US, US, baby

The last week I’ve kind of been freaking out. Although I just got to New York, apparently my arrival was not enough to make my friend Paddy stay in the Big Apple. Nope. A couple of days ago we all went to her going-away party and then she headed off to Asia for her own little see-the-world jaunt.

I cannot even begin to tell you how jealous I am. I am insanely and mind-numbingly jealous. It’s a kind of jealousy I haven’t experienced in a very long time…if ever. And it’s especially ridiculous because I just did the “let’s go explore Asia!” thing.

So that’s why I can’t understand how incredibly envious I am. But, understanding it or not. I am.

The most tortuous part is that I know I could be doing it. I know I could pack up and go. But for the first time in my life, something is holding me back. For the first time, I don’t have that feeling of “If I don’t go now, I’ll never be happy…”

I’m just torn. Torn between fleeing this city, this country…and going anywhere but here. Living some place else. Traveling some place else. Just putting my head down on a bed in another hemisphere. And torn between creating a life where I’ll someday be completely self-sustaining working from home and can live wherever I choose. Trying to meet someone without the “well I’m only here until…” escape hatch that has been present throughout my entire adult life. Or just actually living somewhere…instead of just looking for the next adventure.

So, when all is said and done. I’m doing OK here. I see why I’m here and where I’m headed. I actually have the feeling of “If I don’t stay here now, I’ll never be happy…”

But I still can’t shake this desire to be somewhere else.

After living in SoCal for four years, I thought I’d let my love of mild weather make the last of my living decisions.

And although I was preparing myself for a NY winter, I wasn’t expecting THIS. Seriously. Sept. 21 came around, and every New Yorker suddenly had put their flip-flops and shorts in storage and had pulled out their scarves and pea coats.

With all my fall/winter gear at my sister’s place in Georgia, I had decided to tough it out until my trip down there at the end of October. Although I knew that decision was slightly influenced by my stubbornness and belief that I could tough it out, I didn’t realize how freaky I’d be (seriously, this is New York). Yeah, I’ve become kind of that girl. The one that everyone asks, “so why don’t you have a coat?” EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Yes, while everyone is bundled up in their woolen outerwear and knit scarves and caps, I’m traipsing around the city in a 3/4-length shirt and my red Asian-inspired blazer. And while all the other runners in Central Park run on the bridle path wearing tights and hoodies, I’ve stuck to my shorts and a t-shirt (which I just moved up to two weeks ago from tank tops). The worst part about the running stuff is that I recently purchased winter running gear. I’m just afraid to start wearing it now…because how the heck will this girl stand running come January if I start wearing my warmest stuff now???

Holy cow…I never realized just how stubborn I can be. Nor how much I could handle the cold. Seriously, though…six days until I have a coat in my possession. Woohoo!

When I came back, many of my friends in New York all of a sudden had these “Bucket Lists.” They were spurred by the Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson film that features two men dying of cancer who create a list of items they want to do before they kick the bucket.

Earlier this week, I took advantage of my fabulous NYPL card and finally borrowed the film (free rentals? recession be damned!). In the movie the characters spend a couple of months traveling around the world. It was pretty surreal watching it and seeing some very familiar places and realizing that the trip I just finished is actually a collection of “trips of a lifetime” for many. It made me think back to my 50 Life Goals list that I’ve had ever since I was 15. Granted, the list has had many incarnations in the past 12 years and has never even had 50 goals at any given time…but still…

I mean, I’ve always liked having things to work toward. I love looking at it a couple of times every year and marking things off. I love looking at it and thinking…”what the hell was I thinking?” And I love the fact that I can buy an indulgence during a so-called economic downturn and not feel guilty because I know I’ve wanted that for years.

But while watching the movie, I have to say, I think my “bucket list” is far different from my already created life goals list. I mean, the goals I have are all very forward-thinking. They’re things I want to accomplish, or things I want to have, or people I want to know because I think they’ll make me happier in the long run. A bucket list, on the other hand, seems to have things that are just experiences to have because they’re great experiences.

But what was even crazier was realizing that I’ve got plenty of travel goals on my list o’ life goals (which includes visiting Europe, making a trip to the Final Four, and visiting all 50 states, among others). But if I were to know when my life were to end or to create a bucket list, I don’t think travel would be anywhere on there. Travel, like my goal of learning to play the guitar, or my dream of owning a house with a gazebo, would seem pretty fruitless if life were ending in six months.

I guess I’m just saying it made me realize that I don’t really travel because I like traveling. I do it because I like the person that I think it makes me.*

(*not that I think learning to play the guitar or owning a house with a gazebo would make a better person, though…)

Friday night my friends and I were celebrating a birthday and got to witness one of the UN’s best ideas of the year. Some of its employees were out having a “Mustache Karaoke” night.

Seriously…good times.

So, I have to say the last few weeks in NYC have definitely made me miss Missouri. First last week’s VP debate in St. Louis meant many views of the Arch. And then the football game. Seriously? I cannot wait until the MU/kU game next month!

I tried to curb my homesickness the other day, too…I noticed that the restaurant right next to my apartment building had “St. Louis-style” toasted ravioli. Um, yeah, not so St. Louis style. I swear, no place else in this country knows what t-rav really is.

When the old college roomie came into town, we schlepped across the Brooklyn Bridge…Yes, after all the times I’ve lived (and visited) NYC, I never got up onto the bridge until last month. Sad. I know. But we finally did it!

Is it bad that you hated your bank so much that you were happy to see it tank?

During my year abroad, I began a hate-hate relationship with WaMu. It began in China when they refused to lift a hold on my account, so I could pull money to eat. It was capped off when it took me 11 calls from India to have my debit card replaced. And when I needed to pay my security deposit for my new digs, three phone calls to the company all ended with assurance that my daily limit had been lifted…but still with the limit in place every time I tried to use the card.

Two weeks ago I had yet another problem with them, and I was going to pull all my money from WaMu before the 10-day rush happened…and have to go through the rigamarole of opening checking and savings accounts elsewhere, waiting for a new debit-card, and rearranging my direct deposits.

Now, though, I can just sit back and wait for someone to do all that for me. And I never have to deal with WaBoo again.

On another money note, I came across a site that calculates the difference in taxes people would pay under the two presidential candidates. It’s around a $1000 difference for me…what about you?

There are many ways me and my parents’ generation differ. One that became oh so clear yesterday was how we find out about the end of someone’s life.

For my parents, they usually find out through phone conversations or the bump-in at the grocery store. After the normal chit-chat, there usually comes a pause and something along the lines of, “Oh…did you hear about Billy’s boy?” Then, both parties would exchange thoughts on Billy’s son and why the death was so unbelievable (or expected, if that’s the case). On the rare occasions that there was no conversation about said death, my parents usually found out when they saw someone “up on the board” at the local funeral home. Then, they’d usually be calling someone to tell them about the name they just saw at White’s.

But then there’s my generation. Last year my roommate randomly decided to check up on a high school best friend via her myspace page, only to find she’d been killed days before in a car accident. Her friends had plastered comments immediately, grieving about how much they missed her, and that was how M. found out about her friend’s death.

And yesterday I opened up an e-mail to my j-school listserve announcing the death of a former resident of mine. Although I’d only spoken with him once or twice since my graduation, I couldn’t help but well up with tears as I read through his blog, chronicling his three-time diagnosis with cancer over the past four years. He was so young…so innocent (his freshman-year nickname was Sweetpea); I couldn’t believe such a genuinely sweet person had passed away in his mid-20s.

Thinking about how short life is and how much it rarely makes sense, the most frustrating part of it was that I had nobody to share that with. My parents could at least discuss it with the messenger. But with our generation…except for the most close of friends or family…that news comes not from a face-to-face conversation or phone call. But we learn our news from a computer.

And although it’s speedier and we learn things about far-off friends, well, sometimes you just want to see a face that scrunches up when delivering the news. Or to hear a sigh that says, “I know. Wow, huh?”

OK…so I have to admit…I’m a bit behind on posts. BUT, just know that there will be quite a few to come these next few days…

Anywho, when I recently saw an article that social networking searches have surpassed porn, I remembered I had a picture I hadn’t shown from the conventions yet.

It was a bit of a shocker to see McCain sporting a “Porn Is Bipartisan” cap and shirt since I didn’t know what the organization was all about. Luckily the back of this trading card er, collectible, assuages our fear that McCain is an Internet pedophile chat-room stalker (which I think would be pretty hard to do, if you don’t know how to use e-mail). It also tells us some little facts about those naked pictures you were looking at before you decided to come on over to ususbaby.com, such as:
-”Porn is overtaking the American youth and our govt. is doing nothing.”
-”87% of all teens are online.”
-”The U.S. produces the most porn in the world.”

My favorite is the clincher: “If you are pro the American family then you are pro Porn Is Bipartisan.”

OK. Just don’t EVER make me wear that hat. Do you know what kind of weirdos would hit on an Asian woman wearing that???

OK, OK, I know it’s been a while since the conventions ended, but I still wanted to give you all my completely irrelevant comparison between the two…

Most Fun Welcome Media Party
Although I missed it, word on the street is the DNC one (which included free amusement park rides, food, and games) was much better.

Best Showcase of the City
The RNC Media Party showed off one of the best parts of the Twin Cities, and I got to have a fab time (and awesome t-shirt) on a free 5K the first day of the convention.

Most Media Access
Do you really have to ask? Let’s just say that the DNC was far more welcoming to the press and the public. There’s a reason there’s no gratuitous Jayna picture from the RNC.

Friendliest Attendees
Although the organizers liked to keep us nobodies out of the events, people attending the RNC almost always made a point to seek out the strangers when there were some, which I didn’t feel in Denver. At the RNC, one Republican told me Democrats are “intellectual snobs”…and although I hate to admit it, I don’t think her assessment was unfounded.

Most Exciting
Walking through the streets of Denver, you knew what was going on. Stores, streets, and restaurants were almost always packed. And there was enough Democratic merchandise being sold on the streets to put a third-world country’s market to shame (my favorite was the “It’s time for change!” watches). Walking around in St. Paul, however, was kind of spooky. It was almost like a Cristopher Pike novel where huge numbers of people had disappeared, and those left behind were greeted only by black fences and armed forces. There was so little RNC gear being sold, that if I’d just been a tourist who didn’t know what was going on, it would have taken me a while to figure it out. The number of people there was so low, that one of the events (the Civic Fest) is actually having to refund vendors their fees!

Most Inspiring
I think one of the key differences between the two was that the DNC itself (although not always its attendees) was far more inclusive…while there, it felt like there was really a movement and that everyone could join in. The RNC, though, made me feel like an outsider…like I’d somehow been disinvited to an elementary school party because some person in my group of friends had snubbed the party-thrower. So instead of getting to go to the party, I had to just hear about it from others.

Best Loved City
Much to my surprise, the group I was with far more preferred the Twin Cities over Denver. Yes, the Minnesotans are far friendlier than many other peeps in the U.S. But our group also really liked the outdoorsy aspect of all the lakes in the Land o’ Lakes.

Most Missed Movie
The DNC and Denver inspired no movie madness for me…Minneapolis however made me order Drop Dead, Gorgeous, which I just received today. I think I’ll go watch it now, don’t you know.