Does anyone else randomly get reminded of theron when they watch tim and erik's awesome show? Or am i the only one who watches this gem?

Catching Up: March
March represented the third month of my singlehood. With the exception of a crazy night of air guitar/French food/and burlesque with Anna Mentor and Marsha Artist on Valentine's day, I'd been living a completely saintly existence with weekly temple trips, religious classes, and sabbath services. Interestingly enough, the monastic existence has caused me to feel overwhelmingly happy and peaceful. Seemingly paradoxically, it's also caused a spike in my social life.

Staring February 24th, I began an almost 2 month long policy of going out every single night. I'm not sure how it happened, but happened it did. One friend would want to do dinner, then another one wanted to see a play, then another one wanted to get food after class, and the next thing I know a week has gone by, then two, then a month. I'm not sure where I got the energy to work all day and go out every night, but hey, I'm in it to win it.

My single status has, however, been a concious choice rather than an unconscious one. I was asked out by this one journalist/philosopher at the Harlem-raw-veghan-housewarming party I hit up, I flirted pretty heavily with a half-black Penn Master's student I randomly met at an all-night dessert bar, and I've been flirting with a few different guys at concerts. I have done this because either a) I'm tired of dating non-mormons or b) guys have gotten really boring lately. It's like once college gets over, boys stop reading books and just plug themselves into a playstation and veg out until some girl takes an interest in them. Then the newly formed couple vegges out together.

There was one boy that made me regret rule a), however. He was a Turkish hipster photographer with beautiful hair he kept sweeping out of his eyes, a purring accent, and a tight leather jacket. Marsha Artist and I were there to help her get some stuff for her new apartment, and saw he was struggling to haul some furniture onto his trolly. We helped him out, and then afterwards got cinnamon rolls together in the bakery. He was so dreamy, it was ridiculous. Plus, he said he didn't play videogames. Yeah...

In March I discovered the answer to recession dining, and that answer is Chinatown. Nowhere else in the city can you get a super huge bowl of phu for $4 or 5 huge gyozas for $1. So after my "Women in the Old Testament" class I head over with my 19-year-old possee and get dumplings at Vanessa's over on Eldridge St. It also provides some awesome excuses to go dumpster diving, as I learned the other day when Alexis NYU and I hauled a huge mirror over to Kate Teacher's house.

On March 16 I saw Sunshine Cleaners with Sarah Designer, Anna Mentor, and Elise Betsy Johnson. It was good, but as I left the theater, I became more disatisfied with the way all of the loose ends were resolved. It seemed to studied, too similar to Little Miss Sunshine.

On March 19th, Anna Mentor and I had RSVPd for Diana Project Runway's book launch in Manhattan. Before we could go, though, I had to help Anna with her work-related scavenger hunt. Her job was to take a picture of a Kinderegg wrapper, complete with the toy. What her Canadian company didn't know was that Kinderggs are technically illegal in the US (you aren't allowed to have inedible parts of edible food unless it's a stick). So we ran around to 30 million different stores without success before we decided to take pictures of Anna as the Kinder Rapper, complete with a toy.

We met up with Marsha Artist and her boyfriend David Graphic Designer at the Pop Planet (or whatever) venue. The party was pretty adorable: bacon peanut brittle and chocolate covered poprocks, tech geeks and fashionistas. Diana Project Runway invited all of her hacker friends and all of her fashion friends, and the too groups didn't exacly mix to easily.

Diana's fashions this season were experimenting with fiberoptics and alternative light sources, so the clothing all glowed with phosphorescent details. My favorite piece was a darling little petticoat trimmed with blue piping that glowed a brilliant blue in the dark.

After a Pepsi Natural (eh) and some gossiping, I bailed to head over to Williamsburg for Mary South's birthday party. Held in the dark and atmospheric Larry Lawrence Bar with thick wood tables, I could barely see anyone, and I waved to some couple at the bar who looked vaguely like the South but was, in fact, not. The group was mostly Mary South's friends from Sarah Lawrence as well her boyfriend and Chris Shannon from the poetry group back at NU. Good times.

Friday the 20th, as any self-respecting teenage girl would know, was the release of the Twilight DVD. As the sister of a teenage girl, I knew about this was coming down the pipeline for weeks. Here's the thing that's annoying me about the Twilight backlash this week: the charge that it doesn't have value because it is "a thinly veiled abstinence lesson." I know the cultural baggage abstinence education has received in the Bush and post-Bush eras, but I have to say, I think it's bloody irresponsible to rip on an author for making it seem something desirable and sexy. There's no moral judgment in the book for those that don't remain abstinent, so it isn't as if it's ripping on girls that choose to have sex. And while it might be unrealistic to assume abstinence will work for everyone, what's wrong with portraying it as an alternative that might work for some? What's wrong with giving girls a chance to have a sexy role model for waiting until marriage, as an alternative to say, every other role model out there?

Twilight is cute, but it isn't really something I'm passionate about. But Elise Betsy Johnson, being a teenage girl, was passionate, and was totally sold on going to the release party at Madison Square Garden. Particularly because it was rumored that a Twilight cast member would be there. So I show up and I am literally surrounded by girls. What surprised me, however, was the demographic of girls: the majority were black and hispanic girls, and the white girls that did show up were very punkrock. I'm not going to lie, it gave me an interesting perspective on the nature of Twilight's popularity, and reflect on the nature of the criticism against it.

They had a Twilight Scavenger Hunt in the store, and I spent my time going around taking pictures of fans and merchandise (Forbidden Fruit Candy? Are you serious?). Soon, it was time for the special guest, who was not sadly Robert Pattinson but was the almost-as-delicious Edi Gathegi, who plays Laurent. The shrieking was extraordinary, like being in the vortex of a Jonas Brother's concert. Edi did win me over, though...he was super hot and answered questions with a real love of the fans--no embarrassment, no talking down.

Elise Betsy Johnson invited me over the next night to watch the DVD with her. I promised her I'd stop by after a church talent show I had committed myself to. The show was a mishmash of singers, sketches, pie-throwing, and home movies. The finale was a beautiful rendition of Beyonce's "Single Ladies" by my lovely friend Krystal Goldman-Sachs

After the show I stole a sparkly top hat and went over to Magnolia cupcakes with Becky Fox News, Meghan Roommate, and Brooke Cousin. Once we got some sweet things, we went back to Becky Fox News' place, where Elise Betsy Johnson had been waiting patiently for hours with the movie all queued up, bless her heart.

The last few days of the month were spent in Dallas, where I hung out with my family, did some laundry, and spent some time with the lovely Bonnie Cody and Tiffany Cinemark. I'm having a hard time being away from home. Without the ability to come home every few months like I did in college, I'm beginning to miss my family more and more. They need to come out here, because I really don't want to have to move to the midWest.

Do any of you have a spirit animal? I would say mind is the giraffe-sloping shoulders, awkward neck, evolutionarily questionable, with a black tongue

I sent my mom a little figurine from mexico. Julia saw it and said 'how could anyone make such a tiny thing? I guess Mary could since her hands are so tiny!'

I believe this is called kickin it old school:

I'm unsure if the annual flowering of the nyc homeless is more or less severe then previous years. As i am looking at a man drunk in the corner, i suspect more

Once upon a time i was falling in love, now i'm only falling apart! Nothing i can say, a total eclipse of the heart!

It occurs to me as i wait for the train that despite my protests, i find something primitively satisfying about epic bombast like meat loaf. So much harmony!

I am considering the highly embarrassing yet romantic task of writin letters to my future husband. How sad is that?

Please help my friend Urica avoid being trapped in a Thai prison for 17 years! Even a small donation can help towards her bail money:
http://www.giveforward.org/fundraiser.html

Hey adele, mark, & anne-remember 'earth as a planet', the best class of all time? I just got a piece of anorthosite, 1 of the moon's 2 compounds next to basalt!

Hmmm. I'm going to have to play around with this cell phone updating, clearly

married.' There's no elegance to it. You might as well have a calf tattoo.

omething you get when you enter a frat. They must think it says, 'hey, i'm a cool dude who can skateboard, tailgate, and still party hard even though i'm

There's a new trend i find particularly annoying in married men under 30. I speak of the chunky titanium wedding ring. It's such a dude ring. It's like s

I am still unsure what I think about this.

Sadly, you guys can all follow me now on Twitter (www.twitter.com/AlexiaIscariot). I've caved in to peer pressure and set up an account, despite Justin Kumar's advice to the contrary.

PS-Hope there wasn't too much teabagging going on yesterday. (Was I the only one laughing like a 12-year-old boy over that MSNBC report?)

Twilight vandalism: who exactly is to blame?

(Thanks to Traci Paris for her investigative sleuthing)

I got out of work a little early, so I recorded some ridiculous shit in garage band. Check it out. My only regret it that I couldn't play it at 150 bpm. Tomorrow is another day.

February
February was almost completely overtaken by Margaret's wedding to John. Because she was doing the Mormon Temple marriage, I had to be endowed if I wanted to be at the ceremony. Getting endowed is sort of like entering the priesthood--it's taking on additional responsibilities and commitments within the Latter Day Saint church, and it represents an increased loyalty to the ideals of the church. An endowed church member is allowed to participate in holy temple rituals, serve a mission, and wear garments (yes, the special underwear).

In order to get endowed, you need to go through 3 months of temple preparation class, read some literature, and have an interview with both the bishop and the stake president. I know a few people who have actually faked their way through all of this just to see a relative get married, but I'm not really one of those people. I was ready to take my religious life to the next level, so getting my endowments was more for me than it was for Margaret.

Once you've finished all the classes and interviews, the next part of the endowment process is going to the temple for the first time, where you get outfitted with garments and then undergo several rituals. My parents wanted to be there when Margaret and I went through the temple for the first time, so I flew down to Dallas the first weekend in February. My uncle Randall and Aunt Mary also decided it was time they got their endowments done, so they came down too. After the temple ceremonies (which were very Jewish, and yes, a bit Masonic), we hit up 5 guys burgers. BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MY FAMILY ROLLS.

Once I finished going through the temple, my SAD disappeared, which was nice. It sounds silly to say, but I at least felt like going through the temple really took a stone off of my chest. I managed to go out and do a few fun things in the two weeks before Margaret's wedding. Marsha had her first high profile gallery show since she left Murakami: she was commissioned to paint a large portrait for a show at the Gallery Bar. I took Fox News Becky and Betsey Johnson Elise (for the sake of ease I'm just going to start referring to my friends out here by profession or company, as a lot of them share names). Gallery Bar is on Orchard Street, and filled with the most marvelous array of self-important lushes this side of Babyshambles. I liked some of the pieces very much--especially the photographs. Because they place was too hot and crowded to believe, Fox News Becky and Betsey Johnson Elise accompanied me to Tiny, Moby's vegan cafe. It was good...for vegan food. Take that for what it's worth.

My situation at work blew up around the 12th of February. It wouldn't be super profesh to go into it, but let's say there was less time and money and communication than their should have been, and I was working 10-12 hour days of solid writing. I was taken off the project as I was heading out the door on my way to my sister's bridal shower. In fairness though, I "picked" a really terrible time to go out of town, so I wasn't too offended by it. And the work I did manage to get finished was really beautiful.

The Wedding Begins...
Just so you know, I don't have any pictures yet, as only Jordan had a camera, and the profesh photographer still hasn't delivered the photos. But I'll let you know when I get them

Mary and Allie kicking it at the bridal shower

Due to short notice and Provo laziness, no one RSVP'd for Margaret's bridal shower (on Wednesday 18th). None of her friends but one showed up, which made me unbelievably angry at no one in particular. The reasons for this are way too complicated to get into, but both Margaret and her friends and fate all took an equal share of the blame. My Aunt Jane brought a really beautiful Wedgwood blue red-velvet cake back from Arizona just for the shower, and made some lovely antipasti for everyone. It was mostly just family being stupid, which I always enjoy. The groom and my dad and Uncle Dan all crashed later, and the night devolved into watching amazing youtube videos like yapping dog and kittens inspired by kittens (which I recommend viewing, if you have time).

The next day was Margaret's bachelorette party, which I was very nervous about. When I did Bonnie's 2 years ago, I had no sense of pacing, so the entire party was more or less us sitting around awkwardly eating while the fortune teller took forever. This year, I decided to make sure there would be tons of stuff to do: I rented out a dinosaur theme park with party room, dinosaur movie, dinosaur cake, and panning for gold activity! I arranged for hot dogs and soda and hats! And then all of Margaret's friends canceled forcing me to scramble and get family and friends to fill the spots! Then Margaret's photo shoot took too long and she showed up 2 hours late! So essentially, we had 1.5 hours to do about 4 hours worth of things. And I was so horrified no one showed up it was ridiculously. I should stop throwing parties--I have no gift for it. We tried walking around the dinosaur park afterwards, but it had snowed so heavily there wasn't a lot to see.

Once we got back into Provo, it was late, and the panic to the wedding began. Margaret was getting married in a temple in Manti (where my parents got married), and Manti is a 2-hour+ drive south. And Margaret and John still hadn't gotten their bishops interview for the marriage, so we had to wait for them to get interviewed, then we had to pack up all of our wedding clothes, then pile in a caravan and drive to the motel near the temple.
Zach, Jordan, Julia, and Allie wait for the ceremony to be over with...so the eating can commence!
Friday the 20th, Margaret, Mom, Dad and I got dressed and headed over to the temple for the ceremony. Allie, Julia, and the two little kids stayed behind, since they weren't endowed. John had told all of his family it was a white wedding, meaning we were all supposed to wear our white temple clothes inside the marriage room. But my dad failed to tell his family, and as a result, half the party was in regular clothes, the other half was in white.
I think this speaks for itself

After the ceremony, where there was much crying, we exited the temple, and started taking pictures. Since much of John's family wasn't Mormon, they saved the ring exchange for outside, after Margaret had changed into her wedding dress. After this, the drama begins.

Allie, Mary, and Julia looooooove each other

Look, I don't know how much of this I can write without getting myself into trouble, so I'll just say this: things were said maybe which were maybe hurtful to other people, and this resulted in one member of the wedding party getting very angry and passive aggressive at another. I stayed behind to help with the wedding pictures while everyone else went ahead to the wedding brunch. John accidentally stepped on Margaret's foot and she shouted "shit" in the vicinity of another wedding party taking their photos OUTSIDE THE TEMPLE, and they all craned their necks to see who the blasphemer was.

One of the engagement pictures that got Margaret late for the bachelorette party...almost as annoying as the wedding shots that got them too late for the wedding brunch

By the time we had gotten to the brunch, all of dad's side of the family had left (we were two hours late), and so we ate quickly and in silence before piling back in the car and heading up to Salt Lake. Because there's no cell reception in Manti, I was halfway to Provo before I started getting voicemails from my Aunt Rose. I called her back, and she told me that at the exact hour Margaret was getting married, my Uncle John had died of a heart attack. He was 42. His daughter, Callie, was on a bus headed down to Provo for my sister's reception, and she had just learned on the bus that her dad was dead. So I called my mother, and had her call my grandmother. I talked to grandma too, and she seemed so broken down and sad it broke my heart.

Margaret after getting her makeup done

Mom spent a lot of the time on the way up to Provo doing damage control. On our way over to get our makeup done it became apparent that no one had seen or heard from the cake decorator in the last week. After calling her house every 5 minutes, we began to wonder whether or not we would even have a cake, and began to look for back-ups. Luckily, Florist Sami (my new york angel who had flown in to do the flowers) called us as we were panicking to say the cake had been dropped off. Benjamin arrived, ready as always to help pick things up or run errands.

Mary, after getting her makeup done, with sister Jordan

Thus began the insane process of running back to the apartment, getting dressed, running to the reception hall, realizing Margaret had locked herself out of the house, having Benjamin break back into the house, stand for 3 hours in a receiving line, having Margaret run down the steps with John to the car, having them drive to the airport and realizing they forgot their wallets...etc. Julia and Margaret (in her wedding dress)

The wedding taught me an important thing:
A) My generation is retarded about manners.
No one bloody RSVP's for anything, no one knows how you dress for events, or what the protocols are for a wedding.
B) Mormons are cheap and tasteless if left to their own devices.
Margaret and John didn't list where they were registered because it's in bad taste if put in with the invitations. The idea was, people would *gasp* call my parents and ask. But everyone instead assumed they weren't registered, and as a result, Margaret got more plastic tchotchkies and penguin coasters than she's ever wanted
C) People are stupid
If you see a table full of things with a monogram stamped on them, assume they're wedding favors and take one. If the bride is wearing a white dress, don't cover the getaway vehicle in chocolate syrup. And if you are angry with a member of the wedding party, don't accept their apology and then freak out a few weeks later and yell at them because you can't control your temper.

January

Before coming back to New York, I took Margaret and John’s engagement photos, and accompanied them as they built a registry and picked out their invitations. A proper wedding is really (as I’m sure Adele is becoming aware) a feat of planning and strategy. I’m not one of those women, either, who believes everything is all about the bride, so I was glad that John had an opinion about what he wanted as well.

Back in New York, January hit me like a ton of bricks. The work at GTO for me dried up, the weather was horrible, and with all the layoffs, everyone stopped hiring. With no money coming in, I was forced to do mindless articles and spam emails for money. Eventually, I came down with the worse case of Seasonal Affective Disorder I’ve ever had in my life, made worse by the situation with my family’s finances. I spent my workless hours playing Lexulous (facebook scrabble), updating facebook, watching reality TV, and doing yoga over in Brooklyn. And sleeping. A lot of sleeping.

One of my few sources of income is the marketing work I do for Broadway shows. Since I started working with Nielsen in November, I’ve seen a number of Broadway musicals, almost all of them Disney. Every few months or so, Nielsen hires a group of unemployed creatives to tape surveys to the back of chairs and collect them after the show. With the exception of Wicked, which my friend Anna took me to see on my birthday, I’ve seen The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, Mary Poppins, and then in January, Shrek (Dreamworks, but close enough). And with the exception of Wicked, which was popcorn fun, I’ve hated almost every single one. The idea of going to see these and paying full price for the privilege—I can’t even imagine. As the only non-theater person of the group, I think my coworkers smell my disapproval, and they have cast me out from their midst.

In January I started attending a “Women of the Old Testament” class at NYU, where I met my opera-buddy and (potential) future roommate Alexis. I was under the impression that a journalism major who spent her summer in Bangalore, listens to John Cage, and went to progressive procession concerts in Harlem would be slightly older than 19-years old. I almost had a heart attack when I found out my new BFF was 8 years younger than myself. I’m trying to be all “Hey, age is just a number” about it, but at the same time, I’m wondering if there’s something deeper. She isn’t my only friend on the opposite side of twenty, either. All of the new friends I’ve made in the last year are between 18-23. I’m just hoping this is a coincidence, and not pathological.

Also a new development: all of my new friends with one exception are Mormon. I’ve been getting more and more interested and excited about my religion, ever since I finished my Temple Prep class in January. I’ve been going to ward activities (Luau, FHE, Institute), dinners, and classes. I think one of the reason I love hanging out with Mormons lately is because of their general levity and sweetness. LDS kids, for all their flaws, are positive, peaceful, optimistic, hard-working, and drama-free. They are polite, wholesome, and generally enthusiastic about everything. And as I get older, these boring traits are becoming more and more appropriate descriptions of me and my behavior. And when I detox on the wholesome, there’s always someone dark and sexy like Marsha, Mary S, or Michelle to make things fun.

Fun January Fact: Saw The Unborn in solidarity with my cousin Kym Mellen, who played the mother of the creepy kid who killed his own brother. Kym filmed the movie back when she was living in Chicago, and I was super excited to see her on the big screen, even if it was only for two minutes.

On January 15^th, United Airlines crashed into the Hudson, and I ran down to take pictures like a true rubbernecker. It was freezing cold and icy, and sadly the plane had floated down too far for me to see it by the time I arrived. That didn’t stop me from pretending to be a member of the press and cross police barricades to take pictures. I spent roughly three hours sneaking into places, taking pictures, and getting kicked out. At one point I even broke into the docks and climbed on someone else’s boat to see if I could see the plane, but no luck. That sucker sank fast! I probably showed up no more than 20 minutes after the crash and it had already sunk.

Super lame, guys. Super lame.

My Uncle Dan came with a phalanx of my aunts (Jane, Barbara, Marlene) around this time, taking me out for brunches and dinners. I love my family more than anything, but they do things sometimes that crack me up. For example, in the three days my aunts and uncle were in town, they saw 2-3 movies. And it wasn’t like they were bored and were like, “oh hey, we should totally go see this movie.” It was much more like “Ok, brunch was great nieces, but we have to go see Synecdoche, New York at noon, so we’re going to get running…” I know it bothers some the family, but I think it’s fascinating and strange, and I get a kick out of it. It’s so panicky, they’re fear of missing the movies. Hilarious.

December

Eb Harper, an old NU Mormon friend, moved to Manhattan and is now in my ward. She threw a wonderful dinner party around Thanksgiving where I made a complete idiot of myself in front a boy I was interested in. I'm finding there is a disturbing trend with Eb’s parties: Eb invites me over for a very lovely meal, I hang out with educated, well-traveled, well-mannered, talented people, I say or do something mildly insulting or uncouthe that everyone ignores politely, I realize what I’ve done after I go home.

Will Butler, third from the right, and his army of pyromaniacs

Sometime in December, Will Butler comes into town. Will was a good friend of Eb’s and mine from church—he drove me to church on Sunday. What I didn’t know was that Eb and Will kept in touch, and when he was on tour with the Arcade Fire, they would meet up and go camping or hang out. So when a newly-married Will comes to New York, Eb invites me over. I was working for Nielsen that day (The Lion King, sadly), so I couldn’t stay long, but I did managed to come over for a few hours to talk with Will and share brunch. Will and I deconstructed the Twilight books, which I had just finished. Then we talked a bit to his wife, and handed them a present. It was all pleasant enough, until I said something to the effect of, “Wow Will, your band got so famous, I almost got sick of hearing about you.” In context, I was praising him for his success and letting him now how proud I was, but it was just gauche enough to embarrass me. I think I have finally succeeded in creating a reputation of being an obnoxious house guest for the Harpers. Or maybe I’m being overly sensitive. Who knows.

Work with GTO was still progressing pretty well in December. I was writing a few websites and articles for pharmaceutical brands, and trying to finish all of my Christmas shopping. I have to say, working at an agency around Christmas is amazing. There are parties twice a week, free bagels, chocolates and free gift baskets laying around for everyone to eat. I was in heaven.

Marsha Pughachevsky: Living small

On Saturday 6th, I went to Marsha’s Secret Removal show, hosted in some Union Square penthouse by Salon Ceil. Marsha and photographer Paul Grand were displaying some of their work. I felt that Grand wasn’t breaking any new ground with his photographic compositions, but the colors were so effective it was still powerful.

Marsha is always fantastic for me—I feel like she’s onto something really unique and beautiful with her work. She isolates animals and plants, painting them in crystal clear hyper-detail, and surrounds the objects with flat color. I respond very strongly to her pieces, and I bought a few of her smaller pieces for my apartment. I also talked with a Mennonite war photographer, complete with beard and hat.

On Monday 15th, I got together with Shana, who was in my Master’s program at Rutgers. Shana and I met at Sugar Sweet Sunshine, one of the few trendy New York cupcake places I have yet to try. I say this in all sarcasm, because these bakeries all make terrible cupcake icing. They all cut their buttercream with shortening, and it always tastes terrible. I don’t understand it, because a good buttercream is the simplest thing in the world. But, as usual, the spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting was delicious, and everything else was mediocre.

Afterwards, Shana and I walked over to Mercury Lounge to see School of Seven Bells. It’s an odd feeling seeing a band with a set of indie-hot twins, surrounded by guys who are super-hard for them but trying to act like it’s all about the music. S7B were good, but it was the same sort of quiet, noisy indie that’s been failing to excite me for the last 5 years. Though I think I remember one song being awesome.

Ze Christmas Timen

I flew home for Christmas around December 20th. Benjamin and John joined our family this year, so it was a full house. John bought everyone super thoughtful presents, and mom and dad bought everyone presents back from Greece.

Sadly, this was the year Zach learned there was no Santa. It was really sad, because it was the end of an era. One of us needs to make grandbabies or something to keep it alive.
Mom and I decided to dress the dog

Julia had the amazing idea to make Christmas all about the Christmas sweater. So we spent Christmas Eve in spectacularly awesome Christmas sweaters. The uglier the better. It was hard to find Leslie Hall-level ugly, but we did what we could.

Jordan, Margaret, Julia, Zach, Mary in our beautiful sweaters

Benjamin and I broke up over Christmas, as he was starting college. Our last date was in the Galleria, eating 5 Guys Burgers and then watching The Sting. We had been together officially for roughly a year, and we've been hooking up for roughly 3. I wasn't expecting the break up to happen so soon, and I'm still unsure how I feel about it. The truth was, I was a very self-involved girlfriend, very career-focused, and I wasn't as attentive as I should have been. I feel like he's better off without me, especially with a girlfriend who doesn't demand so much from her partner.

I broke down and bought the John Adams series, ok? It was good. It wasn't astonishing, but I enjoyed it, and it made me cry. So done and done. You did your job, HBO.

The fam at Christmas Eve dinner

One of my favorite Christmas presents was the cat mom bought for Julia, which is only amazing if you know the backstory. While on her study abroad, Julia had a theory that cats were stalking her. She’d be talking on the phone, then turn around, and there would be a cat watching her. When she walked home, cats would come out of the sewer and follow her.

Jordan with her present, Christmas day

If she ate in a café, stray cats would sit around and watch her eat. When mom and dad were in Greece picking up Julia from study abroad, they stayed in a village that made animals out of real fur. Mom picked up a cat and showed it to Julia, who flipped out. So mom buys it in secret, smuggles it all the way to the US, then makes Julia open it on Christmas Eve. In a word: priceless.

Christmas day my Aunt Jean came over, and was quickly overwhelmed by the level of noise. Our coffee cake was better this year than previous year, mostly because I steered clear of it.

Jordan had her birthday at Blue Mesa, and there was more than a little tension. I believe most of it stemmed from money. My dad's business has been tottering on the edge of bankrupcy since Thanksgiving, and it makes evenings out incredibly stressful. Jordan insisted on a cookie cake, which angered me greately. WHo likes cookie cake? No one, that's who.

I’m a bit terrified by how fast this year is going. January dragged on and on like a bad date, and then bam, here we are into April, and I haven’t had time to catch my breath. As Real Housewife Bethany points out, building a brand is exhausting. I need to make it automatic like it is for my friends—maybe that way I can stop freaking out so much.

My sister’s wedding took a big chunk out of my updating momentum in January, but now that all of it is finished, it’s time to resume, so I can finally FINALLY get back to updating real time. This is of course, more psychologically interesting to me than it is to you, so I don’t blame you for skipping over them.

November
In November, I finally landed my first big agency job for Greater Than One. I’ve been copywriting since I graduated in May, freelancing for various clients I found on E-lance or Guru. For copywriters, the pattern for schmucks like me who didn’t study advertising in college is as follows: freelance copywriting for clients, freelance copywriting for agencies, staff writing for agencies. Reaching Stage 2 was an amazing accomplishment for me, and I felt so grateful to GTO for giving me a shot.

My first few days of work were very, very rough as I tried to learn all of the agency ins-and-outs: the meetings, the structure, the formatting. I didn’t answer the phone, text, or check websites—I just plowed through work. And I discovered that the more I worked, the more I loved it. I am stretched to my absolute breaking point when I’m in an agency. I’m simultaneously answering questions over IM, shooting off emails, working, and getting up every hour or so for a staff meeting. The over-stimulation is invigorating, and I absolutely adore it. It makes me even hungrier for a staff position—everything about this work feels right for me and for my abilities.

Outside of my work for GTO, I was also doing freelance work on the side for 2 separate clients, both who wanted complex websites in a short amount of time. So November was more or less a complete blur that fit the following pattern: get up, work at home, eat, walk to the office, work in the office, walk home, eat, watch TV, go to bed.

There were a few activities outside of work I managed to experience. One of my favorites was a performance art piece I saw called The Garden of Earthly Delights (Thurs 13th). Based on Hieronymus Bosch’s triptych, Garden was an elaborate allegory about the base nature of humanity and our power to rise above it—at least, that’s what I got from it.

Using the imagery from Bosch’s work, “nude” dancers fell to earth, discovered tools, loved and fought, turned into devils, then ascended into heaven. There were few if any props—mostly potatoes, sticks, and robes.

But the dancers were rigged to harnesses and had such a range of height and motion that they didn’t need any other props. It’s hard to talk about the work without being pretentious, and I think that’s a combination of the fact that the piece was so conceptual and I had such a strong reaction to it. It’s hard to be enthusiastic and genuinely moved by conceptual art without coming across a bit pompous, at least over the internet machine.

(GED photos courtesy of the google machine)

In order to get my network on, my friend and mentor Nisha Kumar suggested I come to AWNY, and advertising conference where she was speaking. It was a gathering of New York Advertising Women that stretched from Friday 14th-Saturday 15th. Most of the conference wasn’t really geared towards me—it was for young soon-to-be graduates—but I still learned a great deal about the structure of advertising, trends, and the agencies. But despite the fact that I’m trying my best to brand-build, the networking party was too painful to believe, and I skipped out early on Friday night to help Eli Marble celebrate her birthday at Balthazar.

As I went home for Thanksgiving, GTO hands me a large project. This made my trip less fun for my family, as I worked on the copydeck 8 hours a day, missing much of the dinner preparation. Margaret brought home her then-fiancé now-husband John Forbyn, who seemed to have as much work to do as I did. We did a slide show in his honor, showing old school pictures, such as this:

John clicks with our family so well, there really isn’t much to talk about. That isn’t to say we think he’s perfect—he’s got a lot of issues he needs to work through—but we can all feel that they’re right for each other, and as a result, there wasn’t too much drama.

Monica Anderson threw a party for the high school crowd as a way of welcoming Thanksgiving. Michael and Alan were snarking up in the corner and yelling at me for not seeing the John Adams special. Alejandra was living the dream in LA, Caterina sold out and is going to law school, Bonnie is working as a special needs teacher, and Monica has a job working for a Dallas advertising company. And I had no job. Awesome! To distract from my lack of proper employment, here is a picture of a pirate pumpkin:
Thanksgiving itself was pretty low key. It started off with the usual breakfast at McDonalds, then ended with my father being sad by the lack of fruit pies available.

This year I tried making the turkey with butter under the skin, then with an olive oil coating on the skin. Results were favorable.
Aaron Flynn came over to spread the love, but Margaret and John were so much in their love cloud that they didn’t really notice. My dad decided to take my brother to see Boy in the Striped Pajamas where my brother burst into tears, then promptly came home and constructed this anti-Nazi fort.

Benjamin (my then-boyfriend) showed up the day after Thanksgiving to help my mother with the Christmas busyness.

I can’t speak about visiting my family without discussing how Twilight fever has gripped my family.

(These, by the way, are my sister Jordan's hands that she made me photoshop into the Twilight cover).

My father and my sister Jordan have read Twilight at least 4 times each at that point, and were reading Midnight Sun online and watching cast interviews on youtube. This fascination will, by Christmas, turn into a fever pitch. My father will go on to see Twilight 5 times in the theater, my sister Jordan will see it 8, my sister Julia will see it 7, my brother Zach will see it 4. With Margaret and my single viewing, and my mother and my single reading, the family becomes divided sharply into the Twilight-obsessed and the Twilight “mildly enjoyed but generally apathetic.” My sisters start watching Japanese pirated copies of Twilight on the internet. My father smuggles a copy of Breaking Dawn into his suitcase when he goes to Greece. It has this moment when my mother starts having serious panic attacks, and I begin to wonder about my family’s pathological need for romance.

I'm leaving for my Mexican cruise (disaster?) tonight. I will be back on April 7th. There will be blood.