what, no guest option?

this weekend, i am attending the wedding of a dear family friend. he and i grew up together; our parents were neighbors and continue to be very close friends. while i don't know his wife-to-be all that well, i have been looking forward to celebrating this wonderful day with him and with our families. that is, until the wedding invitation came in the mail.

look, i know that i'm single, i've never been married, i've never planned a wedding (well, never planned one that came to fruition). i know how much money goes into them and i know it must be hard to cut down and stay on budget.

but. while i am single, i am almost 27 years old. so when i received a wedding invitation addressed to "brooke" and not "brooke and guest," i felt like i had been kicked down.

i know that's not what they intended. i know they probably didn't even think twice about it, because i will be going with my family and i likely wouldn't have brought anyone. but it's the thought that counts. it's the fact that when and if i get married, i will have to accomodate for him and his wife (and his brother and his wife) in my budget, but he gets off because my sister and i are both single.

i'm still looking forward to it and i know i'll have fun. but it will be in the back of my mind. mountain out of a mole hill? maybe. just another "single issue" to have deal with, i guess.

a good reminder.

my best friend posted this a few months back and not-so coincidentally, i came across it again today, on just the day i needed such a reminder. thanks carrie, for posting these lovely words! a good reminder for us all.

what is self-consciousness? unquestionably, self-consciousness is the result of too much self-thought. the self-conscious are always conscious of themselves, wondering whether they are impressing people, hoping that they are not making blunders, uncomfortable, unhappy, ill at ease! ...forget about yourself! and there is only one sure way to forget about yourself. think more of others! take a keener and more sincere interest in people. send your thoughts abroad, far beyond the selfish little boundaries of your personal world...it is when we forget ourselves that we do the really worth-while and interesting things. it is when we forget ourselves that we find beauty everywhere around us, that we see charm in the most commonplace people, that we feel happy and at ease in the company of our fellow beings. forget about yourself!

melodramatic musings, part II.*

enter friday night.

it was rainy, i was exhausted and i was running around in heels all day. finally getting everything i needed for the bachelorette party in my car, i was on my way home.

i wanted so badly to call someone to come help me with the three grocery bags and two incredibly heavy boxes from the liquor store. (yeah, it was definitely the first time i've needed to drive up to the liquor store and have the owner carry the boxes to my car.)

my roommate was gone. and there was no boyfriend on speed dial.

i'm an incredibly independent person (who obviously has a flair for the dramatic), but i found myself breaking down in tears in my car. and one thought kept running through my head. (keep in mind this was after a very long day.)

"i'm sick of doing this alone."

sick of dating only to have it not work out. sick of attending weddings alone (or worse yet, getting a wedding invite at 26 years of age with no guest option... why bother, it's not like i'm in a serious relationship, right?), sick of not having anyone to call and come help me with the heavy boxes.

so i carried them through the rain and into my apartment alone. (and in heels.) and then i indulged myself with tears and ben harper... until my roommate came home and forced happier music upon me. (thank goodness for girlfriends.)

sad music or not, it doesn't change that thought in my mind. i've been doing this alone for what feels like a very long time. i just want someone to adore me, someone to adore. someone to force my guard down, take care of me a little bit and maybe try and soften this incredibly hard edge i seemed to have acquired over the years.

*this is all something a fabulously single, independent DIY feminist should never say, but i don't really give a f*ck. everyone gets lonely from time to time and there is no shame in it, at least not for me.

what's going on?

life, as it usually does in summer, has taken a busy turn for me.

there is, of course, the softball team i've been guilted into (but secretly enjoy being a part of) for the last four years. i'm still a right field rockstar and i've found that last year's spark is still as cute as ever. (but after dating him, i think i'll keep him as eye candy.)

i've recently joined the events committee of the liz logelin foundation, which i'm very excited to be a part of. look for more information coming soon...

work is crazy and fun as ever. (who knew i'd ever use the word "fun" to describe working at a bank??) i'm throwing a bridal shower and bachelorette party for a dear friend this weekend and likely hosting impromptu gay pride parties with my roommate the next, i can't get enough of the sun and i've become addicted to the twilight series, which means the only man in my life right now (besides leo) is robert pattinson. yes, it's true. hello, my name is brooke and i'm a robert pattinson addict.

life is good.

the problem with chick flicks.

this weekend was chick flick-fest. the lineup?

he's just not that into you
definitely, maybe
because i said so
in her shoes

which led to a call and a text to a long-time "potential"and a text to an ex. (the text to the ex isn't all that uncommon, since we still sporadically communicate, but any communication sent at 11pm on saturday night is bound to create some suspicion.)

don't get me wrong, i love a good chick flick, but i think next weekend's events will include a little more time in the three-dimensional world.

melodramatic musings.

yet another disappointing breakup under my belt and i'm right where i've been a thousand times before- just me, my cat and a whole lot of thoughts.

i had a conversation with my mother the other day about this most recent breakup. she was disappointed as i'd painted a picture of this one being a "nice guy," which, for her, is the only trait a man need possess to be with me.

and he is a nice guy. there are some things about him (more than this blog lets on) that don't quite work with my personality, but no one would ever deny he's one of the nice guys.

and i've dated nice guys. i've dated not-so-nice guys. i've dated in-between guys and i've even dated four gay guys.

however, just as i told my mother- i'm 26. i don't want to settle for a "nice guy" that isn't it for me if i'm meant to find MY guy at 29. or 32. or 45.

still. optimism ever-present, the process never fails to be a little disheartening.

sick of sick.

i'm not one to b*tch. (well, at least not in a public format like this.) but after downing three cups of tea and one nalgene full of water, sucking down four cough drops and swalling my fourth acetaminophen tablet all before noon and all while still feeling as though i'm under the nyquil haze of last night...

i've had it.

since last november, i've been sick at least once or twice a month. steady. for a girl who's used to getting knocked down by a 24-hour flu or silly little cold once a year, this has hit me hard. especially yesterday, lying in bed, looking out at the 83 degree weather, wanting so badly to feel like galavanting outside. no such luck.

my doctor told me yesterday i'm fine, the onslaught of sickness is because of all the recent changes in my life. (even when i pressed to have bloodwork done, he sent me home with the "reassurance" that they'll call me if the strep test comes back positive.) my mom thinks it might be mold in my apartment. (she's crazy.) my roommate thinks i'm crazy.

maybe i'm crazy. maybe i should be in a therapist's office instead of a doctor's office. maybe i am just this silly little hypochondriac who has an incredibly low threshold for pain. but the truth is- my throat f*king hurts. my body f*king aches. last night, i woke up shivering and drenched in sweat from the acetaminophen (well, either that or cancer, according to webmd) and today i'm finding it hard to concentrate, even though i should be incredibly focused on the piles of work i have in front of me.

and you know- it's not cancer, it's not life-threatening and i can make it through my day. i'm thankful for that. but all this sickness is enough to bum out this girl on this beautiful friday.

here's to a restful weekend and a full recovery...

from the mind of erica jong...

i've recently begun reading fear of flying, mostly out of obligation, as it's one of The Classics, but also because it's been hailed as a book that "defines feminity and sexuality." two of my favorite things, naturally.

thus far, i've found it to be slightly pretentious and hard to follow, but 173 pages or so in, i found a couple passages that spoke to me.

"i knew that that the women who got the most out of life (and out of men) were the ones who demanded most, that if you acted as if you were valuable and desirable, men found you valuable and desirable, that if you refused to be a doormat, nobody could treat on you."

lesson learned: i AM valuable and desirable, and i've NEVER treated myself as such. no matter what a man thinks, that's what i think and even on my worst day, that's what i'll keep telling myself. because i never want to be a doormat-- for anyone-- again.

"all women think they're ugly, even pretty women. a man who understood this could f**k more women than don giovanni. they all find fault with their figures. they all think their asses are too big, their breasts too small, their thighs too fat, their ankles too thick. "

lesson learned: stop obsessing. immediately. what's the point?

the statement is much more profound than that response deserves and i could most certainly dive deeper, but i'm late for a conference call.

time to put on my "career woman" hat....

thanks a lot, mint.com

recently, i signed up for a free online personal budgeting tool. (although why i thought this was a good idea is beyond me)

my relationship with mint.com has been rocky from the start. he has a tendency to be slightly dramatic (telling me i'm "low on funds" in my checking when it's still hundreds of dollars deep is a little melodramatic, don't you think?) and it seems as though he likes to pick the days i'd like to forget my accounts exist at all (read: every day) to give me a smiley, mint-y update on just how much i suck at managing money.

however, friday morning was the last straw. mint emailed to tell me i'd gone over on my "restaurant budget" for the month by $37.

A. i don't remember setting a restaurant budget with him

B. i don't know how he can tell i've gone over on said budget unless he's got a P.I. on my tail

C. i HAVE been eating a lot of jimmy john's lately...

D. but that's none of his business

so. mint and i are officially over. (and i'm able to eat my #6 with onions in peace once again.)

adjusting my vision.

i love inspiring words/mantras/phrases, so when i came across my particularly inspiring daily horoscope earlier this week, i immediately wrote it down in my planner, in a place where i could see it every day.

i think these words are not only inspiring for me (the ever-so-dramatic leo), but for every other zodiac sign as well.

enjoy!

amplifying the volume of romance in your life can be easy if you admit that romance doesn't just relate to a love relationship. romance exists wherever there is beauty, wherever there is music, wherever there are two people laughing over a private joke. you need to adjust your vision to include a wider view of what is romantic. then, you will start to see romance a lot more often. cherish the way you relate to the world. smell the roses. you're rushing around too much to notice the magic.

the double standard.*

*disclaimer: i have high hopes that this phase of my life will not turn into a lifestyle.

the past few weeks have turned me into a full-blown man-hater. a constantly-ranting, never-dating-again cynical woman. seriously, i think i may be one bad date away from burning my bra and never shaving my armpits again.

why, you ask? a few experiences have left me completely burned out on the opposite sex.

1. last weekend, several sexually-charged text messages sent to me from a self-described "nice guy" about "just wanting to get to know me better," ranting about the "a**holes of the world who treat women like shi* and ruin it for those of us who want to treat a woman right." uh-huh. and i suppose by treating a woman right you mean implying how badly you want to come home with her after meeting her at the bar and talking with her for 20 minutes, immediately feeling comfortable enough to use the word "hun" in reference to her. (just to clarify, he most certainly did not come home with me.)

2. again last weekend, after running into an old bartender friend, i received several sexually-charged text messages from him. i should mention he happens to have a live-in girlfriend. (i do not appreciate being told my perfume makes someone horny when they've got a girl waiting for them at home, thank you very much.)

3. and finally-- an ex-whatever spending the two months we were "together" alternating between staying over nearly every night and calling nearly every day, to insisting he didn't want a girlfriend, to acting the jealous boyfriend part, to announcing to my roommate and i over breakfast that after two months of daily contact (emotional, mental and physical), he and i were most certainly not dating, to finally having it end when he decided i was simply too frustrating to deal with.

if any of the above instances had been initiated by a girl-- i.e. WE were the ones sending the texts, or spending two bipolar months with a man-- we'd be labeled "crazy," "psycho," or any other number of unflattering nicknames-- and we'd have to "learn from it." but a man is just simply being "himself." no consequences, no lessons, no feeling bad or guilty. just carrying on.

the double standard. it is for this reason that i will spend the foreseeable future loving my life as a man-hater.

the update.

one month, several "interesting" bus rides and one painful "breakup" later, here i am.

i've learned a lot in a month.

i've learned that working less than a mile from my dad (and in the skyway system at that, a wonderful, wonderful privilege for us minnesotans in the dead of winter) gives us the chance to share several lunches together, making our relationship the best it's ever been.

i've learned to (mostly) overcome my fear of elevators.... working on the 7th floor of a building will do that for you.

i've learned that even though it still might take me two hours to get home, taking the bus during a snowstorm is the absolute best way to go-- two hours and a 100 pages into valley of the dolls, and i'm home, sans all the stress that comes with that nasty traffic.


i've learned that i no longer want to waste any more tears on yet another man who doesn't deserve them, and i've learned that not only can i feel again, but that i can move on from those feelings and create my own happiness, control my own future.

we're all in this together.

(i think ben lee says it best, so i'll just let him write this one.)

woke up this morning
i suddenly realized
were all in this together
i started smiling
cause you were smiling
and were all in this together
im made of atoms
youre made of atoms
and were all in this together
and long division
just doesnt matter
cause were all in this together

i saw you walking
in the city
were all in this together
the city's changing
cause we are changing
and were all in this together
every twelve seconds
someone remembers
that were all in this together
in the kitchen
of your rent-control apartment
were all in this together

i know you think
about jumping ship before it sinks
but were all in this together
ask a scientist
its quantum physics
were all in this together
and on the subway
we feel like strangers
but were all in this together
yeah i love you and you love her
and she loves him
but were all in this together

you know baby
theres never been protection
in all the history of human connection
cmon darling
its alright to show me
you dont ever need to be lonely
once you start to open your heart

i saw you crying
i started crying
cause were all in this together

and then religion
its a big decision
but were all in this together

were all in this together

scaling the wall.

how do you keep your past from sneaking into your present?

he and i were done so long ago, and yet he's still right in front of me, a wall i can't seem to scale.

i don't think of him every day anymore. when i do think of him, it's either to smile at a rare sweet memory, or to remind myself of how far i've come since i put him in the past.

but when the new man in my life is sitting beside me, so is he. when the new man is telling me how much he likes me, i want to believe it, but he is telling me i don't deserve it, and the new man will only hurt me in the end. he's an ever-present presence, a wall preventing me from letting myself fall.

i want to fall. i want to put the past where it belongs and be in my present. but how to get rid of the ghost?

i only wish it could be so easy as to "just let go." because that's the thing about just letting go– it takes an awful lot of work.

stopped.

do you ever have those moments that, when thinking back on them, stop you in your tracks?

last night, after a particularly meaningful, deep conversation, we were saying our goodbyes. he put his hand on my cheek, looked at me, and leaned in to kiss me goodnight.

today, just the thought of that moment is melting away the 13-page policy brief i have to read and design a press campaign for, it's melting away the argument with a friend, the desire to be outside on this beautiful fall day, the anxiety of starting a new job..... i'm stopped in my tracks.

cheeseball that i am.

under the disco ball.

last week saw me bravely (and briefly) venture outside the dark, neon-lit world of the gay bar and into "straight-man-land....." a strange place i know nothing about.

a place where the men aren't constantly recounting their last sexual escapades in great detail, a place where i know more about fashion than my male counterparts, a place where men's jeans are bigger than my arm and football is discussed as a a sport, not as a fantasy. (but really, i've got to give the gays a little credit... who doesn't love buff men in tight pants wrestling each other?)

and what i found in this strange place wasn't so scary after all. in fact, after several conversations with a couple of cute, single (and most importantly, straight) men, i wondered to myself why i've spent so many nights under the disco ball dancing by myself amongst a group of men groping one another instead of me. (not that i want a man groping me on the dance floor, but you know what i mean.)

because, at the end of the day, as much as i love my beautiful gay friends, i want a man to dance with me. i want a man to take me home, to meet me at the end of the aisle, to have babies with me and grow old with me.

and preferably, not one who is a total a**hole or a big stoner. not one who sends me vulgar text messages, or one who asks me to take shots with him on our first date (on a tuesday night). definitely not one who has an affair with his (male) roommate behind my back, or confesses to me that he's "tried the bi thing."

and so it continues.... perhaps with just a little less time spent under the disco ball.

the bigger picture.

about that whole meltdown/resisting change thing.

last night, though i wanted nothing more than to sit at home and wallow in my resistance, i decided that it might be a good idea to get out and join the three-dimensional world. at least for a little bit. my pseudo-straight friend matt invited me to see a movie with him, so i left my self-pity at home and headed uptown to meet him.

a little early, i casually strolled from my car, enjoying my surroundings. i passed the vintage theater, where a group of enthusiastic and passionate people were holding an obama campaign event. next door, the greasy dive bar, home to my absolute favorite breakfast in the whole world, brimming with patrons. leaves on the ground, cars passing by, people in the midst of conversation and laughter.

so, so lovely.

by the time i met matt at the theater, our movie was sold out. deciding not to part ways, we went to the independent instead and had one of those unexpectedly fabulous and deep conversations over red wine and hummus.

i guess sometimes it does pay to step outside your door and into the bigger picture.

deep breaths.

things are feeling very.... unsettled. life is changing very quickly, or at least little parts of it, and it's left me anxious, unfocused, irritable and feeling very much off balance.

i'm not a person who adapts well to change. i welcome my weekly routine of work. i love that every wednesday night is 'project runway' night with my friends and that every sunday afternoon is set aside for my weekly grocery shopping trip. i'm perpetually five minutes early to everything and i haven't changed my shampoo brand in years.

ummmm.... can you say 'neurotic?'

i hate to say, 'i can't help it,' because really. i can. there's no excuse. i'm 26. it's time to be a little less rigid, a little more go-with-the-flow.

so... what's the solution? therapy? running? the happylite? another eckhardt tolle book? taking wheat out of my diet?

eh. maybe there aren't any solutions, any answers. perhaps it's just a matter of taking things a day at a time, not getting caught up in the whirlwind, and continuing to breath. deeply. through it all.

age ain't nothin but a number.... is it?

this weekend, my low-key saturday night turned into lively conversation when a few unexpected visitors dropped by. after a considerably mild conversation about the recent happenings in the world of politics, talk turned to my friend's recent date. a first date. with a 20-year-old. (he's 27.)

reactions were mixed. the age gap is too large (one friend); it's fine (me, speaking from the experience of dating older men); "if you can get it, hit it!" (my best friend... though i think at this point the margaritas were speaking for her.)

one friend brought up the double standard of dating outside your age range; while it's seemingly fine for men, it's considered distasteful and borderline humorous for women to do the same thing. i mean, think about the nicknames that are affixed to the genders; men get nicknames like "playboy," and women are stuck with the often joked about infamous "cougar" nickname. (though, according to my friend, i'm still a "puma"... the cougar nickname will not be bestowed on me until i'm at least in my late thirties.)

fast forward to sunday night. after shopping for arts & crafts supplies (no, that is not a typo), jackie and i met up with my cousin miranda and her friend dan for a casual happy hour. i'd met dan before, when miranda brought him along to my birthday party, and though i thought he was incredibly gorgeous then (tall, dark and handsome= my type), i didn't really get to talk to him until last night. our conversation bordered on the flirtatious, until he revealed his age.

23. NEWLY 23. (confirm with jackie; i rather inappropriately balked at this.)

now, i've always been the girl to date older men; younger men (and men that graduated high school the same year as my baby sister nonetheless) have always seemed a little too high-maintenance for me, and i've always laughed off the idea of getting involved with one of them.

but really. he's gorgeous. and funny. laid-back, easy to be around, loves football and is a total obama supporter. so what if he's 23.... right?

whether or not this puma is going to pounce remains to be seen, but the bear hug and kiss on the cheek from dan at the end of the night has spilled over into lots of smiles today.

decisions, decisions.....

99% of our lives are comprised of choices. which career, where to live, who to marry, how many kids to have.... these are the big choices. the ones that present themselves very rarely throughout our lifetime, yet the ones that seem to define us the most. (or at least society's view of us.)

the little choices– the ones we make every day– don't seem quite as significant. but often, they bring about the most significant life experiences.

applying for the communications job with the nonprofit in the suburbs, not knowing it was going to bring me the most tumultuous (and passionate) year of my life.

deciding to give friendship a try with an ex's ex-girlfriend, not knowing she'd deliver life-altering (and life-saving) news to me during our first meeting.

adopting a cat on a (somewhat careless) whim, without realizing how much crazy love i'd have for him, even with MAJOR lack of sleep (thanks to his ongoing nocturnal habits).

driving up to fargo, not knowing it was going to cost me my old car... and bring me a wonderful, new, reliable one.

what if i made these decisions differently? what if one little aspect of them were different? would i be happier? healthier? richer? poorer?

normally, i try my hardest to stay out of the past and just simply be in the present. however, i find it fascinating how much of an impact these seemingly "little" everyday choices have on the bigger picture of our lives.

*part of this reflection stems from the book i'm reading for book club this month. check it out. it's definitely a worthwhile read.