A "goodbye to my old life" list.

A few years ago I made a huge list of all the things I had accomplished in my first year after graduating college. Today I went through my "pieces of paper with notes, bits and bots written on them." I have a lot of these. They're on scraps of paper. They're on receipts. They're ripped out from notebooks. They are a collection of the things I deemed important at some point in the last year or so.

I found one particular piece of paper that's a to-do list of things I had to get done before moving to LA. It's the longest list. I made it during a meeting at work. I remember thinking "I don't have anything to add, and also this meeting isn't pertinent to me anymore, but I guess I'll stay."

To Do:

• iPhone (Sepho) - I see where my priorities were. I don't know what Sepho means
• MacBook Pro - I ended up waiting to purchase one of these until about two months ago.
• Final Draft - Still haven't gotten it, but my brother, Kevin, gave me a copy of MovieMagic which has been really a great system.
• Boxes - I'm assuming at this point I thought I was going to rent a Uhaul and have everything perfectly packed into 3x3x3 boxes on boxes on boxes. I didn't end up doing that and most of my furniture is at my old apartment with my old life and my best friend to keep it company.
• Shin compression - For those of you who don't know, when I was hit by a car, the woman who nailed me hit my shin pretty hard too and tore the fascia, which is essentially the casing around all of our muscles beneath our skin. When it tears, the muscle becomes herniated, so I have a slight bump. I am self-conscious.
• 5 video sketches - These did not happen, but that's ok. I did a lot of other writing.
• Invent America - This is one of those sketches. My friend Erin moved away onto a boat for a while so we ended up never doing it, but it would've been cool, and we still can at some point.
• Apartment sublet - This I did. No thanks to my nut landlord (SUSAN, the hateful) who every single time I talked to her made me cry or made me yell — either way, I was a teary mucus-y mess. Some people are just volatile. I've never dealt with a worse person.
• Sell bed - I did this too! My cousin and close confidante Kathleen got this bad girl. 
• I ended up giving mostly everything else away or leaving it for the perfect Cynthia Bangert (desk, chair, couch, rug, kitchen chairs)
• Mail art - This was a stupid idea. I just wrapped it in blankets and put it in my car. It took up a lot of space, but it was worth it.
• Pack stuff for Kev and Col (my siblings) to take. Neither of them took anything back to LA for me because they said they didn't want to wait for baggage claim. True story. It's fine, but at the time, I was like, "Really? Whatever."
• Talk to MA (that is my Chicago agent that, while very kind, was not very good)
• SketchTest - I did this. It's a great show in Chicago where you can essentially put up ideas, thoughts, semi-finished sketches and see how they work in front of people on a stage)
• Ireland - Sept 25-Oct 6 - This was the best trip. I am so glad my mom, sister and I could do this together.
• Shower for Quinns - My cousin Brian got married, and my mom wanted me to help her throw the shower. I did. And it was nice. My cousin Colleen is getting married later this summer and my mom wanted me to come home to help throw the shower again. I'm not, but it would've been nice. I think I have to stay in LA without going anywhere for a while. I am going home at the end of August though for the wedding. It will be good.
• Michigan? - I'm really sad I didn't make time to go to Michigan last summer. I haven't been in so long, and it's really one of my favorite places. 
• Call David B - David Balkan is one of the best people I think I know, or that's out there in the world, period. I feel very lucky to have a mentor and friend in him.
• Call Kevin - Kevin is my baby brother who I love so much. It would have been next to impossible for me to feel as comfortable as I have been able to be in LA without him and Colleen, our sister.
• Call Col - Colleen and I are really lucky to have one another. Sometimes we don't tell each other what's going on in our lives, and I hate that. I hate not knowing how she is doing and that's become less and less of how our relationship is. I'm glad she's my neighbor. And I'm glad she cares about me. I get scared when I think about how we're all getting older and it makes my heart stop when I think about a world where one of us won't be there and the other will.
• Call Alli - Alli was my first Chicago roommate. She was my first LA roommate. She moved back to NYC, and I completely understand why, but I miss her, and I took our friendship for granted when we lived together. I'm really sorry about that.
• Car insurance for Pat Anderson - had to get it, also had to get a car. I really like my car. Pat Anderson is my lawyer. Or was. I am finally done with dealing with insurance claims and medical bills and the general stress that living after a really scary accident brings up. It's been 2 years. Things are ok.
• Credit cards - I don't know what this means. I think I was concerned about my credit score because of all the medical bills. But we're good here.
• Contact Bank of America - Ugh, the worst bank. I canceled all my things with them. A weight was lifted.
• PG Sched Sept, Oct, Nov. - I used to schedule the PG shows and for whatever reason was always stressed about it. I think I just took on too much because I didnt want to deal with things in my life, so I was just busy all the time. For those that are very close to me, thanks for seeing beyond this crazy person exterior.
• Meeting with Thomas about doing calendar - Thomas Einstein is a very good friend to me. He took over the scheduling with Jake Miller, and they've both been amazing. I talked to both of them at length last week and feel very lucky that despite being very far apart, we are close.
• Long Pause - My sketch group. I am forever thankful for the day Chris Bragg came into the Annoyance while I was interning and invited me to be part of my favorite group in Chicago. Thank you.
• Chris Gaines - One of the craziest shows and most fun casts. It was just a fun idea that Greg Ott dreamed up. He's a really good writer, and I like him a lot. I felt, I don't know, just lucky, I guess, that he invited me into the show. I only wish Bryan Duff had stayed in the show. That idiot.
• Goodbye Party 10/12? Honestly, this was a weird night. I said goodbye to those I love.
• Denver (Aug 19, Sept 1, Sept 9, Sept 30) - My iO improv team's final shows. So fun. Great group. Miss it. Love it.
• Annoyance Party - August 25 - I don't think I went to this. No, I did. This was the party right before they closed the old space. Now they just opened the new space. And, I so look forward to seeing it when I'm home later this summer.
• Brian Q wedding 10/11 - That wedding was a good time.
• Alinea - I took myself out to a fancy as hell 10 course dinner with my friend David Blum, Jessica Maciejeski and her lovely boyfriend Blake. I don't know how to spell Jessica's last name, and she goes by "The Treat" on facebook, so I will never know.
• Commercial and online? - What does this mean?
• Sept 5 - massage? - My old boss and friend, Casey bought me a massage for my birthday because he is the kindest.
• NYC (?) when? - This did not happen. It couldn't have. There is no time.
• CTA - I still have $100 in CTA money that I guess I can still use despite that new thing they have that begins with a V. I don't know. Vesta? No. I don't know. I could google it, but this is more fun.

So, this is my list. It was so full. Everything happened so fast, too fast. And, there still wasn't enough time. Carly and I left Chicago together on October 15th at 4pm. I know. I had to stop at the dealership in the morning. My mom came with me in a different car. When we pulled away from each other, she turned right and I turned left, and we held up traffic for a long time at the intersection of Route 41 Skokie Highway and Park in Highland Park. We were looking at each other from our separate cars, going into our separate lives, waving at each other and crying. It was really hard. Her face.

I write in coffee shops so I don't cry when I write, but I'm crying right now at Coffee+Food on Melrose. Well, I'm tearing up because I can't be that girl. I can't be the girl who openly weeps at Coffee+Food on Melrose. 

Carly was a champ. A real champ. I am so glad she was my transition friend. She is light. She is joy filled. She is what it means to be excited. And she's not a terrible driver, despite that police officer in Nebraska who wanted to give her a ticket, but then didn't because we are so cute. I'm not a great driver. I'm not a bad driver. I just want to go fast...like Ricky Bobby. Ha. Anyway. We had a goodbye coffee at Asado with Joe and Cynthia the day or so before: our quartet. We all cried. Even Joe. I want to remember what he said, "Oh, we're doin' this?" I think was along the lines.

When I went to get Carly on the actual day, she was so funny. She had a purple backpack for the week.  For anyone that has ever seen her in the world ever, you know the bag I'm talking about. Girl does not leave home without it. And she also had an orange creamsicle colored towel that we ended up using to clean off dirt from my car because I thought it was stupid to get a carwash while on a road trip, even though we legit could not see anything at one point. I mean, it is stupid, though, a carwash on a road trip, please. I kept that towel.

With every mile I got further from Chicago and closer to LA. Obviously. But it was weird. It was the slowest motion. My life changed, and I was witnessing the change. I was the one driving. I was the one making it happen. I was doing this to myself. I don't know how to describe it. It was like my heart kept falling when I would look at the mile markers or the "Welcome to" whatever state signs. This thing that I had dreamt of doing for years was finally happening. I was doing it. And I remembered why it was so hard and why it took me so long to do it — because of people. I knew how much I would miss my people.

I'm still shocked by how much I miss people. I don't know if it's shock, but I think it's a little that I did not know the depths of some of my relationships until I wasn't there in them, living them anymore. Even as I fill my time with work, with new friends, with new experiences, new shows, new improv teams, new everything, it's hard. 

I already had a whole life in Chicago. I didn't realize how deep my investment was there. And, I cashed it all in for something new. That's exciting, but it's scary. Los Angeles is the first place I've ever moved where I have no intention of going back to my old life. This is it for me.

france

today i spoke french with a coworker. granted, he doesn't speak french, and i no longer speak it well. we tried for a few minutes though, nonetheless.

france me manques. les autres? vous la manquez?

5 things i love about france:
1. le jurancon sec white wine
2. paris, lyon, normandy and how small town feel they all are
3. roundabouts
4. high speed rail

5. surrounded by the language

from my time in paris - - -

Surfing.

I get it now.

Planes, Trains & Automobiles

This summer has gone by in a flash, what's crazier is this year is going by in a flash. Weddings being the driving force behind most of the year, snagged with a load of job interviews. Speaking of which, I got one. A job that is. So, there's an update for you. In an effort to have fun before signing away most of my life, I decided to take a couple of trips before my first day on the job, eminent in t-minus 3 days. Right now I'm in Boston, visiting my good friend from Lake Forest, Amy. Brian is here too, joining in on the fun, i.e. walking everywhere, Sam Adams Brewery, Newbury Street, Fenway and the Freedom Trail that I am pumped for. But before taking off yesterday I had a flash back to the loads of airplane rides I've taken this year.

1. Washington, D.C. first week of January
2. New York, New York, first week of February
3. Naples, Florida, end of February
4. New York, New York, again, late March
5. Atlanta, Georgia, June
6. Boston, Massachusetts, August

And littered throughout: roadtrips.

1. Washington, D.C., January
2. Kalamazoo, Michigan (the mitt), February
3. Iowa City, Iowa, March & May
4. Des Moines, Iowa, May
5. Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, July
6. Watersmeet, Michigan (UP), August

That's a lot of travel, especially if you include the 40 minute commute by train every morning on the way to the city. Anyway, I'm off to enjoy the east coast. See you when I see you.

plans. over-rated? depending on the sort.

"I moved around from town to town, lots of people around, but still so lonely. Friendships would go, then I'd hit the road. Making up excuses for why I had to leave." -Kimya Dawson

Truthfully, I love moving around, but I also like the idea of stability, which is why I'm trying for hard to find a job where I can build a career. I wouldn't mind working somewhere for a year then quitting to travel for a year or so. When I say I wouldn't mind, I actually mean to say that's sort of the plan. You know. Live, Work, and in between breath and travel. We'll see.

the arrival

My return to the Midwest after a long stint on the west coast was welcome. I enjoyed my time over there, learned a lot about publishing and experienced a different way to do life. Really, San Francisco has a lot to offer, especially when it comes to people. I find that it's people that almost always make my travel experience special. I'll forget the memorable sites and the delicious dinners eaten out; I'll forget the trips to the grocer and rides on the BART. But what I won't forget are the ones I did life with. And now I know if I ever find myself out there again I'll have friends, and I won't be the least bit frightened to do the same thing in another unknown city with unknown people and an unknown public transit system.

Exchange/ Caricatures/ College: no cohesion

Recently I've been posting a lot of entries on OdeMagazine.com. It's been a nice change of pace. I'm writing short blurbs on interesting events, people and places—plus I'm commenting on other exchangers' posts. We're trying to drive more traffic to the web, and one way to do it is by adding more content regularly throughout the day. This is where I and my colleagues come in. Oh, and you too. We're planning on redesigning our site in the near future to make it more of a social utility allowing readers to have more of an interactive experience with Ode.

So far there haven't been a lot of comments on stories, posts or profiles. I've taken it upon myself to start writing on random strangers' exchange stories. Whether they're argumentative or in appreciation doesn't matter much. I pretty much just write a caricature of what I would have said in real life if an actual friend of mine had said whatever it was whomever wrote. I use the word caricature all the time, and what about those people who make funny drawings of people who pay a rather large sum for something a 6-year-old would have done free and with more enjoyment. Anyway, I always used to want an actual picture caricature of myself, but now I'm glad I don't have one—though there was this one time a neighbor of mine had an artist friend visit from Finland or somewhere in Scandinavia, and he drew me. It was too true to form though to be a caricature. Anyway, caricatures are neither here nor there.

ODE. Yes, Ode's been cranking out web pieces left and right. I've been writing around 3-6 web stories per day along with completing various other tasks. My point in all of this is to simply say, check it out, here, if you will. You can even add your own pieces. I like interactive story sites like Ode's offers. It's none of that iReport crap that CNN.com has. I seriously hate that stuff. Sometimes they'll write full stories based solely on iReporters. It's stupid. Plus, aren't they stealing that whole "i" thing from Apple?

Sorry this is scattered, I've got a lot on my mind, and it doesn't help that I cant' concentrate because I'm sick. I've had Dayquil, Nyquil, Zicam, Benedryl, Allegra, cough drops and chamomile tea—still, I am sick. Season changes never cease to ruin me (I had reunion me, originally, that's how scattered I am). Speaking of changes, or rather transitions, I'm moving back to Chicago in a bit. My last day at Ode is next Friday, November 14. My mom's flying out, we're going to spend the weekend in SF, then drive down the coast in a rented set of wheels to LA. We're visiting my sister and my college roommate, Elizabeth Steele, and it is going to be glorious. We'll be back by the 21st. Life is just going again. Pretty soon I'll be 40, and then what will I have to write about. Gees. I miss college. I never thought I'd be one of those people, but I am. I look at the photos of my friends who are still in college and really just want to be there too. I'm seriously thinking graduate school. International studies? History? We'll see. I miss classroom learning.

Leaving Las Vegas Among Other Places

The beautiful Red Rock Canyon

Sheryl Crow's Leaving Las Vegas makes me happy. I recently traveled to Vegas to visit some friends and see Brian, who flew in from Chicago, as well. It was a spectacular weekend full of adventures—but it seemed slow at the same time. Between losing a twenty at one of the local casinos, seeing the Beatles Love show, free climbing at Red Rock Canyon, visiting with everyone, and skydiving, I'd say the weekend was a success. It's been nice to be part of what happens around this side of the country—deserts, gambling, and mountains.



Downtown Vegas' city lights

I like it, but I can't imagine looking out my window each day and not seeing a flat, beautiful patch of grass, or just being able to look out and look at forever. There's something so glorious about looking at the sun setting over fields of beautiful corn. And the mountains here are glorious, too. Yes, I like looking out and feeling as if I'm tucked into a bed of high hills overlooking me as I go about my life here—but it's definitely not that feeling of infinity that prairie grass delivers.

I have just under three more weeks on the Ode job, and then it's off to other things with other people in other places. I'm due for an adventure. It's funny, I love the experience of deciding to go somewhere and making it happen, feeling comfortable, and then almost a moment later tossing my cares to the wind again—I go and do something different. What do you call that? It's more than antsy-ness. I was once referred to as a free bird, or perhaps that was just me thinking to myself, but regardless, I am. Well, I'm no more unique than the rest of you, really. It seems I've done a good job of encircling myself with people with that exact mindset—one of here today, gone tomorrow. It's nice because while we're all scattered about the globe, we're also free to visit one another and thereby expand our worldliness. Anyway, it's a double-edge sword because the relationships we have with one another end up becoming strained, and people get hurt and time passes, but there's never the right time to make mention. Until one day, somehow thoughts are expressed and life moves on. I suppose that's the one down turn. You find all these great people, but it's impossible to get them under one roof—especially since they may not know one another because you've been continent hopping alone.

lacking caffeine and that life zeal business

Hi. I've been a bit lackadaisical about updating this bad-boy right here. Sorry. I can't believe it's been about two weeks since. Much has happened. Here's the bulleted list.

a. Kerstin, my friend since 3rd grade, visited San Francisco over this past weekend. [went to Alcatraz, shopped, dined, bar-hopped, and had a party for my housemate, Nancy.]

b. The weekend prior I was in Chicago visiting my family and friends and going to my cousin Maureen's wedding. It was beautiful. I also managed to pick some apples, grab dinner with my girls and boy and bonded in Rebecca's living room.

c. I've got about a month left of my internship here at Ode. It feels good to know how this place ticks, adding in my own two cents in the possibilities section. Really, I'll miss it when I'm gone.

d. I'm going to Vegas this weekend. Brian is meeting me at the Las Vegas airport, and Meagan and Dan Walsh (our married friends, weird) are going to pick us up for a fun weekend. Planning on a little skydiving, some Black Jack, sassy dresses and a show!

e. Already I am being harassed by my mother about not having a full-time job lined up post internship. It's stressful enough as it is. Damn all my smart friends who went back to graduate school.

f. I think that's it. Whew. Oh, and I'm planning a trip to LA post Ode in November before heading back home. Should be a fun time.

And, of course, a story: Monday I waited for Marco for 45 minutes only to find out that he was at the chiropractor. I called my other possible ride about 6 times before getting a hold of her. All I had to do was walk/bus to this way far corner. I think I lost a pound before 9 am Monday. I probably sped walked 3 miles in a 1/2 hour. I might as well have been running. I did manage to hop a bus and didn't even have to pay because I got off before I could make it to the front of the bus to drop my change. There's nothing quite like beating the system. That buck-fifty was mine!

My Life in Bullet Points

- I woke up this morning a few minutes before the magazine's conference call with our Rotterdam office and executive editor. That went fine, just informative for me at this point.

-Ate Special K red berries while listening, then had a bagel and cream cheese. Productive.

-Super tired from watching Freaks and Geeks. I don't know what it is, but once I'm on a roll watching some new show, I can't stop. Alias, Sex and the City, Lost, Undeclared, 30 Rock, Growing Pains, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Grey's Anatomy, Ugly Betty and now Freaks and Geeks. I'm a little insane when it comes to box set television. I can't exercise restraint in any way. It's unfortunate.

-After eating cereal I decided to heat up some water for tea. Totally waited to drink it so it wouldn't burn my tongue. However, because of this fact I spilled in the center of my jeans right at the crotch. I was already in Marco's car so we couldn't turn around for me to change. I never want to be a burden, so I just sat in it. I felt like a baby in a wet, dirty diaper. I used my Eddie Bauer scarf to soak up most of the mess, but still. I'm soggy. So much for to-go mugs and their fail-safe caps.

-Oh, and the White Sox lost yesterday. Sad. I mean, granted, they weren't the best team this year, but they're still my team. On to Blackhawks season. Woo!

-I'm going to Chicago Thursday for my cousin Maureen's wedding! Hooray. Thursday night's the rehearsal dinner, and Saturday is the wedding. So, if I'm not at wedding festivities I'll be picking apples at the Apple Holler orchard in Wisconsin or chilling with friends and family.

-I can't believe how soggy I am. I'm like a waffle that's been soaking in syrup, no longer does it taste good and the quicker it actually gets moldy and gross. I think I'm going to bring my hot beverages in spaghetti cans again. At least it stayed closed.

Daily Grind

Sometimes, well, actually most of the time while I'm on gchat I'm invisible. I like being able to decide who I want to talk to and when. Feel lucky if I talk to you when the Red Light is out. I don't want to sound conceited, but it seems I get bombarded by people when I'm talking on gchat, hence invisibility. It's like having a super power without actually being able to tell anyone about it, because then I'll have to talk to them on chat. It's funny though, I've told a friend of mine from home about my invisibility technique, and now she either messages me when I'm actually not on thinking I'm ignoring her, or, she'll be invisible and neither of us will be none the wiser. Tricky.

I get a ride to work with my boss every day. Sometimes I get one with the Art Director and other times I catch one with one of Ode's main salesgirl. But usually, I'm cruising to the North Bay with Marco. It's a good deal. I leave with about 7 minutes to go, walk about 7 blocks and then wait at the corner of 22nd and South Van Ness. 8:15 am rolls around and Marco's wheels roll up. He's usually speaking in Dutch to someone—Ode's publisher, family member, other miscellaneous people. Sometimes I can pick up what he's saying, like words here and there. Last month, and I think still, there's been a mouse living in Marco's car. I haven't seen the little bugger, but I know it's there. One time Marco was talking to his father (I picked up) about the mouse (also picked up, the word is mouse, but more german sounding). When I asked Marco after he was done chatting how his father was, he was kind of taken off guard. For some reason because I could pick up the subject line and the person he was speaking with he assumed I had just begun taking Dutch. Oh, I might have forgotten to mention: Marco is Dutch. Actually, Ode was originally a Dutch magazine, and we still have offices in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. In any case, I think Marco's been trying to speak Dutch faster so I can't pick up, or maybe I just am not as language savvy as I had hoped. We've begun listening to books on CD using his portable disc player connecting it to his hilarious cassette set in the car. This thing is a piece of work, let me tell you. If you open the dashboard of the car you'll find a collection of tapes from the 90s and before including Dutch bands that have the sound of Pearl Jam's Eddy Vedder, Elvis and some Sigur Ros. We have a fun time rocking on the drives home when he's not speaking in Dutch to someone using his tiny earpiece. But perhaps the best part of Marco's Toyota Camry is the fact that it's eensie. At least for him, as he's over 6 feet tall and can hit his head on the top.

Well, today I caught a ride with the Art Director, and now I'm riding smooth in his Dodge, kind of reminds me of a hearse—but it's not.

Real World San Francisco

In reading Kiki Abba's hilarious blog [note, please read mine before hitting up hilarity], I realize mine are 100 percent lackluster. Sorry about that. I suppose I reserve funny stories for emails rather than blogs. I'm not sure. Either way, it was really nice to read Kiki's blog because she's basically in the same boat as me except hers seems way more fun. I mean grant it, she's in Seattle and I'm in San Francisco, both on the West Coast, both pretty hopping places, but man, she's got people her age at work and a steady crop of friends. That said, it's nice to know I'm not the only one who is scraping the bottom of my cash barrel, refusing to turn on lights in the dark and regularly make my lunch and bring it to work. It's also nice to know that other people go to the movies alone and hang out in coffee shops all day on the off chance that somehow I'll meet my new bestfriend while I turn pages of the latest David Sedaris book. "What's that? Oh, you love David Sedaris. Me too." And then a friendship was born. Too bad life isn't actually like that. I sat at the Sugar Lump on 24th street and Florida for three hours yesterday, reading, drinking my latte and getting Lemon Poppy seed muffin all over my black shirt. I was a sight to behold, and let me tell you, the only people that did look at me seemed to be concerned over my slob style eating technique. Needless to say, but I will anyway, I wouldn't have befriend me either.

In other news, I'm going to take myself to see the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants this week, probably go to a Yoga class, or just say I'll go and then not, have my first lesson on the banjo, which my housemate plays (woo Nancy), and maybe go to a 20-somethings dinner with this church I've started attending. Every weekend I have these big plans in my head of what I want to do, but somehow they get cast aside. I'm going to go to the San Francisco Zoo, see the Full House house, walk on the beach by the Golden Gate Bridge and see the DeYoung Museum.

Oh, and I'm also planning trips to Las Vegas, Los Angeles and going home to Chicago for a weekend in October. Yay!

so you just want to stay at home?

what? no one wants to go to the middle east? last i checked america was pretty neat. not to mention canada. and. i have always wanted to see a polar bear in the arctic. plus. wouldn't it be so sweet to climb down a frozen snow crevice? so sweet.

Working Villages International

I'm working on a piece about an eco-village community in the Democratic Republic of Congo, specifically in the Ruzizi Valley. I learned about it on Ode Magazine's exchange. It's pretty neat actually. Here's some more information, should you be intrigued:

1. Working Villages International Homepage

2. Ode Magazine's, Exchange Story

3. Africa Aid Organization

Just a start into various places people can help.

Part of the reason I'm feeling more proactive in aid organizations and relief groups is from working at Ode, but also, I know there are tons of people that want to help and don't know how. I plan on posting more places where people can give in some way, either time, money or prayers. But, a good place to check if there's anywhere local is to go to Volunteer Match. It's a website that has listings of everywhere people can get involved locally. It's pretty great, and people can always use another person willing to give of themselves. And, as always, it's very easy to donate money at church, or at other religious services for different faiths. Plus, you can help others give by giving them charity-styled gifts, like a gift certificate where they can pick where to donate funds, like at TisBest, JustGive and many others. Plus, I'm sure each of you knows someone who personally needs charitable giving to do what they do, like friends who volunteer with Campus Crusade for Christ or someone who's raising money for some sort of health research or for a Breast Cancer walk. At the University of Iowa students raise money for children's cancer research with Dance Marathon. People always need help, so give from what you have, what you can. It's important, because only together can we make a difference.

Visible Changes

During my final year at Iowa I had the pleasure of continuing to write for the Daily Iowan newspaper. I usually wrote arts and culture stories, but periodically I'd somehow end up in the metro section with a good story. One worth telling. In February I wrote a story about Invisible Children, an aid organization based in San Diego, California, that was set up to benefit the children of northern Uganda. In 2003 a film was shot to tell the story of child soldiers and the mounting internally displaced people caught in the crossfire. Five years later there has been noticeable change, especially with regard to the continued peace talks between rebel leaders of the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) and the Ugandan government. For more information on the peace talks click here. Later in the year the University of Iowa's Invisible Children chapter hosted a benefit concert to raise awareness and funds for the northern Ugandan children, where I was again to write a piece on them. Since those two stories I have thought more of the movement and the US role in aiding foreign countries and have often found myself wanting to have a hand in it, rather than merely writing about it. Though, clearly both are necessary. That brings me to today.

Today I was checking out the progress of Invisible Children and learning more about the struggle on another blog and saw this above video. We'll see where this all takes me, but all I know is I have to use my skills to help others. It's too hard to stand idly by as the world turns, especially since that's not like me at all. But until I know what my next move is, all I can do is do what I know how, spend my time wisely, and help the world turn, not just watch it turn. So, volunteer it is, starting with a Habitat for Humanity project in Golden Gate Park Saturday morning bright and early. Volunteermatch.org is a lifesaver.

So, basically, I challenge myself as much as my stories challenge others to live outside yourself, and live a good story to tell about later.

Check it out: Invisible Children Video

One Down. 15 to Go.

After quite a busy week at Ode Magazine, I think I can finally say I'm getting acclimated. We're getting set for the September issue, which I will have a few things in, so it's been an interesting week to begin work. I received an internship at Ode Magazine. There I get to write, edit, research, and copyfit various stories. It's pretty neat to be part of an international magazine: it's based in the Netherlands and California, with writers scattered about the globe and an executive editor who lives abroad in London.

Each day I begin my morning bright and early, grab a bite in the kitchen, then head down eight blocks to 22nd and Van Ness. I hop into the car of my managing editor and head North, to Mill Valley, as the magazine's headquarters are there, rather than in downtown San Francisco. Though it's not the most convenient place to live, the Mission district, is really fun, eclectic and always, always bustling with activity. It's about two stops away of downtown when using the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART), and about 35 minutes from Mill Valley by car—2 hrs, roughly by using three types of public transportation. Speaking of which, last week my ride and I were out of luck when his car had to be taken to the shop. We had intended to get a ride from a coworker, but she had to leave early, leaving us with her suggested route home: by boat.

Yes, we were to take the ferry from the North Bay to downtown, then hop from there onto the BART, head to the Mission, walk eight blocks, and then, and only then, arrive home to my cozy, green Victorian flat. Well, we missed the boat. Quite literally, and ended up waiting for a taxi in the tourist town of Saulsalito to take us back to our abodes.

My first week on the job was good. I was busy, with real work, which is what I wanted. I didn't want to be fetching coffee and filling up ink cartridges. In short, I'm glad I'm not Andy in The Devil Wears Prada. Yikes.

Speaking of which, in honor of starting my job, I had intended to watch it all week. I've been watching bits and pieces for a week now, as each night I am so tired from my 8-10 hour day, plus about 1.5 hrs in transit. Now, after a fun weekend visiting with a friend from my study abroad in France, I will finish it. I will. No if's, and's, or but's. It's getting done, alright. Now, I just have to figure out what to watch over the course of seven days this week.

Bridge-Bits of Information:

-For more on Ode Magazine, just click this LINK.

-For more on traveling from San Francisco to outside San Francisco without a vehicle: Don't do it. No seriously.

Hunting. Or at least that's what this was going to be about.

I was in Michigan over this past weekend. Colleen, my 25-year-old sister, and I headed up to the Upper Peninsula late Saturday to meet my parents who had arrived the day before. Col hadn't been to our northwoods home in three years, since before she left for the Peace Corps. Sometimes I imagine myself doing something like the Peace Corps, but then I realize all the things she had to do, those she couldn't do, and how scary it is to be alone. I enjoy alone time, I do, but it's, well, lonely, when it's not self-imposed. I guess it would be mildly self-imposed though, in the Peace Corps case, as you'd be the one to sign on, but still.

Anyway, we were heading to the outward bounds. It's so beautiful up there. Fresh. Things are literally clearer. I'm set to move to San Francisco next week to take some leaps into my future. Ode Magazine offered me an enticing internship at their California office, so I took it. Early bird catches the worm.

No one in my family is really that encouraging about it though, which was expected. Journalists make no money unless you're someone like Katie Couric, or a journalist who somehow managed to meet a money maker spouse.

Colleen's doing something similar, but it's in Los Angeles, and it's a screenwriters workshop. I think it will be good for her, providing her with the necessary skillset she'll need if she's truly serious. I think the same of my adventure, and yes, it's an adventure and a test in resilience.

Driving up to Michigan Colleen and I discussed the reasons for our sudden departures for warmer weather and fulfilled dreams, or I guess an attempt at reaching both. And it wasn't until talking with her that I really noticed how similar we think. Entitlement generation or not, one has to at least try to gain something beyond the status quo. We realize that if we really, truly wanted to, we could get jobs at offices within the corporate world. And we would probably find a love for it and a passion, but there would always be that, "What If?" And that's what makes life worth it. It's your life, I continually remind myself. You need to do what you want with it, or else you're a slave to it.

Party People!

I'm in Lake Forest chillin' like ice cream fillin'.

Yesterday I bused it from Iowa City to Chicago. Greyhound, not my friend. You win some you lose some. I went to the last night of the 5-day Chicago Wilco concert. It was amazing! AMAZING!

Andrew Bird came for a little cameo. The band opened up for themselves, then played another set, then returned to the stage for an encore ending with Dreamer in My Dreams.

Seriously amazing stuff. Love it.

Tu me manques...

This is Pau.

Lessons and Things

"She just said, 'How will you live?'"

I'd been out of the United States boundaries for a little over one hour when I began to speak with the person sitting beside me. She was about 5'6, pretty, olive skin, dark hair, topped off with a straw cowboy hat, university-aged to be sure. She looked like an all-American girl. Her name was Antoinette, I learned, and she was returning home to her native France after three months in Montana working as the American version of an au pair.

The child across the aisle on the United Airlines flight was starring at us strangely as I butchered French and Antoinette attempted to translate my Franglais into something with substance.

The five-year-old asked me again, "How will you live?" but it sounded more like "Comment tu vivras?" Antoinette waited for me to ask for help while the flight attendants fluttered about handing out safety packets in French and English and the pilot announced our ascension in two languages. Hovering above "The Land of the Free" for a few more hours before sailing over the ocean only to traverse across France, my first savory flavors of French conversation were underway.

Continuing on toward my new home, I attempted to translate the conversation the 5-year-old, called Marie, was having with Antoinette. She had realized my less than proficient skills, and therefore abandoned me. Yet, every few minutes she took pity, tapped me on the shoulder to ask questions regarding my final French destination.

I responded like her 3-year-old French little sister would have.

"I come from Chicago. I'm going to France. I am going to Pau. It is in the South."

She looked on with silent laughter, and then leaned over me to speak with Antoinette. I could understand her, just barely.

"Qu'est ce qui se passe?" or rather, "What just happened?"

The two giggled in what I deemed to be the way only French girls giggle, turned to me and continued feeble chitchat.

"Does your mom live in Pau?" Marie asked. I shook my head. Mortified she responded like any child would. Apparently worried about my future livelihood, she asked again, "How will you live?"

I had no answers. Five hours later and probably five French vocabulary words stronger, the plane landed in Paris.

Just like in all cities, neighborhoods are scattered throughout this couture glittered paradise, and similar to London, big name museums and monuments lie near the rushing river. I came to St. Michel, an area for straggling tourists searching for Notre-Dame, students on their way to the Latin Quarter, and Parisians. I was attempting to look like one of them, one of the French, but my small orange backpack pointed out student and when I opened my mouth, the words pointed out tourist.

Peaking over the small four story apartments directly next to the river stood the Victor Hugo-famed cathedral. I'd heard of it as a child in my catholic Sunday school lessons, as well as seen Disney's Quasimodo-induced "Hunchback of Notre-Dame. Just down a ways was Le Louvre followed by the Champs Elysées, le Musee d'Orsay and barely visible on a clear day was Paris' international namesake, The Eiffel Tower.

After nearly a week of site seeing in the city of romance, speaking almost entirely in Franglais, I had survived. I was completely full with the essentials, food and water.

But international cities aren't like small town anywhere. In New York, Rome, London, Tokyo, Madrid and Los Angeles, one can get away with not speaking the native tongue. It's too easy to pass through the large city gates of the international arena. In order to know any country more than a flighty tourist, it's essential to live outside of the box, even if you feel further away from the action.

This is what Marie meant by, "How will you live?" The moment I arrived in the quaint city of Pau in France, I noticed even the French people are different than those I found in Paris.

Sure, the streets were just as confusing, each called Rue Something French or Something Else in French, winding in circles, squares, triangles and sometimes, just straight lines out to nowhere, but the attitude simply feels wrong to a stranger.

"Depuis combien de tu es ici?"

"D'où est-ce que tu viens?"

"Comment s'appelle?"

These questions all seem unfamiliar, but they're nothing more than conversation starters: How long are you here? Where are you from? What's your name? And when that's all you've got to go on people take notice.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Brigid. Je suis etudiante etranger. Je viens de Chicago."

I was running out of steam and fast! These were the only things I knew how to say with any clarity. When I said these things I knew what I was saying, all other times it was a guess, a shot into thing air. I knew my name, that I was a foreign student and that I had a home in the states.

"Bonjour Brigid. Je m'apppelle Florence, et je voudrais prendre votre baggage dans ma voiture."

I think she is my host mom, and she might have wanted my luggage.

Standing in the parking lot of the University of Pau's dormitory, I was meeting my host mother for the first time. It was sweltering outside; the palm trees were beginning to droop with the early September heat, while the sun perpetually beat down onto the tops of our heads.

I turned to wave goodbye to my companions, but no one waved back as they too were meeting their families for the first time.

Two weeks in, my conversation starters began to completely wear. I could just hear my host mother repeating to herself. ''Yes, I know you're name and that you come from Chicago.'' But I had no time to learn practical questions. I needed to finish my homework. We'd been learning the passive tense along with the conditional tense in class; so I my speech became limited to indefinite shoulds, woulds and coulds or things that I had done. Rarely did I venture into the future without my trusty 'going to go' phrase.

Sitting in my sunlit bedroom for most of the afternoon, Florence came in to pose a question.

"You would like to take our meal with us tonight? If it pleases you, of course."

Her short brown haired head popped through the cracked open door. I was granted eight meals with the family per month as part of my rent. But I had learned to conserve each meal and limited myself to around two each week.

"Oui. I would like. Yes. But, tomorrow, no for me. I would not like to eat tomorrow."

Florence's lean frame gained firmer entry into my room as she listened to my response.

"You will not eat tomorrow?"

"No, I will eat, but not here tomorrow."

"I don't understand why you will not eat."

We went on like this for another minute until I had to stop her. Consulting my dictionary, I said I'd talk to her in a few minutes. Or at least, that's what I'd meant to say.

Scaling down the spiral staircase into the kitchen I nearly bumped into her as she placed the warming plate onto the table next to the pâte and couscous. Sweat beads formed across my brow as I attempted what felt like the impossible.

"Je ne voudrais pas manger avec ta famille demain parce que je vais aller chez mon amie. Ça va?"

"Oui. Ca marche. Bon."

So this is what success felt like, I thought. No, I would not like to eat with your family tomorrow, because I am going to go to a friend's house.

She turned to stir the soup some more. I walked out of the kitchen glanced at the pealing lavender wallpaper and continued to walk up. In my head I repeated the words to make sure I said exactly what I meant. It was right according to my grammar book, dictionary, countless handouts and Rick Steves. But there was no applause at the end of my simple declaration. It was a victory only I could see.

"C'est normal," Florence said to me at dinner a few weeks later. "C'est normale que…ben…that you more learn now."

We had just finished a minor conversation about life goals and third world countries. We, meaning my host mother, host grandparents, host sister and my biological parents. They were visiting France for the premier time, and neither spoke a lick of the language.

''Bon, it's very normal that you like France,'' said my host grandfather to my dad. Jean-Claude, apparently Claudy to his friends, announced this in French. Larry Marshall did not comprehend.

Instead, he starred off in the direction of the cast iron stove and asked in crisp English if it was wood-burning.

''Désolée, Florence. Il ne parle pas Français,'' I explained to my host mother his lacking French oral skills. She winked at me, went over to the stove and began to place pieces of wood into the burner.

''Yes, Dad, it's wood-burning. They don't call it a Franklin Stove here either.''

My mother was on the other end of the table speaking Spanish to my host grandmother, Victoria. I vaguely heard something about my host little sister Lukia and the education age.

She turned to look down the table at my father and Claudy breaking down the differences between the United States social security system and France's Securité Sociale.

''Brigid, can you, well, how do you? I'm just, how do I say that the US system of government is actually well-thought out and George Bush gets a bad rap?''

The only thing that came to mind was, is my 55-year-old father really asking me to translate and defend the US government? I had no qualms with what he wanted to explain, but I had never been the one to drive a conversation involving two cultures, languages and generations forward.

''Sure, yeah, with pleasure,'' I said. Leaning closer to the two men I began my thorough and incomplete explanation, pausing to give each party a moment to understand.

Nearly forty-five minutes later, the appetizers had disappeared along with four bottles of the Southwest of France's finest Jurançon Sec white wine and some sort of Irish Whisky.

''Brigid used to be a little shhh,'' Florence said holding her pointer finger to her lips. ''But, I think she knows better now French.''

''Oui, oui, Florence, c'est vrais, yes it's true,'' I said. ''But, you said, tu as dit, 'c'etait normal.' It was normal.''

I translated for my parents Florence's next words. ''Oui, it is quite hard to be living with new people and not know what to say. You don't know them, and it can make you nervous, but it is good to practice with them.''

On the way back to Pau's Hotel Bristol my mother hummed along to the French music playing on the cab's radio, as my father attempted to re-explain France's social security system. I simply looked out the window and understood what the lyrics were to the music.