05.07.12

Monday Dare: Thug Passions

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Figure it out

I can’t wait to be a grown-up. I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen any day now. Well, I’ve been “pretty sure” for about twelve years, but this time, I feel like it’s right around the corner. For real. Okay, maybe not FOR REAL for real, but isn’t that how probability and chance work: the longer you’re in it, the more likely you are to win it? I think I just made that slogan up. If it sounds original to you, don’t steal it, but if it sounds like something you saw on a billboard in Kentucky for the Mega Millions, then just know that I totally didn’t plagiarize, because I’ve never been to Kentucky. You and your goddamn accusatory ways.

I can’t speak from personal experience because I’ve never even come close to acting or thinking like a real adult, but word on the street is that these types of individuals possess a certain knowledge about their own skills and strengths. They know what they’re good at because they’ve pinpointed an interest and then cultivated and refined it until it’s become a usable and value-adding skill. They may have even obtained some sort of degree.

I don’t have a degree. I mean, yes, I did once have a dream that I sent a check for $47.99 plus $8.99 to cover shipping and handling for an honorary diploma with one of those fancy gold seals from Thugs R Us University, which I then framed using a “50% off all custom frame orders” Michael’s coupon I got from the Sunday newspaper, but in reality, all I have is a high school diploma and confusion about what I’m really good at in life.

This has been on my mind since I helped a friend put together her resume recently. In solidarity, I did one myself. So far, the Skill Section includes:

  • Know a lot of swear words
  • Know a lot of slang
  • Almost have my anger issues under control

This may seem like the kind of well-rounded assets that any employer would be thrilled to see, but since I have such high standards, it still didn’t seem good enough. Sometimes, I think I’m too tough on myself and my impossibly high standards make life unnecessarily difficult.

I’m digging down deep this week to think about my own skills and strengths. The ones that will serve me well when I finally do become a grown-up. After some careful consideration this morning, I’ve also added this to my Skill Section:

  • Unusually gifted envelope licker

I put that because, once, I had to lick 250 wedding invitation envelopes and I didn’t get a single paper cut. My tongue didn’t even dry out. It’s like a veritable sponge. In the interest of full disclosure, I want to add here that I don’t really know what “veritable” means, but I hear it a lot on serious television shows, so I’m betting it’s a good thing.

When did you first feel like an adult? How did you discover your skills, strengths, and talents? What are they?

P.S. I’m so excited about this, I don’t even know what to do with myself, but…
I AM ON HUFFINGTON POST, Y’ALL.  I always try to be an open book about my life, but the topic I wrote about is so near and dear to my heart, I haven’t talked about it very much before.

P.P.S. I announced the HuffPo news as soon as it hit on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. “Like” the page to get the latest updates…and also some stupid shit you could probably do without.
image via urbanelifestyle.tumblr.com

May 7, 2012
04.30.12

Monday Dare: Oops

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Stop dressing like a homeless person

I don’t know when my downward spiral of apathy began (yes, so dramatic), but lately I’ve been dressing like Balki from Perfect Strangers. There’s really no rhyme or reason to what I throw on in the morning. If it’s clean and it hasn’t been rolling around on the bathroom floor for a week, then I’m a-ok with wearing it.

A while back, I ran out (And by “ran out,” I mean I got into my car and drove a distance which is commonly known as “just a stone’s throw away,” because I so clearly care about saving the environment and getting exercise.) to the neighborhood newsstand wearing a pair of pleated Dockers and a grossly oversized 100% cotton t-shirt with J.R. Ewing on the front. I like to throw out the fiber content of the shirt because I want you to know that I’m all about quality and not about wearing those cheap cotton/polyester blends. Also, I was wearing loafers without any socks. This may be where you decide not to know me anymore, but then let me ask you this: Do you really want to be the type of person that turns away from a friend because of bad life choices like loafers without socks? Is that who you want to be?

“Stop it, Liz, just stop it,” you may be thinking. “Stop making me feel guilty for things that are your own damn fault.”

I picked up the newest editions of The New Yorker and the Smithsonian. Ok, fine, if I’m being honest, I was really there for a copy of Cosmopolitan, but I always hide it in between two more respectable magazines because I care about what other people think. Even people at the newsstand I will most likely never see again, because I’m an underdeveloped adult, and I’m self-aware, and no, I don’t plan on changing anytime soon.

Eager to get home so I could learn how to give myself a fishtail braid as the magazine promised, I looked around for Sal, the newsstand guy, and only saw one other person nearby- a man in a grimy gray sweatsuit hanging out to the side. As I handed over my magazines and a twenty dollar bill, I prayed that Sal hadn’t fallen ill or been fired, because Sal always hooks me up with a pack of gum and some funny knock-knock jokes, and I would totally miss that.

I looked up for the first time and made eye contact with the new guy. Except it wasn’t the new guy.

It was Denzel Washington.

He chuckled good-naturedly and pointed me in the direction of Sal, who was rounding the corner. I wanted to apologize profusely and maybe even bow or curtsy to show my deep regret, but I was speechless. He waved me away and told me not to worry about it. DEAR LORD, THIS IS WHY I SHOULD NEVER BE LET OUT OF THE HOUSE.

I did what I thought was best. I put down the magazines and ran.

So, lesson learned. If one of the most beautiful men on the planet is nearly unrecognizable in a grimy sweatsuit, I’d better get my act together and start dressing better.

P.S. I was about to feed you some nonsense about how I’m really smart and funny on Twitter and the Flourish in Progress Facebook page, but I decided against straight-out lying to you. I post random things on a daily basis on both. Let’s get connected.

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image via pinterest

April 30, 2012