For Those in Need of a Little Spring Flower Power

Posted in Life's Adventures by M.L.

Phipps Conservatory

What would your initial thought be if someone told you there was a building nearby, in your city, where they grow plants for people to look at? Like a zoo, but for plants. And flowers and herbs and whatnot, but basically plants. Wouldn’t you sarcastically wonder how interesting that could possibly be?

That would be about as interesting as watching paint dry. Or for our purpose…as interesting as watching grass grow. Right? I mean, let’s all go stare at plants, because that sounds super fun and definitely worth my money.

Well, there is such a building in Pittsburgh called Phipps Conservatory. And in this place, they grow flowers and plants and trees, solely for people to look at them. In wonder, or awe, or incredulity, or boredom. Whatever the case, this is a plant museum.

This past weekend was my first time visiting this plant museum. I brought my boyfriend, who was in town for the weekend, because I had heard a lot of good things about it (surprisingly, I thought). My brother has taken his girlfriend there around Christmas-time when they have their holiday display, my cousin recently took a trip there and talked about it at Easter dinner, and I even have a friend who used to work there. So I figured it might be more interesting than it sounds.

And it was.

The goal of Phipps is

“to inspire and educate all with the beauty and importance of plants; to advance sustainability and promote human and environmental well-being through action and research; and to celebrate its historic glasshouse.”

In my mind, I’d thought that it was solely a decorative luxury. But as we walked on the curving stone paths, through rooms filled with light and green and fragrance, I realized that the point of Phipps was a little bit more. Throughout the glass rooms, there were activities for children and plaques displayed, explaining the importance of “going green” and “sustainability.” One of the rooms was dedicated to fruit and herb plants, such as coffee and bananas and cherries, etc. There was a play “market” for kids where they could pretend to shop and sell (fake) fresh produce. There was a station (not active the time we were there) where kids would pot their own plants. The whole structure, inside and out, was to remind people that plants are important, no matter how small or large or unusual.

The Secret Garden

The featured exhibit that we saw during our visit was the Spring Flower Show: The Secret Garden. The flowers in bloom were incorporated into every display, every walkway, every path, every window and ledge and nook and cranny. It smelled divine. The conservatory was the smell of all the flowers in the world smashed into one building.

I just couldn’t believe how they expertly planted all these trees and shrubs and flowers to make it look like they belonged there forever. You couldn’t even tell that you were indoors anymore. The plants looked permanent, they looked like they were quite at home there. Some had grown over the pathway a little bit; some had grown tall and hung overhead. The only thing that reminded you that this was a greenhouse and not nature outdoors was the fact that every petal and every leaf was perfect. The deer hadn’t come by to nibble on the flowers, storms didn’t wash away the baby plants before they had strong roots, the high winds weren’t there to rip apart the leaves. The flowers were so perfect, they could have been fake. Which made it even more miraculous.

Inside the greenhouse was a world all its own. There were ponds and fish and bugs and little rodents, which I’m assuming is to keep the ecosystem in equilibrium and everything running smoothly. The rooms that were arranged in intricate garden pathways were exactly how I’d always imagined the secret garden in the book might have looked like. A place you could get lost in and not really care. You could just sit among the flowers and be lulled by their natural, flawless beauty.

I may sound like I’m getting a little carried away, but it has been cold and dreary for a long time. This flower show was just what I needed to pull myself out of the winter blues.

It’s not just a plant museum. It’s a magical garden show. But I would recommend going on a weekday if possible, to avoid getting stuck walking behind long trains of toddlers and badge-earning girl scouts.

3Apr2013

Post-College Campus Tour

Posted in Life's Adventures by M.L.

Abby, Lindsay and I with the statue of James Madison

I visited my sister at James Madison University this past weekend.

Let me remind you, tales of my journeys are not to be taken lightly. Traveling and/or driving somewhere new is a big deal for me.

Luckily, I was not alone.

My cousin Abby is a junior in high school. She is at that magical age when you start to look at all the possibilities that are just beyond the classrooms that you begin to refer to as prison cells. But just barely. She thought (or maybe her parents thought) it would be a good idea to check out JMU. It’s easy enough to visit, while my sister is there, so why not?

We drove down on Friday morning. I won’t get too much into my little antics on the drive down–we all know I have trouble with directions. Let’s just say, my parents told me about a “shortcut” (which I guess it was) but apparently my knowledge of geography is lacking. I got a little confused (read: freaking out) when I noticed a sign for Maryland about two hours in. I thought I had somehow driven the entire way across Pennsylvania to get to Maryland. (Who knew you could go from Pennsylvania to Maryland to West Virginia to Virginia within fifteen minutes??? Obviously not me.)

Anyways….we got there just fine.

Since it was Easter weekend, Lindsay said that her roommate and suitemates would be gone for the weekend and were generously offering their beds to sleep in if we needed them.

Two of her suite-mates were still there when we got there, so we got to meet them. They said Lindsay and I are exactly alike. That’s news to me.

Overlooking the JMU campus

Then Lindsay took us on a short walking tour of the campus. And let me tell you, JMU is BEAUTIFUL. If I were in my cousin’s position, I would look no further. The campus is idyllic in that it is everything you think of when you think of going away to college and staying on a campus. It has that impressive campus feel. Pretty gray brick buildings that match, lots of walking paths, green fields, a quad, statues. Dorms were in clusters with names like Hillside and Fox and the Village. Huge dining halls and other places to eat in almost every building. (Apparently JMU is ranked #4 in best food on campus.) Not to mention the picturesque Virginia mountains in the background.

I couldn’t help comparing everything we did with my experiences at the University of Delaware. I’m not saying that I would have traded those experiences. But maybe had I looked at JMU when I was in high school, I would have considered it. I was tallying up the pros and cons, and as far as I could see in a weekend visit, there weren’t many cons.

**Maybe I should make a note here: this is not, I repeat NOT a paid endorsement for James Madison University. I swear. I was simply in love with the campus.

Miraculously, we had beautiful weather that weekend. Blue skies and sun. We took pictures overlooking the campus and the mountains and with James Madison himself, of course.

We got to meet some of Lindsay’s friends and classmates, and see a few other dorms and apartments. We visited the campus bookstore and bought matching JMU t-shirts. Because everyone needs a bright neon shirt. We got to eat at the dining hall and a place called Dukes. Dining hall food is still dining hall food, no matter where you go, but I was not complaining–they had tater tots and bacon, what more could I want?

We were going to try to see a movie Saturday afternoon, but apparently they were having some electrical issues and couldn’t get the power to stay on. We ended up getting our money back, but I would have to say that was a con for the school. We went to the mall instead. Small mall but at least they had a few good stores. And it was very close to campus, close to restaurants and a bowling alley.

We went out to dinner at a place called Clementine’s. It was fantastic. I wish we could have stayed for the live music but it wasn’t until 10 PM. So after dinner we went to an ice cream place called Kline’s, where they serve their own homemade ice-cream.

On Sunday morning we went to Easter mass on campus. It was really refreshing to see a mass held on a college campus, with students singing and playing guitar.

We left soon after that. And don’t worry, we got home without any mishaps.

There’s a lot I could say about going on this trip with my cousin looking at colleges.

Like, how does any 17-year-old high school kid know what they’re looking for? How do they know if they want the serene, 19th-century campus, or the busy city campus? How do they know what they want to do with their lives after high school?

Or, if you had the chance, would you do it differently? Did your actual college experience hold true to those campus-tour-expectations? If you knew what else was out there, how it could have been somewhere else, would you change your mind?

I like to believe that the choices you make take you where you’re supposed to go. I wouldn’t be who I am or have some amazing people in my life if I hadn’t gone to Delaware.

But when you’re on a beautiful campus, on a gorgeous day, it’s hard not to wonder.

12Mar2013

Three Point One

Posted in Life's Adventures by M.L.

For some, it was a warm-up. They were stretching their legs, ready for some warmer weather and the beginning of spring. They were preparing for the real races down the road. Just another morning jog.

But for me, it was my greatest achievement. Well, as far as my running attempts go.
I finished my first 5K race on Saturday morning. I said I would do it, and I did.

I was most definitely not planning on running in the March Mad Dash. First of all, it is March. It’s cold and snowy and gray, and I like to run in nice, warmer weather. Second, I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t been working hard enough at the gym and I wasn’t ready.

But my sister came home from school for spring break and it didn’t take too much to convince me. I like running with a buddy, and I will accept any motivation to get out and go. When she first asked me, I instinctively said no. And then I remembered my lifelong dream of running 3.1 miles and caved.

We registered in advance (couldn’t back out now) so when the day of the race came we got there early to pick up packets and get free T-shirts. (You know that’s really the only reason why I agreed to do it.) I was so eager to get there and warm up and get free stuff that I guess we got there a little too early. We ended up standing out in the cold for about 45 minutes. It was supposed to warm up later in the day, but at 8 AM, it was still hats-and-gloves weather.

As we walked from our car through the parking lot, we saw stickers on the backs of other people’s cars. 13.1… 26.2…140.3…I was so out of my element. We didn’t know where to go, or how the 5K course went. We were (are) such amateurs.

They told us to line up behind the starting line, according to how fast we thought we were in comparison to the other 750 people around us. Yeah right. I had no idea if I would be slow or fast compared to anyone. So I stood in the middle of the crowd with my sister, vowing to stay together. As it turns out, some people seriously underestimated their speed and tried to trample everyone in front of them, and some people seriously overestimated their speed and got trampled. More of the latter. And staying together? That didn’t work for very long. Too many people were ducking and weaving and dodging. We got separated, and, even though I maintain that I totally could have kept up, she pulled out ahead.

The whole race was kind of exhilarating. This gun goes off and this big mass of people starts moving, looking like a bouncing sea of bodies all headed in the same direction, slowly sprawling out into a long, snaking line. I played little games in my head–picked people to keep up with and people to pass. I tried to keep my stride longer than the person next to me, or my breathing more even. Just trying to keep it interesting.

Volunteers were standing along the sides offering drinks and encouragement. “Gatorade first, water second!” “Keep it up, you’re doing good!” I felt like a runner. Like someone who runs 5Ks all the time. Until I grabbed a paper cup of water and spilled it all over myself trying to drink and run at the same time.

I felt good until I got about 2.7 miles in. It was at that moment that one of the volunteers cheered, “You’re doing good! Just up the hill!”

“Up the hill?!” I screamed at him.

“You’re doing good,” he said a little more quietly. And I staggered past him.

This was a killer hill. At the end of a 5K. I had not expected a hill and so had run a little harder in the middle of the race than maybe I ought to have. So I basically died. I hadn’t eaten enough breakfast, so my stomach was audibly growling, I still had my gloves on, so I was hot and sweating, and pretty much felt like passing out.

I gave myself a tiny break about 3/4 of the way up the hill and let myself walk for approximately 15-20 seconds. Just long enough to take my gloves off. Then I picked it up and ran a little faster to make up the time.

On the way down the hill, I felt great. I felt like I could keep going, do the whole loop again, maybe do a marathon while I was at it…

My mom was cheering for me as I came into the finish line. My dad was fumbling around with a camera trying to figure out how to take a picture. My sister had beaten me by a few minutes. But I made it.

My official time was 28 minutes and 51 seconds. I came in 41st place overall for the 5K, out of 168 5K runners. I came in 10th in the 20-29 women’s age group (out of 39). Some 11- and 12-year-olds beat me. So did a 58-year-old. But that’s okay.

I successfully completed my first 5K race. On to the next one!

Post-race

1Mar2013

Real World 101

Posted in Lessons Learned by M.L.

Is there anyone who is truly well-prepared to enter the real world?

Take the average American, middle-class, suburban person. They have both parents (or even one parent, whatever), a few siblings, a few hundred dollars from birthdays in their savings account, and let’s take a look at a brief synopsis of their life.

This person goes to public school. They go to a middle school that is just trying to prepare them for the “much-harsher” high school. They get through high school, with the goal of getting into the best college possible. They have this notion that their SAT scores are everything. They have to become an outstanding student, take AP and honors courses and get all A’s. They have to get into National Honor Society, join clubs, be President, and run the Prom committee. All because they have to improve their personal chances of getting into the best school.

So they graduate high school. They’ve gotten into colleges and they make their choice. They decide what will be best for them. They take into consideration what they want to major in, where they want to live, whether they will play sports. They weigh the merits of each school, the pros and cons. They make the best choice to further their education. And then their last days of summer are behind them and they’re walking the campus and taking 8 AM classes.

Now, they get good grades because it will help them get a job. They are trying to improve their personal rankings in the long line of graduates seeking the exact same jobs. Again, they join clubs, they learn skills, they discover their talents. They make themselves better people, because it’s all about them. It’s about them getting somewhere. It’s about how they will live the rest of their lives.

It’s all about them.

And then they get that job. Whatever that job may be, good or bad, high-paying or minimum wage. They get it. Congrats.

And then suddenly, it’s not all about them anymore. It’s about the company. It’s about keeping the boss happy. It’s about communicating what you’re doing in your daily tasks with the other people who are doing their own daily tasks, all in the attempt to make the company or organization or business better. It’s about anticipating what others will need before they have a chance to yell at you. If the company goes bankrupt, loses money, has to lay off workers, then you are losing money and/or out of a job.

It’s not about you. At all.

So where did we go wrong? Or maybe the question should be, why?

Why are we told from the very beginning that it’s all about us, that we are individuals and we will succeed or fail alone, if in reality, it’s about the company and the group and the collective?

If you don’t turn your homework in, you fail the class. You get a bad grade. Your GPA drops. Your class rank falls. You fail. Your poor work ethic doesn’t hurt anyone but yourself.

But if you don’t finish the project that you’re working on at your job, if you don’t close the deal, it is the company that pays the price. The sales drop, you lose a client, you lose money. The fault might be yours, but the consequences affect the group.

How did we come up with this backwards way of teaching children and educating the young workforce? What if we had told students that if one person was failing, none of them would get an A? Don’t you think everyone would do everything they could to help that kid get his homework done? Maybe that sounds too much like socialism. People don’t like socialism. People like to know that if they do a good job personally, that they will be rewarded.

Usually that’s the way it is in the workplace. People who excel at their jobs get promoted. But you can’t excel at your job if you’re not looking at the bigger picture. If you don’t see the work that everyone else is doing and if you can’t align your needs with the needs of the organization as a whole, then your disconnected way of thinking will never get you anywhere.

Somewhere along the line, someone came up with this “me, me, me” attitude towards teaching in schools. But then kids get to their jobs in the real world and they aren’t prepared. They aren’t prepared to write someone else’s to-do lists and manage their boss’s schedules and book flights for their co-workers and file paperwork that doesn’t belong to them. It’s this whole new way of thinking. When all you have to do is worry about your own life and your own schedule, life is easy. But put the needs of ten or twenty or a hundred other people onto your to-do list and suddenly your public school, college education just went out the window, because you’ve never had to do that before and no one prepared you.

Real life isn’t sitting in class, taking notes and passing a test. So why do colleges think they are preparing us for our careers?

(photo via)

21Feb2013

The Keys to Driving in the City

Posted in Life's Adventures by M.L.

Driving in rush-hour Pittsburgh traffic is brutal. It’s a cut-throat business. It’s a battle of size and strength and wits. It will weed out the losers from the winners. It is a fight to the finish. The one with guts gets all the glory.

I used to be terrified of driving in the city. It was quite literally my biggest fear. I was forced to get over this fear when the organization I work for moved offices. And of course we moved to a place that is farther away and harder to get to, across two rivers, over five bridges, under three overpasses and through one tunnel. Oh wait, two tunnels. There was nothing I could do; I had to face my fear.

It took me about a week and a half before I felt confident enough to put away my GPS. Even now, a month later, I still keep my phone on the seat next to me, just in case there’s an accident, or a fire, or a water main break, and I’m forced down an unfamiliar road.

Now, I’m almost a pro. I say almost because, like I said, driving in rush-hour, city traffic is cut-throat. And I do not always come out on top.

In order to drive in traffic across two rivers, over five bridges, under three overpasses and through two tunnels, one must be aggressive. Never drive in the slow lane if you think you could be going faster or you might want to go faster later. You will inevitably get stuck behind a large 18-wheeler or a mom in a minivan, and they do not care how slow they are going.

One must merge into lanes forcefully. Make the decision to cut in front of someone and stick to that decision. If there is not enough space for your car, the person you are cutting in front of will just have to stop and let you in. Because you are in it to win it.

On a similar note, merge at the last possible second. Too many people try to merge the second they see the lane on their left, thus stopping all traffic behind them on the ramp and firmly positioning themselves too far back in the line. If you keep driving in the merge lane until you can drive no further, think of all the cars you will pass, stuck in that traffic.

After you’ve merged, don’t let any space get between you and that car just ahead of you. You never know who might try to sneak in at the next ramp. Don’t make eye contact and don’t give an inch. You earned your spot in line and you’re going to keep it.

Drive on the shoulder of a ramp when you are positive that no one will hit you. Driving outside the lines, on the rumble strips sometimes cannot be avoided. This is part of the battle. You just have to drive around those people who tried to merge too soon and cut in front of the lazy drivers.

When coming to a traffic light, one must run the yellows, even at the last possible second. It is legal to drive through a yellow light. So do it. If you stop at every yellow light you get to on a 45-minute drive through the city, it will end up taking you an hour. Or you will get rear-ended because the car behind you was planning on running the yellow light after you.

If the left-turn-signal on the traffic light goes out, you have about five more seconds to make a left-hand turn before the oncoming traffic actually starts to move. Use that time wisely and make your turn. But be aggressive about it. If you hesitate, you will lose your five-second advantage and be stuck in the middle of the intersection.

Which leads me to my next point. One must never stop in the middle of an intersection. You will get beeped and honked at, especially by buses because they’re big and clumsy, and you will probably get hit and smashed. Enough said.

If you manage to make it through all the bumper-to-bumper traffic, avoid the distracted drivers on their phones, eating a sandwich, balancing coffee while painting their nails, and arrive at your destination on time, give yourself a small pat on the back. Because you’ve survived only one half of the nightmare that is driving to work, because you have yet to go home. Getting home at the end of the day is often worse, after people have gotten crap from their bosses, worked overtime, and spilled their lunch all over their shirt. This is when the real fun begins.

This is when you show no mercy. It’s the big trucks and the tiny convertibles who think they are invincible, so you have to show them you mean business. All the above rules go into overtime at this point. Merge like you mean it, get into the fast lane ASAP and don’t budge. Pedal to the metal, and all that jazz.

This is war. And you, my friend, will emerge victorious.

UPDATE (2/22/13): Due to concerns expressed by several readers, I would just like to make a note that I do not in any way condone illegal or reckless driving. I advocate strategic driving. When driving in Pittsburgh, one must find humor in small things or one will go crazy.

(photo via)

18Feb2013

Valentine’s Day is a Love-Hate Relationship

Posted in Life's Adventures by M.L.

Well, folks, the whirlwind of Valentine’s Day/Weekend is over and you’re probably back to your normal love-less routine, whether you have a significant other or not. You’re collapsing on the couch after a long day of work, heating a bowl of soup, and flipping through the channels. The romantic cards are still sitting on the counter, possibly displayed on a mantlepiece, but the words in them are all but forgotten. All of the “I love you today and every day because you are my soulmate” refrains, never to be read again. The $100 Cheesecake Factory dinner-for-two will come back to haunt you on your next credit card statement. Incessant nagging will ensue when the garbage doesn’t get taken out and the dishes aren’t put away….

How terrible. This would make a great movie or sit-com, I think.

But I am not this person.

I am the person who likes to celebrate the romance every day. I appreciate the little things. I want the door opened for me when we go see a movie on a Tuesday. I want a letter in the mail just because. I want a “good morning” text when I wake up. I want to spend a Saturday afternoon bowling and insist that I pay because I feel like it. I want to let you pick out the movie this time and I want to send you “good night” texts. And I don’t want this to be overlooked.

I used to want to say that I hated Valentine’s Day. I think that a lot of single girls vehemently insist that Valentine’s Day is a made-up holiday for the couples to rub their happiness in everyone’s faces. And I think that girls in relationships say that they hate how superficial and consumer-oriented the whole things has become. No one wants to be the one to say that they like having an official, national date night. They don’t want to be the one to say that the card they received said the perfect thing. They don’t want to say that the little extra effort that was put in (a reservation at an expensive restaurant, or flowers delivered to work) was actually appreciated.

Everyone wants to say that Valentine’s Day is overrated, a Hallmark-holiday. Everyone wants to hate Valentine’s Day. It’s easier to say how stupid the whole thing is, rather than look like a silly, love-struck puppy, or worse, to be let down and disappointed because the Hallmark-holiday which was over-hyped by the media led you to believe that you would be getting roses and chocolates and a romantic dinner and then your other half, the person who is supposed to know you better than anyone else in the world, forgot.

I want to be someone who hates Valentine’s Day. I don’t need it. Like, I said, I already appreciate the little things. I’m already in love every day. Why do I need a designated day so I can celebrate with every other couple all at the same time?

But then I read the words in the Hallmark card and I’m sitting in the restaurant and I’m sipping a glass of wine and I can’t say that I hate it.

This year, my boyfriend and I couldn’t be together for Valentine’s Day, but I planned a trip to visit the day after. The dreaded and much-anticipated holiday approached and I found myself waiting anxiously, expectantly. I had sent a ticket to the Pens game (against the Buffalo Sabres) in the mail to surprise him. (If only I could have seen the look on his face.) I imagined all kinds of cute things he might do. I was even hoping for something generic, like flowers at work, or a romantic card, or a box of chocolates. I got nothing all day. A “Happy valentine’s day” text in the morning and then nothing. So imagine my disappointment–my willingness to say how much I hated Valentine’s Day. (Will boys ever get it right??)

Then I visited and we had a wonderful weekend that completely made up for it. I did get the Hallmark card that made me smile with every word. I got a delicious lunch out at a restaurant I had never been to. I got an artsy trinket to keep and display wine corks (much better than flowers, I thought) and I got to drop the first cork into it Saturday night.

Yes, we might all go back to our normal routines now that this love-sick weekend is over. We might not get cards every day, or have date nights all the time. Some nice things might be taken for granted because we’re not really thinking about it. Maybe we’ll all try to enjoy the little things and say we don’t need the big romantic gestures. But this one day out of the whole year is a nice little reminder that a little extra effort is always appreciated, no matter what day it falls on. And as much as I “hate” Valentine’s Day, it is a day where all the world is celebrating love. What day could be better than that?

4Feb2013

A Girl and a Shovel and a Nice Long Driveway

Posted in Lessons Learned by M.L.

Who knew shoveling the driveway was so hard? Maybe it depends on the driveway. Ours is a decent size. With a hill. And a curve. Lots of steps leading to the front door.

Then again, it could be that this was my first time ever actually shoveling it.

That’s right. I am 22 years old and I am a yard-work-avoider. A person who avoids yard work. I guess shoveling could be classified as such. Anything that involves manual labor and tools that you buy at a hardware store or in the hardware section of a Wal-Mart counts as yard work, according to me. And I have avoided it at all costs for my entire life.

I have been lucky enough to live in a house with a big beautiful backyard, up on a hill–plenty of trees with leaves that turn glorious colors in the fall, and flowers and bushes growing up the hill and trimming the sides of the house. A beautiful recipe for disaster.

Just think of all the stuff that is involved with keeping a yard nice. There’s mowing the grass, raking leaves and shoveling snow. And then there’s mulching and fertilizing. There’s the planting of the flowers and weeding. There’s bush-trimming and branch-cutting. Salting the steps. Watering the plants when it’s a dry summer. Tying up the daffodils if you want them to bloom again next year (which obviously we do). And that thing they do in yards when little nuggets resembling owl pellets pop up everywhere so that the grass can breathe for a little while (I believe it’s called aerating?). I would even count hanging Christmas lights as yard work, considering you need a ladder, hammer and nails, possibly a staple gun.

That’s a lot of time-consuming work. Well worth the reward, many people will say. And I certainly agree.

But I am a yard-work-avoider. And I have done it all to get out of all that nonsense. I’ve given every excuse in the book, from the usual “I have homework” to the extreme “I have a swim meet later this month and I can’t possibly strain my athletically-toned muscles.” I have avoided eye-contact with my parents, played the silent game for 40 minutes while they yell for me to help. I’ve pretended I’m invisible, or they’re invisible. I’ve locked myself in my room and called friends. Sometimes I went out and picked up a rake. And then stood there with that rake until all the leaves were gone and I could put the rake down and say “phew, glad we got all those leaves raked up!”

Back when I was younger and six inches of snow meant sledding and snowball fights, the deal was we could play outside if we helped shovel at some point. At least I think that was the deal. Maybe I’m making it up in my head because I tried so terribly hard NOT to shovel. But it doesn’t matter, I didn’t shovel either way. I would push the snow around a little bit. My fingers seemed more frozen shoveling than they did building snow forts, so that was probably another excuse of mine.

What a hard-hearted, selfish little person I was, right? To watch my mom and dad and siblings hauling heavy snow and trash cans full of leaves, down on their hands and knees in the mud to pull weeds, scratching their fingers while picking up the tree trimmings, and I just watched. How could I? Well I’ll tell you. I wanted to read. To write. To keep my hands soft and delicate (Sarcasm on that one. But seriously).

And now I really do wonder- how could I? (Okay, I had a lot of time to think while walking back and forth across the driveway a bazillion times.) It is hard work. No it’s not fun, no it’s not what you want to do. But there are a million reasons why you should. First, I was a child and children should have chores. Children should learn the value of hard work, the rewards of a job well done, the satisfaction of finishing what you started. Second, my parents raised me and I should do everything I can to make their job easier. They’ve been doing all the really hard stuff (like paying for a house and cars and actually everything, having a job, planning for the future) while I sit around, read and swim. I mean come on. Lastly, (and this is a more current reason) I should help shovel, because if I don’t, I– in my beat-up old car without snow tires or four-wheel drive–will slip and slide all around that decent-sized driveway-on-a-hill and it will be because I didn’t shovel it.

And so, after over 22 years of weaseling my way out of yard work, I finally learned the lessons and shoveled the whole driveway by myself. Mainly because I slipped and slid all the way up it after work, and my parents are on vacation and can’t do it for me.

Tomorrow, my back will be screaming at me. But at least I’ll be able to get out of the driveway.

(photo via)

24Jan2013

Everything Must Go

Posted in Career by M.L.

If you have never packed up an entire company and multiple offices worth of files, supplies, and knick-knacks, and moved it all to a new office space across town, in the span of about two to three weeks, then you don’t know what you’re missing. Moving is all at once frustrating, confusing, irritating, time-consuming, tedious, and above all liberating. It is like doing laundry, or cleaning the bathrooms–you don’t want to do it, but it must be done, and when it is, the result is worth the effort.

The nonprofit organization that I work for, Steeltown Entertainment Project, has recently moved to a new office building. This move has come with all of the trials and tribulations a move can come with, and then some. But didn’t someone famous once say, the greater the effort, the greater the reward?

Moving a business or company is not like moving your family to a new house. When your family moves, the stuff is yours. It is stuff that you bought, you own, you live with and you love. You want to take care of it and cautiously move it from its cherished location in home #1 to a new cherished location in home #2. When people move their place of work, the things are not household things, you don’t live with them and you probably didn’t purchase them. You certainly don’t love those dusty old files and office supplies that someone forgot about and now must be organized, packed, and relocated.

Keep in mind that Steeltown is a relatively small nonprofit that was founded in 2003. It is not very old, nor does it have very many employees, when compared with large businesses or corporations. Three offices can’t possibly hold that much stuff, can it?

But the mantra for our two-week packing spree should have been, “Everything must go” because that about sums it up. We packed up boxes and boxes and boxes of old files to be archived. We taped them up securely because they will rarely be accessed. We packed boxes and boxes of filing supplies and offices supplies. Just when we taped a box shut, we found a whole stash of the same thing hidden somewhere else. We packed up boxes of computer equipment, software, editing equipment, tapes, DVD’s, VHS’s. There were kitchen-y supplies. And more files which were being actively used. Everything had to go.

As a recent hoarding convert, this appalled me. When I was younger I liked to keep everything, until I pulled it out 15 years later and realized it really didn’t have any value, sentimental or otherwise. I’ve become in recent months a firm believer of throwing things out that you no longer use- such as clothes, shoes, receipts, etc., as hard as it may seem at the time. So here I was, packing up things that had not been touched in years simply because they were forgotten about. If no one knew they were there, how could they be missed if they were thrown out? And yet, they were boxed and packed. Never to be seen again. The only thing I was really permitted to throw away was expired food. And some of the food I found had expired as long ago as 2009. No one was going to argue me on that one.

The hardest part about moving offices for me came from being the newest staff member. I didn’t know where things were kept or how they were organized or how they were planned to be organized later. I didn’t know where things came from, why we were keeping it, or why we had it in the first place. I found things that were so seemingly random that I kept a box that I called “Random Things to be Sorted Later.” That box quickly became five.

The packing seemed long and tedious. The boxes seemed endless. All of the packed boxes were going down to the basement of the building to await Moving Day, but it seemed as soon as we’d packed them and stored them there, we needed something that was in there. A business has to keep running, after all, even while it’s packing.

Finally, the offices were empty, the last boxes taped shut. I didn’t have to partake in Moving Day, but the day after, there everything was, all the boxes in their new separate offices, waiting to be unpacked and sorted yet again.

But I’ve always liked unpacking better than packing. I can put things where I want them, organize them how I like, and I know exactly where everything is.

Now, day three in the new office and (almost) everything has a place. And I can finally look up from the boxes and take stock of my upgrade– from sitting on a hard plastic chair, sandwiched between two or three other people in the same room, with my laptop balancing precariously on a bookshelf, to my new comfortable office chair with my own desk, soon to be my own computer, in my own office. Never was a moment so gratifying.

Moving offices means more than just packing stuff up and putting it in a new place. It means the company is expanding. It means better working conditions, where employees are more efficient. It means making a bigger impact, being a bigger presence in the city of Pittsburgh. This is the liberating feeling of progress.

Oh and that famous person’s quote?

“The greater the effort, the greater the glory.” -Pierre Corneille, French playwright. With all the effort we put in, Steeltown better be headed for glory…

(photo via)

2Jan2013

First Day, First Job, Big Sigh of Relief

Posted in Career by M.L.

Someday I will be able to look back on the time I spent post-graduation running around tables with martini shakers in both hands and ketchup splatters on a starched white shirt, and I’ll laugh. Someday I’ll think back on the time I spent shivering in a swimming pool trying to get a little girl to put her head under the water, and it will be a pleasant memory. Someday I’ll remember the days that I put in four or eight or twelve hours of work and didn’t make a dime, and I’ll be able to better appreciate it.

But today, on the first day of my first real job, all I’m doing is breathing a sigh of relief. Today, all of the temporary jobs and short-term internships and sporadic hours are too recent. The six months I spent in frustration and bewilderment after I graduated without a job are too fresh in my mind. So today, after my first day, all I’ll do is breathe. And someday six months will seem like nothing. The jobs I worked will seem so distant. Someday it will be funnier.

Today I started my job as an Administrative Assistant for Steeltown Entertainment Project, here in Pittsburgh, PA. After interning with this nonprofit organization for several months, the position opened up and was offered to me a few weeks ago. This was the first of hopefully many good days.

On the mountain that is life, I am at the bottom. I haven’t seen much of the world, I haven’t met many people, I haven’t climbed very high. But I have big plans for myself. I have things to do, places to go. I am happy to have this opportunity to take my first step.

I may not have gone very far yet, but I couldn’t have made it here, and I wouldn’t be who I am, without some really great people in my life. My parents are my rock and my home and they let me move back. Jim believed in me more than I believed in myself. Hannah is my therapy, with hour and half phone conversations every week, the best friend I could ask for. Some really awesome PR pros (hopefully you know who you are) served as my role models and social media guides. And some great friends, new and old, were the best distraction.

Thank you to everyone who gave me advice, everyone who taught me anything, and anyone who had to put up with my incessant lament, “why, oh why can’t I get a job?”

Now I can stop being stressed and frustrated. I can breathe a sigh of relief and let it all soak in. This is the start of something big, I can feel it.

(photo via)

1Jan2013

Enough of 2012, Bring on the New Year

Posted in Life's Adventures by M.L.

The last time I took a moment to reflect about an entire year, I was a freshman in college and had experienced so much change between high school and the University of Delaware that it would have been wrong for me not to think back on it and appreciate it. At that time, I was growing up, moving out, making new friends, having new experiences and learning from everything.

This too, has been a year of changes. If I could have made a prediction years ago about where I would be at this point in my life, it would not be here. I would not be living at home with my parents, I would not still be serving at a restaurant, I would not even be in Pittsburgh. But now that I’m here, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Today, January 1st, 2013, looks just like yesterday, December 31, 2012. The sky is gray, snowflakes are falling gently from the sky onto what already looks like a foot of snow on the ground. The house is cold, the coffee is brewing, the TV is on. But people love a new year because we all want to say goodbye to the old and look ahead to what we have to come. We want closure for our troubles and we want a new beginning, a fresh start.

Well last night, my fresh start began with a glass of champagne and my dog, hanging out in the kitchen watching my parents and their friends play “Catchphrase.” I had to work last night. And I guess it was a fitting way to end the year. This year that I spent more time in a restaurant waiting tables than I did anywhere else. Why not end it that way too? But this is starting to sound depressing and my year was anything but. So I’ve said before, the best place to begin a story is at the beginning.

Last year I celebrated the new year in Buffalo, New York with a kiss from my boyfriend in a room full of strangers. It was a scene from a movie and it was perfect. A perfect prelude for the year to come.

I was finishing up my senior year of college. From January through May, my days mostly alternated between waitressing and going to classes. During my final semester, I only had to take three classes and had four day weekends. Which of course left more time for working. I worked a lot, but I made a little time for fun.

I enjoyed a memorable end to the production of my student-run television show. We successfully produced five shows during the spring semester and celebrated our accomplishments. I worked with some great people on that show, people with big ideas who will definitely go places. Without them, the show would not have been the same.

Jim and I took a short trip to Washington, D.C. in March to walk through all of the museums. It was an absolutely wonderful day. We went to Virginia Beach for a few days together during our spring break. The weather wasn’t on our side, but we had more fun than I thought possible in such a short amount of time.

In April I was honored to be a bridesmaid in my cousin’s wedding and watch her walk down the aisle to her new husband, so obviously in love and so obviously perfect for each other.

Jim dragged me to a Rick Ross concert at the end of our senior year. I tried to keep an open mind, allow my musical tastes to expand. But I don’t think they expanded that much.

I graduated from the University of Delaware at the end of May, one day before I turned 22. I graduated cum laude with a degree in Communication, a well-rounded resume and no job to speak of. I decided to celebrate anyway.

And then I had what I’m sure will later become known as The Summer of Frustration. The day after I moved back home, I pulled out the computer and typed up cover letters, tweaked my resume and scoured the job boards. I had goals, I had a system, I read “how-to-get-a-job” blogs and “how-to-ace-an-interview” articles (although I didn’t get many interviews). I updated my social media profiles and launched Measure with Coffee Spoons. I went on a solo trip to New York City to meet with a friend’s boss and talk about her company. And in between all that, I watched seasons three through seven of Grey’s Anatomy. Jim and I travelled back and forth between Pittsburgh and Buffalo. I went to a few Pirates games with my family. I went on my family vacation to Myrtle Beach. I babysat. I taught private swimming lessons. And I started running. All the while, wallowing in self-pity because I was job-less, living at home, and I missed my Delaware friends terribly.

By the end of the summer, I got hired at a new restaurant as a server and things started to look up. I took my nose ring out, got off the couch, and got a Macbook. I started interning at Steeltown Entertainment Project and loved it. I volunteered to work as a production assistant for an independent film being produced in the area.

Through all of that, I met some of the greatest people. I worked with some great servers and chefs and kids they call server’s assistants. People who love restaurant work and people who are in it for the money. People with big dreams and small incomes. People who are juggling school and work and children and husbands. People who are taking a break from school but when they go, they’ll make something of themselves. People who are perfectionists, who want every lemon on every plate to be facing the same way. People who don’t care, who bus the tables and get their stuff done so they can go out with friends. People who have climbed the ladder, who’ve fallen and gotten back up. You don’t know their stories, but they are inspirational.

I met great people on the set of “Lemonade.” People who are doing what they love, even if they don’t get paid for it. People who know what they want and are working to get there. People who don’t know what they want, but are figuring it out. People who have exactly what they want and every scene is a relaxing joy for them.

And I’ve met great people at Steeltown. People whom I hope to get to know better. Because I’ve accepted my first real job with them. And I start tomorrow.

This past year was about meeting and spending time with some amazing people. They helped me get where I am and I wouldn’t be who I am without them.

Here’s to closure for 2012. Now bring on the new year.

(photo via)

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