Facebook; a generational genius, or genocide?

When it comes to love, the age old rule is all things fair in love and war. But, this saying was popular long before the advent of today's social media god— the one and only Facebook. 

In one place you can discover someone's age, occupation, hobbies, dislikes, friends, and education And if you're a true "Facebook creeper," you can read their on line conversation. So the dutiful investigative reporter that I tend to be, I may "creep" on the guy I like— and quite to my dismay. 
Facebook will not only tell me, but rather show mr every girl he casually converses with wall-to-wall. I get to see the profile pic, which seems to be quite popular for the All American Single man— the notorious girl on each side. (the irony is that my Mr. Big is not American... But you get the gist). 
Knowing that creeping on him will only frustrate me should entail that I STOP looking. One would think I'd develop an aversion to it, evolve girl, evolve! But, like a small child who touches the stove and gets burned, I lack the sense to not touch the stove again!
 Not only can this turn even the most content girl jealous, but Facebook also ruins other things. When the temptation is there to Facebook chat, message, wallpost of even poke someone is there, there can be little to say when the first date finally does role around. Or if you're a habitual Facebook status updater, you could have mistakenly filled in your friends, family, lover, and miscellaneous amounts of people who can see your profile (depending in your privacy settings), your every eat, move, hang out and favorite inspirational quote (don't pretend you haven't had a Proust, Emerson, Churchill, Plato or Beatles quote!) 

So, in the age of technology which creates even the most non-gossipers omniscient, what's a girl in love to do?

What I've Learned From Summer Storms

Summer storms
Just when the temperature reaches 90 degrees, the lawn drying up, the pressure hitting your skull, that's when the sky breaks.

The sky cracks open, and sends bathtubs of water down— static and strobe lights cut the sky.
I think its natures way of saying "it's okay to break down". It's okay, because when the pressure is too much and the heat is on— start anew.

I went to bed last night but couldn't sleep. The clock ticked midnight and the final rerun of Frasier ended, and I sauntered to bed. Maybe it's being in, for once, for the night, maybe it's going to bed when you're not really ready, but I found myself tossing and turning.

I didn't have the typical foggy groggy thoughts, but rather, clear, laundry lists, mistakes, and propositions came to mind.

And like the sky, my mind opened up, flooded with thoughts.

I've decided. Summer is... Well just a summer. I don't need to make grand commitments, but rather go with the flow and have fun.
And that's exactly what I've decided to let happen with The Boy, friends, plans... Just let it be.

I know, it's completely against my personality, I'm a list making, rigid, "emotionally complicated," "over analytical," and an over all type A personality.

But guess what? I'm going go challenge myself this summer. I'm going to push myself. I'm going to learn to relax and put things into perspective.

Instead of running inside and hiding when the storm comes, I'm going to run into, enjoy it, see its' beauty, and try not to look back.
So, welcome, summer 2011.

How to survive a summer cold without missing all the fun.

I must admit. 2 weeks of parties, partying, no sleep, and poor nutrition caught up with me. Or rather smacked my invincibility to a grinding halt.

What's worse then having a cold in beach weather?

But instead of moping about my stupidity (I should have seen this coming... Maybe taken zicam?!), I'm making do and pushing ahead. So here are some of the lessons learned.

1. A summer cold doesn't need to be the worst thing in the world. Think of it as a moment to relax and reflect. Say no to plans for a day (or two!) to recuperate. Put your feet up, watch some TV, and rest.
2. Your going to need to adjust the fluid pumping of a typical winter cold, so why not go iced!? Make herbal tea and chill it in the fridge, for some electrolytes, have some lemonade (get the good stuff, like Newman's own). For a meal replacement, go ahead and make a delicious smoothie- try strawberries, carrots, bananas and cucumber. Skip the yogurt or milk and use tea to thin it!
3. Were programmed to associate colds with chicken soup, yes? Well you can also try cold soups, fresh fruit salads (see above... Blueberries, grapes, apples, and bananas... just throw in whatever you have in the house, and enjoy!), and maybe a little hot chicken soup. (after all, mum DOES know best).
4. Pick up some fun summer movies to get you through the gloom of a summer cold. I watched Mama Mia! while recuperating on the couch yesterday, and it definitely made me feel better.
5. Lastly, after your initial day of misery, don't be afraid to hit the beach. The sun may be the best thing you could do! After all, it's a low energy activity. But make sure not to over do it, you'll only know when its time to come in!

So... Make the most of a rotten summer cold!

Scam hypnosis and life lessons

Last night I went to an event with a hypnosis who had people come up on stage and be hypnotized. 

He made sure to tell people that "hypnosis won't make you do anything against your morals, religion, or values" and said that all hypnosis is "self hypnosis". 

The hypnotist got them in a state (or tried to) which was essentially guided meditation. Okay, sure, that's legitimate. I have done meditation in yoga, and you do get into a different state of being. I even have an app on my phone (the silva meditation app) in case I can't sleep—it almost always gets me there. 

But, for several people to get into a supposed higher state with simply five minutes if quiet, some eery music, and listening to some guys voice is bogus. 
(meditation takes practice!!)

It was like the teenage girls in the Salem witch trials who were convinced that witches were messing with them. It's like when your friends are drunk, and even if you're not you act a little tipsy. Its the power of suggestion, a hypochondriac hears she had lunch with someone who has a cold and suddenly she's down with the flu!

Pretty soon the "hypnotist" had these people eating out of his hands, for the sake of a laugh and his pay check. 

He told the men they were professional "butt shakers" and sure enough, they were up shaking their rears like Shakira. 

He told them that when ever he said the word microphone it was as if he let out a huge fart. Lovely. 

What civilized entertainment. What sophisticated humor. 
Farts and butt shaking. 

I am reminded of scams in history which we are so supposedly above—indulgences in the catholic church, cure all remedies of the 19th and early 20th centuries, even cults. 

And yet, I still laughed. Because, well, it was funny. And against all prior reserves, it was entertainment (though lacking any sort of intelligence) for the night. 

So sometimes, it's better to laugh at the ridiculous, then to humbug through ignorance. Life's just too short not to

Why wear white?

So what is it about graduations that forces girls into raiding all the white dresses in every store imaginable?

It was just yesterday, that I was ambling through the racks of Macy's-color blind to any dress that wasn't white. As a girl of a paler complexion, one wonders why. But, sadly, I have fallen victim to tradition of white graduation dresses. 

Perhaps it is the awful memory of not knowing the "white for graduation" rule at my 8th grade graduation, and, am still scarred by it. Don't get me wrong— I'm all for being different, individual, unique, but I'm also one to follow such traditions.
I'm the kind of person who WON'T eat cold pizza for breakfast, won't show up to a party with out a gift, and always sends thank you cards. Call me rigid, traditional, perhaps anal, call me whatever you want, but I think society has certain etiquettes and procedures that should be kept. 

So I've now two dresses for graduation on Sunday. Because, well, I'm rather indecisive. They're both white. And both knee length or shorter. And I have the pleasurable job of choosing between them. 

Always a Mr. Rochester, never a Prince charming

Charlotte Brontë, the author of the novel Jane Eyre, created this story of a tortured and orphaned girl—Jane, who falls quite in love with Mr. Rochester, an older man who has a secret wife on the side, a possible love child, and dates other women even as Jane is there. It isn't until Rochester has lost everything, his sight, his home, and his wife. Then its finally "equality"?
Jane is a rich young heiress, and can finally be with her older, blind, decrepite, ex-boss. Lovely.

But this story of a girlish fantasy of an older man was written hundreds of years ago by an ill young girl. Yet is this that far from the truth?

Currently, I have discovered that indeed both my friend and I are dealing with Mr. Rochesters, some several hundred years afterwards. Sure, I doubt they have a Jamaican wife named Bertha setting things on fire in their house— but this can be taken metaphorically, an ex girlfriend (perhaps a crazy one) who won't let them move on (and just as equally, they will not let go, either).

Then there's Ms. Fairfield, the older woman of the manor, who is supposedly a maid but you never know ;).


And yes, there's Ingrid, and other women who is the object of his societally approved affection—rich, beautiful.

Yeh- that leaves what is my friend and me. Jane, not the prettiest or the top dog, but a good dog. Why couldn't Brontë have written Jane to be swept away by an Italian prince who treated her well? A Shakespearean actor who quoted sonnets to her moonlit window? Even a hardworking village man, who loved her dearly?


Clearly Brontë knew more than we sometimes give her credit for. Maybe Brontë knew that the complicated men are the most rewarding?

Alas, it seems, I always end up with a temporary Rochester, but never a prince charming.