Saturday, August 11, 2012

Why am I Not Friends With You Back Home?

"I miss my friends from Korea." A simple statement, easily translated to facebook, twitter, any of those social media sites.But I'm a year removed from my time spent in Korea and when I tell you I miss my Korea friends it's a statement loaded beyond what most people can understand.

I spent one full year abroad. I went to a country whose language I did not know to fulfill a job position I knew nothing about. I latched onto my peers pretty quickly. Now, one of my posts from my tenure abroad has addressed a similar issue in Would I Be Friends With You Back Home? This post raised a poignant question about the nature of friendship and why we relate to the people we do. The other side of the issue, as I'm coming to realize, is how we manage to lose touch with people who at one time or another, meant the world to us.

Some of my friendships were unstable and questionable while in Korea. I was working with very little filter at the time, as most of us did. Still, I managed to find some genuinely amazing people who, quite literally, were my world.

I had friends like Shane, the Matts, Martin, and the other Hogye boys who made daily life tolerable. Then there was Sinan, Shannon, and Chad who made me appreciate myself in ways that have extended far beyond my life in Korea. And, of course, there are Sylar, Nadia, and LaBecca, the group that started it all. And I would be nothing, nothing, if I hadn't had my Sweet Mama MomoBear. There were many others that made my life in Korea a real life instead of just some moment and I apologize that I neglect to name them all. The thing of it is, I could never have made it through Korea without them, but upon returning to America, they've been relegated to a second-tier status.

If I could simplify the issue, I would say that the second I woke up in America for the firs time in a year, the whole year in Korea slipped away like a dream. Sure the dream is vivid. I recall so much of it, but so little of it feels real. Trying to reconcile the slippery nature of the memory with the very real people I met and loved while there has been difficult. I've exchanged numbers with most of my fellow Americans, but most of the time, I end up using Facebook or email to get a hold of them. That is, if I get a hold of them. I think about these people when I remember Korea, but it's been strange trying to reconnect. If I want to see Sylar, it's no longer a matter of hopping on a bus downtown.

I try to keep up on Facebook. That's the greatest argument for that particular media. Keeping in touch with people who are far away. Martin is from Scotland, currently working in Slovakia. If not for Facebook, I'd probably never talk to him again. But he was one of my closest friends in Korea and Hogye. We had dinner all the time, talked often, we even traveled together for our final days in Korea. I guess what I'm getting at is that there were real friendships to be had in Korea, but they dissipate upon the return home. The conversations dribble and possibly even close. I haven't seen any of my K-friends since I've come home and I have no idea if I ever will. It's sad. How do I not shoot the breeze with Shane or Vince over some galbi? How do I not pour every detail of my life out with MomoBear while watching sappy movies in the DVD bang? And going out? Well, it's not going out unless I'm doing whiskey shots with Sinan on the bus downtown.

I suppose the same kind of sentiment could be said for any lost relationship, but there's something unique about the segmented reality of living abroad. All these people, who were so utterly vital in your life, they remain in a kind of dream-like state. You try to keep up with them as best you can, but when you leave Korea, you realize just how vast the world can be. I wish these people were still a part of my daily life. They were so important; they added so much. But really, how many more Facebook messages can we send before we forget how much we meant to each other? I mourn their loss, in my own way.

There's no real conclusion to this ramble, other than to tell my K-friends, named or not (and if we were really close, then you're not the type that cares), that I miss them. Wholly, unreservedly, and with more feeling than one simple sentence can muster. I don't know if I'll ever see any of you ever again, but you meant the world to me then and it still means the world to me now.


Thursday, August 2, 2012

More Making!

My mom got some zucchini from her friend's garden and it's just been sitting around, begging for something to be done with it. My mom thought of chocolate zucchini cake, but I disagreed. I made zucchini bread instead.


2 c. grated zucchini
3 c. flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
3 tsp. cinnamon
2 1/4 c. sugar
1 c. vegetable oil
3 tsp vanilla
3 eggs
1/2 c. chopped nuts

Now, it's prep time. Make sure you have a great cooking outfit on.

Then, sync up a solid playlist. I used Spotify. I have 3 fantastic playlists to chose from. For today's baking experience, I used my Dancetravaganza list. Can you bake without a playlist? Sure, but I wouldn't recommend it.

Okay, into the baking-y stuff.

(1.) Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Prepare all your ingredients (grate the zucchini, etc). Grease your bread pan(s) and set it aside.

(2) Mix dry ingredients. Remember, sugar is considered a liquid ingredient. Don't ask me why. Drop some of the dry mix into your greased pan and coat the grease lightly with the mix.

(3) Assemble your liquid ingredients in a separate bowl. Then bring the liquid and dry mixes together and try not to break your arm stirring. Add grated zucchini and chopped nuts (I used pecans because tht was what was in the pantry) last.


(4) Spoon batter into bread pan(s). I had 2 small bread pans, so that's what I used. I don't know how well the recipe would work with just one pan, but I'm sure it'd be fine. They go into the oven for about an hour. Keep an eye on those things, just in case. You can clean the kitchen you've just destroyed while you wait! And then...

Zucchini Bread!

To me, it tasted a bit like a snickerdoodle. I've made zucchini bread in the past that was darker (probably brown sugar and more spices). I think I prefer the other recipe. Still, not too shabby.


Monday, July 30, 2012

Okay, Okay, I Know

My recent blog posts have all been food-related. What can I say? It's a creative outlet with tasty results. Therefore, I love cooking. It doesn't tell you much, I know.

Should I tell you about the NYU Summer Publishing Institute? I can say a little. We had to sign a confidentiality waiver agreeing not to talk specifics of what we learned. There are big execs from big magazines/publishing houses who came and talked about stuff and maybe some of it was supposed to be a secret. So, I'm actually legally obligated not to talk about too much that went on there. I can probably say more than I think, but I'm not entirely sure what's allowed and what isn't, so I'm steering clear of the whole thing. But here's something I can say: I found a direction.

All my (academic) life, I have loved the subject of English. From the origins of an avid reader rose an obvious candidate for a major in English. It was a foregone conclusion that English was what I needed to study and so I did. This was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing: being passionate about something and having a history of said passion. Curse: the resulting assumption that all decisions in life would come so organically.

I went through college with no real idea of what I wanted to do with my eventual degree. I never worried, though, because I thought a path would unfold at my feet. I wouldn't even need to try, only wait. Silly rabbit. The years passed, sometimes I had a part-time job, sometimes I didn't. I took one summer internship doing research for an academic publication. I should have done more summer internships, but even the internship adviser struggled to suggest anything for such a wayward soul. So, I eschewed internships for the most part, making more assumptions that a girl with an degree in English, who performed so well in academics, would ultimately be fine. Everything was going to happen for me, in its own time.

An adorable reverie, in retrospect, but having nothing to do with reality. Not even my own reality. It's a little bit of a joke in the Reedy household that nothing comes easily for us. This has been true for me in the greater part of my life. While academics were easy enough for me, nothing else was. From romantic failures to geographic instability, to psychological afflictions, to whatever, you name it, I've always had a bit of an uphill battle. I'm not complaining, not really. I tend to persevere and find my footing somehow. Things pan out (except that romance thing), I just have to try for it. Why I thought career advancement was just going to happen, I'll never know. Perhaps I have a scrap of faith somewhere that yearns to be relevant and it's reaching out for any outlet it can, in the absence of religion. Who knows?

So, I graduated. And suddenly I realized I had no idea what my next step should be and I had run out of time to brainstorm. My future never came to me in the expected epiphany. Degree in hand and anxiety in the brain, I started to scrabble for something, anything. Grad school? For what? I still had no direction and you can't pursue a higher degree in you're still uncertain. Everyone told me to teach English. But you need certification and further investments that will ultimately lock you into that field even if you don't want it. I wasn't ready to play that kind of game.

The a friend told me to teach abroad. All I needed was a 4-year degree and to be a native English speaker. Check and double-check. I love English, I love traveling, what could be better? The opportunity would give me some idea of what teaching was like and maybe I'd realize that was the path for me. Or, I'd see that teaching wasn't right for me and I'd have time to consider other options.

Well, if you've followed this blog from its inception, you know how the teaching in Korea thing went. Overall, I think of it as an experience that was certainly enriching. Mostly, I learned that I could probably make a living teaching, but it would never be my passion. Passion, the elusive mistress.

Okay, so teaching was out. After that I drew another blank. And god, was i tired of blanks. At that point in time, I realized that maybe choosing a career couldn't be left to the gut. My gut clearly wasn't giving me any insights, time to switch tactics. This is a much more complicated ordeal than it sounds. I have always lived by gut instinct, been a follower of the heart, not the head. I wasn't sure I even knew how to start listening to my head, this late in the game. My head came up with all those ideas that I registered, but ultimately ignored. How do I even use this thing when it comes time for a decision?

What do I love? Was the first question I tried. It was a good segue between heart and head, I think. Books. I love books. Okay, what else? Insert the comedic sound of crickets chirping. Well, books then. How do I make this into a career? So on, et cetera until it seemed the logical step would be to pursue a career in book publishing. How to break in would be a different matter.

I tried to break in on my own for a while. Turns out, you can't just say you like publishing and have any prospective employer believe you. And you can't storm a castle without a battering ram. To regroup, I consulted a friend of mine who had managed to break into a book publishing career. She suggested enrolling in NYU's Summer Publishing Institute, which had helped her along her path.

I applied and waited and hey, I got in! Let me say, fr the record, that the program is spectacular. There are challenging group projects that will force you to play roles you've never played before and there are insightful seminars from big magazine and book publishing execs, it's all very cool fo someone who's into that kind of stuff (read: me). I went in, little ol' directionless me, with only a small idea of what I might be interested in doing in the publishing business.

The environment of the program immediately felt right. It felt like I was onto something. Over the course of the six-week program, big changes were underfoot. When we switched from the magazine portion of the course to the book portion, I knew book publishing was better for me. It was exciting, invigorating, inspiring. A little bit of me started to stir inside (forgive me for waxing poetic, I can't help it). Cool. Book publishing. Uh, then what? Editorial? Sales? Marketing? Literary Agent? There are a lot of facets to the industry. How could I know which one was right for me? I was leaning toward editorial because, hey writing, I like that! That was honestly as secure as I was on that front. In the very last week of the program, I was chatting with someone and told them I was looking at editorial. She gave me a weird look. "Your personality is too big for editorial. Why don't you consider publicity?" As it happened, the friend in publishing I mentioned earlier managed to set up an informational meeting between me and the publicist at her company.

Publicists set up book campaigns, book author appearances on TV and radio, work up the digital presence of an author/book. It's a job on the front lines of publishing, getting a book out there and making people want to buy it. It takes tenacity and an outgoing nature, both of which I have and would be ecstatic to use on a day-to-day basis. So, yes, publicity is the little niche for me and I have NYU's Summer Publishing Institute to thank for coming to this realization.

Now, I have direction. I know what I want and all I have to do is figure out how to get it. Another uphill battle, but at least I know what I'm going for. What's next? Well, I need to become a more viable candidate in the race for publishing jobs. I've applied to a bunch of things, jobs and internships, but I think it will take more to get my wayward history working for me. As such, I've applied to NYU's M.S. in Publishing program. If six weeks and a certificate in that school can move me as much as it did, imagine what two years and a master's degree will do.

Will I get in? Tough call. I aced the certificate course, which speaks to my character, but once a Reedy always a Reedy. Fate may throw another mountain my way. If that's the case, I'll have to come up with something else. Until then, I've got my fingers crossed.


Michelangelo Cake

Of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fame.
Why, is there another Michelangelo?

My brother, Mike, loves him some TMNT. And Michelangelo in particular (probably because of the name). He loved the old cartoon, the movies, he even had the action figures. The original ones with the squishy, rubber heads. We used to watch the show/movies together all the time. The movies (the first and second-- though we own the third, it's the black sheep) are among the set of go-to films we watch when we can't decide on anything else. We once had a revelatory moment by connecting two of our go-to films. We, of course, watched The Goonies all the time (though I've recently found out that Mikey never much cared for this film. huh) which features the incomparable Corey Feldman. In the movie, one of his character's best friends is named Mikey (played by SEAN ASTIN) and in the movie, he says "Hey, Mikey..." probably a couple times. In TMNT, Donatello and Michelangelo are hanging out in the sewer, waiting on a pizza, when Donatello breaks into a brief moment of reflection. "Hey Mikey..." he begins. And so it was that Mike and I discovered that Corey Feldman provided the voice of Donatello in the first (and third) TMNT films.

Great story, I know.

Anyway, Mikey and his wife, Nicole, are very busy during wedding season. I don't know how they know so many people, but they are booked tight for most of the summer. Last weekend, he told my parents and I that if we didn't see him then, he wouldn't have any free time until September. 

Now, while working at Goodwill a couple months back, I came across a Michelangelo-shaped cake pan that I knew I had to buy for Mikey's birthday cake. It was fate. So, I'd been hanging onto this pan for months, waiting for Mikey's birthday, which comes in late August. If I wasn't going to potentially see him until September, I had to make some command decisions. Therefore, the night before I went to see my brother and sister-in-law, I declared that the meeting was going to turn into a surprise birthday party, complete with amazing cake. I made my mother run me over to the supermarket for the appropriate cake and decorating icing.

The pan was kind of a dud. With irregular-shaped pans, I tend to go grease-heavy because you never know how that's going to work. As a result, I think I may have obscured some of the defining lines on the cake. When I popped that sucker out, it was pretty much just a cake with odd edges. Lucky for me, I can draw from a source image well enough, so I looked at the underside of the pan to get an idea of where all the lines went.

Blah blah blah, I made a cake and it turned out really well. It photographed even better. We took it to Mike and Nicole's and he was very please/impressed. He immediately took pictures to send to his friends. 

So, where do I pick up my Best Sister Ever award?


Monday, July 23, 2012

Chicken Piccata Time!

Chicken Picatta is one of my favorite dishes, which is why I decided to make it myself. I started with this recipe:

Of course, I'm me, so I only use recipes as a jumping board, in the best of times. Here are the ingredients:

Except the Mio. That had nothing to do with it.

2-4 Chicken breasts
1/2 cup flour
salt and pepper to taste
4 Tbsp Butter
3 Tbsp Olive Oil
1/3 cup wine
3 Tbsp Lemon Juice
1-2 cloves of Garlic
1/4 cup Capers (in brine)
Some Chopped Parsley

Okay, these were most of the ingredients. Until I got all indignant about the lack of garlic. There are some recipes that call for garlic, but this one didn't. As a lover of garlic, I decided to throw some in. And I nixed the Parmesan because my dad doesn't like it so much. You gotta play to type, kids.

What I usually do first is a little prep work. Chop the parsley, juice the lemon(s), uncork the wine, and then prep the chicken.

This made me feel like a Spanish Inquisitor.

So exciting.

So let's get the cooking started. I didn't even have any during-cooking wine. What was I thinking? If you replicate the process, make sure to add wine to yourself. Because, why not? After that, butterfly your chicken in half. This should yield 4-8 little cutlets. I had 3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, so I got 6 thin cutlets.

Then, mix flour, salt, and pepper in a medium-sized bowl. It might be cool to play around with other spices. Maybe throw some dried parsley in there. Some cayenne if you're feeling spicy.

Rinse your cutlets and dredge them in the flour mixture. You want a nice, thin coating. The water will help it stick. You can also use some beaten egg to the same effect.

No idea why I went for the weird angle here. Awkward.
Let your watered and floured chicken breasts hang out on the cutting board for a minute. 

Heat up a large frying pan, on medium high heat, with 3 or 4 Tbsp of olive oil and 2 Tbsp of butter. I ran out of regular olive oil, so had to substitute in like a tablespoon of garlic-infused olive oil. No harm, no foul.

Once the oil is nice and hot, place your chicken breasts in there. I fit about three in at a time, don't wanna squeeze them in and make them uncomfortable. 

Fry the breasts, about three minutes to each side, until both sides are a light, golden brown. Cut a tiny slit in one of the breasts, or, if you're me, hack one of the breasts into pieces, to make sure the chicken is cooked through. You cannot serve chicken rare. That would be bad.

Once the chicken is cooked, remove it from the pan and set it aside. I guess you can wrap it in foil if you're worried about super-hot food. I didn't bother.

If there's oil left in the pan, no worries, don't rinse that out. It just adds to the sauce. Add your wine, lemon juice, finely chopped garlic, and capers to the pan. It will steam a bit when you add the wine. Not a problem. Stir all this together, scraping up any fried bits on the bottom of the pan. 

This would be a great time to remember that dinner is usually more than an entree. Quick boil some water and toss some angel hair in there to cook down right quick.

After about five minutes, the sauce will have reduced a bit, add the rest of the butter (2 Tbsp) and stir as it melts in. And that's it. I could have used more sauce, to be honest. I'd probably double down on that part of the recipe. The amount was a little light for 3 breasts, in no way would have been good for 6.

Plate up! I put a little pasta down, then a chicken breast, drizzled some sauce on top, then cheaped out and threw some baby cut carrots on the top. Last minute, I threw some parsley on top. Voila!

And "Boom," goes the dynamite.


Tuesday, June 12, 2012

One Week Down

I've been plugging away at this Summer Institute for a little over a week now. It's weird because there is a lot of work to do, but really there isn't. I guess what I mean to say is that what I do all day (seminars) has little work associated with it, but there's this looming group project which is very involved and we all have to somehow find the time to complete. It's real fun because most of my group lives in the dorms, and I'm in hip little Brooklyn.

The seminars are interesting. Very high up business types come in and tell us compelling things about the publishing business and how it all works. It feels like such a platitude to say "I'm learning a lot," but I am. Fingers crossed that this gig will lead to a stellar job.


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

I Made Some Things!

(A) I got into NYU's Summer Publishing Institute. Woot. woot! I have lots of preprogram work to dp, which I am naturally taking my sweet time doing. In between legitimate bouts of work I do stuff like this:

(B) Making Stuff.

I don't know if you know this but I am seriously addicted to avocado. I never liked avocado before refused to give it a chance. I only discovered months ago that I love that creamy little fruit. Since then, it's like I've been making up for lost time. Whenever I can get my hands on avocado I do it. On burgers at restaurants, whatever. Of course then there's guacamole. A culinary gem. I had my mother buy me some from the store the other day-- add a couple tortilla chips and you have a solid snack. I tore through that guacamole like it was nothing. Gone in days. So my mom had this bright idea to buy the ingredients and I would make my own. Here's what's in it:


-Lemon and lime juice (fresh-squeezed)
-Cayenne pepper
-Salt & Pepper

There are no exact measurements, I just chopped and added as I saw fit. If you're into jalepenos, add those too. This is just how I prefer my guacamole. The cayenne pepper adds a hint of heat without detracting from the flavor. I could eat it with a spoon. Dads prefer the tortilla vehicle.

Green means GO!

After all that guacamole excitement, which took 10 minutes, tops (really, it's so easy), I still wanted to be making things. I wanted something just as quick and dirty as guac, with readily available ingredients. And so, rice pudding. It's one of my dad's favorites. I don't so much follow a recipe for the dessert, either. The recipes all have stuff (raisins) my dad doesn't like, so I have to adjust everything in my head anyway. Still, it's simple enough, as long as you have:

-White rice, long grain
-Milk (I used a skim/2% combo)
-Vanilla extract

Sorry about my laziness, I'd give you a full breakdown, but I was doing a lot of winging. I used around three times as much milk as rice, let the milk boil, pour in rice, reduce to a simmer, cover, and let it cook until it reaches a custardy/creamy consistency. Remember to check that the rice is fully cooked. Remove from heat, add sugar, vanilla, and spices to taste. That's about it. Watch the milk when you're boiling it might burn. Other than that, it's easy peasy. I prefer it chilled, it sets a little more and has a thicker consistency. And here it is:

I heart making stuff.


Sunday, April 8, 2012

Did you just call me "Rum Ham?"

So, Goodwill gave its employees a free ham for Easter. A 16-pound ham. It's awesome, except what do I do with 16 pounds of ham? Also, how do I lug that monstrosity on my hour-long trek from work to the homestead? Answer: male friends. I had my friend, Kyle, who also works at Goodwill, take my ham home in his nifty vehicle. I then made him stash my ham, along with his own, in his fridge. I'm a giver.

Lucky for me, Kyle not only lives nearby, but has three male roommates who are perfect in their ham-consuming capacity. I felt a little bad about making them stow my extra ham, but decided to compensate them for their troubles... with ham. As such, I popped over yesterday after work to commence some ham-cooking.

Fun fact: I've never cooked a ham before. I culled up some advice from coworkers and family alike, then with a dash of ingenuity and a whole lot of finger-crossing, I winged it.


1 large ham
3 cans of pineapple slices, in pineapple juice
2-lb bag of brown sugar
Little squeeze of honey


*Note: Seriously. Winged it.

Step One: Prep Time

Show up to boys' house at 9:15 PM, ready to cook. Assert your need to cook ham. When one of them offers you honey for a glaze, defiantly brandish the pineapple slices/brown sugar, which are lying in wait in your bag.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.

Accept the fresh whiskey-coke offered by resident.

Step Two: Ham

Step 1A: Confound family members by insisting it's "semi-boneless."
Unwrap that bad boy and drop it into a roasting pan. It's a good thing it's already fully-cooked. Can't possibly screw it up too badly.

Step Three: Other Stuff

Snap into the pineapple cans. Search in vain, for toothpicks. Instead, find bamboo skewers, which you will snap into thirds. Preferably, you should avoid getting splinters.

Step Four: Doing Stuff

Looks so wrong, it must be right.
Pin pineapple slices all over the ham with the skewer thirds. Try to cover all exposed ham areas with pineapple. You may have to bust into all three cans for this, with a few rings left over.

Remember to reserve the pineapple juice from the cans.

Challenge: Keeping pictures in focus after additional whiskey-cokes!

Step Five: Glazing Over

The oven has finished preheating during the pineapple skewering. You have to make a gaze, which may take some time, so why not throw the ham in the oven while you make the glaze? Good idea.

Clean the big saucepan. Boys are so messy. Pour in reserve pineapple juice then, after slight debate with yourself, shrug your shoulders and drop in the entire bag on brown sugar. 

Unnecessary Photo- FTW!

Cook on medium-high heat. Stir constantly. Get impatient when the mixture refuses to boil. Eat one of the potato pancakes sitting on the table behind you. Fiddle with the heat dial. Consider bottle of honey. Add a little squeeze to the glaze, for good measure. Eventually, it will boil, so you drop the heat down a bit. But then it stops boiling and seems too cool and still isn't thickening enough. So, whatever, you just crank up the heat and let it go on a hard boil for about six minutes. 

Step Six: Check on Ham, then Add Glaze

Ham looks fine. Take it out and slowly pour the glaze over top. Use a basting brush to smother the glaze all over. Repeat this process a handful of times over the next 3 or 4 hours.

Some time in the third or fourth hour, the ham should be all heated through. Take it out, panic a tiny bit about the burned skewers. Realize, after removing said skewers, that nothing is wrong and your ham looks fine. Make someone else slice it up and then have at.

Thus concludes your very first venture in ham-cooking. Congratulations and Happy Easter!


Thursday, March 22, 2012

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...

And I thought I had no more stories to tell. Picture it: A sunny afternoon in early March, unseasonably warm. Kacie was in town for a couple days, a visit as welcome as the balmy breeze. After a little recon work, we discovered that one of the shops downtown offers a full Irish breakfast. Of course, I needed it. So, Kacie and I took a jaunty trip to the pub for a little brunch. The breakfast was all right, it tried its hardest, but it was no genuine article.

Anyway, we get back to mine shortly after brunch and Kacie noticed that the back door to my house was slightly ajar. My roommate's car was parked in the lot after a weekend away. I figured she must be in the back yard and left the door open. I told Kacie to close the door, but leave it unlocked, just in case. She had some trouble shoving the door closed, but that's what you get for living in an old house.

Once upstairs, I turned my attention to my large paper lantern, which had sadly torn. Kacie wanted to browse around on her computer, but couldn't find her computer bag. She'd left it in her car, most likely. After a quick fix on my lantern with a little medical tape, I sat down to answer some emails that I had checked before we went to brunch. My laptop, however, was not perched atop my bed as I was sure I'd left it. Let's be honest though, I keep a messy room, that thing could have been anywhere. I leafed through countless piles of clothes on my floor, but my laptop was not to be found. I checked for my power cable- it was unplugged and curled up on the other side of the room. Normally, it's threaded under my bed and plugged into the wall. I never unplug it. Never. Also missing was a cheap, silvery necklace I had bought myself for my birthday. $1.99. Clearly, a priceless item.

The pieces were still falling into place as I ran downstairs. I ripped the back door open to find...

Fuck. Someone broke into my house. Kacie double checked her car to see if her computer was inside, but no luck. Time to call the cops. I was calm, cool, and collected as always. The call went a little something like this:

          Dispatch Officer: "What seems to be the problem?"
          Me: "Someone broke into my house."
          Dispatch Officer: "What makes you think there was a break-in?"
          Me: "Well, someone jacked the shit out of my back door and my computer is gone."

All of this came just a week after my birthday. Noting a touch of coincidence, I called my brother, whose own house was broken into and robbed around New Year's Eve. We Reedys just can't keep our shit together. The cops, when they came, were very nice and understanding. We even joked about finding evidence, wishing it were as easy as Blue's Clues. The one cop even called my landlord for me, to get the door taken care of. If only things ended there.

The first signs of fallout came at bedtime. It became difficult fr me to sleep at night, constantly thinking about how a stranger was in my house, in my bedroom. I wondered who would break into a house and why. Maybe he was desperate, maybe he was high, whatever. But who looks at a house that isn't theirs and decides to go in? Honestly. Can you picture yourself doing it? I can't. What kind of person would it take?

My sleepless nights soon compounded with upcoming deadlines There were a couple programs I was hoping to apply for to get a little experience in publishing. Applications become much, much harder without the use of regular Internet. I got myself a library card and used their computers, but timed sessions are not conducive to filling out applications/writing entrance essays. In desperation, I stooped to using FedEx's computer lab, which costs 35 cents a minute. A generous coworker let me use his computer to finish up my essays and applications, but it all feels just slapdash enough that I don't hold out much hope toward being accepted.

Then, of course, came the replacing of the door. My roommates and I received the hefty bill for the new door. When my roommate attempted to contest the charges, the landlord fired back about our living situation. Two of us are subletting, which isn't illegal per se, but we're supposed to have had the names on the lease switched. To do so would incur a small fee of about $150/person. If we change the names over quickly enough, the landlord agreed to pay for half of the new door, but we would have to pay the rest. Unless, of course, we failed to change the lessee titles quickly enough, then we'd have to pay the fee and the entire cost of the door.

And on an unrelated note, M & T Bank denied my request for a credit card, citing my lack of credit experience.

I won't even mention the shitstorm that is the other sectors of my life. I'll just sum up and say it ain't swell. A banner couple of months for the Reedy.

But my parents bought me a new computer. Yay. At least there's that.


Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Fate of a Blog

Oh, my dear Wanderlust Darling, what should I do with you?

My life has become considerably less wanderlust-y and (for damn sure) a lot less interesting for the purposes of public consumption. And yet, I don't want to see my blog end. While abroad, I put some serious legwork into this thing. I miss posting, but have much less to say, especially when considering Wanderlust's mission.

What do I do with my time now? I work all day, come home, and wait for bedtime. Sometimes, I go on dates. I'd elaborate, but I'm just exploring my options, going out for a drink here and there with a couple no-one-specials. Nothing disastrous or otherwise noteworthy has happened on any of these dates yet. If I'm being honest (and why not?), my dates mostly serve as a means to get out of my house and do something. I date because I'm bored. A romantic tale to tell those grandkids I never plan on having.

So, what becomes of this blog? I don't want to see it fritter away, but I'm not sure how often I'll have worthy posts. I guess it just becomes another run-of-the-mill diary for public consumption. I'm that girl now.


Sunday, February 5, 2012

Potent Quotables

It's been a while, I know. My life isn't so exciting right now. But, I've been in a good mood for just over a week straight and that's saying something.

Working at Goodwill (which is where I work, in case I haven't mentioned yet) has been decent. It's a full-time job and I get paychecks. The up and up. As good as Goodwill can be, we have some surly customers at times. I figured I'd post a potent quotable for old time's sake. This is a re-post from Facebook, so if you're reading it for the second time, then it's your own fault because I've just warned you.

After grazing my ass while passing by, a forty-something male customer angrily says "Oh, excuse me."

"It's okay," I respond.

"Good," he says. "Some women are such crybabies." 


Sunday, January 22, 2012

Check It

Things I Have:

[X] Full-time Job
[X] Place to live
[X] (Relative) Good Health
[X] Outstanding Support Network
[X] Options Worth Exploring
[X] Kindle Dollars
[X] Pen & Paper

Therefore, I should be less negative. I could expand upon these things and maybe I will at a later date. I don't want to jinx it. Or get my hopes too high. Wax melts, you know.


Monday, January 16, 2012


I managed to land a full-time, paying job at Goodwill. It keeps me busy. The store is located in the very grand Pennsylvania, near Penn State's main campus. Can I admit to you that I'm not as excited as I had hoped I'd be? I'm not. Gainful employment with some reasonably cool coworkers, a big house with my own room, and still I'm underwhelmed. Something is missing and the void makes me miserable. I wonder if this is the way I'll always feel. Maybe it's not about my circumstances and it's just about me. Maybe I need more time to let the dust settle. Maybe I need to relax.