Dear Chicago

Today I had a very important date at 4:45pm.

So once I got home at 3:30pm, I showered, blow dried my hair, styled it, put on a nice jacket, and rushed out the door.

As I walked rapidly down Michigan Avenue, a relatively well-dressed man stopped me.

"Excuse me, miss. Can I ask you something about your hair?"

Wow, I thought. Who knew my twelve-minute whip-my-hair-into-submission hairstyle could turn heads?

"You could use a new look. I used to be a talent scout, and I think that if you cut your hair into a drastic bob - like Victoria Beckham - you could be really huge as a model."

Cue my blank stare.

"Victoria Beckham. You know who she is right?"

Yeah, do you know who she is? I wanted to ask him. I'm Asian. There's no way I could pull off her hairstyle with this bone structure. This non-existent bone structure.

Turns out he was trying to "give" me a gift certificate for a salon. I could get a $600 pamper-myself day at the spa for just $75!!!!! Hair! Nails! Massages! That's when I realized he wasn't trying to promote a new salon opening by handing out flyers. He actually was trying to sell me something.

No, but thank you.

Are you a student?

Yes, a starving one.

I'll give it to you for $50.

I really don't need it. My hands are in gloves all day. And a nice hairstyle would be lost in anatomy lab. And the library.

$45. You're killing me here.

I really can't. Sorry.

Don't apologize. Just give me $40 and we'll call it a deal.

I really can't. And I'm late...

How much will you buy it for?

I don't have any money on me...

You were wasting my time?!

He stormed off, muttering about impertinent students and how rude Chicagoans were.

I stared. And then I realized I needed to get to the bank before it closed because I desperately needed to get some money so that I could pay my rent. So, shaking my head, I rushed off in the opposite direction.

I got to the bank at 5:03pm. It was closed. Freakin' street promoters wasting my time.

Show me love

[A quick note about Valentine's day just because I think boys are dense. Especially after hearing so many of my girl friends tell me that...well, I'll save that for the actual blog. Boys, bookmark this and come back to it next year on February 13th. You can thank me later.]

I agree. Valentine's day has become way too commercialized. And it's so blatantly obvious. At the beginning of the month, every store in sight drags out Valentine's day concoctions - streamers and cupid decorations spilling out into the street, pink whipped cream with heart sprinkles, pink chocolates filled with disgusting liquor fillings, heart-shaped this, heart-shaped that, all in hues of red, pink, and white. And every store you walk into asks if you've gotten something for your sweetheart, hoping the answer is no, so they can sell you something that they guarantee will make her fall in love with you all over again.

No wonder boys hate the "holiday."

But do you know what Valentine's really is? It's a way to break up the complacency and routine of relationships. It's winter. It's cold. It hurts to walk outside. No one does anything but hurry to work and then hurry home to plop down in front of the TV for sweeps season. There's nothing special to do.

So once a year, boys are "expected" to bring home chocolate and flowers. And that sucks. I get it. Way to take the romance out of what is supposed to be the most romantic day of the year. And maybe you're a lucky one - and your girlfriend hates how commercialized February 14th is.

Even I think Valentine's is a Hallmark holiday.

But I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. If I had a boyfriend, I'd still hold out hope that he'd bring home flowers. And that whole day while I was at school or at work, I'd be giddy with excitement over what might be waiting for me at home.

Because no matter how cynical we are, how jaded we've become, how low-maintenance we might be, we will still be blown away by a simple bouquet. A handmade Valentine. Pretend reservations for dinner at that run-down hot dog shack where we used to go every day after work. Why? Because it means that you appreciate us. That you're thankful for the back rubs and the cooking and the cleaning and the fact that I wake you up after you throw your alarm clock at the wall - even though I know you're going to whine and complain.

Girls just want to be appreciated. We'll do so much for you, but you have to acknowledge that you're thankful for it, every once in a while. We're thoughtful, we're kind, and we'll even dress up for you. Shave our legs for you. Stab ourselves in the eye as we try to put on makeup. Put your name on the present we bought for the mutual friend's birthday. We're friendly to your drinking buddy who is looking at a future of sexual harassment lawsuits. Pretend to care when your ultimate dream car comes out. Let you have the remote control so that you can watch ESPN and every single possible analysis of the football game, when really, we'd rather be watching Grey's Anatomy.

The least you could do is do something back once a year.

So don't tell your girlfriend that you think Valentine's is over-commercialized, and then think that she'll understand when you say that "it's not your thing" to do anything. Or do tell her that, and then do something. Because hey, it'll make whatever you end up doing, that much better. We know Valentine's is over-commercialized. But hey, we've grown up with it. And we feel a little under-appreciated when we come home, and February 14th is just another day.

Or fine. Don't celebrate Valentine's. But dang it. Do something so that she knows she's special. February 19th looks awfully romantic to me.

Wake up call

Chalk it up to PMS or seasonal affect disorder or holiday withdrawal or whatever else might be making me irritable, but some of my friends have been falling way short of the friendship meter.

Friends make friends feel special. Involved. Wanted.

You do not make preliminary plans with someone, and then forget to call them. Two days in a row.

You do not invite my entire circle of friends to dinner except for me - because clearly, I'll hear about it, and wonder how I must have offended you. And if you do, please don't treat me the next day like I'm one of your best friends the next day - don't hug me and tell me how nice you think I am. Because that just makes you two-faced. And since I'm not as fake as you, it'll show, and everyone around us will think I'm a horrible horrible person.

Please don't tell me you're going to come over, and then show up 3 hours later.

And please! I don't want to be your backup girlfriend. Don't only call me up when she's out of town.

I want to be special. I don't want you to take me granted. If we've made plans for 5pm, 8:30pm is not an appropriate time to show up. And in this day and age, everyone has cell phones. It's called pick-up-your-phone-and-let-me-know. Now, I'm not hypocritical. I know that I'm not always on time. I'm always running late, and am typically about 5 minutes late to everything. But there's an eon of difference between five minutes and 2 hours. I may not always be strictly punctual, but I'm always relatively on time. Here's my thing about lateness. Being 5 minutes late is okay because chances are, you were brushing your teeth and brushing your hair. Common decency things. Last-minute things so that strangers don't look at the two of you strangely and wonder why you're walking around town with a bum. In fact, sometimes, that kind of lateness is a little flattering. Oh - he was late five minutes, but he clearly gelled his hair for me. Aw, he's worried about first impressions, etc. Think about first dates and how girls are always STILL getting ready when the guy comes over to pick her up. It's because she wants to look good for him. And she's running behind because the first fifteen outfits she tried on weren't good enough.

But if you're 2 hours late, that's because you just don't care. Oh, she's just going to be studying anyways...it's okay if I go take care of this first. Oh, she's not that important, and I really REALLY need to go to the post office. Or so on and so forth. And when you don't call to let me know that you're gonna be late, it makes it even worse. Because now I'm not even worth that ten-second phone call.

I'm somebody. And I would like someone to just acknowledge my presence every now and then. I don't need anything big. Who needs flowers and chocolate? I just want you to be considerate. Put a little bit of effort into our friendship. Do anything. Something. Whatever. Just let me know that you realize friendships aren't one-sided.

How to save a life

My big test is tomorrow, and I've been studying for the past decade and a half for it. Naturally, I get the munchies whenever I study for hours at a time, and I've been snacking on Twizzlers like it's candy (cause it is). I went through half a bag in just one day. And by bag I mean one of those huge honking family-sized-if-you-mean-the-entire-extended-family-sized bags.

So now I'm doing practice questions and lo and behold, a question on licorice.

Licorice contains high concentrations of glycyrrhizic acid. Sufficient amounts of this chemical will be ingested through the daily consumption of two licorice sticks over a period of one to four weeks to cause the following systemic effects:
- marked reduction in circulating plasma renin levels.
- marked increase in renal aldosterone sensitivity.
- hypokalemia resulting from K+ diuresis.
- hypertension.

It goes on to ask about the cause of hypertension, but I'm still kinda stuck on all the bad things licorice is doing to my body at this exact moment. I'm clearly going to die. From licorice overdose.

Update from ten minutes later: I just ate another 5 sticks unconsciously as I was taking my practice test. Clearly, I'll never learn.

I wanna dance with somebody

Ten days and counting.

Valentine's Day is coming up, and every year I've written happy posts about how it's great being single and how we should grab the day by the proverbial horns and be excited about the prospect of love, even if we aren't currently in love. We don't have to be in love with someone to be in love nevertheless.

This year isn't any different. I still think Valentine's Day is a great holiday. It's one more day to tell friends and family that we love them. That we care for them. It's one day to appreciate all that we have going for us in the world. No matter where we are in our lives, we all have something that we love.

That classmate who saves you a seat in lecture. The homeless man on the corner who realizes that you're never going to be able to pay off your loans, much less give him money, but still says good morning to you every day anyways. Flipflops. Cherry ice cream with chocolate fudge bits. That super cozy armchair. Coffee with just the right amount of hot cocoa mix and creamer - just the way I like it.

So while I'm still my optimistic self in that regard, I have to admit that I wish there were someone. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my dance therapy seminar class. I'm still not a big fan of all the personal space sharing and touchy-feely class discussions, but I've come to the realization that I really want to dance with somebody. I've only celebrated one Valentine's Day with a significant other, and well. He wasn't big on holidays. And I burnt the cake. And that's a whole another story. The point is, while I don't mind being a free spirit, all I really want this Valentine's Day is to dance with somebody.

I need you to realize how important that last comment is. I never ever want to dance with others. I never want to dance period. A self-proclaimed klutz, I’ve always felt more like an elephant in a china store than a graceful dancer. While others might flit and float about, I trample and trip my way through life. And I never feel more awkward than when I have to dance with someone. It seems so foreign to me - to imitate and respond to another's movements when I can barely get my own body to do what I want. Really, how can you expect me to follow someone's lead, if I can't even convince my feet not to trip all over themselves?

And I don't mean actually dance dance. Like foxtrotting and swing dancing kind of dancing. I mean, being able to say or do something, and have that someone understand you so well that they respond in kind, pulling you in different directions and leading you to discover a whole new you, as trite as that might sound. I miss being so close to someone you can feel his breath on your neck. I miss being held so tightly it's hard to breathe. I want to dance with someone in a room all by ourselves. There doesn't even need to be music. I want to get lost in some fantasy dreamworld with someone else.

The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

I know I'm not going to find someone magically in the next ten days. I wouldn't even want to find someone in the next ten days. 'Cause that wouldn't be love; that'd be desperate. So I'm content to keep dancing my own dorky dances. But I'm ready to dork up my dances with someone else, with the right someone else. Hello world. I wanna dance with you.

Here comes the cold - break out the winter clothes

Ahhh...I want it.

The red jacket that is.

So perfect for Valentine's Day. :)