Shoes and clothing are usually the last thing on my list of purchases. I often find myself in need of clothes but forgo them for what I believe are more useful things. That leaves me wearing jeans and a t-shirt of some sort on a daily basis. Once in a while, if I feel comfortable, I’ll wear something normal young ladies my age would wear. A nicer top, sometimes a dress, but rarely, if ever, a skirt.

Two weekends ago I found myself in need of shoes. As I wouldn’t be able to pull off heels on a daily basis, I decided to buy flats. If I wear tennis shoes with my shorts, I look twelve-years-old, and though I do appreciate youth, I thought I should at least try to belong to the real world and exercise my adulthood. I forever keep ignoring the fact that cheaper flats are horrible for your feet, so I went to Payless Shoe Source. The store with the commercials that desperately try to make it seem upscale, despite the fact that nobody shops there. Also notable (for the inner designer) is the fact that most of these Payless stores still have their old logo on their storefronts instead of the new one below.

I come from the midwest, Rockford, IL to be specific. Not the best city for excitement and adventure, but the best city for stores like Payless to thrive. Trips to Kohl’s are done on the regular. The mall is a beacon of hope for teenagers and families alike. Only Rockfordians would make a 60 mile trip to Schaumburg’s Woodfield Mall, because there are more stores, and to be honest, because both the interior and exterior aren’t as sad.

I am used to the mall, I am used to Payless, so I thought what the hey, time to get cheap shoes that I’ll need to replace in a couple of months. The closest equivalent to Rockford in LA is Burbank. I use the word equivalent loosely, as Burbank’s mall is largely better than any Rockford establishment. I went in to Payless and purchased two pairs of flats. One white, one checkered, both American Eagle brand. Now, mind you, not the American Eagle we all know. American Eagle in this case refers to a brand that Payless basically ripped off from the original American Eagle. I found this out by peeling off a price sticker from the soles of my flats upon arriving home. It  said something to the effect of: American Eagle is a brand of Payless, not the real American Eagle. But I’m getting ahead of myself. (Brand pictured below - not my shoes).

The cashier asked me for my email, she explained that they send coupons to addresses on file. Me, wanting even cheaper deals on cheap shoes, decided “Sure I’ll give my email to a stranger, why not, I can get even more flats and look even more like a real adult”. However, I don’t recall giving Payless my phone number, I believe I only gave them my email. The one I reserve for situations like this. After what I thought was a successful purchase. I grabbed my shoes and drove back into the security blanket of the Hollywood Dell.

Now, I want to preface the following events by saying I’ve never experienced anything similar from a store. Ever. Maybe I haven’t experienced enough yet, but I’m trying, that’s what the mild adult fixation is all about. I got home maybe for an hour, before Payless emailed me a “thanks for joining our family” email. Now, I understand their need for customers, but really I had just shopped there a couple of hours ago. Anyways, I brushed it off thinking of those “great” 20% off coupons I’d hopefully be receiving soon. Fast forward to last monday after work. Right when I’m getting into my car for my hour-long drive back up from Santa Monica, I get a text message from an unknown number that’s suspiciously only six digits long. Since I’d never gotten a text message from a store/fairly sizable corporation before I was unaware of the shorthand number. I look at the message and sure enough it was Payless, telling me to “txt” them back to get 20% off or I could simply opt out. Now that’s all fine and dandy, but they add a note saying “txt” fees will apply. There goes my 20% off.

I skipped the part where they somehow got my number. On second thought, I can’t fully remember if I gave them my phone number, but since I’m generally weary of giving out personal information (address etc…) to random stores, I doubt I did. I’m still not sure how Payless got a hold of me. I’m just gonna go ahead and assume they’re stalking me. I haven’t replied to the “txt” message nor will I in the future.

To top it all off, one of the pairs of flats I bought ended up being total duds. Hurting my feel all day on friday does not justify a 12$ purchase. Turns out the fake American Eagle is even shittier than I thought. I can only assume the universe is trying to show me that being an adult is not all about buying flats.

I’ve never watched One Tree Hill. Never have I cozied up with a blanket for an entire episode of Smallville, 90210, or…what else is there…Party of 5? Dawson’s Creek? My references are outdated already. I know nothing of current teen dramas. Am I ashamed? No. Stubborn? Yes.

In my younger days, I was very weary of things on my classmates’ radar, particularly those classmates of the “popular” persuasion. I always thought I could find things to like on my own. Being the obstinate little girl I was, I didn’t want to follow my peers’ all-too obvious choices. I also used to wear shorts from the youth boys’ department and The Clash t-shirts on a regular basis. While normal kids my age got crunk to Lil’ Jon’s Get Low, I bought Westway to The World and treated Joe Strummer as a pupil would treat a wise sensei. Somehow, I did manage to have some friends.

What can, or should, be gathered from my weakly rebellious display is that I thought my tastes should be more elevated. I could find things nobody (my age) knew about and ravenously consume them proudly, secretly. The early makings of what would ultimately be nerd-dom. Point is, shows like The O.C. didn’t exactly make me giddy with excitement. Some of my college friends were avid watchers of the show. I recall them gathering every (insert weekday here) to watch the next episode of the third season, the show’s worst. I can say that because I HAVE watched The O.C. in the meantime (Seasons 1 through 3) and arrived at that conclusion myself. Am I ashamed? No. It’s strictly educational. Am I longing for my lost youth? Maybe.

I’ve recently started loving T.V. (in the past year or so). I used to be a movie gal, but now I’m head over heels for it, especially since the advent of Hulu. Thanks to that little gem, I’m able to write this very entry about a discovery I am more than eager to share.

Sure, I’m not revealing any truths about the human condition, but Friday Night Lights is as close as I’ve come to witnessing the perfect teen drama.

I’m not a fan of football. Being european, my dad is balls out into soccer and never raised me on other sports. I’ve watched hockey (perhaps lingering remains from my time in Canada), but baseball and football have never interested me. Basketball wins out as the most interesting popular sport to me.

That said, Friday Night Lights brilliantly uses football as a constant, while everything around the games, the team, the work and dedication, changes and morphs as realistically as any high school experience would. Football is merely the structure that binds the town of Dillon, Texas. Had I been told I would become enamored with a show centering around football, I wouldn’t have believed you. That is, until I watched the last five episodes of the third season on Hulu. Even without fully knowing what was happening story-wise, I was hooked. I went to Target and bought the first and second seasons for 30$. Mind you, it is an hour-long show with the first season containing twenty-two episodes and the second sixteen. Well worth the money in my opinion. The characters are so well-crafted, I forgive whatever slight errors the show might make. These writers are experts at character interaction, with subtle, yet poignant scenes that solidify the bonds between them. (One scene between Tim Riggins and his brother come to mind – similar to the image of them below).

The show is oddly (or perhaps not so oddly) relatable even if Dillon, Texas seems so far removed from the “real world”. The romantic relationships are not sickening to the point where anyone with common sense stops watching. They are quite engaging and have been successful in keeping my cynical interest.

At this time, I’ve made it through 21 episodes of the first season. Not having seen the season finale, I can’t completely tell what will happen in season two, but I’m looking forward to watching. If my opinion changes I will be disappointed, but somehow I doubt I’ll be let down.
Maybe I’ve grown up a bit, or maybe I’ve completely come to terms with my high school years, but I’m glad I gave in to Friday Night Lights. The fact that the show has not reached the popularity of, say Gossip Girl, is great. But, it still falls into the “teen drama” category. I’m taking it one step at a time. All I can say is, so far joining in is not so bad. It’s not so bad at all.

Being as I am, I tend to take on much much more than I can chew. This modus operandi usually results in big plans with slight execution, as well as discontent and sometimes discouragement on my part. Time is of the essence, but is hard to come by; a real luxury. Add two hours of driving per day to a full-time job and the road to exhaustion paves itself. Thus, I still find myself struggling through the week to fulfill every little expectation I have (updating this blog, I suppose, included).

Instead of losing my mind every so often, and in order to avoid sleeplessly “zombie-ing” around all the time (usually signified by a loss of social and communicative skills), I’m going to take a measure I’ve seldom thought of taking.

The idiom that best illustrates my current dilemma is “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket”. I fear that putting all my energy into a singular effort won’t be profitable in the end. I don’t want to someday end up like the chicken, homeless and eggless. Homeless is homeless, but eggless is well…eggless (which, in my opinion, could be worse). Or, EVEN worse, not experiencing or trying as much as I can, or as much as is available to me at any given time. I realize I won’t be able to juggle everything, let alone successfully accomplish everything I set out to do, but I’m stubborn enough to try. Tsk, tsk, tsk…

My problem is a completely different animal, tangentially stemming from “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket”. I have numerous baskets, all containing various eggs. Some eggs are very old, some very new. Sadly, some baskets are empty and exist only as “ingenious” ideas. But dry your tears (as I have mine), for all of that is changing. I’ve decided to eliminate some proverbial baskets. (GASP!)

Though it will be very difficult, this anti-basket case (…) I’ve set up will help me get a grip, and hopefully grow up a little bit. My overachieving side panics if I don’t pile on the work, but this doesn’t stem from a need for approval. Instead it stems from a fear of wasting time, of regret. I for one don’t want to work for the rest of my life wishing I had done something else, something more worthwhile. Most of all I don’t want to think, “If I only had the chance”. Apparently, fear really is the great motivator.

A brief list of things I’ve attempted to do in the past, and am still struggling to juggle:

- Full-time design job
- Freelance design on the side
- Writing and recording music
- Performing music at open mics
- Learning the drums
- Improv classes and groups
- Writing a graphic novel 
- Drawing a graphic novel 
- Working out 
- Maintaining this blog
- Maintaining a website

Needless to say, there will be cuts made slowly but surely. I’m aware enough to know what will work off this list and what I’m not quite so great at doing. I can only hope my choices will be wise and fulfilling.