Banter from CP

It is currently 4:00pm on a Friday afternoon and my brain officially checked out from work about 3 hours ago. I hate my job...okay I shouldn't say that. In reality, I really love my job. It keeps me busy, I'm usually well appreciated, it's fast-paced, interesting, diverse and I enjoy being around the majority of my co-workers.

However, I am always bored towards the end of the day, which becomes even more noticeable on Friday. I would say that all employers should set there minions free at 3:00 on Fridays, but that would just mean that I would check out of work mode around 10am, instead of waiting for the justifiable time of 1pm.

Have you ever been in front of a computer at work and asked yourself - is this my calling? I know it sounds cheesy, but fairly often, I do exactly that. Am I destined to do this forever? Am I a product of my culture that says I have to be entertained in everything I do, including a job? And the saddest part of all of this is that I am only writing this blog to appropriately avoid doing any actual work. It is a sad, sad day - but at least now I only have 55 minutes till I get to head home. Yoohoo that's less than an hour!

COMMENTS ON CAMPING BY CHRISTINA

I recently returned from a two week backpacking trip in Northern Colorado. Now I love to breath in the fresh mountain air as much as the next girl, but there is something about long term camping that I consider a turn-off. Of course, not everyone would agree with that assessment. For instance, a couple of my trip mates actually became teary eyed upon our return to the city (the natural order of life if you ask me), due to the fact that they missed being in nature. I say 'down with that'...let me clue you in on the cold hard reality of what living outdoors for two weeks really involves.

*Newsflash: You don't get to shower. That means for two weeks you smell pretty bad, starting at the end of day one. By the second week I had a body stench that I never knew I was capable of...it's really rather very sobering to realize how badly the world would smell if cologne, perfume, detergent, and deodorant had not been invented.

*Everything is a hassle. Making dinner is a process of fueling your wick, lighting your stove, balancing your pot over the flame so it's not too hot or too cold. And that's just one part - doing laundry in a stream with your camp suds really doesn't clean anything it simply wets your clothes thoroughly so that you spend the next couple of days praying they will dry before you pass out from the stench of the clothes that are currently on your body. Not to mention that water is suddenly a commodity. No more faucet to get that glass of moisture...now you have to hunt for standing lakes or trickling pools where you will spend a good hour trying to filter "drinkable" water out of the dirty pits. When your finished your water will still be yellowish, green and taste like a swamp. Or if you're really lucky you get to use iodine tablets. Let me tell you, nothing says refreshment like iodine water.

*Anything that has the potential to hurt you...you will run into. For instance, you will step over a rattlesnake without realizing it until after your whole group has passed by...then it will saunter up to you - just to freak you out. At which point some guy stuck in "life as a little boy" mode will catch it so everyone can have photos of the near death experience. Not to mention that your hands and feet will connect with a cactus that sits in the middle of a rock, or on the grass, or on a mountain your trying to paw your way up the side of...and you will spend days trying to get out the pricklies.

*Finally, you get the joy of having to have bowel movements in the great outdoors. That's right, digginig holes will become part of your bathroom routine and you will be disgusted at what you realize exits your unsuspecting body. No matter how hard you try -you will manage to pee on your leg (at least once) and you will hope that noone smells the urine as you get used to its familiar fragrance.

Oh good times...why is everyone so surprised that I don't miss it?? If people were meant to live in the great outdoors we would have never come up with cities, apartments, suburbs, mini-malls, etc. Our way of life is not an attack on nature, it was the way nature was meant to be - hence it won out. Anyway, all this talk has made me tired, I'm going to Starbucks.

So I didn't know that melanin would ever be the bane of my existence. But alas, I feel it is. What's melanin you ask? Well, let me tell you. It's the natural item in your skin that allows areas to be dark - it's an item that (to some degree) determines the natural pigment of your skin. (This is a rough definition mind you.) Melanin is what allows you to tan. Part of tanning is building up the melanin in your skin in order to handle and maintain a tan longer. Enough said about that...

The point is that I was walking down a mainstreet on Saturday night after a little bit of drinky drink. Which was probably a bad idea anyway since I had decided to go Betty Ford, but decided to screw the whole thing and jump off the wagon for the hell of it. Back to my story though...

I was walking down the street with my other intoxicated friends when some guys in a vehicle start yelling something at me from the window. As all good Betty Ford girls would do if they were sober...I ignored the belligerent males and kept walking. However as they drove past in their large vehicle, one of their rather large heads was stuck out the window to yell, "Get a tan!"

Now at this point I'm offended. Is it my fault that I am naturally pale? I think not. Would we ever tell a person of Hispanic or African decent to "Lighten the hell up"? I think not, it seems a bit crass to say the least, and downright racist to say the most! The point is - why is it that society CHOOSES to accept certain color pigmentation over others. And don't get me wrong - I will darken up. I mean I do fake 'n bake like all appearance obsessed girls my age do - but in the meantime I find it utterly wrong to comment on my creamy complexion!

I saw an old school Volkswagen Beetle off roading the other day. It was beyond humorous. The passengers were comprised of two high school kids, a boy and a girl, and they looked like they were enjoying themselves. The vehicle itself bounced rather precariously, but they looked energized, gleeful - kind of like the image of the car itself. And I thought - how great - as I drove past them in my 2000 Volkswagen Beetle with a new paint job and leather interior. Apparently with age comes a little bit more style, and hopefully some more wisdom. But I think I'd rather be a little younger, and still dumb enough to not care that I am off roading in a car that could easily be damaged. Instead of thinking "what fun it looks like" as I drive by on the neatly, safe, paved road.

So today is my birthday. Not really a big deal - even if there has been some debate over whether or not 23 years of age is old. I would like to say it is...however, all of my co-workers argue rather adamantly that it is not. Except our IT guy, who willingly agreed with me that 23 is indeed old. To which I was very offended.

I don't know what worries me more. The fact that I am 23 and still act about 17, or that the only birthday greetings I have received in my email inbox this morning were from groups I was less than proud to admit my affiliation with. Let alone have them be the people who remembered my birthday.

The first birthday greeting came from Delia's (a clothing store). This was somewhat exciting since I do get a gift certificate for $5 off my next purchase. However, there clothing is mainly designed for girls between the ages of 12 and 16 - so the fact that I still readily shop there is somewhat scary.

Next, my radio station Club membership sent me a birthday greeting. This one wasn't too shameful, except for the fact that the station plays primarily club, rap, and hip-hop music. Once again belying the age group that I truly do belong too. I was happy to get it though since it came with a gift certificate to the Melting Pot for a free bottle of wine or a chocolate fondue.

Finally - the last one is truly the hardest to admit. I received a greeting card from eharmony.com. This was due to the fact that I recently took their personality profile (for fun) and then have sporadically (really I'm not obsessed with it) checked back on the site to see if I have any "matches". Matches are apparently the .3% of guys out there who are absolutely perfect for me - but that I can't meet in a bar, walking down the street, or through a friend. Apparently the only way to meet anyone compatible with you in this century is through such places as eharmony.com. The sad part is that they gave me nothing to brighten my birthday. In fact, they just stated that they hope it's good and that I look forward to the possibility in the coming months when I have MORE love in my life. As if to presume that I do not have enough love in my present life. (Have I mentioned that the .3% doesn't exist for me? It's true - I have no matches. I like to say that this just reiterates the idea that I am truly unique - in a good way.)

Of course, none of my family or friends have sent me an email or greeting card for my special day - thus making me feel like there is a lack of love. I am lying though, my mom sent me a package that arrived on Monday, so she came through with flying colors. And in reality, I have lots of quality (tangible) people in my life who prefer phone calls and face-to-face interaction to wish me a happy birthday, so that is what I am looking forward to in the rest of my day...well that, and the free bottle of wine at the Melting Pot.

Another Friday has come and gone...now the question awaits me. What will I do over the weekend?

There is one side of me that would like to climb into bed at 5 o'clock Friday evening only to awake Sunday at noon, grab a latte, read a chapter in a book, have a big lunch, laugh over my favorite movie and return to bed shortly after 7:00pm. Ahh...the perfect end to a long week.

In reality: I will rush around all weekend trying to connect with all the people I didn't have time for during the week and make it a point to fit in some hiking, climbing, one or two movies, a half dozen deep conversations, a moment for self reflection, and a Sunday packed with church, food and fellowship (wow - that line was cheesy!) Really though, the break is gone in a flash...but hey that's what they call living, right?

So I have decided that file folders are a way to PRETEND that you are organized.

You put stuff in them, label them neatly, and then align them in a cabinet with others just like them.

And on the outside you look like a person who has it together - every paper neatly placed in it's color coded folder.

What people don't know is that - you are living a lie. Because beneath those file folders is truly a disorganized soul - just trying to make sense of the paper, information, and chaos they call their job.