5 Simple Rules for Being a Grown-up (That I Have Completely Failed), Part 1

WOAH. This is a blog that I created in August and just revisited for the first time now. So, um, sorry about that, no one. I fully intended to have a back to school post cleverly titled "Welcome Back to Hogwarts" and a Thanksgiving break post titled "I Fought with Brian Williams from Texas, Not the Newscaster, About Kinky Boots in Comments on the Macy's Facebook Page for 72 Hours and All I Got Was a Migraine from Crying so Hard at the State of Human Consciousness," but ALAS. So I'm here now to tell you that I'm BAAACK and I have even written three other posts that are saved as drafts, so this blog will continue for AT LEAST THREE WEEKS.

NON-SEQUITUR!!!! I recently read an article on XOJane about five things to keep in your apartment that can make you feel like a responsible adult. I was 4 for 5 on those things, dudes. FOUR FOR FIVE!! I just don't have a fire extinguisher, which is probably my biggest failing on that list and something I should rectify immediately. However, I DO have a Carbon Monoxide detector, because my dad is a volunteer fireman, and the South Baldwin Volunteer Fire Company fire safety video of the late 90s (that MOST OF MY FAMILY BESIDES ME somehow got to star in, INCLUDING MY NON-ACTING, NON-PUBLIC SPEAKING GRANDMOTHER, who played someone having a HEART ATTACK [I was a VERY CONVINCING CRYER/DROWNER/BREATH-HOLDER at age 7. THERE WERE SO MANY POSSIBILITIES]) taught me that my uncle is a real-life paramedic but a not-convincing-at-portraying-a-paramedic-onscreen paramedic, and that Carbon Monoxide could kill you at any time. IN YOUR SLEEP. I am TOTES protected against that, though, you guys. So in some ways, I am an incredibly responsible and together young adult.

HOWEVER.

I have a lot of short-comings. Like, a lot. Millions, probably, if I really wanted to stay up all night and count them all. So here follows a list of things that responsible adults do/maintain/are that I cannot successfully do/maintain/be, as well as the lessons that we can learn from my short-comings to apply to our lives. And by "we" and "our" I totally mean all four people reading this. My own life is beyond repair and I'm going to keep it that way.

1. Maintain a checking/savings account with enough money to live on.

"MY KINGDOM FOR EVEN A VAGUE SENSE OF FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY!!!!" is something that I once aggressively typed into my phone while blasting John Barrowman's version of "Why, God, Why" on Spotify, while also forgetting to set Spotify to a private setting. There was a time, many, many (2.5) years ago, when I began working my first job that wasn't paid "$20 flat-under-the-table-plus-tips-which-are-bigger-if-you-play-the-hockey-game-on-tv-in-the-coat-check-room-FYI" or "$7 an-hour-plus-the-food-in-our-fridge-and-a-ride-home-with-my-charming-husband-who-doesn't-understand-that-a-13-year-old-will-fall-in-love-with-him-for-his-goofy-jokes." I optimistically began putting half of the paychecks that I brought home into my savings account and half into my checking account. I WAS GOING TO BE SO RICH, I thought as I smugly online shopped for novelty socks and sunglasses with ALL OF MY BARELY DISPOSABLE INCOME. 

That lasted for two months, until I got cast in a show and had to stop working for a while. Thus began the vicious cycle of draining my savings account to supply my checking account, which in turn supplied my Starbucks/Chipotle/giving $20 to upperclassmen to buy me liquor habit. And those savings just FLEW away. I also decided that at 19, I was ready for SEMI-FINANCIAL INDEPENDENCE and switched my iTunes account over to my own card. I started doing dumb things like buying seven Candy Crush life packs in a row within a half-hour on that account. I now buy entire EPs of remixes of house songs so I can find the one remix that we do abs to in Jazz class. I almost literally burn cash while laughing at the Gods. 2.5 years later, I no longer have a savings account. At all. This is because my savings balance was too low for too long, so It got switched to a standard checking account. And this is because when I set up my first checking account at 18, the bank rep was not especially concerned with doing his job well and neglected to inform me that I could set up my account as a student account and be free of every kind of fee and penalty for not meeting my account minimum balances. So while I now work two to four jobs with INCREDIBLE irregularity, I am always just broke enough to look at my bank statements while crying, but just NOT broke enough to always justify buying that fun booster pack while playing Pet Rescue Saga, Candy Crush's illegitimate niece, at 2 AM.

WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM THIS: Ask all of your questions at the bank. Don't trust the dude setting up your bank account. He probably works on commission (he probably doesn't, but I'm too lazy to do my research). Don't spend your money on Candy Crush or Pet Rescue Saga, no matter how tempting moving to the next level may be. YOU HAVE REFUSED TO CONNECT YOUR GAMES TO YOUR FACEBOOK, SO NO ONE WILL EVEN KNOW ABOUT YOUR ACHIEVEMENTS BUT YOU.

2. Not hold vendettas against strangers on the internet

Remember that Brian Williams from Texas, not the Newscaster (who I shall now simply call Brian the Asshat, for brevity and clarity) I mentioned a few long-winded paragraphs ago? That was a clever set-up for this point about myself!!! You see, the Broadway musical Kinky Boots was featured on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Advertising Extravaganza/Questionable Parade this year. Kinky Boots is a story about coming to accept the differences in others, banding together to realize a goal, the music of Cyndi Lauper, and Stark Sands' adorable baby face. Oh, also, there are drag queens. Most people I know would say we live in a time of great mainstream acceptance of members of the LGBTQ community. But hey, I go to a Liberal Arts school for musical theatre, WHAT DO I KNOW about how REAL AMURICENS feel about these issues? DID YOU KNOW THAT EVEN SEEING THE IMAGE OF A DRAG QUEEN ON TV CAN EMOTIONALLY SCAR A CHILD FOR LIFE? DID YOU KNOW THAT THE DARN GAYS ARE RUINING THE LIVES OF REAL AMURICENS BY REFUSING TO HIDE WHO THEY ARE IN FRONT OF THE PRECIOUS AND PURE REAL AMURICEN CHILDREN? DID YOU KNOW THAT OBAMA IS SENT FROM THE FUTURE TO TURN EVERY LAST ONE OF THE REAL AMURICEN CHILDREN GAAAAAAAAAAAY???!?!?!!!?!?!?!!!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!?? BEING GAY IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN TO ANYONE EVER, EVER, EVER!!!!

That's basically a less-dramatic paraphrase of the many message that plagued the Macy's fanpage the day after the parade aired. I am a young, overeducated, understimulated liberal. I believe that words can change the world. I needed to respond to these Real Amuricens with compassion and understanding. I needed to help them accept other people. ENTER BRIAN THE ASSHAT. Brian the Asshat is a big fan of logical fallacies, backpedaling, and straw men. This would not deter me. I would help him learn to accept the differences in others. BUT WHY COULDN'T I ACCEPT THAT BRIAN DID NOT LIKE THE EVIL GAYS, Brian asked. Brain the Asshat admitted to being a troll. He claimed to be a huge fan of a drag queen comedian, then later flat out said that he finds the gay "lifestyle" reprehensible. I could post some exact quotes, but I don't want to exhaust myself searching for those posts, and I'll probably cry rereading them. I maintained this pissing match with Brian for three days. He thought he won, I definitely KNEW I won, but really, no one won, because we were just shouting at each other, across time zones, from behind our computers.

Why do I tell the exhaustive tale of Brian the Asshat? Because I currently have a tab on my browser open to his Facebook page. I check up on him every once in a while, just to see how devoted to his hatred and wrongness he is. He's pretty devoted, it turns out. Most of his posts are about disagreeing with TEH LIBERAL MEDIAAaAaAaA or his young son. His young son, who will grow up in a house that tells him that people who are gay are reprehensible. I feel really bad for Brian's son. But not as good as I feel knowing that Brian is a big jerk. I'm considering sending him a friend request, just so he knows that he is my sworn enemy. I dream about traveling to Texas and running into him. I would then make a very mean comment about his clothing. Maybe I would give him the finger. I don't know, I'm just daydreaming here. But, like, these dreams are really, really, super not healthy, right? Most people would agree on that? Ugh, okay. I just closed the Facebook tab open to Brian the Asshat's page. But he is still the first result that pops up when I type "Brian Williams" into the search bar. I can find him. Whenever I want.

WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM THIS: Sometimes, you should just step away from your computer when someone makes you mad on the internet. The internet is not real life. Maybe Brian and I could have been friends in real life. (Probably not. He is a Certified Asshat.) Sometimes, you just need to vent your anger into something constructive, like reorganizing your nail polish collection, with angst. And okay, I will admit that I did not actually close Brian's Facebook page. His profile picture is really dumb. I just needed to laugh about it for another second.

3. Have a signature scent

This one comes from my mom. This probably isn't that big on the grown-up scale. I'm sure some people who are very not-grown-up have successful cultivated a signature scent. But it just seems like such a sophisticated thing to do. I like to imagine that if I one day find my perfect signature scent, it will trail behind me like an invisible rainbow, bringing joy to the hearts of my loved ones whenever they smell it, and striking fear into the hearts of my enemies whenever they smell it (looking at you, Brain Williams). The main problem here is that I am extremely olfactorily picky. I am the smells version of a picky eater. The smell of meat? LORD ALMIGHTY, get that stank away!!! Campfire? AHHH, are you TRYING to murder me?? MUSK??? WHY DON'T YOU JUST BRING A BOTTLE OF DEER PEE RIGHT INTO THE ROOM. IT WOULD BE A QUICKER WAY TO ATTRACT THE WILDLIFE. 

Conversely, I like really bizarre smells. Gasoline is one of my favorite smells in the world. Sour, tangy smells are amazing. I would bathe in Eau de Old Book if I could. The problem is, I don't want to smell like those things all the time, and people don't usually like people who smell like sour, diesel-soaked librarians. That's not to say that I don't have a scent or two that I will spray in my hair if I have been exposed to meat-cooking fumes, a fire pit, or urinating deer for too long. Vanilla cures all woes. People LIKE vanilla, because it makes you smell like frosting. I also have a seldom-used bottle of Clinique Happy, but that is my MOTHER'S signature scent. I can't steal my signature scent from my mom. I cannot smell like my mother. That's some serial killer level creepiness.

Reluctant though I may be to find a signature scent, I still think it's super important. Have you ever borrowed a scarf or the like from someone, and it smelled like them? Then when you wear the scarf, it's like a little reminder of your friend/family member/lady who sold the scarf to you at a yard sale. I have extremely distinct memories of getting cards from people that faintly smell of them (I KNOW HOW CREEPY IT SOUNDS THAT I SNIFF CARDS. If you read back just a bit, you'll see that I'm obsessed with the smell of books, so sniffing paper in general is a thing I do. Yes, I was the girl who chewed on her hair in elementary school. Thanks for asking.) I WANT TO COMFORT PEOPLE WITH MY SMELL.

WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM THIS: Find the scent that best does you and run with it. Though I do not currently have a signature scent, I would say that the smell most reminiscent of me, at this point in my life, is conditioner and Old Spice Men's Fresh deodorant, which I wear because I do very manly things, like take multiple dance classes a day. I don't know how much comfort Old Spice brings to people, but I hope to find a fruity scent to light my friend's lives and strike fear into Brian Williams' heart. Oh, also, a single dab of perfume is ALWAYS ENOUGH. You don't want to smell like you just slept on a bed of dryer sheets.

***

When I typed all five of my main short-comings out, this post was twice as long and five times as tedious. Fortunately for all of us, I decided to make this post two parts! This means a shorter read for you, AND more content to look forward to; for me, this means MORE HITS! So stay tuned for my last two reasons, coming to Facebook and Twitter feeds near you.

Catch Me, I'm Blogging

I'm so bad at introductions, you guys.

Most people reading this already know me and are only reading this so they can be supportive in the least involved way possible.  I'm not knocking them, just acknowledging that we, as humans, are incredibly selfish and will behave in the least altruistic way at least 64% of the time.  (If you ever find yourself being intimidated by the $10 words I employ with regular gusto, know that I had to google the correct spelling of altruistic and then some antonyms of altruistic just so i could see if unaltruistic was a word or not.) (It's not.)

I'm not trying to be cynical.  I just recently reread The Fault in Our Stars and the world seems a little bleak to me.  If you haven't read The Fault in Our Stars, you definitely should.  Or maybe you definitely should not.  Whether or not you will enjoy this book is entirely dependent on how willing you are to have your emotions ripped from your body, trampled on by a stampede of stiletto-wearing dingos, eaten by those dingos ("A dingo ate my emotional well-being" lol), and then flung back into your face as eventual emotion-filled dingo-excrement.  Luckily for authors and screenwriters everywhere, I am the kind of person who loves going through that kind of emotional turmoil.  Repeatedly.  Have you ever closed a book in the middle of a sentence to shout, "WHY WAS I EVEN GIVEN EMOTIONS?" at your bedroom ceiling, which is where you have placed your image of a vague, metaphorical sense of a non-binary gender higher power?  Have you ever dry sobbed into the pages of a book because your body literally had no more tears left to cry?  If you want to experience all of these things and more, read The Fault in Our Stars!!!

WOW, I let those two paragraphs get away from me.  What I'm trying to get at is that maybe I don't need to write an introductory post, because most of you reading this already know me, either through the carefully crafted internet persona I have maintained largely through Twitter, or through real-life (in which case, you have probably received some really pathetic text messages from me.  Thanks for still answering my phone calls, everyone).

While I don't need to introduce myself, perhaps I should introduce this blog.  This is a corner of the universe I want to use to keep track of the last year I'll be spending in the city I have lived in for my entire life, Pittsburgh.  Not to say I'll never come back to my hometown, but by this time next year, I plan to be living in New York City, indefinitely.  So yeah, that's terrifying.  A few months ago, I had a really surreal moment as I was walking home with a friend.  We had just been to an end-of-the-year goodbye dinner for another friend who was going home to LA for the summer, while the rest of us would be spending our summer in and around Pittsburgh.  Dinner had been magical.  We ate Thai food and stacked our phones in a pile in the middle of the table so we couldn't use them at all (this is a practice that I recommend everyone partake in for at least one in every three dining-out experiences with friends.  Thai food optional.)  Everyone else was going to see a show, but this friend and I opted to just walk home.  The walk was longer than we thought it would be, and the sun began setting as we got closer to home.  We reached the top of a hill just as the sky turned the kind of purple-pink that only early summer sunsets deliver; the dark of the Pittsburgh skyline stood out against the pastel sky and I can honestly say it took my breath away.  I've been taking moments like that for granted for 21 years.  I don't know how many more moments like that I'm going to get in the city I've called home since the day I was born.  When I'm not too busy inundating the blogosphere with my usual brand of witty, sarcastic, and self-depricating humor, I want to share little snippets of why Pittsburgh is the best place in the entire world, and how ashamed I am that it's taken me twenty years to figure that out.

Maybe I should also explain the blog's title.  One of my favorite quotes in the entire world is, "She took the leap and built her wings on the way down."  I've been trying to live my life more according to this quote recently.  I like plans.  Plans are great things.  Plans are how things like cities and television programing and work schedules are created.  I really hate doing things without plans.  But I've come to realize that maybe my life would work out better if I just let things fall into place sometimes.  A recent trip I took happened that way, mostly through divine intervention and how amazing my voice teacher is and the Secret (I'm a big fan of the Secret, everybody.  Except for the weird, victim-blamey parts).  But a lot of wonderful things were created without plans, like microwaves and my artificial sweetener poison of choice, saccharin (I know Sweet'N Low is totally going to kill me. I'm over it).  For the record, I had to google "things that were created by accident" just now, because PLANS ARE THE ONLY WAY.  But from now on, I'm trying to build my wings on the way down.  I'll let you know how that goes.  (It might not go well.)

I want to end this by saying that everyone totally has permission to publish any and all blackmail-worthy information they have on me if I do not regularly update this blog.  I had a blog last summer that I posted to exactly three times.  I let it die.  People got really mad at me.  I swear to my vague, metaphorical sense of a non-binary gender higher power that I will not let this blog fall to the same fate.  Everyone totally has permission to show my mom the pictures of me during Tour de Franzia 2012 if I do.  And that's a promise.

UPDATE: I PICKED AN OMBRE LAYOUT TOTALLY BY MISTAKE.  NOT HAVING PLANS WORKS.  HAHAHAHA.