12 Miles

So the other day I was asked how I run. As in, how I keep moving.  And well today, as I ran 12 VERY SLOOOOW miles, I pondered.  My answer? I'm stubborn.  Like disgustingly stubborn.  Some people might call it determination or perservance but it's not.  I know myself better than that.  Also, I enjoy practicing my chugging skills by practicing chugging water.  I also don't run with an ipod or watch or anything.  I know my distance and I move.  I know that I won't be the first one but I also won't be the last person.  And c'mon, lets be serious.  The people watching at these things is fantastic.  Even today, on my run during an overcast Sunday morning when normal people are either sleeping off their mistakes from last night or at mass repenting for their bad decisions, I saw some great things.  Not knowing what I'm going to see next makes me want to move that foot. But really, it comes down to wanting the bragging rights and knowing what my body is capable of.  I might not like the way my body particularly looks at times but knowing what it can do- it's an amazing feeling.

Pick-up lines

Since moving to Philly last year, I have encountered some of the best/most original pick-up lines.  The two best are as follows:

Setting: A small diner turned bar in winter. 
Scenario: This guy is chatting up my friend so his friends start talking to me. One of them asks if I'm French because of my eyebrows. His thought was that my eyebrows looked so good I must not be American. 
Still working my way through this one.

Setting: A crowded bar usually full of undergrads during the summer. 
Scenario: I'm hanging out with a just a good guy friend of mine, stupidly matching him beer for beer.  This very intoxicated kid comes up to me and starts talking, saying something along the lines of: you should dump your boyfriend and come hang with me because I love you.
Three things (at least) wrong with that particular sentence: 1. I don't have a boyfriend, I have a friend that happens to be male that I'm hanging out with 2. Why would I want to hang out with a hammered college kid that I don't know and is trying to stand up straight by himself? and 3. I definitely don't love you.

I wish I had had my notebook with me so I could have written what these guys said verbatim.

Overview of June

I think this past June was the busiest month ever for me.  I had something on my calendar every day.  It was annoying because I had no downtime, something I need otherwise I'm not pleasant to be around.  I had finals, a librarian conference, 2 trips to NYC, more classes, work, interviews, doctor appointments, social outings to make friends, etc all going on.

Some pictures from my second NYC trip:

Lego lion in the New York Public Library

 Grand Central Terminal

Statue in front of 30 Rock

 Guggenheim

In Greenwich

SLA - special libraries association conference

So earlier this week was the special libraries association conference in Philadelphia. While I enjoyed the experience and feel that I learned alot about the various types of special libraries and the people, I found the entire process exhausting. It would start up at 8am and go on throughout the day, ending with happy hours and parties. It's a hard life being in the special library field. However, I do think that I learned alot about the field and successfully networked my bum off and get some good job search tips.

One of the nights, the happy hour was at a bowling alley. I had no idea that there were bowling alleys in the city only because that can be considered a "redneck" thing to do. I was even more surprised to find out that I'm competitive outside of playing games with my family. I found it disheartening to find out that I was the only person that took the game seriously. By that I mean I was the only one that cared whose turn it was and how we were doing. But at the same time, I got to met with people that are in my program that I had not met before, so that was neat.

Overall, I feel that the SLA conference helped me worked on my "small talk" skills with strangers- which might negate everything my mother taught me when I was younger.

Whisky

Well I thought it went down smooth. Yet

Hell thought otherwise

It came back up

Saturating me in liquid

Killing me by smell alone

Yet, I was satisfied.

Today's poem

From a old recent photo:

Four girls.

Same smile.

Each a daughter

a mother

a grandmother

a great-grandmother.

Unable to look directly into the camera

smiles beam

Proud.

Milestones

Disclaimer: I'm on my second drink of the night. I made them myself so they're pretty strong.

The other day I turned 25. I spent the day reflecting on where I am and where I thought I was going to be. To be honest, I'm not at all where I thought I would be. In school to be a librarian in Philadelphia? There are three things wrong with that previous sentence: school, librarian, and Philadelphia.

I figured I'd be in NYC or Seattle or Chicago either doing something within the publishing industry or a neat non-profit or making money off my writing. All longshots but 25 sounded so old I figured they were possible. Sadly, I was wrong on all accounts. I still feel like a teenager but not doing as much stupid shit. Though I have gained a decent amt of weight around my midsection to negate that previous statement.

So I decided my goal of being 25 was to try and write a poem (no matter how awful) every day and to work on speaking in large groups whether formal or informal.

Today's Poem:

Mortality is a funny thing.

Here one day

Gone the next

POOF

Like magic

But without the laugher

(bear with me, they're gonna suck for a long while)