I have a number of things I want to write about, and none of them are really connected so this entry may seem a little disjointed. You're probably thinking "Whatever, Tara, at least you're actually writing something for a change." I know I haven't been the most prolific blogger recently.

So I will start with a conversation I had with one of my favorite girls (well, favorite little girls). Caity turned 8 this year and she has been into "High School Musical" since it came out in 2006...so of course she wanted the "High School Musical 3" DVD for Christmas. I asked her about it when I went over there Christmas night, and she looked slightly disappointed when she replied that she had received the HSM video game and Barbie doll, but that the movie was sold out. I said "Well Santa must have had to deliver a lot of those this year; I'm sure it was a popular item on kids' wish lists." She half-smiled and replied seriously, "Yeah...but I just thought that the elves might be able to make the movie or something." I wanted to laugh and give her a huge hug at the same time. I love the fact that she still truly believes and can speak about the elves as if they are real people, working hard up on the North Pole. It's so refreshing to talk with someone who isn't jaded about the outside world, who doesn't fully understand current events or have to worry about anything more than not receiving her favorite DVD on Christmas morning. I hope she has a few more years left of that innocence and that she continues to enjoy the simple experiences that make up a treasured childhood.

This Christmas was special in many ways. I am fairly spoiled by Jeff and my family every year around this time between my birthday and Christmas. People with December birthdays often complain that they are overlooked during the holiday season, but that has never been the case with me. Growing up, my parents always made sure to have a separate family birthday party for me, as well as separate presents (and no Christmas wrapping paper on my birthday presents!) This year was no different, even though I turned 29. Of course I appreciate the attention, but that's not what made the holiday special this time around.

My brother proposed to his girlfriend Sakshi on Christmas Eve at the beach near our house. They came over with my parents to see our tree, and when we saw them coming up the sidewalk, Sakshi exclaimed in a somewhat shaky voice, "We have something to tell you!" Jeff guessed right away and whispered in my ear "They're engaged" but I was in shock. It's funny, I've spent almost my entire life with my brother (minus the 2 and 3/4 years that I was an only child), and somehow I had never imagined this day. That may sound unreasonable, but when he was growing up and people asked him "Are you going to get married someday, Ry?", the answer was always "No way!" followed by a nasty grimace. He went through girlfriends in high school and even in college, but I guess to me I never truly thought any of them would become a significant part of his life. But that was before he met Sakshi.

She is beautiful, and funny, and charming. When Ryan teases her, she gives it back to him like no one in his life ever has been able to (not even me). I think that characteristic has allowed him to respect her. In the past, his other girlfriends or girl friends merely took the teasing in stride and played the doormat role which didn't (and doesn't) impress my brother. If you want to be taken seriously, you need to be ready to argue and to prove your point. He has a strong personality and likes the challenge of someone who will put him in his place. Ryan and Sakshi complement each other in a way I never thought possible. I remember when he first called home to tell us about meeting her at grad school in September 2006, he said: "She looks exACTly like Princess Jasmine from "Aladdin", Tara." And he's right, she does. She's from India, has a perfect British accent (whe she says his name it sounds like "Rine" instead of "Ryan") and they both completed the MBA program together so she is obviously extremely smart. It almost brings tears to my eyes to think of my little brother finding this amazing love...and while I had noticed their relationship becoming serious for a while now, I guess I just never imagined this next step happening in the near future. It has made me realize how much he has matured even in the past year, to make this decision and to want to dedicate the rest of his life to her.

In my head, I can still see Ryan with a shock of blond hair making crazy faces, playing Sega Genesis, holding my hand on the beach when he was 4...I can see us dying Easter eggs, licking cake batter from the beaters, playing basketball, creating a universe out of Construx. I don't always see the 6 foot 5 muscular person that he has become. I can't always comprehend that he is 26 now, with a classy apartment in Charlotte and a well-paying job. But this Christmas Eve I opened my eyes and truly saw all of him for the first time--from the little brother he used to be to the adult that he has become. I really think that Sakshi has been an important piece in his development...I can even see elements in him that could only have been developed out of care and consideration for her. And all of it makes me extremely happy.

Christmas comes this time each year...

I am sitting on the couch staring at the naked tree in my living room. Stockings are hung by the buffet with care (we don't have a fireplace), "The Christmas Song" is blaring through the TV speakers (thank you, seasonal holiday channel!) and I am sipping a glass of pinot grigio. Nutmeg just discovered the colorful light display that is spiraling out from the electrical outlet in disarray (checking to see if they still light up from last year), and I am awaiting Jeff's return home so we can decorate the tree together. Our 2nd Christmas here in our house...hard to believe. Oh, he's back! More later...

Well I am back from Open Enrollment in D.C. which proved to be an even more worthwhile experience than I had originally imagined. Being there during and after the election was both meaningful and interesting for me (despite the fact that only weeks prior to the trip I was whining about being overpoliticized and about the constant TV coverage). On Wednesday the 5th I had a health fair at the Department of Justice from 9 a.m.-2 p.m. I left the hotel in the morning with a sense of optimism and an overall lighter feeling because I felt that change really was on the horizon for the first time since I was 20. I am looking forward to real action as opposed to rhetoric in the upcoming months and years, but this election was definitely a step in the right direction. After all, America has endured eight years of incompetence and uncertainty, and I know we have all felt the ramifications. I passed a number of newspaper vendors on the way to the Metro but didn't have room to carry one in addition to my health fair materials. I should have purchased one while I had the chance--after my meeting ended, they were completely sold out across the city and even in Alexandria, where my hotel was located.

After the health fair, I decided to follow Pennsylvania Avenue down to the Capitol Building to take some pictures and observe people's reactions. For the most part, people seemed subdued which I thought was strange...however, I believe there had been a lot of celebrating the night before, so it may have just been due to lack of energy. About halfway to the Capitol, I noticed a long line of people standing outside in front of a building, taking photos and video, and reading whatever exhibit was in front of them. I looked up and realized that I was at the Newseum in downtown D.C. Apparently the Newseum displays 730 front pages and headlines from 66 different countries on the sidewalk in front of the actual building daily, and I happened to be there for an unprecedented day. I captured whatever I could with my camera but it would be difficult to pin down the excitement and the passion that seemed to seep from the people around me in front of those headlines. I loved being in the middle of it all, especially since I am an avid news reader and watcher.

But of course the day wouldn't be complete without a Tara anecdote. I continued walking down to the Capitol, by one of the reflecting pools, past an art museum, to a park bench right outside the building. I called Jeff and relayed my excitement over the Newseum (definitely a place I want to actually check out the next time I am in the area) and then hung up when he had to take care of something for work. I decided to walk through the grounds a bit before returning to the street, and as soon as I walked under the first tree, I felt something heavy and wet land in my hair. "Hmmm," I thought. "Please don't let that be what I think it was." I reached up and touched my head and hair and of course it was green bird crap and I nearly lost it because I had no napkins or tissues or anything that would be conducive to getting the crap out of my hair. A token to remember the day by. At that moment, I wasn't thrilled, but people do claim that it's good luck, so we will see what happens in the coming months. As my friend Sarah says, I am cautiously optimistic.

Ahhh, a lazy Saturday. Finally! It seems like every weekend since Labor Day has been completely booked with plans from Friday night until Sunday afternoon. But right now I am still in my sweats and hoodie and it's nearly 3 p.m.--love it. For the most part, I am incredibly happy to be out with my friends, driving across the state for parties, meeting people for lunch or dinner or drinks, etc., but every once in a while it becomes exhausting. I definitely needed a break, and this cloudy, dreary, dull-looking day is the perfect kind of day for sleeping in (also a rarity), lounging around watching TV, and cleaning the house. Also the perfect day to update this blog which I feel like I never have the time for.

So what's new since I last wrote...Jeff and I celebrated our second anniversary (already!!) on October 14th. We had dinner at Bravo Bravo in downtown Mystic and then stopped by the Hilton where we had our reception. Since it was a Tuesday night, the place was relatively quiet, so we went to the front desk and asked if they wouldn't mind letting us into the ballroom. They were so pleasant about it and opened the doors, turned on all the lights, and let us wander around. In typical Tara fashion, I had my tiara with me and placed it on my head for a photo opp. with Jeff. Being in that room made me feel an array of emotions from nostalgic to wistful to happy and to melancholy. It's hard to believe that I spent a mere six hours of my life in that room and yet it created such an amazing impression. I will never forget that day and I hope that we continue to celebrate it with as much enthusiasm each passing year.

The next few weeks at work should be fairly entertaining. This Tuesday, Nate and I are going to pick out our pumpkin for our team's pumpkin carving contest that is scheduled for Thursday...then on Wednesday my new team is having a team lunch...on Thursday we're having pizza with my current team and then doing the carving outside on the picnic tables...and on Friday the entire department will be judging our pumpkins for the winning entry. These are only a few of the reasons why I love working there so much. The following week (from the 3rd through the 6th), I am flying down to D.C. to assist with open enrollment meetings. So far I have one meeting scheduled for Wednesday at the Department of Justice which is right downtown. The meeting is from 9-2 and then I plan on changing into comfortable clothes and checking out all of the monuments again. It's been over six years since Jeff and I went there in the spring of 2002.

I will also have the opportunity to telework two days a week starting when I come back from D.C. I am really excited about this because although gas prices have started falling, I have managed to put over 10,000 miles on my car since I bought it at the end of April. It will be interesting to see what a difference working at home makes not only in our budget for the month, but also in the extra time that I will gain from not having to commute 2 hours a day. When I sign off my computer at 4:15, I can go directly downstairs to work out on the elliptical instead of getting in my car and driving for an hour first. I will be working at home on Tuesdays and Fridays so stay tuned for how all of that is going.

I managed to reconnect with two people (both were important to me at one time in my life) last week on facebook. I realize that it might sound lame because facebook has become synonymous with lazy communication and lack of human interaction, but it certainly does serve its purpose in allowing people to network and touch base once again. The first person was one of my best friends in 6th grade that I admired. We were only close for about a year, but I think when you are 11 and 12 years old, you truly gain insight into the person you will eventually become, and therefore those friends definitely help create who you are. She lives a few states away now, and we wrote messages back and forth and then I mentioned that my dad burned a bunch of our home videos onto DVDs last year, and that I have her singing in our living room as well as a solo she did in our 6th grade concert on DVD if she wanted copies. I don't recall her parents every videotaping school events, but since my dad taped EVERYTHING, I thought maybe she would be interested in looking at moments long gone by. I was right--she was so excited at the prospect of seeing her younger self, and she said her husband would be, too. I couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the day because I know how important all of those videos are to me (and I constantly thank my parents), so to give someone a piece of their life to them, I don't know, I just couldn't think of a better gift to give, especially after all these years.

The other person that I reconnected with was one of my 4th grade students from when I was student teaching at my own former elementary school. She is a great kid, and I saw her photo in my hometown newspaper this month for receiving a $1,000 scholarship. She is in 9th grade now, so I figured she might be on facebook. I sent her a message to congratulate her, figuring that at 14 she would most likely be too cool to write back to an old student teacher (especially four years later!) but I was happily surprised by her message:

"oh my goodness!!!!!oh my gosh i miss you so much!! I love Holy Cross it's awsome and yes I am doing dance. Trying to get better and better everyday. My teacher says im improving so much. Holy Cross is a lot of fun. I made so many new friends. Caitlyn and I had another student teacher together who was so funny but we like you better. Christina goes to Westover now and Lumbardh is at Woodland. Hmmm who else? Jamie is doing good too she also goes to Woodland. I can't believe you guys are married. that is so cool!! I wish I lived near the beach, your so lucky. I was just thinking about you the other day and how you made that desert for us and showed the layers of the earth, and how christina went up on stage to sing. How are you? Are you teaching? Your class can't be nearly as fun as ours was. haha I'm just kidding im sure it is."

How cute is that? I know that I am not meant to be a teacher because I really love what I do now and I can see myself being very successful at it, but this part of teaching is the one aspect of it that I will miss. There is no greater reward in life than to make a profound and positive impact on someone. She said she actually thought of me the other day...and I haven't seen her since the summer of 2004. That really is the point of life, I think, to truly make a difference to as many people as possible in our short time here.

I am so tired of politics. And economics. And debates. But they are practically everywhere and nearly impossible to escape. Of course I care about what happens on November 4th-who doesn't-but since February, some form of political news show or parody has graced my television screen thanks to my politico-loving husband. From Rachel Maddow and Chris Matthews, to Tina Fey and Sarah Palin, from Barack Obama to John McCain, and Hillary to Bill and Keith Olbermann...I've had enough.

Just a few minutes ago I had to walk out of my living room because I can't stand watching debates, or any kind of competition for that matter (i.e., ice skating at the Olympics--I find it stressful waiting for the triple lutz to turn into a triple klutz with a crash at the end). Real life continues to play itself out daily, but it seems like no one is taking the time to notice. There is more to life than the Dow Jones industrial average, than the plentiful "drill baby drill" Sarah Palin speeches (if you Google "Sarah Palin quotes", you will find 2,630,000 results), than the constant bickering between Republicans and Democrats. Call me selfish, because I guess in many ways, I am, but I don't always view things in a high level fashion; if it doesn't pertain directly to me, I become increasingly stubborn and disinterested. And this is not to say that I am not going to vote (because of course I am) or that I don't have an opinion on these subjects or on the politicians themselves (I do). However, these subjects are not all I think about. I would rather hear about a friend's problem, read a stimulating book, watch almost anything else on TV, go on the elliptical machine, and play with my cat, than get caught up in the next few weeks of drama which I am sure will only escalate as we approach Election Day. I am not interested in the barrage of emails I've been receiving that are anti-Palin, pro-Obama, pro-women, put your name on this list, sign here, do that, join us, whatever. I think that politics are a personal issue, and should stay that way.

That said, in the spare few hours that I have been able to wrangle the TV (just kidding, Jeffrey :), I of course have gotten sucked into all the "Drama in Real Life"-type shows on the Investigation Discovery channel. What a surprise, right? I can seriously sit through 48 Hours: Hard Evidence, Extreme Forensics, Life of a Crime, and Wicked Attraction for hours at a time. I guess because all of the stories involve real people and surreal stories. I am fascinated by the victim in most cases and the murderer in others (Derrick Robie and Eric Smith, for example). I wonder if my strange interest stems from the Beaudoin murder of 1977. It happened next door to my childhood home...before I was born, obviously, but my parents had just met the children the night before they were killed when they came over to see if they could play in our backyard. Extremely eerie. My parents were one of the few couples to call 911 when they woke to the crackling of fire and smoke early that July morning. (Lorne J. Acquin killed 9 people--8 of them children--when all was said and done, and then set fire to the house). I guess I always want to understand people, to get to the bottom of who they are and what makes them act the way they do...but these shows never really get me any closer.

Well, looking back on this entry, I guess I am actually the weird one. I know that the majority of America is probably watching the debate right now, and weighing their options regarding Election Day while I am blogging about child murders and creepy TV shows. I'm not even sure if this has been coherent or if it makes a point at all, but I was overdue in posting, mostly because my mind has been so cluttered with politics and Newsweek and SNL sketches. I will be back soon with more about my own life as promised, but until then good night.

I love rainy days and taking walks with close friends (Holly) and the Yale Co-op bookstore and Kate Spade organizers ($75.00) and pencil cases ($45.00) and adorable (cliche) magnets that read "Be the change you want to see in the world" and "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." I love cute tan J.Crew jackets with ruffles that cost $198 for no apparent reason, and I love expensive medium chai lattes that cost $3.89 when a hazelnut coffee is merely $0.90. In this economy, it's difficult to find money to spend on groceries or on a haircut (I am probably at least 2 weeks overdue on that front), never mind for indulgences such as the ones listed above. I don't need Vera Bradley thank you cards to adequately thank my loved ones, I don't need to buy every book that I read (what? the library?) and yet I do. Lately, Jeff and I have been working together to find ways to cut costs and save more since this economy is negatively affecting our usual budget. September is our trial month--we are doing our best to be frugal and go out as infrequently as possible, and to date we have been fairly successful. We're not Ralph Waldo Emersons by any stretch of the imagination, but we realize that to live and still feel productive in today's world, we have to take it down a level. So if that means we can't always go out during the week when friends ask, or if we just order one martini instead of four :), it's nothing personal. It's just business.

Conversations with the best 9-year-old ever

I've known Megan since she was 2 years old; her parents moved into the house across from my parents' when I was up at UConn. She and her younger sisters, Caity and Norah, are like my little sisters. Megan has always been incredibly smart for her age...she talks to people as if she herself were an adult, and she even has the ability to absorb information and vocabulary like you wouldn't believe. Just recently she figured out how to instant message me through her dad's email address on MSN Messenger. See for yourself what an amazing kid she is:

Tara says: are you excited about turning 10? I remember I was scared to enter the double digits.

Megan says: not really I feel a little sad

Tara says: yeah I think I felt nostalgic, too...like my childhood is going away. boooo

Megan says: mine too, faster than you think

Tara says: exactly. but you'll have a lot of fun these next 10 years..and 5th grade was one of my favorite times in childhood, too.

Megan says: really mine was 3rd

Tara says: oh yeah? what was your favorite part of 3rd grade?

Megan says: my teacher, Mr.Senich

….... a few minutes later.......

Tara says: well I can let you go watch TV if you want

Megan says: no no its my turn to go on the computer

Tara says: okay, I just don't want you to get bored of me

Megan says: are you kidding i never get board of you

Tara says: aww thanks!

Megan says: :)

...............

Tara says: hey have you read any good books lately? I'm always interested in hearing about them to see if I read them when I was your age.

Megan says: yes im reading the sisterhood

Tara says: yay! really? maybe I can take you to see the 2nd movie

Tara says: have you seen the first one?

Megan says: no

Tara says: well I have it on DVD, I can bring it home next time I'm at my parents' house

Megan says: please

Tara says: definitely, we can watch it together, make some popcorn and everything

Megan says: maybe we could have a movie night

Tara says: exactly!

Megan says: :)

Moments later...

Megan says: im having a party friday

Tara says: is that the pool party?

Megan says: yes

Tara says: how many kids are going?

Megan says: and instead of presents i want 8 kids to write checks to my friend Alyssa

Tara says: is she sick?

Megan says: she has cancer

Tara says: oh how terrible--when did she find out?

Megan says: ya but it is treatable, she found out this May

Tara says: oh thank goodness it's treatable...how scary, though

Megan says: ya, she lost all her hair from the treatments

Tara says: aww, does she have a wig?

Megan says: yes, but she does not wear it in the summer

Tara says: too uncomfortable and hot

Megan says: she went to camp for kids with cancer

Tara says: have kids been nice to her since she found out she has cancer?

Tara says: did she go to the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp?

Megan says: yes, they recently had a ziti dinner for her at the Firehouse

Tara says: did your family go?

Megan says: no, we made a donation

Tara says: well it all certainly counts

Tara says: I just volunteered at a camp for kids with cancer; I'm just wondering if it's the same one Alyssa went to.

Megan says: oh really, I am not sure what camp she went to

Tara says: yeah that is a famous one, and it's in Connecticut...it might be the one.

Megan says: she went to a sleep away camp

Tara says: Well I hope she gets well, and that your friends are able to contribute a lot of checks to you on Friday that you can give to her.

Tara says: yep, it was a sleepaway camp

Megan says: I'll ask her when she gets home

Tara says: we put together the bunk beds in the cabins for the kids

Tara says: definitely do that and ask her about the camp--it's an awesome place.

Megan says: I will. I have to go now. I need to create my invitations so mom can mail in the morning. Good night! We will plan on the movie night

Tara says: okay sounds great...have a good night! I will talk to you soon

Megan says: bye

Note: You can't tell me she's not amazing. I talked to her mom tonight on the phone to ask if it was okay to have a "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" movie night with her for her 10th birthday, and her mom told me that it really was Megan's idea to donate all of her "birthday presents" to Alyssa. I love her!!!

Holy crap. I don't think I could possibly feel much worse. Too much sangria. Wine. Peaches. Apples. Lemons. Limes. Roxette. Boyz II Men. Don Henley. I am sad now, and exhausted. I just tried to call Jeff but he's at the Radiohead concert. I am sitting here completely, well, inebriated for lack of a better word. I want to go home but the problem is that I AM home!! I am not driving anywhere so it should be okay but noooooooo. I want Jeffrey. Oh I want him to take care of me noooowwww. So pathetic. Ahhhh "Ray of Light" by Madonna. Appropriate. But still not making me feel any better. Want pajamas. And other comfy things. Like blankets. And someone to brush my teeth for me. And oh wow just want to go to sleep. Stupid Tara. Too mucccch sangria. Too much wine. I want Kara to call me so I know she is safe. What the hell. I just re-read this and don't remember writing any of it even though I just thought of it 5 minutes ago. Madonna is "appropriate"? Did I say that? I want dinner. I told Rachel I wanted Chinese food. She replied with "LOL." I didn't think it was that funny. What the hell am I going to eat, really? And my face is sunburned. Ohhhhh. Want to sleep night night. Crying from Aerosmith is on.

Nice. P.S. Kara just texted me. She's home safely. Yay. Pass out now for sure.

Sometimes I don't find my daily life to be all that exciting which would explain the lack of posts recently. It's like, hmmmm...wake up, feed the cat, brush my teeth, shower, get dressed, say goodbye to Jeff, listen to Coldplay on the way to work, get coffee, arrive at work, say hi to Steve, Mark, and Melissa (cubemates), talk about the cat (still a new subject), respond to RFPs, harass Diana on IM, ask Nate questions about our programs, go to crazy busy cafeteria for lunch, respond to RFPs, drive home, feed the cat, say hi to Jeff, go on elliptical, shower (again), read, watch TV, go to bed, repeat.

Occasionally I'll have a meaningful conversation during the week but most of my day consists of witty banter and lots of eye rolling (me). It's fun but not truly worth writing about. Although...in my book club, we just finished reading "Bitter is the New Black" which is basically a memoir about this girl's life during her two year period of unemployment. I told the other girls that I would love to be published someday, but that my journals throughout the years were written about mundane subjects (similar to the tone of this blog).

How do you take a 7th grade break-up and make it resonate with your audience? Do you have to embellish certain details or even fabricate parts of your "memoir" to capture the reader's imagination? When I write about my life, it seems false to me to add intrigue that wasn't originally there...for example, my parents have a happy marriage. Jeff and I never broke up in the eight years that we've been together. I went through the same teen drama and crappy parent/teacher conference conversations as the next person, but does that truly provide valid material for publication? Well, it's my life so I would love to think that it does, but when it comes down to it, despite all my own quirks and experiences, I am merely living a similar existence to many other women out there.

I really don't know why I have always had this desire for people to read about my life. It makes no sense to me because in general, I'm not big on being the center of attention. In fact, I hate when everyone is staring at me or giving me compliments (really, my face turns the color salmon, as someone described it just yesterday). When I read my old journal entries, I see a bright, observant girl--somewhat of a dork in the earlier years, but I guess my favorite part is that reading the journals allows me to follow this "character" through life as she experiences things for the first time. Even though I am the "character", I am far removed from her because she is not truly who I am anymore (if that makes sense).

I've mentioned before that what is real fascinates me...people's thoughts, what drives them, what makes them crazy...and as we all know, my obsession with all things real occasionally gets me into trouble. And anyway I'm not quite sure where I'm going with all of this, but I have to keep writing or I'll lose the ability altogether. I used to be better at it. My pen used to fly furiously across the blank pages, and I miss that feeling of release that used to come from pouring my heart out in my journal. That could be the other reason I want people to read it; I know it's supposed to be for you, but I put so much time and energy (literally years) into writing it that it seems pitiful to just throw it all away.

I don't know. It's a constant debate, and not one that's going to be settled tonight.

I am feeling better this week-thank you all for your comments, emails, and advice. Yesterday morning I was shopping at the Colonial Market downtown (which is directly across from the beach), and I realized how happy I was just to be running errands. I walked slowly through the aisle, glancing at the gourmet ravioli; fresh bruschetta; and artichoke hearts, olives, and mozzarella lined up neatly in the Greek/Italian station. This may sound silly...but I actually felt kind of classy. There's something about that New Englandy feeling--sunglasses on top of my head, cute red flats and a fairly put-together outfit wandering around inside an oceanside market--that made me feel like I have truly come to embrace my life. Remember back in October when I was writing about how I longed for new material things such as a snazzy car or professional wardrobe (in addition to an exciting new career, of course)? Well, now I have all of that. And this may sound even more Connecticut snobbish, but my next stop yesterday morning was through the drive-thru at Starbucks...how cliche is that? I felt like if I only had a cardigan tied around my shoulders, then I could seriously pass for a Nantucket stepford wife or something. However, just as certain people think corporate America is evil or overrated (and I am still very much in the habit of romanticizing the entire experience), I think that the snobbish New England image is okay, as long as you yourself are not a snob. I've decided that it's possible to look the part and yet still be a very down-to-earth and friendly person.

As many of you already know by now, we've also added a kitten to our "family"--a 9-week-old calico that we affectionately named Nutmeg. I am thrilled to have a cat to come home to after a long day, and it makes daily life even that much more interesting and fun. I guess the only aspect of our lives that is missing is children, and that day will come soon enough, I'm sure. But for now I am just going to enjoy being a New England snob in evil corporate America, because I am the happiest I've been in years. Life is great.

Here we go again...

The following is a post that I wrote for a message board where I am anonymous to most people. However, I decided that although I appreciate their input, I also want to know what the people I know in real life actually think about this situation (so please excuse the fact that I'm talking to you like I don't know you...I am too tired to make the language more 'familiar'):

I am a pretty sensitive/nostalgic person, I'll be the first to admit it. I didn't have the best job for the past couple of years, but I started an amazing position in January and have been so grateful and enthusiastic to be there that some people probably think I'm crazy.

That being said, I completed an 8-week training program with 13 colleagues, and I even became teary when the training was over and we had to move upstairs to our actual floor and positions. Silly, I know!

Today one of the trainers, and one of my favorite guys on the team, announced that he was leaving, and since he is going to a competitor, he had to basically pack up his things and go immediately. I will admit that I had tears streaming down my face. I had gotten to know him well during our training, and we had the same sarcastic/dry sense of humor. Some of the sales directors on the floor saw me and looked at me like I was a freak. One of my friends there said it's just because I have a big heart, and when I called Jeff he said, "Awww, you probably cried, didn't you?"

I'm not sure if it shows weakness to become upset in a professional position, but I find it hard to detach myself from good, intelligent, and witty people that you interact with on a daily basis. Am I wrong?

Today I ran the Susan G. Komen 5K Race for the Cure at Bushnell Park (shout out to Jeff, Renee, Diana, Emily, Steph and Peter. Good job, guys!) and while my time wasn't spectacular, I am proud to say that I completed the race and definitely finished the final stretch with an enthusiastic burst of energy.

I would have been more prepared, but Diana and I kind of neglected training weeks ago once busy season kicked in at work. I found myself lacking energy at the end of the day, and it was too easy to blow off the gym when we both complained of our complete tiredness. However, I am putting this in writing because I WANT to be more proactive about training and exercising, and I am usually more successful at doing so if I commit to it in writing. I have been fighting a battle with 5-7 extra pounds since the holidays and I need to have some sort of breakthrough before I literally go insane. All the gymming it and diligence I exhibit as I plan my every meal just hasn't been paying off lately (and by lately I mean since January) and I am definitely at the verge of frustration which is not a fun place to be. I've been there before and don't ever want to go back.

In other news, I couldn't be happier with my progress at work. The position itself is stimulating and interesting, but the environment is miles away from any other work environment I've encountered. For example, on Friday alone, we unveiled June's IC Wall (Information Consultant) and the theme was Hollywood. There are photoshopped renditions of the entire IC team and the 2 managers (about 30 people altogether) in various versions of Lord of the Rings, Shrek, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Titanic. The accompanying quiz asks us to match the National Accounts employee to their celebrity lookalike (someone once told me I looked like Michelle Williams from her "Dawson's Creek" days...I don't think anyone is going to guess that one correctly!)

For lunch, I actually ventured off campus to the diner with Diana, Glen, Peter and Brian which was nice because it had been a long week. (side note: I am freaking out right now because some guy is literally shouting on the street in our quiet neighborhood, and while I would have expected that at our old apartment, it is a bit jarring here). Anyway, this week I also proposed an Artie Lange Cupcake Day...Artie Lange is on the Stern show for the non-Stern fan members of my audience :) and Crumbs Bakery in Manhattan has named a cupcake after him that he buys all the time. So I heard Jason in my row singing a Bababooey song (another Stern reference) and I IMed him my cupcake idea...he thought it was awesome so I sent around an Outlook email with voting buttons (woo-hoo, high tech!) to all the known Stern fans in the department, and I am ordering enough cupcakes for 8 people for this upcoming Thursday, June 12th. The Official Artie Lange Cupcake Day.

Oh, and since we work at an insurance company that supports Wellness initiatives, our department had scheduled a kickball tournament DURING WORK HOURS last Wednesday from 2:30-4:30. I, of course, chose not to participate (I could still hear jeers and taunts from 6th grade gym class and "Tara, you got us all out!" and "Ohhhhhh!!!" every time I would kick the ball, someone would catch it and the entire team would be out). Even my gym teacher hated me...no joke! But it's still pretty cool to have the opportunity to play.

I just love how FUN most of the people in the department are, and how driven the majority of them are. The environment is a perfect balance for me. I accomplish so much on a daily basis and have really learned a lot about the process, but there's always something interesting around the corner. I have a great (very patient) mentor, and so far I've developed a good rapport with my manager. Really, on the work front, things could not be better. What a complete difference from a year ago. The other difference is the validation...I cannot tell you how many supportive comments/praise/feedback I have received since starting at Aetna in January. The trainers were thorough in their evaluations, colleagues that I have worked on RFPs with have written me emails saying "you're the best" or "Thanks so much for your help on this case", and it literally blows me away. To come from an environment where I put in 110% every day and was never rewarded in any kind of way (be it words, money, recognition, etc.), this aspect of my job hasn't ceased to amaze me for a moment. I think that some people take it for granted, but I will never, and I think that it gives me a positive perspective that some people don't have there.

Okay, well I've gone on and on about various topics. Thanks for listening, as usual. Our pizza is here and it's time to watch "Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King." Happy Saturday night, everyone!

Koyaanisqatsi...see below

Last week, before we left for my brother's graduation in North Carolina, my dad and I sat in the living room (my parents' living room) silently. We are a lot alike, my father and I. Observers--patient--always thinking. So I knew he was contemplating my brother's latest milestone in his usual quiet manner before he even said "When Ryan was packing the other day, I thought 'So this is really it..." implying that now that he and I have both left, our parents' role in our lives has evolved into something different than "Daddy, I fell down the stairs-I need a band-aid" and the games we created during thousands of backseat car rides. My dad's nostalgia always gets me because, like mine, his memory is vast and he is able to capture the details and describe them in a way that I can truly remember. Not many people I know can do this...people have a tendency to forget. Oh did that really happen? I'm glad you remember that, because I certainly don't. I don't know how people forget the moments in their lives when in the end, they make up everything you are.

As we were sitting there, we fell back into silence after I reassured him that Ryan would be back, and may even eventually find a position in New York City or somewhere closer...but Dad was adamant. "Yeah, but...it's still not here." And don't get me wrong, he is not wishing for my brother to stay at home and find a local job at all. But there's a part of him, as there's always a part of me, that wistfully wishes that some things could stay the same even as our lives take different paths. After a few more moments, I began thinking of all the events that had happened even in that very room that defined me. We moved there in August 1993, before my freshman year at Masuk. I recall the living room being bare, the French doors shiny, and our neighbors bringing banana bread into the chaos that was our new home. I can fastforward a few years and see myself sitting cross-legged at my 16th birthday party, surrounded by my friends, laughing and watching "A Miracle on 34th Street" in the background. I can visually see Rachel, Kim and I making up a dance on my back deck.

As I quietly played these images through my mind, I turned to my dad and said, "Did you ever think about how many people have been through this space, this living room, over the years?" I explained how I can sometimes see events play out in a sort of time lapse...people coming in, sitting on the couch, going to the refrigerator for a drink, coming back, leaving, watching movies, going outside, flirting, laughing, hugging, crying. I said, "It kind of reminds me of Koyaanisqatsi."

This film was fascinating to me, even as a child. My dad played it for my brother and I sometime in the mid-80's, and the haunting, melancholy score stayed with me for years. It basically shows the juxtaposition of people and technology and what humans have done to the Earth by merely developing as we have. In certain scenes, the time lapse speeds up to show hundreds of people flying through the grocery store, up the escalator, through the streets of big cities. Anyway, I thought of my old house like that...capturing the moments from chorus concerts to high school graduation to new boyfriends and break-ups to college and another graduation. How would my life look if I were able to capture it in the style of Koyaanisqatsi?

The trip to North Carolina was great. I proudly watched my brother's face at the hooding ceremony last Sunday night, right before he received his MBA. I saw the person he has become, and not just the little brother that he always has been to me. He has come a long way from sniffing packs of Carefree bubble gum when he was 3...from making forts with his stuffed animals, playing Contra and Ninja Gaiden, and saying "NO! Duh, duh, duuhhhhh!" in that manic, shrill voice as he cocked his head.

We have both succeeded.

I hate dust. I am sitting here attempting to write and to concentrate on stringing words together, when all I can see is a sheen of dust on the hardwood floor beneath my couch. It's driving me crazy even though I just vacuumed and dusted yesterday. I am that type of person. The type who takes care of homework first as opposed to going outside to play on the swings first. The type who mows the lawn before going out to lunch with friends. Of course I will definitely swing on the swings and meet my friends for lunch, but only after I have completed the necessary tasks; all in due time. I hate having chores or responsibilities hanging over my head when I am supposed to be enjoying myself. So here it is, Sunday evening, and all I want is to relax and sit and write, while the sensible side of me feels like I should march downstairs, grab the vacuum cleaner again and go to town on the dust bunnies, wreaking havoc on their little dust bunny village. But I won't.

This weekend has been rewardingly long despite the fact that I slept in until 9:30 and 10:00 both days (that is unprecedented for me). We didn't have a lot going on so I spent the majority of yesterday afternoon and this morning propped up on my couch (with the dust bunny village below) reading a very interesting story called The Thirteenth Tale. I call it a story rather than a novel or a book because it certainly was written by a storyteller. I loved the twists and turns surrounding the twins, and I really became enraptured while reading. It's not often (especially lately) that a book has been capable of consuming me, and I thoroughly loved the feeling...of escape. And honestly, in my life there's not a whole lot to escape from. But every once in a while, it's comforting to live someone else's pain, to embrace someone else's emotion, even if that "someone else" is merely a fictional character.

Occasionally life gets too real. This past month or so it seemed as if I was constantly grappling with various thoughts regarding certain friendships/relationships in my life. I am confident in my communication skills to a degree, but when my words have the ability to instill hurt in someone, I often hold back. I guess you can say I've been kind of a lazy friend lately...giving advice when sought after, but otherwise remaining objective and stoic to a degree. For some reason I just don't have the energy most days to truly delve into everyone's situation. But this tiredness makes me feel that I am missing out on real conversations, that I am taking the easy way out by sidestepping confrontations and concern.

Overall I know it's just the fast-paced busy season at work that has been affecting my motivation in the evenings...and I know that it will pass once I have been immersed in the environment for a few months. I've been feeling drained lately--a good drained, but drained nevertheless--in many ways. I have to push myself to run or go to the gym after work, and while I have been trying to focus on eating healthy options, there's been a slight setback with various obstacles at work: Panera bagels "for a job well done," a Chili's lunch tomorrow for Cinco de Mayo, a farewell party for a colleague, etc. I still love corporate America and I'm trying to figure it all out, but in some ways it offers as many temptations as America itself. When I'm working hard to meet a deadline and to mail 2-3 cases in a week, and the head of National Accounts says "Hey, have a bagel for all your hard work", it's not always easy to pass up.

I am trying to keep the Tara I know and love in check. I want to be healthy, motivated, hard-working, successful, and a good friend all at the same time. I guess I'm just trying to balance each compartment and integrate them the best that I can. I know that sometimes one piece of the puzzle is bound to slip out of place for a passing moment, but as long as I am aware that I'm not complete without all of the pieces together, I guess that's one step in the right direction. It's my focus during these next couple of months to put 100% into everything that I do. I don't want to let anyone down, the least of all myself.

It's been a whirlwind of a month. April has practically come and gone and I barely have one entry to show for it. It's all right, though...admittedly, sometimes living life is more important than writing about it.

Here are some new developments in the life of Tara:

• I've been running a few miles after work 3-4 times a week with Diana
• We invited additional members to join my book club (our next choice is a memoir entitled Her Last Death by Susanna Sonnenberg; I am intrigued)
• Responding to numerous RFPs during busy season at work
• Buying a new (pre-owned) 2006 silver Nissan Altima--yay!!!--which forced me to clean out my old car that I had for 7+ years (I never realized how careless/messy I was until digging out three small bagfuls of loose change from the seats, side compartments, etc.)
• Consolidating our boxes of memories/cards/photo albums that had taken over the spare room downstairs. We might actually be able to create a guest room now!
• Watering our lawn and pretty tulips daily because the crab grass had taken over

So nothing too wild and crazy, but so far it's been a decent spring. Right now I'm sitting on my couch wearing a long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, and jeans and I'm chilly...and all I can say is that I wouldn't mind if it were a little warmer out.

I tried on my wedding dress yesterday afternoon. It had been hanging in a downstairs closet at my parents' house since the day after our wedding, and I finally sprang it free when I went home on Friday. My parents didn't necessarily want to store it for me, but we had no room for it at our New London apartment, and so there it sat for a year and a half next to my entourage of prom dresses. Now it will live in our cedar closet downstairs.

I have to admit, it still looked pretty. (If also pretty wrinkled.) Due to the fact that I didn't want to spend money on officially "preserving" the dress, the material certainly scrunched up quite a bit, and the bottom layer is covered in dance floor dust. As I glanced in the mirror at the delicate cap sleeves and the fitted bodice, I could immediately replay the events of the day. Breakfast at Friendly's with the girls. Hair and make-up. Walking down the aisle with Dad. Holding Jeff's hand at the altar. Tears came to my eyes and I couldn't tell if it was because I was happy from reliving the memory or sad with the realization that those events will never play out in real time again.

I went out on the deck barefoot in the dress and called for Jeff who was doing yardwork. I actually scared him half to death because he was literally right below me and I didn't see him...so at first he sounded a bit annoyed and was just like "What?!" but then he looked up, stopped what he was doing and came up the deck stairs. I became teary again and twirled around for him like a 6-year-old would before her dance recital. We hugged, and then I came back inside, peeled it off and gently placed it back in the garment bag. I'll admit that I kind of embraced the garment bag before bringing it downstairs to its new home.

We'll be married for exactly a year and a half tomorrow. I can't believe how quickly the time has flown since that day. It seems like we were just testing out cake slices and meeting with our photographer, and now here we are and those are no longer concerns of ours. Three of my close friends have children that they didn't have on my wedding day, my brother is graduating with his MBA next month which he had just started that fall, I have a new career, and everything and everyone is moving forward.

There's really no point to my saying this other than the fact that I have truly been trying to make every day count. Because before you know it, 548 days have gone by, you've brushed your teeth 1,096 times since your wedding night, and if you're not careful to appreciate every day, some of the little things might pass you by. I know this sounds melodramatic, but there's so much that I want to do with my time here, and so many people that I love and want to see, that I just hope I reach all of my goals.

Irish coffee

Irish coffee personifies everything about my honeymoon to me. One of my favorite moments in Ireland took place on our second to last day in Dublin. Jeff and I had spent the entire day trekking through the city in the absolute pouring rain, my hood squinched up around my face and both of our jeans soaked up to our knees. The first ten days of our trip had been been absolutely beautiful, but of course we had to experience a torrential downpour at some point or it wouldn't have felt authentically Irish. Since it was late October, of course the rain was freezing cold as it pelted our heads and sloshed up against our sneakers...we had to seek coverage under random buildings where homeless people huddled in their blankets among their belongings.

We found McDaid's pub on Harry Street just in time--a longtime literary hangout of some of Ireland's writers and playwrights from the 1940s. It was the coziest little bar with such an intimate feel. Dim lighting, candles flickering on the tables, five or six tables pushed up against the side of the wall, and my warm Irish coffee. I recall sitting there with Jeff's arm around me with the rain and wind crazily howling outside and thinking, "This is it. This is love."

Tonight we went to Hanafin's, the local Irish pub in New London. I ordered an Irish coffee and Jeff ordered his standard Magner's hard cider. He put his arm around me and we quietly observed people and sang along to the music as the band played loudly. The Tullamore whiskey warmed my throat and I thought back to Ireland and how content we were then...and I realized that I love him even more now. Whether we're in Ireland or Connecticut, it doesn't matter, because when I put my arms around him, he feels like home.

Creepy.

Last night I slept over my parents' house because my mom and I were driving to a baby shower in Concord, MA this morning. The bed in my old room is actually the same bed that they bought me when I was three. The same bed that they hooked a yellow gingham guardrail to so that I didn't roll out and flop onto the floor. The same bed that had been moved from our old house to our new house and also positioned throughout various places in my bedroom over the decades. Same mattress, too. So you can imagine it's fairly stiff and uncomfortable after...let's see...25 years.

Anyway, I spent the entire night tossing and turning, dreaming about work and Jeff and rain and some strange hotel and three caterpillars on my pillow (in the dream, not for real!). I woke up this morning and wondered "What the hell could caterpillars possibly represent in a dream?" I looked it up online and I don't think I could have been more surprised by the accuracy of the definition:

Caterpillar
To see a caterpillar in your dream, signifies a stage in your own personal growth and development where you are on your way, but have not yet reached your goal.

Now I am not one to believe everything that I read, but that thought has certainly been going through my mind lately, both inside my head and out. I'm just trying to figure out how my mind was subconsciously able to transform that thought into three caterpillars and send them to my dream hotel pillow. Very random. The brain is a tricky and interesting thing.

I'm the only one who cried yesterday afternoon when our "class" packed up all of the materials that we've acquired over the past eight weeks--binders, notebooks, handouts, Valentine's Day cards, pens, highlighters, candy, photos--and headed upstairs to the fourth floor to find our individual cubicles. It was embarrassing to say the least, but thankfully I've been with these people long enough for them to know that I'm not usually a basket case, and that if I'm crying it's probably for a good reason. I seriously must be the most sensitive person I know which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's definitely something to contend with. I become attached to everything and everyone and every experience, and for some reason I find transitions hard even though I know that this is only going to continue to be a wonderful experience.

I can't say enough about the quality of the people that I work with. Our class has become really tight which I think is only natural. We've worked together, bounced ideas off of each other, complimented each other, provided moral support or a shoulder to cry on when things became frustrating (no, I'm not the only one who cried during the course of the eight weeks! ;), and ate lunch together every single day. I know that they all have my back because yesterday we were at happy hour after officially moving to the floor, and I got teary again. Wait, wait, there's a good reason for this. Remember I had written that there were only four of us ICs, and that we had been banished to one room towards the beginning of training without a Survivor buff? Well, obviously the four of us stuck together and developed this amazing rapport...through humor, teasing, assisting, and once again, bouncing ideas back and forth. We found out last Friday that Alan ("Ace") is moving to the Hartford office. Alan is hilarious. He provides the comic relief in every situation, he is the one who continuously called me Tarabyte even when it became less popular, and his key phrase whenever I would respond correctly to a question or give him advice was "You're good. You're good" which he delivered in such a deadpan way while pointing at me. Anyway, he had to leave HH early to go to another function, and I became teary. Alan gave me a hug, Emily kept saying "She's so sweet, I love this girl," I heard someone else say that I care so much about each and every person, and Samantha told us that I was making everyone else cry. Frank leaned over to me and patted my head and told me that I'm a sweet girl for caring so much...I mean these people are so supportive, and the fact that they were truly there for me meant a lot.

I stayed out later than mostly everyone and danced with some of the people who are already established on the floor at Aetna. They were so friendly and accepting, and even took my hand to lead me out to the dance floor. I think that every career move I've made so far in my life has brought me out of my shell a bit more. The Tara I knew when I was growing up would never have been confident enough to dance in front of people, to tease them, and to just let go. But this move especially has allowed me to grow as a person, both personally and professionally. I am incredibly happy and satisfied with my job in a way that I never thought possible. I have found the place where I belong and I have found an amazing group of colleagues and friends as well.

When I was still at the bar (after a lot the people from my class left), I received a voicemail from Diana asking if I was driving home or if I was still there, or if I was okay...and she said that she wanted to know that I was all right, or that she'd worry about me. Then around midnight I received a text from Edgar saying "I hope you are ok. I should have stayed" and another one around 1:00, Samantha texted me and said "Are you okay?" They are awesome. Each and every one of them. I can't believe how much I have come to care for all of them in such a short time. I didn't even know these people at Christmas or New Year's...and now they are so important in my life.

I think that's all for now. Unfortunately I have a pretty bad sore throat this morning and I have a feeling it's the beginning of a cold. But here's to a relaxing, rainy day of hanging out in sweats, a long-sleeved t-shirt and my messy hair pulled back by a headband. I plan on catching up on all of the TV shows I missed over the past week (working on our trade show and studying for the 3-hour final exam!), and maybe going to CVS later to get some meds. Other than that, I've got nothing but that's fine with me. I'm content to just sit back and relax. It was a long, challenging, and wonderful eight weeks.

Talk is Cheap

I know I've mentioned this before, but it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Interesting conversations. A mug of coffee. Laughter. Trekking to the bar with a friend, collecting snowflakes in our hair. A comfy couch. Warm pajamas. All of the above.

On Friday they let us leave training at 2:30 because the snow was coming down like crazy. All day long I contemplated whether or not to attempt the drive home or to stay over a friend's house. My friend Diana (from training) lives fairly close by in Middletown, and she convinced me to stay over. The whole night was honestly a bit like a sleepover, and very relaxing. Mostly because we didn't have to be anywhere, and we could just sit. And talk. Diana made us tea when we first arrived at her place and then we talked cross-legged on her couch, pet her cat, watched TV, and talked some more until dinnertime. We bundled up in layers and walked a few blocks to Eli's, stomping through snow. Over dinner we held more in-depth conversations about our past, observations we've made, experiences we've had over the years and just life stories in general. I loved it. To me, one of the most fascinating things in the world is learning about the defining experiences that make a person who they are.

After we got home from the bar, she lent me some pajamas (and an Army sweatshirt), I threw my hair up in a messy ponytail, we sipped sake (that was my first time trying it!), watched a movie and eventually went to sleep. Yesterday morning was a lot of the same--we talked, shared stories, watched part of "The Amityville Horror" and discussed our views on the paranormal. We discovered that we would both love to become published writers for different reasons, and we sipped coffee from purple mugs. I don't know if I've ever had that much fun being snowed in somewhere before.

Yesterday afternoon I ventured over to Angela's to continue my talking and coffee lovefest. We ordered paninis and vanilla chai at a cute cafe and talked for over an hour and a half about a variety of subjects. Angela and I never run out of things to say to each other despite having known each other for over ten years now, and I love that about our friendship. I think that even with good, well-established friendships, there is always an opportunity to learn something new about someone, especially if you are willing to actively listen. There's a difference between nodding your head and saying "uh-huh" and truly becoming engaged in the conversation.

It's funny because we were talking about how we both have the constant desire to be *productive* all the time, and Ange mentioned that she wanted to develop more hobbies. I didn't realize it fully yesterday, but one of my favorite hobbies (besides writing, reading, and editing) is listening. I just had one of the best weekends in a long time because I was able to do just that. Don't get me wrong--I definitely enjoy talking and laughing myself, but when it comes down to it, I like being the important person on the other side of the conversation. I love validating people's feelings, showing them that I understand...or if I can't truly understand, that I can at least imagine why they are feeling the way they feel.

Friendships + coffee + listening= love. It's as simple as that.

Idol Chatter

Can I just say that I absolutely heart David Archuleta on American Idol? Oh my God he is so lovable. I want to SCRUNCH HIM UP! Okay, that is all.

I don't have a lot of energy to expend on writing a real post tonight because I am exhausted. However, due to the incessant whining I've been hearing from a few of my colleagues (ahem, Samantha and Alan "Ace") these past couple of days, I thought I would give it a shot. APPARENTly people have actually been checking this site recently and have proved despondent over the fact that the last post was about lullabies and it was written more than a week ago. So, fine. Here is the amazing life of...Tarabyte. Yes, I did really just say Tarabyte. During the second week of training, we learned that one of Aetna's databases houses 16 terrabytes of information. This, of course, lead to me chomping at the air all the while proclaiming that "I bite," which then lead to the nickname permanently affixing itself to...myself. Quite endearing. I was about to give a presentation the other day and our head instructor looked up at me and said, "Ready, Tarabyte?" Seriously.

Anyway, other than the nickname, I am still loving my job. But I know, that's not inherently interesting to any of you out there reading this and frankly I don't feel like going into details of my daily life there only because it would turn out to be this one enormous run-on sentence that would probably take you an entire day to READ and an entire day for me to write, kind of like this one but with a more emphatic and excited tone. That's how much I love my job. Which is great, it really is. But dull to read about...we'll save it for a conversation over martinis, shall we?

In non-job related news (hmm this might be difficult), this past week I:

1. Started going to the gym AND on our elliptical machine. Go me!
2. Broke out in a crazy facial rash that itched, burned and turned various shades of red before receding. Ew, that sounds really gross. Anyway, it was merely an allergic reaction to Clean and Clear facewash. Nothing contagious.
3. Hung out with Mom and Dad!!! Always a wonderful time. We went to the Book Barn and had lunch (with Jeff, too, of course).
4. Became addicted to Kate Nash and constantly had one of her song lyrics buzzing around in my head while attempting to "populate" an RFP. Oops, work talk. But really, how can you not love a song with the title "Pumpkin Soup"?
5. Had an amazing dinner at Lupo with Megan and Lily.
6. Gave advice to a friend who was going through a hard time.

Whew, and you wonder why I don't have a ton of energy to post a blog entry on a daily basis. There you have it, folks. My life in a nutshell...as fascinating as it may be. Be back soon--or as soon as I feel like it!

This may seem silly, but occasionally when I am home by myself, I like to put on this beautiful CD called "Global Lullabies" by Freyda Epstein. It's a collection of lullabies from around the world in various languages, and it is the most calming music you'll ever hear. I have a particular favorite entitled "Shaker Medley." The lyrics and melody are simple but they are soothing and sweet which sometimes is exactly what I need after a long day.

The first time I encountered this CD was when I worked as a toddler teacher at Bright Horizons. One of the aspects of our center's mission was to teach children about different cultures and have them embrace whatever characteristics made them special. I can remember many an afternoon rubbing the little toddlers' backs as they fell asleep to this music at naptime...little Talia whose ponytail would be splayed across her blotchy cheek, Jonathan (Jon-Jon) who would sometimes wake up in a panic-stricken nightmare and need to be rocked back to sleep, and Rishi, one of my favorites, who would sprawl out all over his cot...and usually end up in a pool of drool. Their innocence always moved me. No matter how hectic my day was, or how crazy they were acting before their naps, you couldn't stay angry looking at their beautiful faces and listening to that CD. I loved each and every one of them in my own special way.

I just did a bit of research on my favorite song which turns out to be a Shaker hymn:

"Love is Little" comes from South Union, Kentucky, ca. 1834; its words are "Love is little, love is low/Love will make my spirit grow/Grow in peace, grow in light/Love will do the thing that's right," expressing in its mild simplicity the Shakers' abiding belief in humble faith and fellowship, rejecting the excessively charismatic preaching and apocalyptic prophesizing common in that age of religious reform and zealotry.

The entire lyrics, from what I can gather (the whole song is nowhere to be found on the internet!) are:

Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...
Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...

Grow in peace
Grow in light
Love will do the thing that's right.
Grow in peace
Grow in light
Love will do the thing that's right.

Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...
Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...

I have a little nogan filled with love, sweet love, love
Mama sent me here with it
To feed her simple doves

It is sweet, it is sweet
It is very, very sweet
Chick, chick, chick, chick
Pretty chicks,
Come and eat...

Then the Chorus repeats again.

It's beautiful. It really is. I highly suggest it for children...or for adults.

Today in training, they officially split us into our two designated groups: the ten Sales Consultants in one room, the four Information Consultants in the other. I felt like I was on "Survivor." Come to think of it, I want an Information Consultant buff to wear (preferably in a pretty aquamarine blue or jungle green shade). In the first two and a half weeks, we've completed the industry overview and Aetna product line as a class and so for the next five and a half weeks we're focusing our efforts on our specific job responsibilities as SCs and ICs. This may sound a bit ridiculous, but I felt kind of sad about the separation. I've come to respect each and every one of my classmates, and I truly look forward to seeing them every day. Going from a class of fourteen to a class of four is somewhat of a shock. I already miss the general banter, witty responses and engaging conversations that have consistently taken place in our "homeroom." We've spent about 100 hours together there since January 14th, and I've already created so many wonderful memories and experiences with these people...I guess I'm just not ready to let it all go so soon. (Obviously they are going to be right across the hall, but the fact that we will no longer be experiencing new subjects or programs together kind of hit me.)

As I packed up my nametag, various binders, notebooks and pens to move next door, I realized that the reason Ididn't see this coming is because I hadn't looked ahead on my training syllabus. I guess I was just happy-go-lucky and figured that we would continue to experience presentations, participate in activities and brainstorm together. I had gradually gotten comfortable with the setting--had picked out a favorite seat in the lecture classroom, loved my seating situation in the computer lab, and was overall just starting to feel like I fit and now I'm being moved. I know it doesn't really seem that drastic, but my happiness has been hard to surpass these past few weeks and I'm just hoping that the training will continue to exceed my expectations. So far it has been one of the most positive work experiences I've ever had. And I feel like I've made some very good friends out of the deal as well.

The good news is, yesterday I had my first informal evaluation with the four trainers. They said that I am doing "a fantastic job" and that they were very happy with my quiz scores (a 90.6 on the first one and a 92.4 on the second). The cool thing about the trainers is, most of them are in their late twenties or in their thirties, so it really is similar to talking to a colleague. They are professional and respectable, but also have a young and interesting edge that separates them from the usual manager type. I find myself responding really well to them, and I'm looking forward to working with them in the future. I feel so lucky to have landed in this position. I know that I deserve it, but I still can't help but feel that it's absolutely where I'm meant to be.

Wish me luck filling out my first RFI (Request for Information) tomorrow. It's an all-day task!

More updates to follow...

Ahhh, it's 7:10 p.m., the beautiful time when I can finally relax and stop thinking. This training--while I love it--does have the tendency to use up a lot of mental focus and brain power. In fact, so much so that I actually dreamed about health care plans and various medical terms last night because it's becoming so ingrained in my mind. Scary! (Although, come to think of it, there was an incredibly violent portion of my dream where I saw someone being shot execution-style in front of their house. Perhaps I should be more concerned about that? Yes, probably). Anyway. I love this time of the day. Everything is peaceful. The refrigerator is humming quietly, the heat is cranking slowly through the pipes and Jeff's not home from the gym so the TV isn't blaring with Hillary and Obama bickering (just yet). It's a nice segue from hectic to soothing.

This morning I heard the song "We Are the World" on the radio. That was my favorite song ever when I was six and I think I honestly wandered around singing it for months (my parents even have me on video singing it at Hubbard Park). It's too funny how I literally feel like I'm back in first grade as soon as I hear that song. It doesn't matter that I'm driving to work or that I'm "dressed for success" or that I'm married. The chorus belts out "There's a choice we're makin', we're savin' all our lives" and I am transported back to Meriden, Connecticut with my size 6x jeans, zip-up pink hoodie, matching pink Velcro sneakers, (fairly awful) blonde bob haircut and maybe all of eight teeth in my head, belting my little heart out. I'm grateful for the simple pleasures in life. I think I always have been. Feeding the ducks. My Care Bears lunchbox and matching thermos. The backyard turning into a frozen village after a freezing rain storm. Mom giving me ginger ale when I had a stomachache. Being allowed to stay up until 9 on the weekends and having a Pepsi. Going down the slide on my swingset.

When I have quiet time, I like to think back and reflect upon the experiences that have made me who I am. I know that I have come so far in many ways, but I also know that there are future goals I have to set. This year I have to focus on new goals to ensure that I continue to better myself...that I never become complacent or lazy in who I am. Life is how we define it, and I want to feel like I've enjoyed as many moments of as many days as possible.

Oh my God. I am going to have to officially declare myself a loser. It's 10 p.m. on a Saturday night and I am a) home alone b) listening to the 1990s music channel on TV c) online and d) the song happens to be "Step by Step" by New Kids on the Block, circa 1990-91...and for those of you who were previous fans of NKOTB, this song wasn't even cool back then! They had already jumped the shark by the time I was in sixth grade. (And the song is absolutely terrible.)

For the most part, though, this particular music channel evokes a wide variety of positive emotions in me. The 90s played such a dynamic role in my life--I guess because between the ages of 10 and 20, I established so much of who I eventually became. Whether dealing wtih braces or boyfriends or learning about love, friendship and loss, I remember listening to the radio on a daily basis and completely (melodramatically??) empathizing with the person singing the lyrics. (Example: "I Love Your Smile" by Shanice, "or, oh wait, here is an actual journal line from July 6, 1993: Oh, God! The song “Someday” by Mariah Carey is on—the one I sang all day after Matt and I broke up. You know how it goes, “Someday, the one you gave away will be the only one you’re wishin’ 4!” Well, I am. Anyway, if you haven’t already guessed, we’re goin’ out again. I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really like him.") Memories always have a tendency to embed themselves throughout the lyrics for me...I can't listen to certain songs without being transported back in time. It makes me smile to hear "More Than Words" by Extreme, and this afternoon Laurie, Ange and I tested out our lung power with hits by Alanis Morrisette, Matchbox 20 and Usher, to name a few.

One of my favorite music periods was during the late 90s when I was finishing my senior year at Masuk and entering UConn as a freshman. For some reason, a number of songs from this timeframe evoke a poignant sense of nostalgia every time I listen to them...some of them were probably from "Dawson's Creek," others were dorm favorites and of course many songs from 1997 remind me of high school graduation, prom, random car rides with friends, etc. Ugh. The song "Jump" by Kriss Kross just came on, making me want to retract my previous statement...oh and now "Butterfly Kisses." BARF. I'm going to sign off now.

I love training. I feel like I am finally where I need to be, career-wise, at Aetna. Everyone in my "class" (there are 14 of us) is bright, proactive and motivated to do well in order to achieve personal success. We've held brainstorming sessions, given brief presentations and listened to various lectures, and I can honestly say that I haven't felt this productive or positive in months. I have learned an incredible amount of information in two days, and at times it is overwhelming (last night I fell asleep on the couch at 9 p.m.) but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. It's certainly an intensive classroom environment, and we are all expected to play an active role in the dialogue--both by participating when one of the trainers or presenters poses a question or topic, as well as by raising questions ourselves when we are unsure of an acronym or health care term. After completing grad school, I never thought I wanted to be in a classroom setting again, but this is different because my entire career lies ahead of me, and the foundation for my future basically begins with these next eight weeks.

Yesterday when we were moving from our original meeting place in the lobby area to the training classroom, we took an escalator. Halfway up the escalator, I smiled to myself because 1) I was wearing a cute suit from Ann Taylor Loft; 2) I had a hot vanilla coffee in my hand; and 3) because I was at Aetna and I had worked very hard to get there. That pretty much sums up my emotions so far this week. I feel accomplished. Out of the 14 people in my class, 10 were hired as sales consultants and 4 of us were hired as information consultants (I will be an IC). The Sales Manager gave us some interesting stats: they received 239 resumes, of those 239, 49 received a first interview and only 20% of that final number were hired. I know I shouldn't be bragging about those numbers but I honestly just feel proud of myself, and I had to share. I think I am usually fairly modest, but I don't think I've ever worked this hard for a position or wanted it so badly before. I am looking forward to the next 38 work days!!

Of course...

There is going to be a blizzard on my first day. Just because so far January has been pleasant and sunny and the days have been beautiful and walkable even. I'm not a neurotic person by nature, but I am definitely looking forward to making a great first impression tomorrow...oh, wait. I just realized that there is one thing that I am a tiny bit neurotic about, and that is punctuality. Training at Aetna begins at 7:45 a.m. My commute will be between 40-45 minutes on a good day, but add 6-8 inches of snow to that mix and you're looking at a few hours. So. If I wake up at 5 a.m. I should be good to go. All right! Nothing like starting a new job with that hanging over your head...and my car just hit the 160,000 mile marker. Gaaahhhhh!!!!

Okay, this is boring and basically just a rant that belongs in my head. Sorry.

I will be a career girl soon. (Envision a cute suit, sleek ponytail, heels, portfolios, RFPs, me chewing ever so slightly on the end of my pen as I narrow my eyes and contemplate just the perfect phrase to complete the narrative response). My writing career has arrived and all is right with the world. Well, all is right with my world, anyway. I have been striving for this moment for as long as I can remember, and I am really proud of myself for achieving success at last. Two challenging interviews, tons of company research, and a five page paper on consumerism in healthcare later, I received an official offer and will start my new position on the 14th. I'm very excited about entering corporate America. Last January I had written down some goals and ideas regarding my career path (in a stream-of-consciousness fashion) because I knew I wouldn't stay in the non-profit sector forever. It's interesting to see what a difference a year can make:

"I need to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life. It’s seriously been bothering me for the past couple of months. I feel restless…and uneasy…and worried that I am not going to amount to much of anything. I mean how do we end up where we are, career-wise? I want to be a writer. However, writing is not a feasible full-time option. I am more than willing to begin writing every day in the hopes that someday I will be able to freelance…or finish the young adult novel that I so enthusiastically started. But what am I going to DO to make a difference? Where am I going to be in five years? I hate not knowing the answers. I’m 27 and I really wish I was more on the career path that I had imagined myself on—being an associate editor or a proofreader or a writer somewhere, anywhere. I guess I’m just waiting for something to happen…which is not very proactive of me. I am determined to change my job within the next year…and I’m looking forward to a fresh start."

And here we are in 2008, and I will be enjoying my fresh start. I have to give major thanks to my dad for always telling me to write down my goals and focus on them to make them happen. Despite the fact that finding the perfect job occasionally took more time and effort than I was willing to give, the outcome is well worth it. I also want to thank my mom, Jeff, the rest of my family and friends for their constant support and encouragement. Thank you for believing in me, and for believing in my abilities. I don't think that I would be where I am today without the positive thoughts, phone calls and emails. There were days when I honestly thought that I didn't have the talent or the intelligence to obtain such a professional position, and I appreciate those who reassured me otherwise. I know now that I have it in me; that I am smart enough to take on a new and interesting challenge. I'm looking forward to reporting on what I learn during this next step.

Until then...