You Spin Me Right Round

Last weekend a friend shared her sage dating perspective with me. Apparently due to my "unsettled energy" I tend to attract guys with the same qualities. There I am in all of my tornado-esque glory, chaotically rotating with someone else. Neither of us with anything to tether us to the ground. 

And honestly, I have really loved this about my life during the past few years. I am happy to be flexible, waiting for the next thing that comes along. If I had been in a permanent place, I never would have been able to come to Berlin. I would have missed out on this experience. 

But now I am at a cross roads. What's next? Do I choose to make "life" decisions pinning me to a specific place? Am I ready to commit to the idea of one "future" with the hopes that I will find someone with the same plan?

Some mornings I wake up and think yes! Other days I roll over and go back to bed.

This is the kind of crap you find on Pinterest.

Is the energy you send off into the universe what you get back? Truth or SATC content filler I choose to ponder due to lack of anything else interesting in my life to share?  A little of Column A, a little of Column B?

My Weekend As A Glorified German Exchange Student

After my trip to Austin, I will be honest, I was not the least bit excited (read: not at all happy) to return to Berlin. And then I punched myself in the face. Because I have a month left in a great foreign country, when am I ever going to have this opportunity again? Suck it up and enjoy it, you idiot.  

And that's what I did last weekend. I overcame my genetic predisposition toward laziness, and when presented with an invitation to do something, I made myself say YES.

This went into effect on Friday when I made an effort to join a few work acquaintances and their friends to go out for Carnival. Not only that, I invited this group of relative strangers over to my flat ahead of time. Partially because I had far too many bottles of Prosecco (or Sekt as they call it) in my fridge, but mostly as a reason to stop living like a slovenly homeless person. When you have no roommate to yell at you about unpacking, a suitcase can stay in the middle of your hall for a really long time, so I've learned. (In general, I only clean for company, a life long lesson attributed to my mother. But that's better than never, right?)

The night turned out to be really fun with six of us sitting around my 90s mod East German living room. Although we spent plenty of timing researching Carnival parties around Berlin, it soon became clear that the thought of bracing the cold to pay money at a club was not particularly desirable. Fine by me - the 3am commute to your bed from the living room is far superior to any other option.

Although it was fun to do something other than wallow in my own self pity, the big takeaway from the night is how a lot of my life in Germany is sort of like watching a US movie set in a foreign country. The actors have Euro accents, but they're speaking English. It's not natural. You know that if the purpose wasn't for you to understand then they would be speaking in their mother tongue. So in situations such as that evening, those talking to me would speak English, but others having a separate conversation would revert back to German. Just because they know English doesn't mean they prefer to speak it. I get it.

The other big language lesson I learned was on Saturday night. My friend Ulli, the one who I have known since working with her in New York, invited me to go to her parents' house in Jena (south west of Berlin). A chance to see a new German city? The opportunity to meet her family? An excuse for a train ride? Check, check, check. No brainer.

It was great, although an entirely new level of language barrier to face. Even though her family members have a good understanding of English, they don't really speak it. So we tried some to communicate, with Ulli as our translator, but to be honest, I enjoyed my role as a silent observer.

Since her parents had agreed to make a favorite family meal of homemade pelmeni (Russian dumplings aka the world is global), her brothers and sisters and their significant others all joined in too. Seated around a large table, all I could think about was how I felt like I was part of a table read with German actors. There was something about the flow of conversation, the interjections, the pauses and the laughter that were too well-timed for it to be real life. Maybe the fact that I only got about 30% of what they were saying helped make these other aspects more heightened in my mind. Either way, it was an experience.

They next day I saw the sites of Jena, which is the birthplace of the shot glass. Unfortunately it was Sunday therefore the shot glass MUSEUM was closed, but I was just happy to know it exists somewhere in the world.

As we walked through town I kept making Ulli stop when I saw something "German" enough to warrant a photo. Here are a few pictures.

But Who Will They Cast?

Romantic comedies are inherently bad. I know having seriously studied them during the decade of 1994 - 2004 where I saw every unrealistic 90 minute love affair that was shown "at the mall" or "the theater across the street from the mall". This time conveniently coincided with a wallet full of babysitting spending money and nothing better to do.

But from all those movies, whether the object of desire was young and handsome, nerdy and cute, or dashing and British, in the end, the guy would fall for the girl. It didn't matter that my already pragmatic mind would be nagging, "But what will happen next? How will they make it work?" I still fell for the story every time.

So it's because of this that whenever someone's response to one of my stories is "Wow your life is just like a romantic comedy" I get a twinge of hopefulness rather than the thought that perhaps I should be rethinking my life decisions.

This is especially unfortunate for me considering it's never the recap of the great, romantic date that prompts someone to compare me to Julia Roberts. (For the record I have never been in a prostitute-esque situation that would warrant a Pretty Woman comparison, but it is a fantastic movie, right?)

No, the leading lady on the tip of everyone's tongue is almost always BRIDGET JONES. Sad, but true. Unfortunately so very, very true last week. I shouldn't have told anyone, but I did. I mean, when you experience a real life movie-montage moment, you have to share, right?

Luckily this time, my Bridget moment didn't involve getting sprayed by dirty water. But it doesn't mean it was pretty. Okay fine, here it goes:

There is sad Rachel in her bathrobe. Sad Rachel is listening to the radio, waiting for the tub to fill. She is wearing a green mud mask in an ill-timed attempt to battle winter's cruel effects. Luckily she lives alone so no one can comment on how terrible she looks, but she knows it to be true. That's unfortunately not even the worst of it. There on the counter is a container of American frosting she had smuggled back in her suitcase, meant to be used for brownies, but who needs to go to the trouble of baking these days? Instead she is eating her feelings with a tiny, delicate German spoon. And then, if things could not get any more pathetic, the radio switches songs. Adele's "Someone Like You" begins. The first few chords play. There is no stopping it. Sad Rachel knows has no control over her emotions when the haunting heartache of Adele infiltrates the airwaves. By the time the chorus starts, "Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead," she is full-on sobbing. Her green face bobbing up and down, stuffing itself with chocolate to suppress the tears. There is no denying that this is a low point. 

You can totally picture that scene being in the movie right? Good ol' rock bottom. But Bridget comes out pretty well on the other side. She ends up with Mark F'ing Darcy. And I think we can agree that you can do a hell of a lot worse than Colin Firth.

So this holiday season my Christmas wish lists consists of a tall, handsome man in a reindeer jumper. You hear that, mom? Start shopping.

Size L or XL, please.

PS: I have already linked to this before, but this Mindy Kaling article (and chapter from her book) about types of women in romantic comedies is perfection. God I love her.

How Will This Carnival Turn Out?

The idea of celebrating the start of Carnival Season on November 11, or 11.11.11, was first brought to my attention six months ago at an outdoor wine bar in Murray Hill. The client who had championed my onsite work in Germany was visiting New York and over drinks, she brought up the possibility of us having a meeting in Cologne, home of German Carnival, in order to be in town for the festivities.

That was the only time the two of us discussed making the trip, but a few months later the idea would come up with someone else. The German had worked in Cologne before moving to Berlin, and Carnival became one of many "We should do that's".

Once I realized it would fall on the same week as my Texas excursion I knew it would never happen, but then the suggestion of taking part in the Berlin parties was thrown out there too. "We should do that."

The German was the king of "we." "We should go to Hamburg." "We should eat at that restaurant." "We can go to the aquarium." (Tip: Do NOT get my hopes up about sea creatures!)

And now all these unresolved "we"s continues to bug me. Not just that they didn't happen, but his motivation for saying them in the first place. Did he ever have any intention of following through? Or is he just one of those guys who is reckless with the "we"?

I also can't help but wonder why he did anything at all. All of the well-documented niceties, his apparent interest in making me happy. If he didn't have strong feelings for me then, what was the motivation for creating scenarios where they might grow? If he could walk away at any point, why did he make it so much harder for me when he did?

These are the questions that I can't shake. Well those, and wondering if maybe his decision had anything to do with the fact I've gained five pounds, or perhaps it's that I was too cavalier about being fresh faced in front of him? Would exercise and makeup have made the difference?

Now I know I'm headed in a bad (CGS) direction, drunk from a self-debilitating cocktail of lingering jetlag, PMS pity, and an unshakable headache.

But I am too proud to ask any of these questions. The additional rejection would sting more than its worth. What would be the point?

Luckily, though, there is a little silver lining. Today is Friday and there is still a chance I might make it to a few Carnival parties after all. I have a month left, might as well make the most of it right?

Lorraine Y Tomas

The sentiment "Lauren stole my dream wedding" was uttered by at least one person and felt by many, including me, a girl whose camp experiences were limited to that of the "yearbook" or "church youth group" variety and thus never dreamed of having a camp wedding herself. I didn't know it was an option! Now I can say: It's a great option!

Awhile back, Lauren wrote a guest post about how hard/stressful wedding planning can be, especially when you try to make everything Style Me Pretty-esque beautiful. Let me tell you, her hard work paid off. All the details, from the customized Mexican banners to the outdoor leather chairs to the dock from which I came very, very close to falling in a pond during pictures, were stunning.

Being only an hour outside of Austin, Camp Balcones Springs was a perfect choice as a mini-destination in Marble Falls. Plus we got to stay in cabins. Cabins! Best of all, in terms of getting a second chance at camp experiences, I even found myself a camp boyfriend. What makes a camp boyfriend you may ask? The main factor is that your love stays at camp. And considering this guy lives in Oklahoma, it is fairly certain I will never see him again. (Which is preferable when your camp boyfriend is also a rebound...)

Anyway, here is a short recap of some of my favorite things from the weekend:

• Being there for Lauren and Thomas' special day.
• Choking back laughter when the priest, whose first language was definitely not English, kept referring to them as Lorraine y Tomás.
• Seeing my Austin pals.
• Gossiping about boys with aforementioned pals.
• Margaritas, queso, Tex-mex, guacamole, more margaritas.
• Post-rehearsal dinner dance parties that play R. Kelly's Slow Motion, which will probably be the first dance at my wedding because that song is so timeless, right?
• Receiving a "compliment" from one of your best friends about how 'you're SO awkward at dancing, yet you still manage to get guys!' (I feel like this would be a good quote for the back of my not-yet-written autobiography.)
• Having the weather be freezing one day and 75 the next.
• The adorable ringbearer and flower girl singing the ABCs with a bunch of people in their mid-20s before the ceremony because a) it's a song we all know and b) it never hurts to brush up.
• The fact I did not die from jet lag. Yet.

Rehearsal dinner. Looooved her dress.

Perfecto for the Mexican cocktail hour.

New signature solo shot pose showing off my BFOH corsage.

Oh look, it's catching on!

Doesn't she look like Barbie?

Too cute.

Color scheming.

Hill Country sunset

It was a whirlwind trip, but well worth it. 

Girl Crush: Mindy Kaling

I have a new friend. By friend, I mean celebrity girl crush with whom I would love to laugh with over brunch. Mindy Kaling, triple threat actor/writer/director for The Office, wrote a book which I knew would be amazing. I have been building it up to myself and others for weeks (months?).

Luckily Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? lived up to my incredibly high expectations and proved to be the perfect entertainment for my trip back to Austin. I started it on my first flight, and the next thing I knew, I was more than halfway done with it. Since I pretend like do this new thing called “implore self control”, I tried to pace myself. You shouldn’t read a whole book in one sitting. You need to savor the humor. Let it marinate in your mind.

And that is sort of what I did. Mostly because one flight would end, forcing me to put it down and go through security again because clearly that is necessary, Chicago. But either way, Mindy was a great travel buddy. Assuming you take all of my recommendations very seriously, please go buy the book right now so we can talk about it. Kind of like the best book club ever because it’s the only way to ensure I read the book on time. In case you forgot, it's all about me.

Anyway, one thing I like about Mindy is that she doesn’t intimidate me. I would pee my pants if I met Tina or Amy. Chelsea would probably humiliate me while she peed her own pants (if you’ve read any of her books you know this is a signature Handler move), but Mindy just seems like someone who I would totally assume wanted to be my best friend until she awkwardly had to remove my hand from her shoulder and be all “You seem like you could be funny, but I have to go now…”

Which is exactly what I’m looking for in a new pseudo potential celebrity best friend.

P dot S: Turns out Mindy wrote one of my absolute favorite Office episodes where Michael burns his foot on his George Foreman grill. Please enjoy this genius:

Michael Scott: “I enjoy having breakfast in bed. I like waking up to the smell of bacon, sue me. And since I don't have a butler, I have to do it myself. So, most nights before I go to bed, I will lay six strips of bacon out on my George Foreman grill. Then I go to sleep. When I wake up, I plug in the grill. I go back to sleep again. Then I wake up to the smell of crackling bacon. It is delicious, it's good for me, it's the perfect way to start the day.”

You cannot deny the logic.

Update: It's not just me! Fellow blogger, and person named Rachel, also recapped how much she liked the book too.

Leaving On An Airplane

Normally the idea of being held captive for more than a few hours seems like cruel and unusual punishment, but being the small child I am, the lure of business class (and airport lounges) made my 19-hour trip back to Austin seem like a reward. A reward for what, I am not sure, but either way I’m taking it.

So it was with this positive attitude that I settled into my first flight and did something I have done maybe five times in my whole life. No, I did not turn down free food. That is physically impossible. Obviously those mini tea sandwiches were gone in mere minutes.

But I did initiate conversation with a stranger on the plane. Unlike my mother who is The Queen of Random Best Friend Making, I don't always feel the need to befriend randoms, especially those I will be forced to share oxygen with for the next two hours. But considering I've spent the past three months practically mute in public due to the language barrier, I couldn't help myself. Plus I got a good vibe from the guy next to me. Turns out he was really hung over, a quality I always appreciate in others because it makes me feel better about myself. Like, yes, I’m kind of sad right now, but at least I don’t feel like puking.

Anyway, within approximately five minutes of conversation, I realized what it was about him that made him so approachable. He was literally the LA reincarnation of my ex-boyfriend J. I am not totally up to speed on the ends and outs of reincarnation so I don’t know if technically one of them has to be dead and one of them has to be an animal, but J and Plane Friend were kindred spirits. Specifically, they are both charismatic Jews from Washington DC who seem to find me moderately entertaining. Why I told him about Shotsgiving, I am not totally sure, but he was on board.

We had a nice chat – only on the bun of the flight aka takeoff and landing because anything more is clearly encroaching on socially unacceptable - and he ended give me his business card. His company owns a bunch of concert venues around the world and he can allegedly hook me up with free tickets. As with my policy on free food, I do not turn down free fun activities.  

A room with a view.

Then the weirdest thing happened. While I was checking my email in Chicago waiting to board my third and final flight to Austin (while simultaneously trying my best not to pass out from the 100,000 calories consumed across the Atlantic), I received an email from the aforementioned ex J. The Universe is weird like that. 

He was thoughtful enough to check in on me and offer his support of my awesomeness.  I appreciated hearing from him as I did reading the nice notes others of you left. Those did a lot to lift my spirits. Those and being called Madam while eating scones for eight hours. Those Brits sure know how to treat a lady. 

All in all, it was a good trip.