The other morning as I pulled up to the window at Starbucks, I was feeling good. I looked pretty cute, it wasn't humid out, I was feeling ready to dive into some work. All in all the day (which admittedly I was only about 30 minutes into) was shaping up splendidly. Then my sweet little barista turned to me and said "I'm so sorry, but your card was declined. I ran it twice..." I turned t my wallet, realized i had approximately $2 in cash, and politely explained I didn't have cash, apologized, thanked her for her service and pulled away.
That was the end of my good mood. Firstly, I had just been deprived of my morning coffee. I don't drink coffee every day, and I don't need it to function, but sipping on the sweet, caffeinated concoction is a very pleasant part of my morning. So to keep it simple, I was freaking pissed.
I knew exactly what had happened. I had just received my new chip-enabled debit card in the mail, and my bank had disabled my current card. Instead of accepting this with some dignity, I instead became utterly indignant. You would have thought I was being unfairly detained in Guantanamo the way I acted. "How DARE they!" I fumed as I drove to work.
I also then realized that I had chosen this day as the one I would buy myself lunch, meaning I had no food at work, and no money to buy anything with. Now the bank had interfered with my coffee and the cookie I had been planning on enjoying with my Jimmy John's sandwich. First my coffee, then my cookie. I was craving justice more than John McClane in Die Hard.
As I left work and drove home to get the new chip card (which I now despised with a burning passion) I began practicing my speech for when I would either have to call my bank, or pay a visit to a local branch. You've been there. That moment where you feel so disrespected and unfairly treated that you rehearse exactly what you'll say to the customer service rep in the hopes of making them cry and beg for mercy.
It was in this moment that I realized something very, very painful. I sighed, closed my eyes, and muttered "Fuck" as paused at a stoplight. I groaned as the realization that this entire situation was completely my fault dawned on me. Sure, I hadn't gotten the card for over 2 weeks since I requested it, and yes I had tried to call the activation number multiple times over the weekend with no success, but that didn't matter. It was Thursday, and I knew damn well that I easily could have run to the ATM sometime over the past 4 days to activate the card.
Let me tell you, few things feel as bad as realizing you're to blame, after you've already morphed into Godzilla and smashed half the city. I felt overwhelmed with guilt for the hypothetical bank teller I had made cry. I took a few deep breaths. Gave myself a stern, but well mannered scolding that would make my mother proud, and moved on with my day.
I'll admit I was tempted to remain firmly planted in my bad mood, regaling everyone who would listen with the story of injustice. I could remain in my delusion and easily ignore the reality that was staring back at me with a raised eyebrow, but now. I owned up to my mistake, took responsibility for it, and just like Starbucks had done to my debit card that morning, I declined my bad attitude.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Friday, July 8, 2016
Love, That Nerdy Theatre Girl
I have a confession to make. I absolutely love the theatre. I know, not really that shocking, but there was a time not too long ago where Broadway wasn't hip and those of us who got chills at the sound of a orchestra tuning were mocked for our musical love affairs.
I saw a handful of shows when I was young including Wicked and Mamma Mia, and even though its been more than 10 years, I can still remember being utterly transfixed by the magic that happened on those stages.
As I got older, I jumped at the opportunity to make that magic for others. All throughout middle school and high school I slaved away in the ensemble to bring the magic of shows like West Side story and Beauty & the Beast to life. But this story isn't about me, it's about every other person who has made the choice to become a magic maker.
Becoming a performer is incredible, I'll admit, but it also comes with a steep price. Taking the stage is like stepping behind the veil. You see the reality behind the magic, and from that moment on, you lose your ability to see some of the sparkle.
You can never truly be an audience member again. You can never be swept up in the magic. no matter how hard you try, the little voice in the back of your head will be scrutinizing dance moves and noticing the stage hands. Every note that is even the slightest bit off becomes deafening, and the characters on stage become simply people in makeup.
Don't get me wrong, the people in this world who choose to be performers get the opportunity of a lifetime, and the thrill of being in a show if phenomenal. But they are also choosing to make a huge sacrifice. They're willing to give up the ability to be blown away by the magic, for the opportunity to create it.
So next time you see a show, take a moment to silently thank those actors. And to all of you out there who are still performing and making the magic, thank you. Every day you make it possible for someone new to fall in love with the utter magic that is theatre.
I saw a handful of shows when I was young including Wicked and Mamma Mia, and even though its been more than 10 years, I can still remember being utterly transfixed by the magic that happened on those stages.
As I got older, I jumped at the opportunity to make that magic for others. All throughout middle school and high school I slaved away in the ensemble to bring the magic of shows like West Side story and Beauty & the Beast to life. But this story isn't about me, it's about every other person who has made the choice to become a magic maker.
Becoming a performer is incredible, I'll admit, but it also comes with a steep price. Taking the stage is like stepping behind the veil. You see the reality behind the magic, and from that moment on, you lose your ability to see some of the sparkle.
You can never truly be an audience member again. You can never be swept up in the magic. no matter how hard you try, the little voice in the back of your head will be scrutinizing dance moves and noticing the stage hands. Every note that is even the slightest bit off becomes deafening, and the characters on stage become simply people in makeup.
Don't get me wrong, the people in this world who choose to be performers get the opportunity of a lifetime, and the thrill of being in a show if phenomenal. But they are also choosing to make a huge sacrifice. They're willing to give up the ability to be blown away by the magic, for the opportunity to create it.
So next time you see a show, take a moment to silently thank those actors. And to all of you out there who are still performing and making the magic, thank you. Every day you make it possible for someone new to fall in love with the utter magic that is theatre.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Serenading the Streets
My 4th of July didn't start out in the best way. It was the typical story of girl meets boy, boy treats girl like crap, and girl cries because society has taught her that her self worth is directly linked to how boys treat her. You know, the plot of every MTV, CW, CBS, NBC, ABC family show that has ever aired.
After a short stream of tears and a quick monologue of "why does no one love me?" I had a choice to make. I could wrap myself in a blanket of self loathing and waste the day trying to figure out why 99% of twenty-something guys are worthless, or I could shake it off T-Swift style and enjoy my vacation day.
So I did. Step 1, I did my hair. Step 2, I put on my makeup, including mascara and a flawless coat of hot pink, "I'm not the kind of girl you mess with" lipstick. Then I tossed on a pair of jeans that I love, and the single cutest, most comfortable t-shirt I own (courtesy of my mother's southern shopping spree). Finally, I went to the one place that is guaranteed to brighten anyone's day...Starbucks.
I got in my car, and did something I haven't done in literally years. I rolled my windows down. Finally I put the most important piece of the puzzle into play. I cranked my speakers up to an obnoxiously high volume, and I put on my pump up playlist. I rode to Starbucks with my curls flying in the wind, and my sassy pink lips belting out every song at the top of my lungs. Sounds like a fool proof plan, right?
Not quite. Life was still having some fun at my expense, and after waiting 20 minutes for my drink at Starbucks, it still hadn't appeared on the counter. I walked up and smiled at the girl who had taken my order, who asked if I was still waiting for my drink. I told her I was, and a quick episode of Scooby Doo mystery later, the Baristas and I concluded my drink I had been sent off with another group's order. I assured them that I wasn't upset and jokingly said that as long as I left with a frappaccino in my hand, I would be a happy girl.
Not only did I leave with an utterly delicious cinnamon dolce frap, but I also left with a voucher for $4 off my next visit from the incredibly sweet cashier. I hopped back into my car, put the windows down, and took the long way home. I spent the entire ride singing at the top of my lungs and serenading everyone I passed. I was reveling in the warmth of looking on the bright side (which unlike the real sun doesn't burn my skin) and completely forgot all the reasons my day had started out badly.
It would've been so easy to spend the day being a sour puss, and wallowing in some self-loathing. Trust me, I know, I spent most of 2007-2015 doing it. But instead I took the advice of Taylor, and shook it off. And I ended up having an awesome day. Sometimes you have to do a little extra work to pull yourself out of a funk, but trust me, it'll be a lot more fun.
After a short stream of tears and a quick monologue of "why does no one love me?" I had a choice to make. I could wrap myself in a blanket of self loathing and waste the day trying to figure out why 99% of twenty-something guys are worthless, or I could shake it off T-Swift style and enjoy my vacation day.
So I did. Step 1, I did my hair. Step 2, I put on my makeup, including mascara and a flawless coat of hot pink, "I'm not the kind of girl you mess with" lipstick. Then I tossed on a pair of jeans that I love, and the single cutest, most comfortable t-shirt I own (courtesy of my mother's southern shopping spree). Finally, I went to the one place that is guaranteed to brighten anyone's day...Starbucks.
I got in my car, and did something I haven't done in literally years. I rolled my windows down. Finally I put the most important piece of the puzzle into play. I cranked my speakers up to an obnoxiously high volume, and I put on my pump up playlist. I rode to Starbucks with my curls flying in the wind, and my sassy pink lips belting out every song at the top of my lungs. Sounds like a fool proof plan, right?
Not quite. Life was still having some fun at my expense, and after waiting 20 minutes for my drink at Starbucks, it still hadn't appeared on the counter. I walked up and smiled at the girl who had taken my order, who asked if I was still waiting for my drink. I told her I was, and a quick episode of Scooby Doo mystery later, the Baristas and I concluded my drink I had been sent off with another group's order. I assured them that I wasn't upset and jokingly said that as long as I left with a frappaccino in my hand, I would be a happy girl.
Not only did I leave with an utterly delicious cinnamon dolce frap, but I also left with a voucher for $4 off my next visit from the incredibly sweet cashier. I hopped back into my car, put the windows down, and took the long way home. I spent the entire ride singing at the top of my lungs and serenading everyone I passed. I was reveling in the warmth of looking on the bright side (which unlike the real sun doesn't burn my skin) and completely forgot all the reasons my day had started out badly.
It would've been so easy to spend the day being a sour puss, and wallowing in some self-loathing. Trust me, I know, I spent most of 2007-2015 doing it. But instead I took the advice of Taylor, and shook it off. And I ended up having an awesome day. Sometimes you have to do a little extra work to pull yourself out of a funk, but trust me, it'll be a lot more fun.
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