Steeler Nation: Growing up Pittsburgh

Dearest Readers
I returned to my illustrious home city this weekend, and decided it’s high time I described the beauty of Steeler Sunday (especially after we defeated the Raiders…well done).
Here is my image of Sundays in Pittsburgh: It’s that day of the week where it’s no longer weekend, and it’s just on the cusp of the week. Churchgoers head to mass and return to change from dress clothes to jerseys. The tortilla chips are set out beside the salsa and the cheese dip. Crowds gather and everyone sits in their assigned seat (it’s a superstitious time). The terrible towels come out. Businesses close, and it’s game on. The Steelers will win, and if not, well then, it was the refs fault, right?
Now, just to give it to you straight, this post is coming from a girl who hates sports on every level. I don’t like to watch them, and I hate even more to play them. (The whole concept of throwing and catching just involves too much hand-eye-coordination for me to handle, thank you very much.) However, when you grow up in Pittsburgh, you are a Steelers fan, period. Black and gold bedecks the town, because it’s the lifeblood of our city. It’s about pride thing and camaraderie. We all rally, one city, under the Rooneys, Steelers fans for life.
I don’t know quite what it is about the team. Obviously, it helps that we have done well in recent years. My marching band (yes, I was in the Marching Band….remember that thing about no hand eye coordination?) played in the parade my freshman year when the Steelers won their fifth superbowl. The city was in an uproar, and the crowd was so huge they moshed us. My valuable clarinet was almost stolen on multiple occasions. Then, they won again my senior year, and my friends and I skipped school to see the parade. We were frigid, and we went so far as to hoist our smallest bestie onto a streetlight for better visibility. We all lost our voices screaming for the legendary Steelers, and the Principal even marked it as an excused absence. That’s how much we love our team.
But success isn’t the only reason Pittsburghers love the Steelers, the games are also an excuse to get together. Throughout my highschool career, I knew most weekends I would hang out with my friends once on Friday, once on Saturday, and then once on Sunday for the game. It’s a social event. When I watch with my family, my mom yells at the scream vehemently, my step-dad has given up trying to explain that they can’t hear her, and my brother obsessively checks his fantasy team. It’s a bonding time.
Now, I don’t always make it through the whole game (I know what a travesty!), but being a Steelers fan is not just about watching the game, it’s about the passion. It’s about wearing the jerseys, and learning all the lyrics to “Here We Go Steelers,” and bleeding black and gold. It’s not a sports team in my town, it’s a lifestyle.
Polamalu-ily yours,
Adorkable

ps. this image comes from here

pps. I have been tumbling TWICE A DAY (I know, right?!).....so maybe you should check it out....playedwithchalk.tumblr.com

Paw Paw Paraphernalia...or How I am Taking Control as a Sophomore

Dearest Readers,
I am officially a sophomore now. It doesn’t feel right to say quite yet. Like when you’re 19, but you have said for a year that you are 18 … and you keep thinking that every time you say you’re 19, you’re lying. The first time I had to introduce myself to a group of incoming freshman this year, I accidentally said I was a freshman too. Classic me.
So I guess I am supposed to feel older and wiser now…full of sage knowledge to pass on to freshman passersby. I guess this isn’t true. In fact, the best advice I have to give a freshman is to take no one’s advice. You are going to have to figure your way out here in college, so you are making the choices. Even when you act totally out of character because it’s the “college” thing to do, you’ll figure yourself out. It’s like those awful trial and error problems from … like … third grade math.College is all about winging it. But enough hoighty-toighty sounding witticisms, and on to more fun topics: like more sage knowledge…or what the heck did I learn as a freshman that is changing my attitude this year. (I know more about me…so selfish) But I really do think it’s interesting, this conversation that we have with ourselves on a daily basis: what are we going to do today? How are we going to go about doing it? (Most of my conversations in the morning start with: is it time to sleep again, because I’m really digging this sleep thing.) We have total control from the beginning of the day how our day will go.
I feel like that is mainly what I learned from the past year: I am totally in control of my own happiness. I used to feel like some days I was in a bad mood, and I just had to tough it out. No more. I will take a bike ride, I will go to Pilates, I will make some delicious chai tea. I always felt anal retentive asking myself: am I happy today? (I mean seriously, who does that? First of all it kind of makes me feel like I have multiple personality disorder, but mostly, I just feel like a major control freak … which is not entirely out of the question.) However, it is impressive sometimes to see how I respond to myself … I even thought of writing down at the end of the day one thing that made me really happy so I could log my own construction of happiness, but even I thought that was a little much. It is fun to think about though…like what did I do today that made me especially happy…and every time you answer the question, you learn more about what makes you happy (I am clearly struggling for a synonym for happy). I know it must sound so naïve and optimistic to be saying I just want to be happy, but honestly, what more do I want at the end of the day (other than making others happy in the process, because contrary to this current blog entry, I do care about others outside myself). So today I decided I’d write what made me happy today, because…well because, it’s a cute tale mostly and I figure if you read this far, you will probably keep going.

I went to the Pawpaw festival today. I know, I know, just the name sounds fun-filled. (Background knowledge: the pawpaw is our state fruit, and we hold the largest pawpaw festival in the world just 10 minutes from Athens…yes it may be the only pawpaw festival in the world, but that is definitely besides the point.) I went last minute with a random hodge-podge of great people. A wonderful woman in a balloon hat made and us all free balloon hats (they had crazy flowers going off of them and spirals … they were freaking magical), and we donated a dollar for ice cream churned on sight from Snowville Creamery (look it up, they do great things). And of course, we tried a pawpaw. Naysayers be damned, it was actually good. I would describe it as a banana but with more citrus in it. It is officially the weirdest textured fruit of all time---like slimy pulpy nastiness…but it tastes surprisingly delightful. The festival is in Albany Ohio and it simply gorgeous. We went just as the sun was setting over the water (I know gag at my surprisingly Monet-like imagery), but it was just stunning (see picture that I myself took…I know, I know, I am a woman of many talents, and so modest too). We also bought mini pumpkins for a dollar. The man who sold them to us was glad to hear I plan to keep mine right by my printer. I named it Franklin. I can already tell we will be best friends, and that he will get along wonderfully with my pencil holder. Overall, it was a kooky night. We were all way too enthusiastic, and it was hilarious. It wasn’t anything fancy, or historic, or crazy expensive…it was just really just…fun. (I know…the word choice of fun is impeccable… synonyms are clearly a struggle this evening.)
Every blog entry I say lesson to be learned like I am writing a Disney short story, but this time I will say lesson that I learned: my night was amazing, because I deemed that it would be. (This doesn’t always work out, mind you, because sometimes it is totally out of your hands.) But honestly, half the effort is getting it through your own head that you will enjoy yourself.
So here I am, 12:17 a.m. on a Saturday morning (technically late-ish on Friday night), and while the majority of my peers are inebriated, I am sitting happily in my dorm after a fantastic evening (I know, I know, I attend the number 2 party school in the nation, what am I doing?!). I am sipping some chai, rereading Harry Potter, and I will probably go to bed soon … and of course, I am having some quality time with my new pal Franklin. I feel content with this. (Franklin, of course, agrees.)
PawPaw-ily,
Adorkable

3 hour tour: Trapped with Twister on the side of the Road

Dearest Readers,

Don’t worry, I’m giving myself a proverbial slap on the wrist for my bad blogging behavior. (isn’t proverbial a great word … it’s a current favorite this summer alongside adulation … I always have favorite words that I am obsessed with using so nerd alert). Anywhoo, so I am currently at work (oh snap rebel), but I have a few minutes of down time (which I normally never have here), so I am using them to my blog-ticious advantage. So on with the promised saga of broken down cars and twister boards.

Background info: I have nine close friends from high school, who I love dearly, and this summer we went to Ocean City Maryland for a week-ish-er. We went last year, because one of the boys has a house there, so we decided to return again…cause it’s fab and fun and sunny and hilarious.

Okay, so five of us, who left a few days early to get back to work, were on our way home from the beach (approximately a 7 hour drive) in my friend’s 109-year-old (slight exaggeration) Subaru—I named it Babu cause if you shorten Subaru to baru it’s kind of close. Thanks to bad luck it took us 9 hours to drive down to the beach, so we were bound and determined to make it home faster.

The drive was smooth and thanks to some left lane driving we were set to make it home in 6.5 hours … isn’t that always when the problem starts; just when you think you are in the clear … sigh. We were an hour and a half from home, it was 3:30 pm, when the driver at the time, who I will call Athletiman, noticed the car was making odd noises, we pulled into a parking lot of a middle school on the side of the highway and sure enough, smoke starts billowing out of the hood of the car. As images of the car exploding into a fire ball and the headline “Teens die in tragic fire incident” leapt to our minds as we sprang from the car in a high-pitched, scream-y panic. Little did we know this was just the beginning of a 3-hour-saga … which I kept dubbing the ‘3 hour tour,’ a line from the theme song of Gilligan’s Island.

While my friend who owned the car, who I will call Lobsterfilm, was on the phone with his dad trying to figure out what the problem was, the 4 of us called our parents to tell them we would be delayed. No end in sight. We called triple A and were told it would be a half hour before they were with us. No biggie. We all peed in the woods by the middle school … marking our territory I guess. 45 minutes passed of sitting by the road…no triple a. We call again and find out they are the wrong road…how reassuring…the people sent to rescue us with the best navigation devices around are lost. This is when the creativity began. We have no clue when Triple A will come rescue us considering we are 5 teenagers who sound like we have no idea what we are doing (because we don’t). We remember that twister, the board game of fun, is in the trunk and Athletiman pulls out his portable i-pod speakers. We bring out all the snacks we brought, set them up picnic style, and party it up. As we awkwardly stretch around the board, very confused cars pass us on the highway … a lot of them beep—no one stops to help—I guess the beep was supposed to be like a “good luck don’t die” beep…moreso it just pissed us all off because it was like they were saying “nah nah nah boo boo we are driving and you aren’t.” An hour and a half later, just as we were putting our left foot on green (and tangling up to a whole new level of awkward), triple a pulled in. I have never been so happy to see a tow truck. They tell us that the car can’t be fixed today, and we can’t drive it home. Well good. We had to call someone’s parents to come drive us home … while we waited another hour and a half, we peed in the woods more, and ate all of our provisions (since it was dinner time at this point). Around 7 they pulled in and I swear we all nearly cried, I wanted to kiss their champagne colored mini van (my loyalty to babu was totally severed now that the car had officially failed us) and we clambered in to watch Toy Story on their dvd player, eat more junk food, and drive home. After getting lost on the way home (of course), we finally made it home by 9:30. It was an 11 and a half hour car ride. 11 and a half hours. Just let that sink in. It’s not that 11 and a half hours is that long, it’s that we had only mentally prepared ourselves for 6 and a half hours. That’s not a fun mental transition. At all.

Lesson to be learned: Anything can be hilarious and a fun experience when turned the right way. We took advantage of the time spent on the side of the road with a little flair…and a game board. So even when you find yourself in the worst pickle yet, just make pickle-ade I guess. I’m not trying to say it won’t still be an un-fun situation, but hey, it makes for a kicking story … or maybe, just a kicking blog entry.

Twister-ly Yours,
Adorkable

ps. like the new layout??

Attend Life With An Accustomed Zeal

Dearest Readers,

I know, I know, I’m the worst blog writer eversies (I haven’t posted in weeks) … to be honest, this was supposed to be my nap time too (in the midst of my 10 hour work day comprised of juxtaposing 4 hour shifts), but I had to wake up early this morning for Whirl Wednesday, so the caffeine buzz from the coffee I drank (I really should never be caffeinated) hasn’t worn off and my jittery fingers felt like bloggin’! So far this has been maybe the best summer of my life (that's the reason the picture is of me...which it isn't normally...it's to show that my happiness is palpable feel free to take some with you when you leave :), and I am so busy soaking it all in it’s hard to find a time to write it all down…

Boy do I have some pieces of witticisms for you kitty cats today! I want to start with my recent inspirations. As gaggable and inane as it may seem, I think it’s cool to keep in mind what you aspire to be at all times (if you keep it in your brain then mayhaps you will one day accomplish it), so here is the inspiration in Jessie’s Brain (a whimsical and bubbly place):

1. My editor Victoria Bradley’s writing, read this article she wrote about David Conrad (who is blue-eyed, beautiful, and incredibly nice to boot…yes I know this first hand) by clicking this link. (STOP: Read that article before you continue reading…I promise you it is worth it.) I love her writing because it’s so personal yet sass-ily sophisticated. She possesses this genuine (and cheeky) human voice coupled with sheer talent. I want to write like her. That’s first on my “when I grow up” checklist.

2. Adorable artwork from curlygirldesigns.com (zomg they have the most adorable everything). I bought two pins (like little pins for a purse) that say: “She attended life with her accustomed zeal” and “She was perfectly comfortable being exceptional.” I lovezzzzz them. They make me smile to myself, giggle on the inside, and remind me of the way I want to live, with tons of energy. I am also purchasing some of the wall artwork, specifically the one that says “’There is a direct correlation between the level of happiness in one’s life and the amount of silliness they allow into it,’ she said ‘I know I’ve done studies.’” Ahhhh that is totes presh (abrev translation: totally precious). How can you wake up to that every morning and not start the day with an unseemly snort of laughter? You can’t. (credit: I found this happy artist’s work at More Than Words on Washington Road when I ran in there one day in the midst of a downpour: they poured my a glass of hot tea, the owner chatted with me like we were old friends, and I sifted through the pins until the rain let up…now that’s quality service.)

3. New rings for my fingers! I am not one to wear pounds of jewelry or make-up (on account of I really have no idea how to really wear make-up and I am 19 so laziness plays a large role), but I am a ring girl. They go with everything, I can wear them everyday, and they never go out of style. I wear three silver rings at all times. At the Pittsburgh’s Arts Festival (gush…my favorite Pittsburgh event of all time), I found this adorable artist who had these rings with small phrases on them. I bought one that said “pursue happiness.” I think that is such a cool concept, like you have to go out and find it. It’s strange how two little words can denote such a big idea, don’t you think. (I also wear two other rings I bought at PGH Art’s Festivals’ past: one that says ‘To Thine Own Self Be True’…I am a Shakespeare nerd after all…and a freshwater pearl pinky ring that I bought from some vender name Hans who I absolutely adore, and look for every year to no avail.)

Right now that is all I have that is inspiring me, yet this summer I can’t stop smiling I am so happy (I know it must sound so ridiculous me gushing like this, but it’s genuine….I’m just oozing with it).

Lesson to be learned: Just to be clear, I am a human who is not happy all of the time, the end of this school year was particularly tough for me. I just figured I’d say that, because whenever I read about really happy people, I always get envious, but I think happiness ebbs and flows just like everything else in life you just have to wait for it to come (or pursue it like my ring commands!).

Oh ps. I am thinking I want to change my blog’s name. “These Streets Lead to OU” doesn’t really describe me, this crazy adorkable child who lives life way too passionately. So I figured that I’d let you, my loving readers, decide on a new name. Here are some of my thoughts: Accustomed Zeal, Exuberance With a Side of Cynicism, Dancing With Myself, and Rings on Her Fingers and Bells on Her Toes. I really want you guys to vote or suggest new names! So please before you click out of this page, take a second to leave a comment with which name you like best (I would really appreciate it).

So now I am off to my glorious job at Bath and Body Works with no sleep, a caffeine buzz that is now officially worn off, and a foolish grin on my face. I am one independent lady with high aspirations!

Accustomed Zeal-ily Yours,

Adorkable

Ps. I have a really good story for my next blog post…let’s just say it involves five teenagers whose car breaks down…but there is twister in the car.

Pps. I wanted to put this up before I go to work so links to the specific pieces and links to the artist who made my ring will be up this evening!!

She Don't Really Like it Working At a Desk: Living Creatively When I'm Unmotivated

Dearest Readers,

I was always the girl who was on top of things…to a freakish degree. I thrived in my over achieving dorkiness. But somehow, in the midst of spring quarter when the birds are chirping and friends from other colleges are headed home for good, I have lost my motivation. I can’t focus. I am spending the majority of my free time staring off into oblivion, watching an embarrassing musical television series, taking pictures, or making a fool of myself (oh wait that happens even when I’m not unmotivated … silly me.)

So basically this bloggity post is going to be about what I’ve found when I’ve been hopelessly devoted to being unmotivated. (see how I made a rhyme…clever). So here is what makes me smile when I am lacking motivation to work … I find it in the randomest things :).

This wonderful amazingly talented woman named Katie has this blog where she posts her pictures. Okay, I know what you are thinking, okay Adorkable tons of people take pictures whoop-dee-freaking do. Well “ColormeKatie” is one of the most creative photographers I have ever seen. The walls of her apartment are white, so that she can decorate them in colorful pieces of paper each day to whatever suits her fancy. An example of her art is her thought bubble project, where she creates thought bubbles, puts them on the walls outside, and catches people as they walk beneath them. She also has the shadow project, where she cuts out shadows peter-pan style and catches people as they walk into them. She has even made her apartment into a giant fort, a paper airplane palooza, and a colorful crazy spectacle. Now other than my long tirade about my love for her, she has these semi-regular post on her blog where she puts up 10 pictures or so of silly things that make her happy, which inspired me to take some pictures and do my own rendition of 4 silly little things that make me happy (cause 10 is too many photos for someone like me who has no clue what they are doing with the crazy camera contraption). And just to be clear copyright totally goes to this talented lady, and please peruse her photos at your les-ure. (Her significant other ‘Matty’ even works for improveverywhere…I want to be her…sigh.)

My 4 silly little things that make me happy:

A knobby tree

There is a lot of white space here...so I feel the need to babble about this tree. Really, I like it, because it looks like someone blazed a trail through the bark. Where it goes ... the world may never know ...

Slacklining (which is basically where you tether a line between two

trees and try to learn how to be

in the circus and walk across

the line....rest

assured I only do it leaning on

others I don't have that kind of balance....no way)

Shadows (from a fence to a hunched kid to a tree on some bricks)

Poop (tee hee hee...cause I'm mature)

This is on the wall of Bagel Street Deli here in Athens OH. It even has a smiley face between the os ... how could I resist this and call myself a real college kid?

Lesson To be Learned: Even the littlest things can brighten your day...if you look correctly (I know I know, I could write for Hallmark ... it's a gift I possess)

Photographically Yours,
Adorkable

ps. I hope you all realize I had no idea how to set up this page so I apologize for its foolish presentation

Speaking Words of Wisdom

Dearest Readers,
Appreciate words. I know you’re thinking … um duh …, but after finishing The Book Thief this weekend, I wanted to reiterate this seemingly simple lesson in a sophisticated light.
The novel, if you are unaware, is about the holocaust from the perspective of death, who is a sympathetic narrator. (ps. My mom recommended me this book after reading it for her book club. My mother has excellent taste.) Moving on, the book centers around a young girl growing up in Nazi Germany ,and how she finds the will to survive through words. The book can be summed up in the sentence “I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.” Pure poetry if you ask me.
Take a second to think about the power of words. I know, I know, I am a writer so you think I’m just taking you down some poetic and emphatically deep path, but just stick with me for a second. Words inform you of all events. The news, what you’re friends did that day. Words can deceive you to think one way. Think in terms of leaders who know how to persuade with words. Words tell us to stop, and teach us life lessons, and they tell us how we should act. It’s how we communicate, and how we entertain ourselves, and we judge others on how they use words. Words control ... well ... everything. (There is a whole excellently dorky book about this concept if you follow this link.)
Philosophical tangent aside, they are just interesting. Why are certain words off limits? It’s a word. What makes certain words so powerful? How did words get their meaning? Who created these words…who though ah yes this thing we use to warm ourselves shall be called light…who was that person?
For the writers out there, words are gorgeous. The way they sound, the way you can mix them up to conjure images in the mind of someone else, the way you can choose them to create just the right effect. Words are delicious.
Lesson to be learned: I know this has been an unusually deep post, and all you little readers out there are perhaps shaking your head at me, but next time you say something just take a moment to consider the words you use. Next time you greet someone or talk to a friend or even have a job interview realize that your words are what define you.
As a writer, all I can hope to achieve is to one day have ‘made the words right,’ to do them justice.
Philosophically yours,
Adorkable

What is it Good For? [Curling I Mean]

Dearest Readers,
While many of us enjoy the winter Olympics for the downhill skiing, the figure skating, or the snowboarding, I’m here today to talk to you about curling. In layman’s terms, the sport is essentially shuffleboard on ice. It consists of hurling rocks down an ice path, while your teammates use a broom to clear the stone’s path to a target. One team tries to get more stones on the target than the other. The question of the day: what kind of sport is this?
Now don’t get me wrong, I respect all athletes. (As someone with no hand eye coordination, I respect those who can communicate between their brain and their limbs). Still, I am curious as to how this sport came into existence and how people discovered that their life would be spent as a curling athlete.
While discussing this in my dorm’s common room, we came up with several theories. One day someone said, no shuffleboard you are not enough! I must play you on ice for added challenge! I will wear special shoes, not skates, and use brooms for funsies!
This may be an Olympic sport, but I have no idea what they do for the rest of the year. How did they even become involved in curling? Who scouts these athletes? You sir, look like you would be an excellent curler, I can see that you have a natural talent for sliding objects across tables…yay hurrah! Do they have coaches? Yes, I've been curling for about 30 years now.
How do they train?? Do they lift? Imagine going to your boyfriend’s house and when his parents ask you what you do for a living, you say that you are a professional curler….yeah hokay, that’s not going to go over well.
Another important aspect, the reporters speaking about curling during the Olympics spoke about their knowledge of strategy in curling….how do you get vast knowledge of curling? Do they wikipedia it immediately before hand? If I say I have a lot of experience with shuffleboard, could I be hired as a journalist reporting about curling?
Please, all curlers out there do not be offended, it’s not that I don’t respect you, it’s that you fundamentally confuse me. I'm sure, however, that this same confusion could be said of any sport. Who invented bocce ball? Why do people ram into each other for a 'pigskin'? And who ever thought that putting blades on your feet and skating around would be a good idea? It's all absurd if you take a moment to think about it.
Lesson to be learned: You may have a hidden curling talent that you don’t know about or you could be the inventor of a new sport that just might make it to the Olympics. What are you waiting for?! Go!
Confoundedly yours,
Adorkable