Weekend in Massanutten. Also, friends don't let friends have children.

My family and I are spending Christmas this year at a resort in Massanutten, Virginia. We usually embark on this trip along with approximately eighty five trillion other Asian families because it's organized by the Chinese school where my mom teaches. As a result, I've been surrounded by kids under half my age or adults over twice my age all weekend.

Despite the lack of fellow twenty-somethings and the really sad/borderline nonexistent ski and snowboarding conditions here in 50-degree Virginia, I've managed to have myself a pretty darn good time. I've been sleeping in, catching up on blogs, working out, negating workouts with massive quantities of food, studying Java, and settling Catan - what more could a girl ask for?

Maybe it's the fact that I've been around so much family, or maybe I am reading too many Mormon mommy blogs, or probably I'm just going a little bit nuts-o, but I've found myself casually pondering about the notion of one day having a family of my own. And after a few days of muttering to myself about it, I've concluded that I still for the life of me cannot really bear (no pun intended) the idea of having children.

Don't get me wrong - I'm all for marriage, I love my family and I like children fine. I go googoo and gaga over babies and yesterday I taught a bunch of kids how to throw and catch a frisbee. Heck, I even tolerate my sister. If that doesn't make me a kid person, I'm not sure what does.

But for me, the cons still outweigh the pros. And here's why.

(Before I start on my diatribe, I want to put the disclaimer out there that these are just the thoughts of a naive and slightly cabin-fevered 22-year old. I'm not trying to wipe out the human race here, people. I'm just explaining my personal reasons/viewpoint on having children in this day and age.)

It's 2011, almost 2012, and I firmly believe the evolved role of the modern educated upper-middle class woman clashes with the traditional family structure of two kids, a golden retriever, and a white picket fence. That setup suited an era of stay-at-home mothers whose roles in society were defined by and devoted their nuclear families. Today, that role has all but disappeared among the majority of women; as such, trying to adhere to that traditional structure is akin to forcing today's square peg into yesteryear's round hole (and expecting it to make dinner and tuck the kids in). 

With my degree clutched tight in one hand and my ambitions nestled deep in my heart, I have no intention of pausing my life - my goals, my hobbies, my career - for months to years at a time to give the support a child needs and deserves in his or her first years. I also have no intention of a writing big fat check to somebody every month to fill that parental role while I'm at the office or in another city, wondering if my child has spoken his or her first word yet. I begin to wonder if this "putting my life before creating someone else's" comes off as a bit selfish, but when I think about it, I actually think leading a life devoid of children would motivate me to focus more on my surroundings and the society in which I live than otherwise. Because really, other than to please my baby-adoring mother...what biological obligation do I really have to procreate? It's not like the human race has a problem prolonging our existence in this world. We've pretty much figured out this whole survival-of-the-fittest thing as a race.

What we haven't solved is how play nice with so many of us around. As long as this stark disparity between the haves and have-nots continues to exist in our world, we have not succeeded in co-existing as a species. Why bring another person into the world when so many people who are already alive - children who are already alive - suffer day-to-day? If I can take care of myself and lead a fulfilling life, I know I'd be more likely to find the time and initiative to volunteer or do work for those less fortunate than me. If I didn't have a triage of mouths to feed, I could more readily take a pay cut for a job I truly believed in (e.g: spreading Chipotle across the world). If I somehow managed to balance the career I wanted and miraculously figured out a way of properly caring for one or multiple kids, I'd probably have to bid a reluctant farewell to pursuing my hobbies, much less doing anything for the "greater good".

I could go on and on about this - about what an individual owes to him/herself for personal happiness (for which many involves raising children) versus what an individual owes to his or her society. But I'll cut myself off and move on to the next point: that children are fucking expensive.

Yep. They are. Emotional and physical taxes aside (I won't even get into how horrified I am by childbirth...), having a child means giving up those dolla dolla bills, yo. Every time I see a beautiful baby smiling, a deep and sarcastic corner of my brain (ok, fine, my whole brain) wonders, "how many dollars' worth of diapers, organic baby food, and vomited-stained onesies were used to keep you happy, ya little bugger?" Every kid these days seems to require a laptop, an iPhone, Uggs, a car, and for you to set aside your life savings for a private university to rob eighteen years down the line. Again, sounds selfish but I would rather spend that money on enriching my life or of others around me - others who, once again, already exist on this planet and whose lives need enriching. But you cry, Rose! There are always  other cases - scholarships! Selfless children who have jobs! Winning lottery tickets! - but it still seems that those are more the exception than the norm.

My last point: I think the "rewards" of having a child are risky and meager compared with the (sunk) costs. Babies, like puppies, are helplessly adorable and can be touted around for how cute they are. But they're not fully cognizant of everything. And when you reach that sweet sweet age when they do become self-aware... all those lovely human vices we're all born with - greed, envy, acedia, gluttony - must be stamped out and discouraged through repeated "no"s and "don't"s and "you ain't getting any dessert until you stop that, Timmy"s. Then when they really grow aware, at maybe nine or ten, and I acknowledge that I'm taking on a very pessimistic view here - so many kids grow independent and self-centered enough to no longer need their parents as anything but providers, and worse - turn against their parents or incur through life-long problems from neglectful parenting.

Think about it: the term "dysfunctional family" is ubiquitous. So are "daddy issues" and "rough childhoods". Nobody would ever bat an eye if you described your family as dysfunctional - television, the media, everything and everyone in our society has adjusted to the fact that we're should expect to have strained marriages, estranged family, arguments, angry teenagers, etc. It seems to me that as kids are inevitable harbingers of both happiness and unhappiness, but that ratio of good:bad is wholly unpredictable. Even the best-intentioned, most devoted parents can produce children who are hurtful towards their parents or who no matter how hard they are pushed otherwise cannot seem to find solid footing in the game of life.

I think the ultimate gratification or reward of raising a child comes from doing it right; I can imagine how seeing a child bloom into a good, happy individual must feel fulfilling and rewarding. And in one's old age, to have supportive, loving children (and grandchildren) is of course wonderful. But how many years of personal sacrifice, how many hours of anxiety or frustration, and how much money was put into creating that? And in the worst case, if the child doesn't come out "right" or grow into a functioning member of society, how does one live with that feeling of failure persisting for the rest of one's life?

For me in this day and age, the pitfalls of parenting are too great when weighed against the alternatives out there: life still left to live, places to go, people to meet, sights to see, lessons to learn, and perhaps most glaringly: people who are very much alive and who still need help. With all this, I haven't heard a convincing enough reason to box myself into suburbia and create more of my own critters. Adoption is something I'd definitely consider, but procreating, not so much.

...yet. But who knows? Perhaps in a few years, some biological switch will go off and I will change my mind and my uterus will start piping up. ("Um, hello? Gonna fill me anytime soon?") Or maybe it'll be a gradual warming up to the little buggers. Or perhaps as death inevitably creeps a little closer I'll seek that comfort of having kin to keep my latter years happy and fulfilled. In ten years' time I could very well be toting a mini-adidav9, re-reading this entry and laughing about how stubborn and close-minded I was. If there's one thing I've learned about life so far, it's that it takes unexpected turns and that I am an ever-evolving creature. Like a Pokemon.

AMAGAD

I'm officially on vacation!*

When I plopped into my comfy awesome warm homey bed one of the first things I did was watch this trailer and have a serious nerdgasm. I haven't been so excited for a movie in years. In just two and a half wee little minutes, everything that I remembered loving about Lord of the Rings came back to me in a rush of giddiness and nostalgia. The music, the costumes, the cinematography...ohhhhh my lord. When they showed a glimpse of the Ring at the end, I seriously got the heebie-jeebies. I think I'm gonna have to re-watch the LotR series to calm myself down.

This break I look forward to catching up with loved ones, revisiting all my favorite places in Maryland, and eating until I black out. In other words, the same things I've been doing every time I've been back. It's weird - North Potomac is not really all that different from Plano. Both are suburbsy and safe and vanilla. But I sorta loathe Plano and I LOVE coming back here. I guess that mental association of "home" and "comfort" has a much bigger effect than I ever woulda guessed.

Gonna catch some shut-eye and hopefully sleep for a solid oh, ten hours or so. Then I'll wake up and chase Mochi around in my pajamas. I CAN'T WAIT.

*...Sorta. I still plan to do a few hours of work a day until Christmas. Eep.

nourriture

judging by the strange and random cravings i get, you'd think that i was i crazy pregnant lady. well only one of those words describes me, and luckily it ain't pregnant and it ain't lady either.

edamustache, my movember facial hair

for as long as i can remember i've always loved savory, salty foods. kimchee, spicy ramen, preserved radishes...these are things i grew up eating and loving. other longtime staples - practically food groups in their own rights - include potatoes, butter chicken, and mayonnaise (which i used to scoop out of a jar with my fingers. yum) oh, and i also could probably eat at chipotle for the rest of my life and be quite content with it.

my food swings come and go. lately i've been on sort of a whole foods rampage. mainly because they carry a lot of brands and items that i wouldn't usually run into at another store (or would not willingly pay for when not on an expense account!). i also like their premade foods. cooking for one is sort of depressing.

here's some stuff i've been loving recently:

kashi strawberry fields cereal. oh dear god. if you eat special k red berries, heed my advice: get this the next time and you'll never go back to that cardboard crap. i first discovered this at bart mart at the university of chicago my sophomore year. since then i've always bought it wherever i could find it and have gotten several friends addicted as well. it's pricey, even for a cereal, but i think it's worth it as it's one of those cereals where i'll finish the whole bag instead of leaving the remaining fourth/dregs uneaten.

liberte yogurt. story of how i encountered this: i was at the yogurt aisle, pondering the mysteries of life when a gorgeous girl walked by and said to me in passing, "try the liberte, it's really good!" now this girl was skinny, athletic, and had perfectly smooth skin, so i figured it would be some low-cal watery atkins stuff. not so. a little container of this guy packs 270 calories. but by the grace of god, it tastes like ice cream, i kid you not. i've since replaced my ben & jerry's with this. it's not healthy by any stretch of the imagination but it ain't a tub of chunky munky either. these go for about $1.49 each, but are sometimes on sale if you buy 'em in bulk.

i heard about snapea crisps from elle fowler, who raved about them as her favorite relatively healthy snack. i picked them up and thought, why not? they taste good and are good for when you just want to munch on something while watching tv or feeling sorta lazy. like elle says, they give that satisfying potato chip crunch. at $1.99 a bag with 3-ish servings, they are also pretty inexpensive.

the other day, i was eating one of these at work when my coworker noticed and joked, "what are you, five?". i nodded and kept eating. i seriously think the half the fun of string cheese lies in the memories it conjures of a packed school lunch. these make a good mid-day snack because they are filling and portable. i have one with an apple almost every day around 3 PM when my stomach starts to make whale sounds.

last but not least... tea tea gee gee baby baby baby! as the starks like to say, winter is coming, and nothing quite simultaneously calms and warms me up as a warm cup of tea does. i've been having one every morning and evening and have been finding that it curbs my coffee craving quite a bit. i may or may not have reached into my backpack to grab my passport and accidentally handed the TSA officer a tazo packet of tea...just one time...

there you have it, a list of noms i've been obsessed with lately. give 'em a try and let me know your thoughts or recommendations. i am always on the lookout for new food to eat :D the weirder the better!

settlers of catan

about a month ago, i played my first game of settlers of catan, a german strategy board game that i had heard of here and there but had never summoned the interest to learn. i'm not a huge board game person, mostly because they bring out the bossy and impatient side of me, but after my first game i was immediately, irrevocably hooked.

without going into all the rules, what makes this game fun is that it lets everyone have what i perceive is a more equal fun ratio than other games where it's very clear who is going to win at some point into the game. in settlers, nothing is inevitable and nothing is set in stone. instead of one conventional path to winning, there are different methods of procuring the points needed for victory, and it's also fairly easy to be sneaky about your progress in the game. there's also a much more human element of trading, which i immensely enjoy. in the past month, "sheep for a brick?" has quickly become a common phrase of my lexicon!

i've played with a bunch of different groups, people, ages, and levels of experience, and the consensus has always been that settlers of catan is an extremely well-crafted game that draws you in the more and more you play. if you ever get the chance to play it, definitely give it a shot - the learning curve is totally worth it. and if you want to own the precious, i recommend buying it on amazon, as that's the least expensive option i've seen thus far. happy settling!

gobbly mcgobblerson

this thanksgiving i am grateful for

family
friends
a healthy and happy heart
a job that i (mostly) enjoy
having traveled to so many new places this year
helplessness blues
kashi strawberry fields cereal
*got spoiler alert!* arya still being alive as of 60%ish into a feast of crows (george r. r. martin, don't you dare kill her! don't you daaarrrrrrrrreeeee *shakes fist and glares up at the ceiling*)

i would list more but each line would get more ridiculous than the one before it and every other one would just be another food item i am currently craving. like string cheese. or more mashed potatoes. mmm, potatoes...my stomach says no but my heart says YES.

once again i am taking up the solemn, solemn vow to rekindle my creativity and start posting here again. i don't care who sees any of this, or who doesn't, because i feel that sort of apprehension about what an audience expects sets me back and makes me think things like "oh, that would be dumb to post", or "i know so-and-so might be reading this and don't want him/her to know how retarded i actually am" or most commonly, "i don't have anything to say today and therefore will not stretch my noggin to find something." i've come to realize more and more that if i don't write for myself, i won't write at all. which is not to say i am going to fill this blog up with complete and utter crap - just probably some crap - i will still try to maintain some semblance of quality control. but i will not care what others will think! (yes, easier said than done.)

i have started tinkering around with the css a little on here. i can't get the image of thundercat up top to "float" above the text and that little line that cuts across her exacerbates a twitch in my left eye. but at the very least, it is something that distinguishes my blog from the gabazillions out there with the same "simple" layout. css is sort of fascinating to me. i just started a few tutorials on it and have began to dapple here and there, nervously tweaking fonts and creating divs before resetting everything for fear of breaking allll the things. the gist of it is incredibly simple, but still to me it's fascinating to inspect every element of the webpages i love and uncover the ingredients that make up how they look. to a seasoned developer it's probably child's play, but to me it's kind of amazing, like having a digital easel at my fingertips.

in about ten minutes my best friend and her sister are going to pick me up. we're going to target - the one in Rio that i've known forever - to uh, buy DVDs and hopefully settlers of catan, haha. i sure as heck wasn't gonna wake up early and fight the crowds tomorrow morning so i figured a midnight escapade to target would be a reasonable compromise - i get to spend time with a friend and still maybe get to snap up season one of vampire diaries for $12.99? ha.

on that topic, i think i'm generally a happier person when there's a tv show in my life. not many, just one that i keep watching. for a while i was a snob about watching tv and deigned "arrested development" as the only shows suitable for my taste. but having recently watched the game of thrones series, i'm quickly realizing that there is a lot of well-made television out there, and that instead of equating everything on the silver screen to "real housewives of some place or another", i should really just do some research and find what's good. so far, my interest's been piqued in dexter, archer, the wire, and weeds. oh and vampire diaries, which isn't exactly intelligent television but would be a great time-killer 30,000 feet in the air. plus the girl in it is adorable. i want to her best friend forever.

watch out, usain bolt

hey, i ran a 5k last weekend!

i know 3.1 miles is not very far. and my speed was ok, not particularly fast. but still, for somebody who was never able to run a less than 10 minute mile until this year... i'm proud of myself for this small achievement. i've never considered myself athletic or in good shape before, but having trained for and accomplished this goal has given me a confidence boost in an area i've long avoided out of laziness or fear of failure.

the race i participated in was called the "go go green 5k" and its proceeds benefited the peggy notebaert nature museum in lincoln park, chicago. it took place up and down the park on a crisp saturday morning, the kind that's perfect for an outside run. i was a little nervous because i wasn't used to running outside (i'd been training on a treadmill) or without my trusty gym playlist to zone out to, but all the buzz and excitement around me was definitely more than enough to get me pumped up and my legs moving!

as always, i had to be really careful to pace myself. it was definitely tempting to pass people or follow those who were passing me, but i knew those stretches of energy bursts would be short-lived, so i made sure to stay within my own comfort zone and really pay attention to my breathing/body. sometimes i made a little mental pacemaker - "one" step step step "two" step step step "three" step step step - to keep myself distracted from my labored breathing (isn't hearing your own heavy breathing so gross?) or to set a small mental goal to reach. it was only near the finish line and at the encouragement of my boyfriend that i picked it up into a full sprint - and to my surprise, finished in the best time i've ever ran, a 26:17. 

one thing that definitely surprised me at the race was the diverse range of the runners. a 9 year old girl beat my time by more than five minutes. i was flabbergasted.. when i was 9 years old i was probably stuffing my face with popcorn and trying to level up my NeoPet. 

having worked for and ran in a 5k, i think my next goal will be to run another one in a few months with a better time. i'd be really pleased with something less than 25 minutes, but i'll have to follow a strict training and resting schedule in order to avoid such wonderful things as shin splints and precariously loose toenails. 

if you've never tried a race, i highly recommend it! it benefits a charity, it benefits your body, and maybe most importantly, it benefits your mind. trust me, if i can do it, you definitely can.

Ciao ciao!

Last week, I took my first ever real (by real I mean more than 5-day) vacation since I've become a slave to The Man in the working world. I'd never been to Europe before, so a few months ago I'd jumped at the chance when my boyfriend's friend's girlfriend ('s dog's neighbor's kidney's aunt's best friend) invited us to join her in Italy and Ireland for a 10-day European-countries-that-begin-with-I extravaganza. 

First stop: Venice (2.5 days). General impressions: woah, everything is beautiful and slightly run down. Obviously a beautiful city to get around by foot (and even more beautiful by boat!)...it was a pleasure to explore the streets, get lost in the alleys and cross the hundreds of bridges - some grand, others tiny - that connected all the islands making up the city. The city was also quite touristy, which I'd been expecting (though we did manage to haggle the obligatory gondola ride from 100 euro to 80 euro... I guess that counts for something?)

After Venice was a day spent divided between Maranello, where our friend got a surprise birthday present - a 20 minute Ferrari test drive! - Milan, where we drove around in some craaaaaazy ass traffic, and the airport. A lot of European flights are extremely inexpensive compared to domestic US flights, but the fines for too-large baggage are enormous in order to compensate for the low ticket prices, which was tricky to circumvent but we managed to foil the system anyway. We landed in Rome late that evening and collapsed into bed, exhausted.

Trying to see Rome in two days was a bit like trying to eat a Chipotle burrito with a straw. Rome was seriously, in my professional opinion, out of control. Walking down the street yielded so many sights, from ancient ruins to posh restaurants and hotels to freshly roasted chestnut street vendors (sadly, the chestnuts were not as good as they smelled. TRICKSY HOBBITSES!). We basically grabbed a map of the city and tried to bypass as many sites as possible within the time we had. We were pretty efficient at it too, with the exception of two incidents: one in which we wandered around the Domus Aurea ruins for about an hour in a stupid haze of lost confusion, another in which we started walking in the completely wrong direction after getting diverted by a set of ruins filled with adorable stray cats (we dubbed it "cat city"). We ended that night by grabbing a bottle of wine and tipsily weaving our way back through the city - not shabby, eh?

Although I loved seeing and hearing about the famous historic staples of the city, like the Sistine Chapel and the Colosseum, I still think what I'll remember most of Rome is the spontaneity of walking around her streets and finding beautiful architecture in the least expected places. That, and all the horrible parking all over the city. 

We flew an airline called Ryanair from Rome to Dublin. It's a low-cost airline and in an effort to save every penny possible, Ryanair actually speeds up their planes instead of slowing them down during landing to maximize fuel efficiency. We hit the tarmac and literally bounced. When the stewardess announced that 90% of Ryanair planes landed on time, I was surprised that her sentence didn't end after "landed."

Temperature-wise Italy had been a hot and pleasant affair, with sunny skies and no precipitation whatsoever. Ireland was quite the opposite. Rain, wind, clouds, fog, terribleness... we were lucky to catch a few rays of sunshine during the few times a day when grey clouds would break overhead.

In Ireland we spent day approximately one day in Dublin, Galoway, and Cork each, and then back in Dublin again. My favorite part was definitely in Galoway, when we visited the relatively remote Aran Islands, famous for their wool sweaters. Everywhere we went, we'd see acres and acres of green grass, hand-built walls of grey stone, farm animals, and the occasional local, many of whom spoke the traditional Irish (Gaelic) instead of English. Our tour guide was an old man with a thick accent who spoke extremely slowly and deliberately such that the entire tour started sounding like a poem. "This church was built in 300 A.D. Yeeessss, threeeee hundredddd affftteerrr deaaattthhhh."

Everything in Ireland reminded me of either Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, or Game of Thrones (I need to spend more time outside). Perhaps why that's why we have so many talented European fantasy authors - they don't have to look far beyond their back yard to see fantastic and beautiful landscapes. Another thing I found marvelous about this tiny yet beautiful country was its hospitable, kind people. Completely stranger were absurdly nice to us everywhere we went:

- a bus driver calling another bus driver to let him know that a directionally-confused girl was looking for his bus and that she'd already paid on his by accident

- a friend of our friend driving us around the countryside for two whole days, answering our n00bish questions about his country and taking us out for dinner & drinks

- a cab driver who stopped in the middle of the street to give us directions - and we hadn't even asked

- a hotel concierge that "took the liberty" and "hoped we didn't mind" that he'd made us lunch...again, without being asked, when lunch was not included, and after he'd spent 20 minutes giving us directions to the airport

Ireland, on the whole, felt like a cleaner, greener, and peaceful version of the American countryside. The only things I didn't love about the country were its weather and its food. Fish and chips, beef and guinness stew, full irish breakfasts (complete with black pudding, made of pigs' blood! Oink oink)... these things are good once in a while, but for three meals a day, noooooo thank you.

Overall, it was a beautiful and busy vacation, one I know I'll never forget. Having seen a bit of Europe, I'm eager to return and explore more of it, especially France, Spain and Germany. Ciao ciao!

Today I hit an all time low...

The most ridiculous and pathetic thing ever happened to me today.

For a few weeks now, my eyes have been acting up a little. I'm convinced it's from the combination of constant airplanage, air conditioning, and bleach from the hotel pillows and towels. One eye or the other will start getting extremely red and irritated in a matter of minutes. I know - hot. I got it checked out by an eye doctor and he told me it was due to lacerations from dry eye and prescribed me some antibiotics to make it go away. Nonetheless, my co-workers have started referring to it as "poop-eye" and refer to me as such endearing terms as "poop-eye the sailor BA" and "poop-eyehauntas fangully". 

Today, my right eye came down with a case of "poop-eye". It didn't look so great so instead of scarring the entire gym I usually go to, I thought I'd just use the treadmill at the Residence Inn's small fitness area. I went downstairs, took off my glasses, plugged in my earphones, and turned on my treadmill, ready to take on the world. It was a great workout. I did my best 5k time ever, sweated a gallon, and felt a ton better afterwards. As I was ready to leave, I suddenly realized that I couldn't find my glasses. I'd taken them off to run (because my sweaty nose makes them slip. I AM THE SEXIEST) and they were nowhere in sight - not in the cupholders, not in the ledge for MP3s, not on the ground, or so it seemed.

The catch is that "nowhere in sight" for me doesn't really mean anything because nothing is really ever in sight for me - I have horrible, HORRIBLE eyesight. As in -7.5 in my left eye and -7.0 in my right. So I was essentially standing in the Residence Inn fitness room, blind as a bat and unsure if my glasses really were missing or if I just couldn't see them. So I did what I had to do. I got down on all fours, Velma style, and patted around, looking for my glasses.

Let me assure you that I felt like a fucking idiot. There I was, crawling around like an infant, all sweaty and splotchy and panting after my workout. Oh, and also did I mention there was somebody in the ROOM with me this entire time? A nice-looking elderly Asian dude had come in about 5 minutes before I finished my run and bore witness to the whole thing.

But wait, it continues. I gave up searching after about 3 minutes of awkwardly shuffling around patting the carpet (which, goddamnit, was dark green). My plan was to run up to my hotel room, put on my contacts for a few painful minutes, come back down and find those goshdarned glasses. My plan was also to be unseen. Nobody else needed to know how pathetic I was.

So of course when I went outside the fitness area the first thing I did was almost collide with my co-worker.

Co-worker: Oh hey Rose! Good workout?

Me: Uhh, yeah, uhh -

Co-worker: What's wrong?

Me: (5 seconds of silence) I can't find my glasses.

Co-worker then helped me look for them, all the while probably secretly laughing/disgusted by how blind and helpless I am. He looked to no avail and half-convinced me I never even wore them in the first place so we parted ways and I ran up to my hotel room and put on my contacts and came back down.

Another few minutes of searching - and conversing with the Asian dude, who did turn out to be really nice and even searched his own treadmill for them - and I found my glasses all the way across the room, underneath a side stand that held towels. I guess they'd fallen onto my treadmill and had been shot back directly behind it. Thank goodness I didn't step on them.

Anyway. Yeah. That was a humbling and embarrassing situation. If I ever feel like I'm some hot shit ever again I'm just going to use that mental image of myself playing patty cake with the floor of the Residence Inn gym. 

A letter that I, present-day Rose, wish that I could've written to myself and read about 18 months ago:

Hey you.

It's 11 PM on a Thursday night. You're probably at the fifth floor of the Reg, buried in some econometrics book, holding back the panic that's rising in your throat because it's been three hours and thirty games of Robot Unicorn Attack and you still can't seem to come to terms with the ordinary least squares method that you'll be tested on tomorrow morning. Then there's that upcoming Mock Trial tournament this weekend and you cannot recite your opening without stopping midway to want to throw up a little. Oh, and you don't have a job or any prospects of ever finding one. And your hair looks awful, girl when was the last time you took a shower?

I know. Everything seems stressful right now. The world as you know it is being held together by a thread of sanity that grows thinner every day. Dinner for the past week has been Subway and outside it's a bleak 20 degrees. Your body has been vitamin D deficient for oh, approximately five million years.

Guess what, n00b Rose? It's all gonna be okay. In 18 months, your life will be completely different as you know it. You'll have visited new countries, met new people, seen new sights, discovered new facts, and most importantly of all, learned new things about yourself. All of what the next year and a half holds for you, both the good and the bad, will mould you into a person that is not who you are today. Sounds scary, yeah, but trust me. It's for the better (just look at Spider Man!). 

Many of these life lessons you will have to digest and learn in due time. They are little nuggets of wisdom that require patience and realization to settle within you and become valuable to you. Most of them I cannot give to you right now, because they would either spoil all the good stuff that's coming, or because you simply wouldn't heed my advice. But there are a couple of things I wish you'd know:

* In order to sustain any sort of meaningful relationship, whether it's with a friend or a family member or a boy or a squirrel, you have to love yourself first.

* You don't have to be at every party or meet up or event. Take some you time and enjoy being alone.

* You look fine without make-up. Don't wear so much of it. 

* Often times the mind is stronger than the body. What you can make yourself believe can have a huge effect on what you actually accomplish. As such, you should treat your mind well because it's your best asset. Start by getting a reasonable amount of sleep each night.

* Try to set goals for yourself. Start small, like cutting out soda for a week or scheduling a Skype date with your best friend. Always be working on something to improve who you are, how you feel, or what you know.

* Delete Angry Birds from your phone. Nothing good will come out of keeping that game.

* Stop getting haircuts that make you look like you have a mullet. 

That is all for now. You're doing a good job. The days seem like they're going slowly and stressfully, but try to find something good about where you are. You are an incredibly lucky person - never forget that or take it for granted. 

Good times are ahead.

Love,

Future You

Estes Park

Last weekend I found myself in Estes (rhymes with testes, giggity) Park, Colorado, for a mini vacation in the mountains. A trip to cool, Rocky Mountainy Colorado was quite the welcome respite after being in scorching, fiery-depths-of-hell Plano (which translates to flat in Spanish).

The first and most noticeable change for me was the altitude difference. The air was dry, each breath brought a smaller oxygen intake, and I became out of breath more quickly than usual (which is pretty quick to being with). But the views were amazing. I'd never seen the Rockies in the summertime, and it was a world's difference from the snowy, grey peaks of Banff and Jasper.

While hiking we spotted a lot of wildlife, including a couple of elk grazing just a few feet away. The animals paid us no mind as we gawked and pointed. I even got video footage of an elk peeing and it was way rad.

Fatty mcfat fat

Tubby mctubster

Wile E. Coyote

I've decided I love mountains more so than any other natural uh, thing (entity? establishment? wonder? distortion of land?). Seeing them, especially those preserved as well as the ones in Estes Park, makes me feel happy and inspired and lightheaded (although maybe the lightheadedness comes from the lack of O2). When I am older and decide to be sick of Chicago, I would definitely love to live somewhere close to a mountain range. Also I am pretty sure that like Snow White, I can domesticate woodland creatures if I just hang out in them mountains long enough and sing the song that Fiona does in Shrek. That way they could do my cooking and laundry while I happily tumble through the mountains and over the hills. 

the cascades

one of the many reasons i love fleet foxes so so so much is because in addition to writing beautiful lyrics, they also happen to make fantastic instrumental music.

one of my favorite tracks from their first album is entitled "heard them stirring". it's got flavors of winter and edward scissorhands and mystery. it's what i imagine what i'd hear if i ever got lost in an ancient magical wintry forest. 

"the cascades", off fleet foxes' second album helplessness blues is also entirely without words or lyrics, but brings to mind a very different flavor. the constant tickling and garbling of the background, with a simple minor melody layered over it, sounds to me like a song for fall harvest and the preparation of a long winter.

i think listening to their new album over and over again combined with the heavy doses of game of thrones i've been snorting has convinced my subconscious to live in denial of modern society/technology and instead to daydream all day of tumbling through the woods barefoot with a harp, strumming songs of olden times and weaving flowers in my hair. 

...

Allow me to share with you the weirdest and most revolting taxi experience I've ever had.

8:30 PM Central Time, Dallas Fort-Worth airport, Terminal E. I should've known I was stepping into a janky-ass cab when the trunk wouldn't close despite repeated forceful downward pushes. After about a minute of ill-executed karate chop-esque attempts at closing the trunk of his car, the cab driver retrieved a hammer out of his glove compartment, scurried to the back, pounded away at something, closed the trunk, and made a joke about it to me as he got back into the driver's seat and casually tossed the hammer into the passenger's seat.

An alarm bell may or may not have gone off at that point - "are cab drivers supposed to saunter around with hammers out in the open like that?" - but I figured I could outrun the guy if he decided he wanted to kill me with a blunt object, so I did my thing and kept my eye out for any weird signs during the car ride. There weren't any until I'd arrived at the Residence Inn and fished my wallet out of my backpack. The total came to $57-something. I told him to add $11 as I handed him my credit card.

A minute of fumbling around in the dark yielded the carbon copy paper on which to imprint my credit card information. Another two passed before he was able to find a new bag of ball point pens. With the assistance of his teeth, he was able to awkwardly rip it open and procure a writing utensil.

It took ten seconds after that for him to realize he'd lost my credit card.

I realized something was wrong as soon as I heard the nervous giggle. "...ahem...heh heh...ma'am...?" That's when I peered into the front seat and saw it. Saw it all, I should say; a discombobulation of napkins, broken glasses, water bottles, bandanas, wrappers, tissues, receipts, magazines, bottle caps, gloves, rubber bands, notepads, pen caps, books, and God knows what else. It was all junk, and it was piled in little heaps, an organized chaos that had Big-Banged itself in the front of this guy's taxi. And somewhere, in all of it, my gray little Chase United credit card had slipped out of view.

The taxi driver was taking his time. He searched all his pockets - pulling out wads of twenties, gum wrappers, coins, and more random slips of paper that tumbled to the ground - and then started picking things out of the car one by one and examining them like it was the first time he'd seen them, muttering madly to himself and occasionally giving me that nervous giggle. I wasn't sure whether or not I should interfere, so I remained quiet and let him search, but boy was it was pitiful to watch and then it grew painful as he started looking in places where the card was obviously not located, like in the car's glove compartment (???). Frustrated, I started making suggestions of places to look. When he seemed totally lost, I turned on my phone's flashlight feature and started pawing through the mess and looking too, which he didn't seem to mind. It felt weird and not at all sanitary to pick through this stranger's things, but I was intent on getting my credit card back. Eventually, I found the card wedged deep in the crack between the driver's seat and the middle island where the gear shifter knob was located. The driver offered offered one apology... and then had the gall to add the $11 tip despite having had his customer look for her credit card in his pigsty of a taxi for twenty minutes.

The experience was disgusting, pathetic, and left me totally grossed out. I'm no neat freak but I don't understand how people can live in that kind of filth either, especially when their job is to provide others the sort of service where basic sanitation and cleanliness are baseline expectations. I snapped a picture of the driver's seat that doesn't do the mess justice but you can start to see the chaos creeping in:

I guess the silver lining to this episode is that I'll know never to disrespect myself or my things to that level. I can be a total airhead sometimes about misplacing my things, but the day I let myself become that slovenly - especially when on the job - is the day when I renounce society, tattoo the lyrics to "Tik Tok" onto my face, and rampage off into the sun setting in the east.

I do not want kids.

But if I end up with some of the nasty little buggers, one thing I know for sure is that they will read Harry Potter.

I'm not going to force them to play the violin or get a 2400 on the SAT or play a sport or any of that crap. No. I'm just going to just turn my brethren into Dumbledore's Army part two. I want them to relive the same experience I had reading the books - imagining the scenes in their heads, gasping at plot twists, picking out their favorite characters (Sirius Black), falling in love with Sirius Black, bawling when he dies, re-reading chapters to look for clues, changing their mind about what side Snape's on, debating the characters' religious symbolism, etc cetera. I want them to live, breathe, and bleed Harry Potter. I want them to know all of Dumbledore's middle names. I want them to recite their Horcruxes and hiding places/methods of retrieval better than they can recite the the star-spangled banner. I want them to run around my backyard on broomsticks throwing basketballs-painted-as-quaffles onto each other's faces. I do not know how to knit but I will take it up just to knit them ugly little maroon-and-gold sweaters with their names (Dudley Dobby, Hagrid Harry, Petunia GiantSquid) on them every Christmas.

This is probably why nobody should ever let me have kids.

photos from my phone

Museum of Science and Industry in Hyde Park, Chicago. Having never been to Europe, I like to pretend I'm exploring ancient Roman ruins whenever I walk by these statues. This is probably a sign that I need more friends. 

I see this sign when walking into my hotel every day and each time it makes me want to burst out in song and become this gay black man.

In other news, I am STILL obsessed with Rihanna. It's not even Only Girl in the World anymore (though I still listen to that at least 5x a week) - the obsession has spread to Man Down, Cheers (Drink to That), and What's My Name. I especially love the music video for the latter. I just want Rihanna and Drake to get married and adopt me into their fabulous grungy-chic city apartment and feed me Chinese takeout all day. Really, is that too much to ask?

Ok. That is all. Time for  a little Game of Thrones and then nighty night time.

deboardin' the airplane-o

It's true. Everything is bigger here. Cars, cows, cleavage. You name it, it's XXL.

Everything is also shiny and new down here. I'm used to walking around Chicago and seeing a smidgeon of grunge here and there (admittedly less so after my move from Hyde Park to Lakeview). But here in Plano, there are no homeless to awkwardly avoid eye contact with. There aren't abandoned houses or neglected alleys that serve as an eyesore in between beautiful homes. I don't even think there are dumpsters here.

Things here are built with purpose and resolve. The big-ass streets are what still get me - while Texas certainly has its fair share of weather problems, the roads make it obvious that snow is not one of them. I'm not used to seeing such perfect, uncracked, unpotholed pavement. It's unnerving, like seeing a face that's too symmetrical or beautiful. There are no flaws here, no points of interest to focus on, and as a result, not much to say about the locale.

I don't think I could ever live in a place like this, where life is uninspiring but easy and comfortable if you're privileged enough to have the money to live here. But I admit it makes for a nice getaway during the week. By the time I find myself longing for Chicago I usually only have to wait a day or two. Then an insane weekend inevitably sweeps me in with the current of the city and I find myself wanting nothing more than to be curled up with a book a thousand miles away, which is exactly the kind of refuge Plano offers. Then the cycle starts over: board plane deboard plane Chicago Chicago board plane deboard plane Texas Texas Texas Texas Texas. If my life were a Daft Punk song those would be the lyrics and it'd be an awesome song.

Game of Thrones

I started reading Game of Thrones, the first in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice series. I picked it up after having taken my time strolling through The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which was about the life and after-life history of woman whose cancerous cervical cells - "HeLa" - were scraped from her body without her knowledge when she was undergoing radioactive treatment and subsequently became the first to survive in cell culture. Going from a pleasantly-paced nonfiction about a poor black woman's out-of-control tumors to a full-on medieval labyrinth of fantasy where if I blink the main character has probably already died definitely feels like a weird literary swerve.

But Game of Thrones is amazing. Truly, it captures the elements everything a fantasy should - dragons! magic! noble royal families! sexy sexy men! - but what makes it stand out is Martin's fantastic storytelling. I can't remember being this engrossed in a book since high school. In a lot of ways it reminds me of when I first became obsessed with Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, and it brings back all those feelings of excitement and intrigue that remind me that I haven't gone so far into the real world or gotten so caught up with working that I can't enjoy a good ole fantasy story anymore - something that I'd been afraid of when I graduated about a year ago. 

Another fun thing about reading Game of Thrones is talking to others who've read it. Last night at a cross-team dinner, a ThoughtWorker mentioned the series and I may or may not have almost leapt out of my seat out of excitement (my mouth was filled with fajita). It's just one of those books that inevitably lends itself to conversation, especially now that there's a critically-acclaimed HBO series about it as well. I'm only about 300 pages into the first novel - that's another thing I love, how long they are - so I have to earmuff myself a lot but nonetheless, it's a fun softcore cult to be a part of, similar to the Reddit or Arrested Development community.

If you've been hearing a lot about this series, I strongly recommend you pick it up, for your own sake. And a little for mine too, so we can obsess about it together until the end of time. Winter is coming!

exhausted

if you asked me to describe my life or how i'm doing in one word, that's what it always is.

i just got to my hotel room in plano and face-planted onto my bed, muffling my anxieties along with my sweaty, dirty, makeup-run mug. i promised myself i wouldn't get up for anything other than the food delivery order i'd made en route to the hotel...but then quickly realized i was falling asleep, so i forced myself up and crawled to my computer and decided to write a blog entry (upon remembering getting berated this weekend by friends who complained of the lack of updates)

on the plane ride i thought of what i'd done this weekend and counted the hours that i spent NOT in the company of somebody i knew. the grand total amounted to four. FOUR measly hours spent alone out of approximately 78 - no wonder i'm going insane. here was my itinerary, as frantically and furiously typed out in a word document, friday morning at 6:00 am at gate E5 in the united terminal of dallas fort-worth airport:

friday:
- tour an apartment for a remote family friend
- go to the TW office
- dr's appointment at NMPG
- buy a mattress at sleep city
- gorge on sandwiches at DMK
- unpack unpack unpack
- roll around on my mattress until unconsciousness

saturday:
- brunch at sam & george's
- teeth cleaning at dental salon
- TW company picnic at jackson park
- comcast cable appointment
- grocery shopping
- dinner at the apartment
- drinks at the neighborhood saloon

sunday:
- cleaning old apartment
- white sox game
- fly to plano
- arrive at hotel
- pass out forever

i managed to do everything except pass out forever. stupid eggplant basil - come faster so i can fall into a food coma and dream about a world devoid of airplanes, apartments, and waiting for the cta.

Hello, Evo!

Got my precioussssss last night. Have not been able to stop playing with it ever since.

Initial thoughts: 

My phone is too cool for me. I've never felt incompetent compared to a phone until I got this one. It feels like (and I know I know - it's just the honeymoon era, this infatuation will die down) the phone is a magic genie, except it offers unlimited wishes and less facial hair.

"Import my Google contacts please?"

"I'd be happy to. Give me two seconds."

"Can you sync with Blogger so I have a mobile template?"

"Is the Pope Catholic? Done."

"...can you shampoo my hair?"

"Girl, I will shampoo, condition, and style with a blowout."

It's also HUGE. (TWSS) I feel like I'm holding a tablet. My feelings toward the new size aren't strong one way or another - there are obviously pros and cons on both sides there - but I do miss how Palm lived up to its name with its rounded corners and spin-ability. This one just sits like a hunk of expensive, whiz-bangy slab.

Performance is phenomenal. It's a pleasure to browse apps, surf the internet, and gallivant between my seven (yes, SEVEN) home screens. I daresay it's even "cooler" of a feeling than the experience of browsing an iPhone, but that's probably because I'm already familiar with the iPhone's flashy animations and tricks and have become desensitized to them, whereas I react to everything here by hollering "OH MY GOD LOOK AT THE SHINY."

The battery life already sucks, which I knew coming in. I'm doing everything I can to minimize sync, GPS tracking, WiFi, and updates when they are not needed. Nevertheless I can anticipate this being a relatively large pain point. But you win some and you lose some...and in the case of the Evo overall, this phone by and large already feels like a resounding victory. 

A day or two ago, I ordered an HTC Evo 4g in black from Sprint. I have spent every minute since bouncing out of my seat, whether it be on an airplane or in my room, out of excitement for it to arrive. It should come in by the end of this week to my hotel in Plano. If not, Sprint will suffer the wrath of a year-and-a-half-Palm-Pre user.

I can't believe I've spent 18 months with the Pre. In that time I could've accomplished so much, like watch all of Dexter or birth two back-to-back babies. But no. Instead, I spent that time being tormented by my stupid phone.

It wasn't always so bad. I remember when I first got it (and blogged about it, even) back in August of 2009, the PP was relatively hot shit. It'd just hit the market, it was causing oohs and aahs because of the touchstone charger, and everyone and their mom was whispering about how it'd out-do the iPhone 3gs. It offered a lot of functionality that my old phone couldn't, like take decent pictures and fit nicely in my pocket. But slowly I began to realize what it couldn't do, and the annoyances started to eat at me and eventually drive me into a downward spiral of frustration.

For one, the app selection was pretty bad. I contented myself with things like Bubbles and chess for entertainment, but when it came to real apps I wanted, the plumbing just wasn't there. Many didn't exist in the first place, like an app for me to scrobble to last.fm or a RSA security token that would let me access my company's mail. Those that did exist rarely worked well - Facebook for WebOS, Accuweather, and Angry Birds are the only three that I use on a regular basis these days. The rest have been deleted.

For another, the user design/user experience is incredibly shoddy. I can't see the time unless I unlock my phone (minus five million points). I can't see the date unless I touch the time, which by the way, is TINY. I can't see the exact date and time of previous text messages if they are more than twelve days old. If I search for a contact, the option to text them is activated by touching the tiniest of speech bubbles - while the rest of the screen, aka valuable real estate, is stark and empty with incompetence. Don't get me started on battery life. There've been times when my battery is at 80% and two hours later, my phone kicks the bucket. I don't leave the house now without battery being 100%, because it seems like 100% actually means anywhere from 100% to 50% in terms of remaining battery.

Oh and then there's the device itself. To be fair, I have drunkenly dropped it on more than one occasion. But maybe that's because both cases I bought for it didn't fit properly. When I received the device, I noticed it'd shut down every time I snapped it closed too hard - some detective work on the internet made me realize the battery was often loose and needed some paper to be wedged in there to avoid the problem. A clever solution indeed, but one for a problem that shouldn't have existed in the first place, in my opinion.

I know the Evo isn't going to be perfect either (that beautiful 4.3 inch screen? Yeah, its diet consists of batteries. And it's HUNGRY) and am not setting my expectations to be such. But based on my experience with other people's smart phones, I am relatively confident that this new guy will actively make my life better now that designers and engineers have been in the smart phone space a bit longer. Whereas the Pre delivered more functionality as something to throw at people rather than its offerings of "smart" services, I'm hoping the Evo will be something I can rely on and trust in lieu of all this travel and whatnot. And if nothing else, at least it makes for a larger thing to throw at people.

Plano

I am terrified of Texas. My one and only experience there was when I had to spend a night at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport. I remember thinking only two things, but I remember them very clearly:

One was "I didn't know people actually carried dogs around in their purses"

The other was "These women probably think I am a pre-pubescent panda named Ling Ling"

Plano prominently features everything everything I try to avoid in life - huge portions, prolonged exposure to the sun, slabs of red meat, Dr. Pepper, country music, Frito Lay, guns. 

My flight is Sunday at 5 PM. I feel totally and woefully unprepared. A Calgarian winter followed by a Texan summer - very funny, ThoughtWorks!

Jesus, take the wheel.

I'm in love with Juda-as, Juda-as.

Me: Hey, I'm going to sleep early. If any of our roommates come back and are really loud, can you please tell them I'm sleeping?

Roommate: I will punch them all in the face and tell them to shut the fuck up.

-- 

As of late I have developed yet another unhealthy addiction to a pop song. This time it's Lady GaGa's "Judas". It is indescribably catchy and plagues me day in and day out. Her video is typical GaGa - alien outfits, inexplicable settings, mysterious men, controversial symbolism, too much eyeliner, dancing in scant underwear. At one point she's Mary Magdalene washing a sexy sort-of-black Jesus' feet in a bathtub while Judas pours a beer on her butt.

The shit-wits that peruse and post YouTube comments are all up in arms about GaGa's use of religious symbolism. It appears that a diminutive-brained subset of GaGa's Christian fans have either decided to revoke their liking for her or are in a state of heavy mental confusion, a la "OH MY GOD I LOVE JESUS BUT HER VIDEO USES CHRISTIAN METAPHORS INAPPROPRIATELY WHAT DO I DO NOW????" Fierce, misspelled battles are happening in the comments section as I type. 

You think I am exaggerating. I am not. Here are some comments that I am copying verbatim for your eye-gouging pleasure.

"ur makin fun of the bible not cool gaga !!!"

- Corinnestoddard13

"is this supposed to be a gay pride recreation of like fucking bible stories or some shit" 

- Moodyjake17

"i dont see the big deal. i like the song the vide is alittle nutty but shes not goga for nothing jeez chill bunch of religus freeks it not god ya'll love its ya'll freeking religen. even jesus was agenst it. jeez. sicoz its days like this i regret being a chistion."

- MegaJoemen

"you people realize the illuminati control her, right?"

- Itachi9000ful

"i shud slap her with my bible!!"

- shelz146

"your opinion is faker than a pornstars boobs."

- JD917782908

"Dear, people who are christian just go back and read the bible and listen to the lyric again and be humble do not judge her. Luke 5:31 Jesus said "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." She acknowledges that. Ew!! This song explain how I feel. I love Jesus but I'm still a sinner. Ew!!"

- TalentBabe

I must stop here. If I continue to wade through this sea of idiocy I am going to vomit out my dinner. Good night.

EXtinguishing the Fire(fox) (lolwut at "Distinguishing...")

My dearest Firefox,

We both knew this day would come. I've played the scene countless times in my head, imagining how my words will come across: how you'll be surprised, then angry, and then fall silent, save for the occasional sniff. How your little beady black eyes will quiver and glisten with dew. How every fiber of my being will ache with reluctance to tell you this, every keystroke a dagger into my heart.

But I must remain strong, and to be frank, I've already done the deed. This morning I quietly scrolled over your familiar orange curled form, cupped you in my e-palms, and gently moved you from your comfortable nest in my dock to the trash can all the way on the right, where you landed with a thud that resonated in the depths of my soul. 

Believe me, Firefox, it killed me to do it. I was so upset I even ate an Oreo to make myself feel better. Then I ate three more because they tasted really good. Then I felt a little sick and went for a walk. 

But I digress! Why did I do do it? Why, after so many years of mutual love and respect, did I cast you aside?

I found someone else, Firefox. I found someone else.

It happened at work, about three months ago. You couldn't support an application I wanted to run, and well, I had to find somebody that would help me. So while you were busy updating, I went to Google - yes, that Google, a longtime friend of ours - and he suggested Chrome. I gave it a shot. Thirty seconds later, Chrome had downloaded and was already up and running. I was impressed by Chrome's simplicity and speed - and I loved that I could Google in the address bar itself - but I got in, ran the application, got out, and returned to your familiar embrace.

But that night, Firefox, I couldn't sleep. I laid awake with my eyes open, fingers clutching the sheets, heart heavy with the realization that everything in Chrome had been harder, better, faster, and stronger. The small things, really - how downloads fall nicely to the bottom of my page instead of disappearing into a separate window. How my top eight appear every time I open the browser. Even how the bookmarks are compressed and can fit so much better! For the first time in my life, I'd stumbled across a browser that gets me for who I really am and for what I need in my online experience. And even you have to admit it, Firefox. You're cute as a button, but Chrome is clean and sexy - I can't even begin to describe how good it is or what it can do for me.

I'm sorry, Firefox. I'm really going to miss you. I'll always support your open-source distribution. I'll still cheer for your new releases and updates. I'll even stay in touch with your parents, Mr. and Ms. Mozilla. But I'm afraid this is the end of us. I regret it had to be this way. Please don't pull out tufts of your fur like you did that time I accidentally opened up Internet Explorer. It's not worth the drama and it grows back funny.

Goodbye,

Rose

Mountains Beyond Mountains

Competing with Mother Nature for "Most Beautiful in Jasper". Think I'm in the lead.

This weekend, the boy & I forayed up to Jasper, Alberta for a getaway in the Rockies. Boasting a population of merely 2,500, Jasper sits on the edge between the provinces of Alberta and British Columbia. It being 200 miles due northwest of Calgary translates into to a roughly five drive through what is considered one of the most beautiful highways in the world, Icefields Parkway.

I love road trips because they allow me to indulge in snacks, playlists, and naps. And boy, I had my fair share of all three. Friday morning, we hopped into our snappy little rental Ford Fiesta (very fuel efficient, and relatively kind to the environment) and began our journey up north. I'd been dreading the start a little because the forecast for that day had been a snow/rain/sleet mixture but the moment our parkade garage door opened, we were greeted with beaming sunshine and glorious blue skies. Suck on that, weatherman!

 

Along the way, we stopped at Columbia Icefield to check out the Athabasca Glacier. Unfortunately April isn't tourist season and a lot of the usual tours and roads were closed so we weren't able to actually step on the glacier as it's only accessible through a special route/bus tour. But we did manage to hop out and take some pictures and freeze our butts off.

Herro! I can't feel my face!

One of my favorite parts of the trip was where we stayed: a small bed & breakfast called The Glass House. Getting there was not so easy though. I'd left my notebook with its address back in my Calgary apartment and neither of us had a data plan in Canada, so we wound up knocking at what I thought was the right house for about five minutes. After a while we gave up and stood there quizzically and I gave the doorknob a turn just as a man walking his dog approached us from the sidewalk.

Embarrassing moment number one:
"Can I help you folks?'
"Umm...yeah, we're looking for a bed and breakfast called The Glass House?"
"Well it's certainly not here, cause that's my house you're knockin' on."
"...Oh. Sorry."

Embarrassing moment number two, with the same man:
"We're looking for someone named Tobi. He owns The Glass House, we think, and lives on this street."
"Tobi?"
"Yeah, I think it's short for Tobias." (at this point I'm envisioning a bespectacled man wearing denim cutoffs and covered in blue body paint)
"Last name?"
"Fenton."
"Oh, the Fentons live over there. And Tobi's a woman."
"...Oh. Sorry."

Tobi (the woman) and the Glass House were both all sorts of lovely. Our room, the Garden Room, had a huge round wooden window that reminded me of being in a hobbit home and afforded us a beautiful view of the tree in the front yard and the quiet street beyond. It felt just like we were in a treehouse. The other rooms in the B&B seemed pretty neat, too - the enormous master Loft had a jacuzzi (but no privacy :s) and the Solarium Room a lovely, sun-filled lounge. I still liked ours the best and would recommend it for anybody who finds themselves in Jasper. After the ridiculous Airbnb Live Mission Startup/Incubator in San Francisco and now this cozy B&B experience I'm definitely putting hotels on the backburner and more open minded about exploring alternative sleeping arrangements.

The town of Jasper itself was very touristy, but we did find some good information centers, neat restaurants (LOVED Patricia's Deli. Best sandwich ever, still drooling as I think about that cranberry mayo sauce, guhh) and paid a visit to the famous Jasper the Bear, who was the subject of a much-loved Canadian comic and serves as a conveniently-named mascot for the town of Jasper. It's pretty much mandatory to take a picture with this guy and we happily obliged in the spirit of tourism.

We spent the next morning exploring some nearby fields and hiking along Maligne Canyon, which was still slippery in places, very muddy in others, and had me huffing and puffing and feeling morbidly obese in no time. But the views were worth it!

 

Check out that pro fob pose...I'm already converting him into an azn.

We also saw our fair share of animals in the park, which is always neat. I'd been hoping for a bear or a moose sighting but unfortunately didn't catch any glimpses of either :s Oh well. I probably would have been terrified of a real bear anyway and pissed myself silly.

 

I am disgusted by what it I imagine it is licking off the ground

 

Bambi's mother before I made her into a zesty little venison sandwich

Elky elk elk in front of trainy train trains. One on the right is sprouting antlers, how manly of it to do so.

TL; DR: my trip to Jasper was incredible. Excellent views, food, sightseeing, lodging, and opportunities for outdoor adventures. The company wasn't bad, either :) More pictures can be found here. Check out Jasper if you ever get the chance! Woo Canada!

Dear San Francisco, I want to be in you forever. Love, Rose

 

 My coworker Bev, stopping for a photo op on the gluteal wrecking climb up to Coit Tower

I found myself back in San Francisco's sunny and welcoming arms this past weekend. Sigh. Words cannot describe how much I love this city.

My adventures began Friday morning, when I flew into SFO (in first class, no less! Thanks for the upgrade, United) to attend a User Experience & Design workshop led by my fellow ThoughtWorkers. The workshop itself was really fascinating and turned some gears in my mind that I didn't know even existed. Despite the wealth of new practices to which I was exposed (and I'm definitely planning on picking up a UX book or two or learn more!), I noticed that a lot of the thinking behind good design or how to ask the right questions when thinking about user experience are the same ones that normal, non-UX BAs should be asking. I guess at the end of the day, the key to implementation that brings value to the business is to have a strong understanding of that "Why are we doing this in the first place?" factor in the first place. I like that UX really forces out that question over and over again because of its visual and interactive products. Normal user stories can get trapped in a mire of acceptance criteria and lose sight of that crucial end-goal.

Anyway, business insights aside, we ended the workshop at around 5 and went to JonColins lounge for a drink and to catch up with other San Franciscan ThoughtWorkers. Afterwards, the party continued at Off The Grid, an outdoor food truck event made up of multi-ethnic vendors that reminded me of Taste of Chicago. The most ridiculous part? The Giants game had gobbled up all the taxis...so our cheapest option, at $10 a head, was to hop into a black stretch limousine. I always thought that after prom, my next time in a limo would be after my wedding. (With Viggo Mortensen.) But whatever, no complaints here.

At Off the Grid, I had Phillipino chicken tacos and satayed chicken and pork skewers, pictured above. I got the skewers because I was hoping they'd taste like favorite food in the world world, spicy Chinese lamb kebabs oozing with fat and seasoned with cumin/every strain of MSG known to man that are unfortunately only typically found in sketchy alleys on the streets of Beijing. The verdict: spicy sketchy Chinese lamb kebabs they were not, but nonetheless delicious they were. After dinner, we took the limo back to a lounge and stayed there for a few drinks before calling it a night.

The next day, we made the drive up to California's famous wine country, Napa Valley, for some breathtaking views and yummy wine tasting! 

Driving down SF's famous Embarcadero, the name of which my coworker Hammer and I decided was just made up a long time ago by some white dude who was trying to say "Embark" in Spanish

It's not touristy if I took the picture at a RAD ANGLE!

Napa was, in a word, therapeutic. Everything was serene and calm and nested within rolling green hills. It was hard to believe we were only an hour out of a busy metropolitan area. Or that people still live in Calgary (it's snowing up a shitstorm here as I type) when places like Napa exist on the same planet.

I also had my very first wine tasting experience in Napa. At first I found it mindboggling that I could just walk up to a winery and ask to sample their wine and drink it at no cost. But I quickly got used to it ;) My favorite tasting took place at the beautiful Artessa winery.

I know you're supposed to spit the wine back out so as to not taint the palate...but I sure as heck swallowed that baby down (stop your snickering). The winner of the afternoon was a sweet dessert wine that tasted just like juice. Mmm, juice.

After we felt merry from the combination of sunshine and wine, we made the short drive over to the town of Yountville. Things I noticed about Yountville: everybody drives in either a BMW or a Mercedes-Benz and the most popular spot in town was a cutesey, $$$$$$$ bakery called Bouchon, where I found myself in MACARON HEAVEN. There was a macaron for every flavor under the sun. If it wasn't for the hefty price tag I would have tried one of every kind, but I ultimately went with Hazelnut and Espresso. Mmm, I'm salivating as I'm typing this/remembering how they melted in my mouth...

I call this "poop bread"

The next day, we explored a bit within the city of San Francisco itself.  We kicked the morning off with a defuckinglicious brunch in Chinatown. As usual, I ate way beyond the natural limits of my body would allow and thought I was going to keel over and pass out on the floor. But the short walk over to the Coit tower proved to be an awakening experience. Mostly because all the streets were practically vertical. You guys remember that scene in Inception where the streets start folding up into the sky? Yeah, that was inspired by San Francisco. And yeah, I just made that up, but it may as well be true. My sore butt is proof.

 

We wrapped up the trip with a visit to the de Young musuem, where I checked out a very neat "Balenciaga and Spain" exhibit that featured over a hundred of Balenciaga's pieces. Some were beautiful and others were just, well, retarded, for lack of a better word for it. One of his dresses was called the "Catepillar dress" and consisted of three green cloth spheres stacked on top of each other. I don't care how prestigious the brand or haute the couture or expensive the piece. I would rather eat rat vomit than go outside wearing that dress.

As always, I left San Francisco yearning for more time. I'm excited to revisit the city at the end of April though, it'll be a nice victory celebration after eight long months in cold, cold Calgary!