Spontaneity Killed My Credit Card…and it Feels So Good!

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I love adventure as much as the next person but I’d never classify myself in any category described by the words “care-free” or “spontaneous”.

What really gets me going every morning, what really gets me excited about sucking in the sweet (gloriously dry) Los Angeles air in the AM, is the knowledge and security that the day I’m waking up to is (almost) entirely planned.

Not the little things like what I will eat or what item of clothing I’ll wear (that’s easy, though: whatever is in the ‘clean’ pile on my bedroom floor as opposed to the ‘dirty pile’ right next to it) but the big things I know about the night before.

I’m going to work (either from the office or from my couch), I’m going to a café to get coffee in the morning (usually Starbucks since I don’t have to drive to get there), I will most likely be ordering in/picking up lunch and dinner, which is a horrible young, unmarried, childless person cliché that I happily perpetuate.

Delicious, delicious perpetuation.

Anyway, my point is, I am a planner.

It’s also cliché to think of people “like me” (young, unmarried, childless) as unhindered by responsibility or commitments to our time outside of work. Sure, it’s much more uninhibited than someone trapped at home by children bouncing off of their walls (and I say ‘trapped’ with all the love one can muster after wiping countless faces, noses, and tushies without a moment’s peace).

But there are still things that shackle me to my home and keep me from hitchhiking across the galaxy. I’ve been meaning to read that series of novels titled similarly–gotta put that on my list. I digress.

I hoard my vacation days for “what-if-emergencies”. I Ebenezer Scrooge the crap out of my paychecks (if you don’t know what that means, you certainly aren’t familiar with the works of Charles Dickens…or the Muppets).

Sometimes, though, I get tired of planning and putting things off for another day.

I get frustrated when friends working full-time, getting paid much more than I do, and with less bills to pay (i.e. an undergraduate education, rent, etc.), use ‘money’ as an excuse not to do something.


Kind of hypocritical if I’m using the same ‘ole excuses. And if I know one thing about myself, it’s that I’m not a hypocrite. That, and I love ice cream. And Parks and Rec.

Last night, while sitting on my couch, I felt an inexplicable tingling sensation in my fingertips.

That funny feeling started to spread up through my palm, into my wrist, and began to irritate my elbows.

“Strange,” I thought to myself as the tingling found it’s way up through my arms, circumnavigated my armpits (because what’s romantic about including armpits in a story? Oh wait…crap), and made it’s way to my brain.

My eyes pointed meaningfully at the laptop sitting beside me. I had just recently relegated the computer to standby status in favor of the Victorian novel North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell (old English Literature Major Habits die hard).

While reading I came across this quote: “Thinking has, many a time, made me sad, darling; but doing never did in all my life. My theory is… ‘Do something, my sister, do good if you can; but, at any rate, do something.'”

Here, my phalanges (that sounds like such a dirty word…good job, Latin) took on a life of their own and quickly typed in a URL that I’d been to many a time in my digital lifespan.


Click. Click. Click.

A box filled in here, a calendar selected there.

Tap. Tap. Click.


Aaaaaand I’m flying to Hawaii next month thanks to the irresponsibly low fares on Orbitz.com.

Can’t wait to see my first round of living spontaneously pay off when I reunite with some awesome friends and enjoy this time of near-but-not-quite-reckless abandon in my life.

Hawaii--Get Ready | Photo Cred: My buddy Kelly who I am going to visit!!

Hawaii, get ready. | Photo Cred: My buddy, Kelly, who I am going to visit!!


Best. Birthday. Present. EVER.

I wasn’t expecting big presents for my birthday tomorrow (although, they’re completely welcome and I also take Visa, Master Card, and traveler’s checks).

My mom was nice enough to come visit for the half marathon I ran last Sunday (details to come on that one) and she upgraded me from a busted iPhone 4 to a lovely iPhone 5. An expensive piece of technology is an awesome present according to anyone’s standards.

My roommate asked me what I thought an ideal birthday celebration would consist of and I told her ‘nothing’.

Her diplomatic response? “I don’t really care that you don’t want to do anything. It’s your birthday and I’m going to plan something with or without your input.”

Whatever she’s got up her sleeve, I’m sure it’ll be awesome.


This morning, my boss gave me the best birthday present imaginable. It fits me like a haute couture glove. There is no better present for this girl anywhere on the planet.

I’m gonna keep you in suspense for a few more minutes while I give you some back story (unless you scroll to the bottom before reading the rest of this…which would constitute as cheating!).

My boss told me that she was going to get me a bag for my birthday. I currently carry around a tote bag that eats my belongings and makes it really hard to keep track of everything I try to shove into its little canvas body.

I wasn’t over the moon about receiving a replacement, but I would have definitely been greatful as PRESENTS ARE THE BEST.

It would have also been a very useful gift and I’m all about utility.

So when she told me that she had gotten me the best present—the present to end all presents— I was naturally a little skeptical.

Because a bag can only be so exciting.

I walked into her house this morning (I’m substitute-nannying for her family for a couple of weeks) and her eager 2.5 year old daughter ceremoniously presented me with a gift bag.

The cute little terrible two-year-old darling baby girl made me a card, complete with scribbles that translated to my name, and I made sure to put on a huge show [read: Oscar worthy] of excitement over her thoughtful card.

I sifted through the tissue paper and pulled out a small box, that had also been decorated by the sweet darling.

I figured out then that I probably wasn’t going to be given the present I was expecting as that box was much too small to fit any bag at all (other than a Ziploc bag, maybe).

I opened it, pulled out a folded piece of paper and immediately heard the sweet notes of a glorious choir of cherubim and seraphim from the heavens above.

I blinked in astonishment and had to wait for my eyes to adjust because, surely I must have been dreaming.

This is what I saw:

I cried tears of joy.

I cried tears of joy.


That show is my absolute Reason for Life as I previously mentioned. It’s so important to me that I even mention it in the “about me” section of this blog. 

It just so happens that my boss knows someone that is intimately involved with the production of America’s greatest comedy primetime show. She used her connections because Hollywood is REALLY all about who you know, and now I get to meet Amy Poehler.


Adulthood in Black and White

When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?

Sitting in front of my credit-purchased coffee table,

with my butt firmly planted on my credit purchased furniture,

eating discount macaroni and cheese,

drinking un-filtered tap water,

staring at the spot on my wall where my plasma screen would be (if I could afford one),

missing that movie because the ticket prices are creeping towards $20,

sulking at home when invited to a wedding ceremony across the country because travel is too expensive,

watching my bank account like a hawk to ensure my checks don’t bounce,

skipping coffee with friends because a cup of filtered beans costs $5,

falling asleep on the couch after a 9-5 because I can’t bear to keep my eyes propped open,

putting off dating and making new friends for another day when I might have the energy,

and worrying when I will be able to pay that pile of bills staring menacingly from the table.

Then also realizing there is no one else, besides myself, to pay them. 

Is this what being an American Grown Up means?

Photo Credit: My grandmother

My mother before Adulthood | Photo Credit: My grandmother

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Well, That’s Unfortunate

You know how, in the book (by Roald Dahl) turned movie James and the Giant Peach, James rescues a spider from his cruel aunts which pays off later when the spider swears unflinching loyalty to him in times of disaster (i.e. sharks, pirates, etc.)?

From this morning’s events with a spider in my bathtub, should I be sent on a whirlwind fantasy adventure, I would be a goner.

If that first run-on sentence doesn’t kill me first #EnglishMajorStruggs

I will never have this relationship | Photo Credit: Comicvine.com

I will never have this relationship | Photo Credit: Comicvine.com