Because You Asked…

Yes, that is my foot in the picture. I'd like to say it is actually the foot of a long-toed sloth or perhaps another person's hand, but unfortunately, that appendage is all mine. I used to be very shy about my overly long and crooked toes, but now I bare them with pride and dignity. And while people are often alarmed when they first catch a glimpse of my huge, pale feet with the octopus tentacles hanging off, their fear turns to laughter when I play them a concerto on the piano using only my toes.

Ode to Jeans

For the first eleven years of my life, I was highly averse to wearing jeans. In preschool, I would become distraught on days when my mother would not permit me to wear a dress. Nevermind that my one memory of a dress back then involves the time I fell in the toilet while wearing my red alphabet dress; I loved my dresses. Once I hit elementary school, I decided to switch to a more casual style, one that involved brightly-colored spandex leggings with slouch socks and a tee shirt tucked in. I think my mother's goal in choosing my clothing was to see just how many loud colors she could pile on me in one day. I have to tell myself that she was secretly trying to amuse herself, because the alternative is realizing that she actually loved seeing her child in neon green and orange leggings with neon pink ...continue reading.

I cried at my desk today.

Before you start assuming that I was being a "typical female" who cried after a silly dispute with a coworker or a reprimand from her boss, let me stop you. I don't cry in those situations; I just go home, crack open a keg, and forget about my day. And my name. The reason for my tears was a far more desolate moment: I was forced to discuss the Twilight Zone episode "Time Enough At Last" with my coworker and boss.In case you are unaware, this is the plot of the episode:"Henry Bemis can never find the time to read. He can't read at home or at work because both his wife and boss think reading is a waste of time. At one point his wife, as a cruel joke, asks Henry to read her poems from a book. He is very pleased that she has asked him to do ...continue reading.

On Family Ties

Ever since I started my new job back in December, my already limp post-college social life has come to a grinding halt. I used to see friends a few times a week and leave the house occasionally for purposes other than work or errands, but now I spend all day at the office, crawl home through miserable traffic, and sloth around the house until bedtime. My only companion is my friend Henry; we spend hours together each night in my room, sitting together quietly and enjoying each other's company. Henry is my space heater.Last night was no different. It had been a long day at work and, knowing that I'd be driving The Landlord to the airport this morning at six o'clock, I'd planned to spend the night in. While cleaning the house, I found a book entitled "The Experts' Guide To 100 Things Everyone Should Know" and decided that ...continue reading.

Handle With Care

Until recently, I have always harbored a hatred for mailing packages. First, you have to find a suitable box to use. Because I am lazy, I end up paying for an overpriced, ill-fitting box at the post office. Then you have to wrap the item carefully (I dig newspapers out of public trashcans and use those), seal the box tightly (with the tape I've inevitably forgotten), and write the address correctly (a challenge for someone who spent years writing "Virgina"). Worst of all, you have to physically go to a place to mail your package, an arduous task for a girl who has considered peeing in a water bottle under her desk because the restroom was too far away.In the past few weeks, however, I have started using the Mailboxes, Etc. that is directly across the street from my work. Not only is it painfully convenient, but the jolly Irishman ...continue reading.

Are you there, God? It’s me, Lindsay.

While cleaning out my old room at my parents' house this past weekend, I came upon my old diary from seventh grade. It had apparently been out in plain sight for some time, stuck on a bookshelf for anyone to read. As in, hey, look, Popular Mechanics, Interviews for Dummies, and Lindsay's Hopes and Dreams, all for your reading pleasure. And my parents wonder why I have no qualms about discussing my personal life on the Internet.The sad part about my journal was that the majority of it was me going on and on about school and homework. There were endless pages of discussions on how stressed I was by the rigors of middle school algebra and countless listings of the status of my grades, which ultimately ended up being straight As. As I was reading through the journal, I finally came upon a sentence that gave me a ray ...continue reading.