Bookworm: June 2014

To quote an old friend: "You'll read anything that's printed. It's kind of like being a slut, but you read books instead of going down on guys wantonly."

Reading books in the summer is one of the reasons I live for June. Here's the rundown for the last month: 

Loved: 

The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P., Adelle Waldmann

Sharp Objects, Gillian Flynn

Enjoyed: 

The Hundred-Foot Journey, Richard Morais

Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie

I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends, Courtney Robertson

Tolerated: 

 And the Mountains Echoed, Khaled Hosseini

The Smart One, Jennifer Close

And the beloved re-reads for good measure: 

Love Walked In, Marisa de los Santos

Kate: The Future Queen, Katie Nicholl

The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Liz Gets Healthy, Volume IV: 100 Happy Days

The past few months have shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt that there's more to "getting healthy" than working out, cutting carbs and drinking a ton of water. I'm pleased to have joined a gym in my suburb for the summer, and am taking advantage of great seasonal produce and all, but my major focus in the quest for health is zoned in on a different arena lately. 

I briefly mentioned the 100 Happy Days project here, but wanted to expand on it because I've found that it's really been a good way for me to seek emotional health in a really turbulent and unhappy time in my life. Being dumped by the guy I straight-up thought I was going to marry sent me into a pretty intense spiral, but even before the shit with Jon in April, I hadn't been myself for months.

I've always been a relentlessly positive person to the point of obnoxiousness. I'm quick to see the bright side, my proverbial glass is never less than half-full, and the one major character trait others consistently attribute to me is happiness/positivity/joy. How, then, have I strayed so far? A lot of my recent unhappiness does trace back to being in a relationship I think I subliminally knew wasn't healthy anymore. Some of it certainly related to shitty weather, and more to dissatisfaction with myself. In short, I had lost sight of the forest in looking at the trees, and some of my shine had gone a little bit dim. 

I started 100 Happy Days shortly after our return from Puerto Rico and, really, I think it's gotten me through the spring and safely to summer. It's the smallest thing: a picture, every day, of something that made me happy. Over the course of the whoooole day...just one thing. And so often for me, it was such a small, stupid little thing, even before my little breakup tailspin...cocktails with my grandma. The Metrodome getting torn down. Sidewalk scenes in St. Paul. Even the very day I got dumped, 100 Happy Days forced me to recognize that crawling into bed in my childhood home and cuddling my teddy bear and stuffed bunny made me happy. It might not have been Puerto-Rican vacation levels of happy, but it was a happy moment that, otherwise, would likely have gotten missed in the miasma of negativity. 

These days, I find myself quicker to notice the little things. To appreciate the vista from the top floor of the parking ramp instead of bemoaning the stair hike to the top at the end of the day. To notice that the cafe lights under the deck umbrella are the cutest thing ever. To really focus on a font on a menu, a condensation pattern on a cocktail glass, a weed sprouting a daisy. And I've memorialized such wonderful things: the support from my parents and friends following the breakup, the way spring creeps up on Minnesota, beautiful moments as I hike back toward being myself again. 

TL/DR, forcing myself to appreciate the happy, beautiful moments in life has helped me reach a point of emotional health I haven't been at in a long time, despite the fact that I've been pretty sad for awhile, and I highly recommend 100 Happy Days if you, too, need that eye-opener. 

Now, for the fun stuff: my 100 happy snaps, in video form!

Shouting into the void...

This whole blogging "thing" has been so much fun for me, but sometimes it's so very weird. The platform I use, Squarespace, has a wonderful statistics page, where, if I'm so inclined, I can find out how many page views I've received, what content is most popular, when my peak traffic times are...pretty much anything my heart desires. I figured out how to use a geographic location function built into that page, and my mind is blown. 

Since I started this blog in October of 2013, it's been read 3,500 times, by over 1,000 unique users. I don't even know 1,000 people! The geography tool has informed me that I have readers across four continents and in a dozen different countries (hello, Bosnia? How's the weather in Chile, friend?). This absolutely baffles me. I don't understand how the heck something so small, so personal, has ballooned the way it appears to have...especially given that, to my knowledge, the only people who even read my blog on the regular are my mom, my college friend Patrick, and my friend Hannah (hi, guys!). Add to that the fact that I have only 2 followers and have, to date, received a grand total of four comments, and this escapade comes to seem really bizarre. 

Who, precisely, are you? When I write, when I put these words out here, who sees them? Do they reach anyone? Am I a search-engine statistic or are you, these 1,000 readers, my friends, family and peers? Do you know me? Do you see me every day and carry these insights with you? Can you, for example, commiserate with my love of Caribou cold press or sympathize with my once-broken-now-healing heart? Do you like brunch or have a summer bucket list? The more I think about it, the more odd I find it that you all know these things about me, and yet all I know of you is that you are reading my words from Chicago...Queens...Kansas City...Paris...Cairns, Australia...it's bizarrely one-sided and I wish it weren't. 

I would love to know you, mysterious readers. It would be so comforting to know who's out there behind the pageviews, who I'm sharing with. I blog because I love to write, and because I love to share, and because I love to connect. It's so odd to me, this phenomenon of blogging, where I narcissistically share so much and receive so little in return. In truth, I'd love to be able to thank every single one of you for stopping by, even just once, for caring just a little bit and saying "hello," even if it is simply the cyberspace equivalent of a passing nod on a street corner. 

Thank you. I love this space, and I am so stunned and grateful that a thousand someones out there have taken the time to share a little of their love too. 

101 in 1001 #23: Try something new with my hair!

I've seen the same (amazing) hairdresser, Teresa, since I was in elementary school...at this point, I'm not even sure if she qualifies as a hairdresser or just a friend who happens to cut my hair :) She told me that the two most common times women want to make a drastic change to their hair are a: after pregnancy and b: after a breakup. Being the walking cliché that I am, of course I ended up with my butt in her chair about two weeks after my breakup, begging her to "just chop it all off!" 

Thankfully, Teresa in all her wisdom and glory talked me off the crop-the-hair ledge, but planted a different idea in my head...why not color? My mom sees an amazing colorist at Teresa's salon, and they both recommended her to me. So tonight, I found myself with my butt planted in her chair, ready to check off #23 on my list! 

Jen was utterly lovely, and totally patient with the excessive, random, all-over-the-place conglomeration of hair colors I'd pinned to my hairstyle Pinterest board. After about five minutes of me dithering around, waving my hands in the air and consistently reiterating that I genuinely had no idea what I actually really wanted to do, she calmly stared me in the face for a solid 30 seconds. Upon her evaluation, she informed me gently but firmly that with my dark eyes, her best bet for me would be to warm and darken my color to a rich chocolate...at which point she cemented her place in my heart for life by pointing to the OH SO aspirational photos of the back of Kate Middleton's head that I had dreamily Pinned. 

Without further ado, the before and after!!

Please disregard the "I wore my hair in a ponytail and got poured on while headed into the salon" hair...

WHEEE!! It's exactly what Jen promised...darker, richer, warmer. I'm so excited about it...this is definitely going to be a fun, girly new addiction I get to enjoy! 

Sometimes, it's the little things.

These days, I get up around 5:45 to get to work by 7:30. For a girl known for bemoaning anything requiring a wake-up time in "the 5's," this is no mean feat. Lately, insomnia, weird dreams and general p.m. restlessness have made that alarm clock seem less and less tolerable, and cutting potent brewed coffee out of my morning routine (to help with migraines) isn't helping either. 

Today, though, I woke up happy. I took the time to straighten my hair. I applied eyeliner and wore a favorite blouse-skirt-ballet flats combo. My mom packed a lunch that looks pretty damn delicious (no, I am not in elementary school; yes, my mom packs my lunch these days; yes, I am aware of how lucky I am). I had a few spare minutes to chat with my parents before leaving for work, and I think we're going to do something fun in St. Paul after I'm off the clock for the day. When I left the house, it was bright enough for sunglasses, and traffic seemed to be clipping along a little faster than usual. 

And then, joy of all joys, my song came on Cities 97. You totally know what I'm talking about, right? The one song that you can recognize from the first four counts and that instantly fills your entire insides with happiness...an auditory memory trigger, maybe, that throws you back to a place or time or moment of significance. Or maybe a song you've just loved for so long it's worked its way into those moments by accident. Either way, it's YOUR song.

For me, it's The New Radicals, "You Get What You Give." My first boyfriend used it in a high school speech video, and I just instantly adored it. Since then, I've played it on every single major event day...high school graduation, the day I made the marching band, the day I left for London, the day I got my job offers, the morning of college graduation. It's going to be my alarm clock on the morning of my someday-maybe-wedding, guys. That's how deeply I adore that song. 

And so I did what any rational 25-year old girl would do. I cranked up my car stereo to 40, I rolled down all four windows (good hair day be damned!), I opened the sunroof and I had a straight-up seat-dancing, hand-gesturing, singing-at-the-top-of-my-lungs jam sesh. In that three minute span, I just kind of decided I was going to be happy, whether my happiness was construed as hyperbole or not. Because you DO get what you give in life, and I'm never going to give up on giving everyone a little bit of sunshine. Why the hell not?