, someone could create a short film from this story line. If you filmed something, someone could lay music over it. If you sing something, someone could create a duet. There are google amount of possibilities.

For example, he made this RECord, live in front of the audience here in Seattle. Someone read a story that someone else had written, which someone else laid their music over, which then JGL interpreted using just facial expressions. It's now on the site. You should really check it out to have your mind blown by how great 7 minds are over 6.

And 8 over 7.

And 9 over those 8.

Then it becomes our story.

Are you telling your story?

Visit hitrecord

When it rains...it comes through my ceiling.

Apparently when my life evens out into an unexciting lull, someone raps on the door of disaster and tells them I’m unamused and it’s time to mix things up. So I guess it’s my fault for being a tad bored. Plus, I pretty much am in the 15^th percentile when it comes to luck (Exceptions: Winning the Academy Awards Bleacher Seat drawing in '03; Being chosen to volunteer at The Sundance Film Festival 2x). Note: I'm talking strictly about "luck." Of course good things happen to me, but that's usually the result of hard work.

This last week I was spending time in Portland for a good friend of mine's wedding festivities when I got an unwelcome call from my landlord.

"There's been a little leak."

Because I lack the optimist's outlook, I immediately told my mom: "With my luck, it will be anything but little."

I was right. The "little" leak had made its kind way onto my bed and through my mattress, through my box spring, onto my bed frame, and everything underneath my bed. I guess I should be lucky that my shoes and purses were left unharmed. No one would want to see that itemized list. If that wasn't enough, when I came "home," my stuff had been left in the grass in front of my apartment to dry along with my mattress leaning against the building with no one in sight.

"I hope the newspapers you had weren't important underneath your bed."

Being that I'm not someone who hoards random newspapers/magazines underneath their bed, of course they were important. 9-11. The day my niece was born. The day & days leading to my dad's appointment as Chief of Police. My graduation programs. Obama's Inauguration. Funny enough, two of the Time Magazines that did survive had Palin and McCain on the cover. I guess it could be worse; my last name could be Santorum. Go ahead, google it. No, President Santorum definitely isn't going to work based on name alone.

That's why I know life has a sense of humor. Also because the day after this catastrophe, I got all new tires on my car, drove 2 miles home and one went flat

It’s hard to get truly angry (although I may have an ulcer from stress) when you have such wonderful people surrounding you. Like the people you call when you’re 180 miles away from home and they run to your rescue to advocate on your behalf, then take apart your bed, strip your sheets & wash them, and give you the full honest report. Or the people who drive up for the day on short notice to take care of business and start replacing those items that are replaceable and comfort you in the loss of things that aren’t. And hug you when you cry because all of your personal affects have been spread out on the grass/sidewalk for all to see. Or the people who amid a very busy day take 10 minutes to give you their professional law advice pro bono. Or the people who sit across from you at the kitchen table researching and staying 150% calm when you are anything but and tell you why and how this will all work out. And the people that call to see if there’s anything they can do because they know that just asking helps.

Bothered? Yes. Angry? I can’t get there.

Mostly because I have the image of my niece doing her first “big girl wave” this past Monday while she sat in my lap and watching her persistence in crawling over everything and everyone to the toy she wanted. She reminds me that even though my barriers may seem of a larger scale than people’s legs or coffee tables, she is conquering hers which are just as big to her in her new adventures of mobility. My heart is too full and encouraged by that little girl’s determination and I’m so thankful for her beating heart. I know mine won’t beat forever, so in the minimal time it does, I’d prefer to smile. Mattresses, bed frames, apartments? Replaceable. My people however, are not.

And certainly not this little one who just remembering that she exists, makes me smile.

Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can't Lose.

This past week I have been head-over-heels and completely engrossed in a little show I like to call FNL. Or for those that abide by traditional names-'Friday Night Lights.'

The show just aired its last season after five years. Even though I had on good word that the show was pretty great, I already had far too many Comcast commitments to fit into my schedule. Sadly, I'm not kidding.

So thanks to Netflix streaming and some free summertime, I spent 5 days watching 4 seasons of FNL. The show, based on a small town Texas football team, follows the life of Coach Taylor, his family, his teenage players and their high school romances. Brings ya right back.

While it may seem like your ordinary silver screen sport's drama, it is so much more than that. One of the main themes of the series comes from the team's motto written in their locker room and often chanted before games:

Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can't Lose.

It's meant for football, but I'm pretty sure Peter Berg knew it would have a further reach than the end zone. It has become my life motto.

Clear Eyes.

This is not just the state of acknowledging that certain information exists, but making it apart of your DNA. After all, life is a series of some good choices and an overwhelming number of mistakes. We will never outgrow our keen ability to make them, but we should at least be smart enough to make different ones.

Full Hearts.

We spend far too much time agonizing over what we don't have. A house. A child. A partner. Disposable income. When you want one of these things, the hole of what you don't have seems to be insurmountable and we lose focus on the things we do have. Running clean water. Dinner. A bed. A living situation that doesn't require a mosquito net. If more time was spent on filling our hearts with these blessings and the people that make our time worthwhile, we'd all be better off.

Can't Lose.

A lot of the times when we don't fulfill an expectation we have for ourselves or one that has been put upon us by someone who counted on us, we feel a sense of failure. Losing is apart of our American existence. After all, "If you're not first, you're last" right? But does not getting what we want or expect make us a failure? I don't think so. Just because the outcome doesn't always align with your desires, doesn't make it a loss. If you go into a situation encompassing your past and with positivity inside you, I think it is impossible to lose. Instead what you have is an experience, my friend. If it doesn't work out the way you imagined, then now your vision has come into a little more focus for you to use the next time around. And that's pretty terrifical*.

*terrifical = A term coined by Ramona Quimby (Age 8), star of my old favorite childhood books and my new favorite movie, 'Ramona & Beezus." Ramona is fearless, imaginative and losing is not in her vocabulary. We should all be a little more like Ramona.

A Seattle Weekend.

Although I technically live in Seattle, I haven’t been around for a full weekend in quite sometime. Last weekend was spent in PDX for one of the best weekends of summer thus far, celebrating my friend Jenn and her beau Ryan’s nuptials at a glorious outdoor affair. The previous two weekends, I was in Barbados visiting my mom.

In an early Friday morning surprise call, my friend Nicole gave me an extra Mariner’s ticket for the game that night. By no means am I an avid fan of our nation’s favorite pastime (I’d like to know who declared this by the way), but I am a fan of any and all live sporting events. I like to be apart of the essence of the live action competition. I’d also never been to Safeco field; in fact, this was only my second trip to a MLB game in my entire life. I was excited to say the least.

My first MLB game I attended was in ’08 at the old Yankee Stadium where I thought it might be the last day of my life, period. We were stuck in the nastiest thunderstorm and had a delay of game about 5 times. I heard Madonna was also in the stadium as this was when she was dating A-Rod. More importantly in attendance? Ken Griffey Jr. on the field.

Sidenote: In the excitement of such events (as I felt like a child of 13 but with full ability to partake in the libations that also added to the excitement), it’s important to sequester yourself from your cell phone. You may decide that everyone needs to know how much fun you are having in that exact moment and that it’s important they receive a play-by-play. But lo, you are not a commentator and they can all be filled in later. By posting the photos on FB, duh.

So now that I reside in a city with a baseball team, I guess I am obligated to cheer for them and have made that official by buying a shirt. And I also suppose I can cheer for the Sounders when they aren’t playing my home team of the Portland Timbers. However I kind of feel inclined to cheer for Man U on Wednesday night while I’m out on Qwest field. I guess my Seattle soccer strings aren’t tied all that tight.

Sunday my best friend, her best boy, a friend of theirs and I were planning to check out The Bite of Seattle because simply put, we love food and local events. However, being mid July and all in the Pacific Northwest, it was raining. When I arrived to meet them and go down to the fest, we all looked at each other with slightly defeated faces and decreasing enthusiasm about spending an extended period of time in the rain. The last time the best friend and I did this, we ended up soaked through our clothes at the Sounders-Timbers match. It's a good thing neither of us was wearing white.

Would the rain make us retreat back into our homes to partake in fall and winter like activities like drinking hot cocoa and watching movies all day? No my friends, it did not.

To Ballard we went.

I really like this neighborhood and have only spent two nights so far here. We decided that we should be fans of our country and cheer on the USA vs. Japan in the Women’s World Cup finals over some food and beers. The beers may have outweighed the food as we sadly lost in a crummy crummy shoot out. We were four glum faces who needed a pick me up which translated into some intense matches of Ping Pong down the street at the upmost of dive bar establishments. Free Ping Pong, a juke box and only one over-served man bothering us? Well color it Christmas in July for this group:

[This is how we deal with World Cup losses]

Seattle, I apologize for my absence. I promise to make it up to you if you stop freaking raining.

The One in Barbados

Ever since I saw the episode of ‘Friends’ appropriately titled, “The One in Barbados,” I’ve always wanted to go. Even though they never really were on location in Barbados and spent their entire trip indoors due to the rainy season, it just sounded like such an obscure and unlikely land that many people didn’t get to travel to, but lusted after. Lucky for me, my mom was one of the people that decided to go (relocate there) and in turn, gave me a reason to travel to this place.

As fate would have it, the first day we were here, it stormed. So far, my trip was identical as my beloved ‘Friends’ episode. My friend & travel pal Hether had been keeping a keen eye on 24-hour weather and was convinced that our entire trip would be wet. After all, it is the beginning of hurricane season. Being from the Pacific Northwest, I’ve come to ignore any weather predictions as the weather is like a woman. Unpredictable. She may feel a certain way one moment, then change her mind the next. It is called Mother Nature, yes?

It did sporadically rain on our trip, but the rain is so refreshing here because it is warm water and the air is incredibly humid. It’s comparable to being in a sauna (which may not sound appealing, but trust) and your skin feels fantastic. And, if you can't take it, the pool is 20 feet outside your door.

In my two week journey of Barbados I was lucky enough to dip my toes in the Caribbean and Atlantic waters, dance & eat with the locals at their annual weekend celebration at Oistin’s Fish Fry, experiment with driving and getting lost all while operating on the wrong side of the road, walk the streets in St. Lawrence Gap and pop into a reggae bar/80’s bar/Calypso bar, eat fresh seafood which included “dolphin” (actual fish=Mahi-Mahi), see the amazing blowholes on the North coast, and take in one of the best views of Barbados from Cherry Hill.

[Speightstown. West Coast]

The Bajan people are one of the friendliest collective groups of people I’ve ever come into contact with. Whether while driving or dining, the locals appreciate their tourists and recognize that if it wasn’t for us coming in to peer into their lifestyle, their country would not prosper. This seems logical right? You give me income, therefore, I respect you. However, I have been to many a cities where even if you are bringing in the bread, the locals loathe you and have no interest in your presence (I’m looking at you NYC & Paris). Our tour guide reiterated this and expressed his deep appreciation for our travels to his home and told us to come back and bring our friends. So I’m telling you friends, you should go.

My last full day of vacation happened to be Independence Day. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, I woke up with the battle cry “The British are Coming! The British are Coming!” in my head. [Quick Sarah Palin, who said these words??]

It was a bit odd to spend the 4^th of July in a British territory. No fireworks, no Old Glory waving in the wind (except at the local casino), no passing by underdressed women in makeshift flag shirts celebrating their "American spirit" and apparently their freedom to be half-naked. I didn't eat a hot dog or apple pie or have a block party with the neighbors. In fact, I had only met about five other Americans in the two weeks I spent here.

We spent our Fourth of July inches from the Caribbean eating Tapas at a bar called, wait for it, ‘Tapas,’ showing our love for our homeland in the form of red and blue cocktails and in festive attire and appreciating the spectacular view. Compromises.

I'm about to board a plane and head back to the great United States. I still awe at the fact that I can wake up somewhere between the Caribbean Sea and Atlantic Ocean and find my feet firmly on the Pacific coast come dusk in the place where I can appreciate my bed, unquestionable ground beef, and the fresh air of the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes spending a little time in a different place can give you a newfound appreciation for the one you go home to.

Cheers Barbados. You've been nothing but lovely.

Keep Left, Keep Left.

Today Hether and I took the island by auto. Her on scooter and me in what is the equivalent to a smart car. Barbadians, since they are a British nation and all, drive on the left side of the road. Being a passenger and sitting in the “driver’s seat” sufficiently freaked me out for the first week of being here, but today we wanted to get out and see the East coast of the island that borders the Atlantic. I had no choice.

Anderson, our cab driver, gave me the best advice: “Just keep repeating ‘Keep Left, Keep Left’ to yourself and you’ll be fine.”

I cannot count the number of times I said this to myself today.

It did help that the Bajans are by far the nicest drivers I’ve ever witnessed in the entire world. Or at least the “world” I’ve traveled in. When a driver has the right-of-way, they will actually STOP and let drivers from side roads into the flow of traffic on the regular. Mind blowing.

They also use their horns as an actual communication device; mostly to say hi to their passing friends and to let you into traffic if you are waiting on a side road. Unlike us Americans who usually use it when a douchebag cuts us off in traffic and sometimes we even accompany said horn with a visual emblem of one of our ten-digits to really illustrate our affection. Not the Barbadians. I actually cut someone off today (by accident) and they waved me on. No blast of the horn or inappropriate finger waving.

What the what? I can’t possibly get used to this or I’ll never get anywhere when I get home. And I’m also sure I’ll be telling myself “Keep Right, Keep Right.”

It was all worth it when we got to see this:

And this: