After a rough (that's putting it mildly) week in NYC. I sobered up enough to participate in Columbia's 5 points St Patty's day festival...or so I thought. The day started good. We ate Breakfast, green pancakes and all, and then went down the the action. Throughout the day I was pretty much just trying to pace myself. I was determined to stay alive past midnight. Well all this was going well.. a few randoms run ins with people I haven't seen in years. Then, all of a sudden, one of my friends says "Lauren! look t your foot your standing in a puddle of blood!" I was kinda shocked considering I had not felt anything nor did I remember doing anything that would cause a gash on my foot that led me to believe that I kicked a beer bottle like a soccer ball.
I am very stubborn normally. Add alcohol and multiply that times a thousand. Everyone kept telling me to go to the hospital. My response was "There's no way I'm leaving St Patty's day to go sit in an emergency room for 8 hours!" So, I solved the problem, by tying a bar rag around my foot. I know...not smart. Three bar rags later and my friends were freaking out. Finally J came and took my to the emergency room. We walked in (I Limped in) and I decided I was going to the bathroom. I think I said something like "I'm not staying here every retard in Columbia is here.. its ST Patty's day!" Obviously I was unaware that I was also one of those retards. Soooooo.....I stuck my foot under the sink, washed off the blood, covered it with toilet paper and headed back to the bar... that's right I WENT BACK TO THE BAR! I awoke the next morning in excruciating pain and immediately went to doctors care. I now have 9 stitches in my foot that resemble a job a four year old would do on their teddy bear. I guess I also have a story of St. Patty's day.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
My New York City Debacle
As many of you probably know most of my life I have been planning on going to law school. I have also lived my life so far unaware of monetary issues and what the rest of the world calls "Fiscal Responsibility". You could also say I am a spoiled brat that has had Daddy bail her out all her life. I however prefer the term "fiscally irresponsible". Well much to my surprise about a month ago, I was informed by my dear daddy that he would like to retire within the next 50 years and therefore cutting me off. Including co-signing for student loans... and since I have only had like 2 kinda sorta real jobs in my life (Both of which I just decided one day to not show up.. dunno if you would call that getting fired or voluntary termination)I am unable to go to law school at this time.
Since I doubt my eBay, designer apparel, mikimoto pearl, and Kate Spade habit would be conducive to a homeless girl lifestyle, I decided to GASP! get a big girl job. I decided after watching all the Sex and the City episodes on my On Demand, that New York was the place for me. Luckily, and thanks to pageants, I have several connections in the Big Apple. I made a few phone calls and like a hundred e-mails and in about a month I had successfully lined up 3 interviews.
The first was with a division within the Ralph Lauren Brand called Club Monaco. This was on Wednesday. I walked in, the girl was stunning and I fell in love with the idea of working in the fashion industry. I was so excited about my new opportunity, I decided to celebrate with a night on the town with one of my best girl friends (Hayley's shout out here) that lives in the city. When we are together, lets just say its a coin toss to see which one of us can accomplish the sketchiest act imaginable...so needless to say I should have seen an interesting evening on the horizon.
Hayley is going to have to fill in the blanks and names because all I remember is ____ bar for drinks with her boyfriends Dad and sister. _____ bar for more drinks with two additional friends. APT...lots of Sapporo..lots of tequila...more vodka....and them a dancing club, and finally a random guy putting me in a cab at 2:30am.. or maybe that was the cab fare? Anyways.. after a few drunk dials, I stumbled my way to my hotel room fought with the key and finally passed out fully clothed.
I awoke in the morning to my alarm and wake up call my dear mother set for me. Scrambled like crazy to pull my hair back, wash my face, brush the alcohol off my teeth, get dressed, and make it to my interview with the largest commercial real estate company in the US ..maybe the world by 11 am. In the midst of getting out of my cab that morning, I happened to look at my feet. BIG mistake. I had the same shoes I was wearing the previous nite on and apparently I had lost the buckle on the top of one of them... probably my interviewers first indication I was not sober.
She wanted to walk to breakfast. GREAT. On the way, I dropped my only lifeline, My coke on the ground which soaked my BCBG dress pants...(Damn it, guess I'm not returning these for those killer shoes). When we finally get to the restaurant and sit down she orders and omellete. Ever girl can agree.. you cannot let a girl order food your trying to impress and you order nothing.. it makes her feel fat..not good. So I follow suit and later begin to believe that God hates me.
The omelette's come out, eggs are not fully cooked, runny. If you close your eyes spin around the room 10 times as fast as you can and then flip your head up and down 25 times you might get the same sensation I felt...complete nausea. The rest of the meeting was spent with me trying my best to not vomit on her. I went back to my room with every intention of making it to my final interview... God did hate me.... like 3 times...didn't make it.
Obviously not only and I fiscally irresponsible... I'm irresponsible in every aspect of my life...and now one step closer to begging for change on the street.
Since I doubt my eBay, designer apparel, mikimoto pearl, and Kate Spade habit would be conducive to a homeless girl lifestyle, I decided to GASP! get a big girl job. I decided after watching all the Sex and the City episodes on my On Demand, that New York was the place for me. Luckily, and thanks to pageants, I have several connections in the Big Apple. I made a few phone calls and like a hundred e-mails and in about a month I had successfully lined up 3 interviews.
The first was with a division within the Ralph Lauren Brand called Club Monaco. This was on Wednesday. I walked in, the girl was stunning and I fell in love with the idea of working in the fashion industry. I was so excited about my new opportunity, I decided to celebrate with a night on the town with one of my best girl friends (Hayley's shout out here) that lives in the city. When we are together, lets just say its a coin toss to see which one of us can accomplish the sketchiest act imaginable...so needless to say I should have seen an interesting evening on the horizon.
Hayley is going to have to fill in the blanks and names because all I remember is ____ bar for drinks with her boyfriends Dad and sister. _____ bar for more drinks with two additional friends. APT...lots of Sapporo..lots of tequila...more vodka....and them a dancing club, and finally a random guy putting me in a cab at 2:30am.. or maybe that was the cab fare? Anyways.. after a few drunk dials, I stumbled my way to my hotel room fought with the key and finally passed out fully clothed.
I awoke in the morning to my alarm and wake up call my dear mother set for me. Scrambled like crazy to pull my hair back, wash my face, brush the alcohol off my teeth, get dressed, and make it to my interview with the largest commercial real estate company in the US ..maybe the world by 11 am. In the midst of getting out of my cab that morning, I happened to look at my feet. BIG mistake. I had the same shoes I was wearing the previous nite on and apparently I had lost the buckle on the top of one of them... probably my interviewers first indication I was not sober.
She wanted to walk to breakfast. GREAT. On the way, I dropped my only lifeline, My coke on the ground which soaked my BCBG dress pants...(Damn it, guess I'm not returning these for those killer shoes). When we finally get to the restaurant and sit down she orders and omellete. Ever girl can agree.. you cannot let a girl order food your trying to impress and you order nothing.. it makes her feel fat..not good. So I follow suit and later begin to believe that God hates me.
The omelette's come out, eggs are not fully cooked, runny. If you close your eyes spin around the room 10 times as fast as you can and then flip your head up and down 25 times you might get the same sensation I felt...complete nausea. The rest of the meeting was spent with me trying my best to not vomit on her. I went back to my room with every intention of making it to my final interview... God did hate me.... like 3 times...didn't make it.
Obviously not only and I fiscally irresponsible... I'm irresponsible in every aspect of my life...and now one step closer to begging for change on the street.
Seeing to believe?? In honor of Easter..
In today's world its hard for people to not over analyze their lives and leave certain things up to blind faith. This has been a problem for humans dating as far back as the bible. Thomas just did couldn't get his mind around the fact that Jesus had in fact, risen to heaven. He demanded to see and touch his wounds.
Why is it so hard for us to just do the best we can, plan as much as we can, and then just trust that everything will work out. This might be the hardest thing for any of us to do. We worry, especially women. Women worry ALOT. We worry about the men were seeing, (If they like us, if it will work out, will we get married, what about kids? is he cheating, will he cheat?, does his family like me...it goes on and on) But women also worry about what their doing with their lives, where their careers are going, and if they are on the right path. We also spend a lot of time worrying about our friends and families. As much as I might reject the stereotype that women are homemakers, they are inherently kind and caring (for the most part).
We are unaware of what the opposite sex worries or spends most of their time thinking about and we worry about that as well. When it comes to relationships, in my experience worrying is a waste of time. The one that is meant to work out in the end will, and the others are not wasted time. The others... now this is what most people spend their lives worrying about (Once you find that person, you probably wont worry it will just fit)... the others. The others are what make us who we are. We learn about ourselves through our interactions with other people.
Just like when we were toddlers, we learned to walk, talk, and crawl by watching and imitating others. we follow this process in relationships. We learn what characteristics are important and which values we want to instill in ourselves and more importantly in our offspring. My point is that maybe instead of spending a good majority of our time figuring out the right an wrong way to handle a relationship or a friendship, we should just use these traits we have picked up. We should use our best judgement to do what we think is right, then close our eyes and pray for the courage to walk away and leave the rest to fate. I know....easier said than done...
Why is it so hard for us to just do the best we can, plan as much as we can, and then just trust that everything will work out. This might be the hardest thing for any of us to do. We worry, especially women. Women worry ALOT. We worry about the men were seeing, (If they like us, if it will work out, will we get married, what about kids? is he cheating, will he cheat?, does his family like me...it goes on and on) But women also worry about what their doing with their lives, where their careers are going, and if they are on the right path. We also spend a lot of time worrying about our friends and families. As much as I might reject the stereotype that women are homemakers, they are inherently kind and caring (for the most part).
We are unaware of what the opposite sex worries or spends most of their time thinking about and we worry about that as well. When it comes to relationships, in my experience worrying is a waste of time. The one that is meant to work out in the end will, and the others are not wasted time. The others... now this is what most people spend their lives worrying about (Once you find that person, you probably wont worry it will just fit)... the others. The others are what make us who we are. We learn about ourselves through our interactions with other people.
Just like when we were toddlers, we learned to walk, talk, and crawl by watching and imitating others. we follow this process in relationships. We learn what characteristics are important and which values we want to instill in ourselves and more importantly in our offspring. My point is that maybe instead of spending a good majority of our time figuring out the right an wrong way to handle a relationship or a friendship, we should just use these traits we have picked up. We should use our best judgement to do what we think is right, then close our eyes and pray for the courage to walk away and leave the rest to fate. I know....easier said than done...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)