Category Archives: Grownup stuff

Weird

Life moves fast. Perhaps my girlfriends and I haven’t yet developed the vocabulary to describe our realization of this, so lately, we’ve been calling many of our observations “weird.”

It’s so weird that Jess is getting married. It’s so weird that we’ve been out of high school for 10 years. It’s so weird that we only have 7 or 8 years before a pregnancy would be considered higher-risk. It’s so weird that our parents are in their 60s. It’s so weird that we’re … adults.

Once a week, I visit my grandmother, who lives nearby. I grew up in her home. My parents both worked so every day, she and my grandfather would pick me and my sister up from school and we’d stay with them for hours. Twenty years later, we still sit at the same counter and eat the same Chinese noodle dishes while chatting with her about our daily happenings.

Tonight, my sister called me at work and wanted me to meet her at Grandma’s for dinner. I told her I can’t, I’m on deadline and so stressed out, no. But she had a bunch of stuff to give me and this might be the only time I’d see her this week, so I sighed and said okay.

As I stood outside waiting at the door, I looked around at the houses and the cars and the trees and thought, “This is weird.” It’s so weird that this is the house where I used to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks while eating cumquats after school. It’s so weird that this is where my then-BFF and I would play M.A.S.H. and prank call boys and talk about the girl at school who already got her first period. It’s so weird that this is where my sister and I fought and loved daily. It’s so weird that this was also the home of my grandfather, the kindest man who I didn’t know well enough.

It’s so weird where my life has taken me — to college, to other states, to a career I’m grateful for, to Matt, to now. It’s so weird that this place on this earth is where my life was and is and likely will always be. It’s so weird, the concepts of time and generations. It’s so weird.

I can’t yet grasp it all. So for now, I stand here stunned and in awe.

Orderly

I often feel like a colossal screw-up (those resolutions? failfailfailfailfail), but there’s one thing I’m actually doing, well, well. People, it’s been nearly two weeks and my room is still clean. You don’t understand. I haven’t had a clean room for two weeks straight since forever. It feels so good, I could do a cartwheel across my (clutter-free!) floor if I knew how to do a cartwheel. It’s like I’m a new person. Ask me if you could borrow a pair of pajama pants. Do it! “Michelle, can I borrow a pair of pajama pants?” SURE, SECOND DRAWER TO THE RIGHT OF THE WORKOUT PANTS! Magical, isn’t it? Pet me.

I would describe in detail how monumental this is for me, but my brain is pretty fried this week. Post holiday/magazine production wipe-out, I suppose. Though I think this post from my old blog wraps it up nicely. Read and cringe.

February 1, 2006

It was today I learned that I am a mess. Sure, I’ve made this realization a thousand times before, but it was never so clear, never so paralyzing. Today, it was like the clouds parted and an echoing voice boomed down saying, “Michelle………..you are a mess.”

It all started this morning at work when I went to answer the phone and the entire phone lifted up off the table because the cord had somehow tangled into a small mass. As I listened to the PR lady on the line ramble on, scrambling to find a pen underneath my piles of papers, post-its and lipglosses WHILE THE ENTIRE PHONE WAS DANGLING FROM MY EAR, my eyes slowly gazed from cubicle to cubicle. Then it hit me. Nobody EXCEPT ME has a telephone cord that is tangled into a small mass!!! I realized that normal grown-ups are perpetually detangling their phone cords. If they see that it has become twisted, they will gracefully unwind it in an effort to prevent clunky mishaps such as, say, an entire phone dangling from their ear.

Or perhaps it was this afternoon, when I decided to take the long way to the elevator so that I could make a stop at the water fountain to refill my bottle. The moment I stepped through the elevator doors, I let out an audible “Awww shiiiiet” as I looked down at my bottle and saw that it was empty.

And what kind of normal human being decides to hold in her pee because she’s too lazy to untie the new sequin wrap belt she spent a minute triple knotting? No, no normal human being does this. Only me.

Sigh. My desk is a mess, my room is a mess, and my life – oh my poor pathetic life, is a deep dark hole of disorganization, forgetfulness, thoughtless actions and mess. (P.S. This post has no fluidity. It’s a mess, too.)

Through the years, people have tried intervention. For my birthday a few years ago, my roomies Natasha and Lisa guided me through a scavenger hunt with “tasks” that included taking out the trash and washing the dishes. Desiree bought me a Little Miss Scatterbrain book. I never got the hint. I just found it endearing. A couple weeks ago, Megan crawled beneath my desk and picked up scraps of my lunch as we searched for a missing bracelet. And Matt made me a magnetic board labeled “receipts” and “bills.” Of course, disregarding its purpose and functionality, I used it to display old party pics.

I believe that organization can make your life cleaner and richer. If I had some in my life, maybe I would’ve been accepted into a higher ratio of colleges — you don’t know how many times in high school I murmured to my neighbor “Huh? What homework?” Maybe this is why I have fallen off the path to stardom, settling now for the title of Second-Most Famous Michelle Woo in the World, according to Google.

I lack all the qualities necessary for entering adult society. And yet I am here, clinging on for dear life. I’m surprised I haven’t spontaneously combusted due to an OD on flaming hot cheetos (I lack self-control) or bled to death from a paper cut while handling the countless parking tickets I’ve racked up in my driving career (I can’t keep track of time).

Why am I like this? You can only blame your parents so much. And even my little sister has a day planner. Whatever, the reason, it seems almost too late to fix me.

What should I do? New Year’s resolutions never work. Neither does sitting next to my ridiculously meticulous co-workers. Should I tell my parents to send me to the military? It’d be cool to get a crew cut. I’d never have to brush my hair. Though I forget to do that anyway.

Wishy Washy

You know what my problem is? I spend too much time thinking and dawdling and swaying and not enough DOING. I’m such an ineffective lump that I just spent nearly two hours online looking up magnetic boards. Magnetic boards! As in slabs of metal. Ooooh, Pottery Barn has a nice slab of metal. Oh, The Container Store has a slab of metal, too. Let’s see what Apartment Therapy has to say about metal of the slab sort. And did I buy any of them? Of course not. Because I can’t make decisions and therefore will never be successful at life.

Yes, I’m using my shopping habits to explain why I’m a major FAIL. Remember when I was trying to decide  whether to get a Blackberry or iPhone and I asked the internet for help and the internet graciously offered their thoughts and then never heard back from me again? Yeah. That’s because I still can’t decide. How lame! And then remember that other time when I was considering invisalign? Well, here I am, still … considering. With still-effed-up teeth.

OK, so maybe I just don’t like spending. That’s a good thing, I suppose. But it’s not just shopping. It’s everything. Remember a couple weeks ago when I decided wholeheartedly to follow a certain life path and you showered me with kind words of support? Well, in the past few days, I kind of shifted my thoughts and visions and enthusiasm to the OTHER PATH. My brain can do that sort of thing. It’s amazing. I feel embarrassed, though, about my dramatic announcements. You can totally have your comments back.

There are so many things that I need to do to get my act together and I’m just not doing them. I’m stalling. I’m scared. I mean, I have ideas. Believe me, I have ideas. But who cares if they just sit there chillin’ in my little head?

You know why I want a magnetic board anyway? I want to create an inspiration wall in my room, you know, with You Go Girl-type quotes telling me to do what I need to do. And if I ever get to it, I’m sure that project will distract me from actually doing those things I need to do, but hey, at least I’ll have a pretty slab of metal.

Finding the light

I thought it was just a bad mood that enveloped me one day. Then when it stuck around, I figured it was an extended funk. (I have been working 11+ hour days, ugh, point finger-gun to head, shoot.) But today I had the realization that no, holy crap, this is a full-on crisis.

It sounds silly when I say it. I bet every other post on this website has the word crisis in it. Why is this crisis different than Crisis #948572 (the one where I bemoan my barely-there eyebrows)? I don’t want to be in a crisis. I’ve done crises. And written about them, too.

But it’s been building for the past several months and has been paralyzing me for the past several weeks. I wake up every morning and think I don’t want to do this anymore. I look in the mirror and wonder Where is my joy? It’s been affecting every inch of my life. (Have you sensed it, too?)

Sometimes, I think you just have to say your thoughts aloud in order for you to hear and listen to yourself. Today, I declared over and over, “I’m not happy.” I did this until the decision-making part of my brain finally snapped: “OK! Let’s do something about it.”

I’ve been procrastinating on choosing between two life paths, perhaps because one of the paths is so scary. But thinking about that path also makes my heart flutter inside. I believe that being on it would help me find my joy.

I’m going to take this path.

Typing this makes me smile.

You know when you’re trying to make a decision and there’s a little war between your heart and your brain, certain signs just seem to pop up.

Tonight, this gave me comfort:

jenlemen

Via Jen Lemen on Etsy

I won’t be adding much detail about this chosen path for a while because I can’t, but just know that I’m on my way to more.

One perk of being a grownup

Free services from friends with real professions.

teeth

Like dental exams. Given at a bar. Classy.

I also have no shame in asking for legal advice from my lawyer friends, IT help from my IT friends, counseling from my counselor friends. Seems like fair trade: You help me and I’ll…I’ll put your picture on michellewoo.com. Now, let’s see. Any masseuses out there? Personal trainers? Chefs? Want to be my friend?

The obligatory pre-birthday freak-out

In five days, I will be 27. Matt already hosted a very classy pre-birthday gala for me this past weekend, complete with party hats and flip cup and a jam session on Rock Band. I think I guzzled one too many cheap beers because I’ve been feeling slower than usual in the cranium. No, really. I’ll try to write something on Twitter and I’m like, “Uhhhhhhhh, hi guys. Whatcha doing? Oh that’s cool.” I’ll try to speak in sentences and I’m like, “Ohhhhhh yeah uh huh so … wanna … pizza?” It’s very annoying. I hope my brain cells replenish soon.

I also think I might be getting sick. This sore throat has been prarie dogging it for weeks and it’s just like enough already! Am I sick or am I not sick? If I am, please let me know ASAP so I can change into sweats, pop some drugs and rent High School Musical 1 & 2. The indecisiveness of germs kills me.

Wait, what were we talking about? Oh yes. In five days, I will be 27, I didn’t really want to write an OH-MY-GAWD-I’M-ALMOST-27 post because it’s kind of insensitve to anyone who’s 28 or 29 or (Lord help you) 42. But I suppose much of the reason why I’ve been feeling the way I’ve been feeling is because OH MY GAWD I’M ALMOST 27. Did you really think I could let a birthday pass by without a proper meltdown?

The best word to describe this feeling is … restless? Confined? Stuck on the hamster wheel of life? Oh wait, that’s seven words. I’m not quite sure. I’ve just been experiencing this swelling urge to catapult myself to someplace new. Like with the whole moving in together thing. With Matt, I’ve been blurting out this kind of nonsense all the time and I need to stop. I’ll be asking him about plans for the evening: “Do you want Thai food? Do you want to order the yellow curry? Do you want to rent a movie?” And then I’d casually let it slip: “Do you want to get married?” I’ve probably proposed to him 38462014 times and each could win the prize for most awkward and unromantic.

But I don’t even know that marriage is what I want at this very moment and he realizes this and I love him for giving my many proposals the eye-rolls they deserve. In all honesty, I don’t know exactly what I want in any area of my life right now and it’s driving me insane. Careerwise, it’s an even bigger issue. I’ve whined about this before, but my industry is a sinking ship and yet I’m still here, treading water. How can I move forward? When will things level out so that can I have clear goals again? I need to start running. Not sure where, but somewhere.

Or maybe I should just chill out for a little while. Take a breath. Maybe even take a might-be-sick day.

I’ll be okay. After all, I’m only going to be 27.

Look up

Saw this on Design For Mankind today:

lookup-back

“By lifting your field of vision to chimney level, your body is able to lift your mood.”

Via Alex Ostrowski

I’ve been feeling pretty crummy lately, just burnt out and frustrated, but when I saw this and followed its advice, my mood changed instantly.

I remembered a post I wrote two years ago on my old website while I was working at a big newspaper in Arizona. I’d like to share it because it’s sort of how I’m feeling now and also because … I got nothing else.

September 2, 2006

Back in college, someone once told me that there’s an easy way to tell the freshmen from the seniors on Ring Road: Freshmen look up. Seniors look down. It’s true. Like, when you’re a freshman, you feel so remarkably small. And your new world seems so big, so endless. So you jump into it. And swim. But slowly, the excitement starts to fade (tall shiny buildings, Asian boys galore — who cares?) And instead of gazing in awe, it’s more like, ‘Just get me to my class. No, I don’t want to join Kappa Kappa Kappa. No, I don’t want to apply for a credit card to get a free paper weight…ooh…or do I?’ And toward the end, as scared as you might be, you start to feel like there’s something even bigger waiting for you somewhere.

But now, three years out of college, I’m realizing that it’s easy to get stuck in the same cycle. You should have seen how obnoxious I was at my first internship in Palm Springs. One of my first assignments was to tag along with this education reporter to a school board meeting. (Um, have you ever been to a school board meeting? Imagine death, only with Roman numerals). While he was driving me back to the newsroom, I was giddy. “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe you do this for a living. It totally doesn’t seem like work,” I said. He looked at me with disgust.

This morning, wearing a wrinkled shirt and holding a can of Red Bull, I gave a sluggish nod to the parking attendant and walked, head down, to my building. And I thought about the whole freshman/senior thing. And it scared me. This ‘pond’ I’m in right now is pretty freakin’ gigantic and there’s no way I’ve already outgrown it. And then I thought, ‘Hmmmmmmmm. Maybe it’s not the pond that needs chaging, but the fish’ (yes, I’m rolling my eyes at myself too). I don’t know. I don’t really have any more answers, but I do know that in college, the most wonderful parts came much after the newness faded. When I stopped caring so much about doing everything and started letting go, embracing the people and places I’d already found.

So, relax. Slow down. Smile.

And, look up.

Oh, crud

Think I overscheduled myself for this month. I’m digging my face in my palm as we speak. I won’t list all my responsibilities here (trust me — they’re so not exciting to you), but I’ve rattled them off several times to my boyfriend. “And then I have to do this. Oh, and this. And I volunteered for this. And they’re making me do this.” Somehow, saying them aloud gives me credibility. It’s not bad, though. It’s actually good. These are all things I want to do, more or less. Or things that could lead to something else. Because ultimately, I want something else.

Wow, Michelle, that paragraph was extremely vague and I’m kind of upset you made me read it.

I’m sorry. Here, have a print.

lhunter0002

Which reminds me, I have shit to do.

A different kind of bliss

The kind that makes me want to poke my eyes out.

Matt and I spent 36 hours straight cooped up in his house, being boring. Not the cute, don’t-bother-us-we’re-rolling-around-under-the-sheets-in-our-skivvies boring, but the type of boring where we sit on the couch with our laptops (we both had work to do), semi-watching movies we’ve already seen a gazillion times (Wedding Singer, Family Guy, Back to the Future I, II and III) and not really talking, except to blurt out, “I’m hungry” (me) or “I have gas” (also me) or “I’m so bored” (yep, me again). This is a glimpse of a life that could be. OMG, help.

I suppose if I’m destined to live a life of responsibility, there’s no person I’d rather live it with than him.

Nah, who am I kidding? Someone kidnap me and take me to the nearest bar, pronto! We still have an hour and a half before the weekend’s officially over.

Just pedal

My boyfriend has been going through a very belated quarterlife crisis. It is perplexing to us all.

Matt: Oh, I forgot to tell you. Andrew and I are going bike riding tomorrow.

Me: WHAT?! I feel like I don’t even know you anymore!

The following evening, between his moanings of an aching buttocks (he pedaled 16 miles!), he tries to explain what’s going on.

Me: What is it? Do you not like me anymore?

Matt: What are you talking about?

Me: WHY ARE YOU EXERCISING?

He tells me that after several years of being raveled in his career, he’s beginning to realize that work isn’t everything. That he should get out and try new things. Exciting things. Like, say, riding a bicycle along the coast through six cities when prior to this his most strenuous cardiovascular activity was drumming on medium in Rock Band.

When I think about it, this has become truer for me as well. I’m realizing that there probably won’t be a time in my life when my schedule will magically free up, so I might as well do all the things I what I want to do now. I’ve started a list. It’s rather boring. But at least my ass won’t be bruised.