On Being Happy

Things weren't going my way.
Things were breaking down, costing money, and requiring more of me than I had to give.
Keeping above water was a constant struggle.

And then, I just had enough of it.

I was tired of suffering, of feeling low, of being keenly aware of all that was wrong and wondering when good would turn the corner.

I heard a man on the radio, years ago on my way to high school. He said, "be positive and happy until 10AM and the rest of the day will take care of itself". The day was shaping up to be a truly terrible one, but I took his advice. And then, as if it was magic, at 10AM, the world suddenly became a lot easier to live in.

Let me tell you something: forced happy and and a forced positive attitude will quickly resemble the real thing. Now, life as of late has required a lot more work than just being able to give up in the morning--it became a job of forced perspective for days and days. And then, you forget you are the force behind your happiness. It just is. You just are. Happy.

And then, your mind clears, you are able to complete those tasks that once seemed too daunting to tackle, you aren't bothered by those relationships that would send your mind and heart into a tailspin at the hint of a harsh word or unreturned call, confidence in yourself and your abilities slowly but surely returns. Lists can be made and ticked off. Line items are quickly taken care of, and life itself falls into line. It falls into your line. Because you are once again in control of it.

And the happiness is yours, unabashedly acquired, fought for, and graciously granted, nay, taken.

Naturally occurring happiness has once again returned. I'm a person that needs a road. I'll create it if need be, but I need a step and I need to scheme and plan and dream about how I'll make that step work for me. I don't flounder well. After more than 2 years (one could argue 5) of floundering, I'm back in charge.

I worked hard for it, and it took an incredibly long time, but I've received a an offer on a really good job with a really good company.

I'm Moving Forward. And that's all I could ever ask for.

Now its my turn, and I'll keep that momentum going, God help me.

I'm done doggy-paddling.

Saint Valentine's Day

A very good morning to you, lovelies, and a Happy Valentines Day to you as well.

In the past I would have exclaimed via an AIM away message, but let's be honest-who really uses AIM anymore, the importance of knowing that Valentines Day is not merely a corporate holiday, but one honoring (at the very least the idea of) people willing to risk everything to follow their hearts for the true love of a companion and of their God. I'm speaking of Roman times, of course, and more can be found on the patron saint of love, young people and happy marriage at Catholic online. And facebook seems too touchy, or maybe its the people I'm 'friends' with, for exclaiming anything, so this is where I'll do it. And now I've done it. So there you go.

Now, the Hallmark version of the holiday is lovely and sweet and who doesn't love red heart stickers and candy in pretty boxes? In the spirit of both senses of the holiday, I had myself a little dinner party over the weekend. My grandmother has passed to me her collection of Fostoria crystal in their popular Romance pattern. I've been waiting for a real occasion to use the set and what better time to use Romance-inspired etched crystal than for a Valentines dinner? Photos of my setting, later. For now, enjoy your day, and read my post from two years ago if you need help conjuring up some of those warm lovey-dovey feelings.

Royal Wedding Watch Party, The Plan

As we all know, there is a royal wedding coming up (in April, yes, but still, plans must be made, even on this side of the pond) and of course we're having a watch party (right? right.) and of course we're going to do a royal theme and really cliche it up because if we're going to get up at 3am for the pre-game then its got to be a little silly all around and I really think we should play it up and go all out with the whole royal thing.

I know we've talked a bit about it, and I've thought some more on it (I worked at Hallmark for over 7 hours this weekend--it gave me a lot of thinking time) and here is what I've got:

1. I can make the french toast we had on Saturday [note: I made it for the girls' Glee watch party on Saturday morning], because after all it is called "The Queen's French Toast".
2. We must have Royal Dansk cookies with English Tea.
3. We can make Royal Kirs--- it's champagne and blackberry liquor and as much as a mimosa is the golden standard, I think this would make a delightful alternative to the usual morning champagne libation.
   
4. I think we should all go out after Valentine's day and find silk pajamas on sale. We should have somewhat dignified attire, don't you agree?
5. "Eton Mess" is a lovely looking dessert that originated at, what do you know, Eton College which just so happens to be the alma matter of Prince William. I only know of this creation because House Beautiful featured it in their January issue. Another reason that magazine is perfect.

So that is what I have so far. You girls think on it and we'll just add to it until it gets to the point of ridiculous, and then we'll go just a tad bit farther. Because this will be an all day wedding event (pre-game, then the wedding, and you know there will be hours of commentary after) and I think its best to be wholeheartedly committed all the way through.

Let me know what you've got.

"So Come Out of Your Cave"

Let's do a catch-up, recap of sorts. Because the more I think about it, the more tiny bits of things I do have to say or tell, which would be far too much to try to cram into one post. And then I'd get daunted at the very thought of finishing it and what if I left something out and then I wouldn't post at all. And that's what I'm trying to avoid now. So we'll pretend that we're not-so-long-lost friends having lunch. There will be long awkward pauses but then I'll say "Oh yeah!..." and there will be another story, another something new-to-you to share.

So that's the setting. Now here is the recap.

I'm working, a part-time day job (aside from my nights and weekends retail standby, which, might I add, this was my 9th Christmas season), and have been for a teeny bit over a year. It's in the legal field, but even though I've got the card with my name and number on it, it is most definitely not as an attorney. It pays my very basic bills and every now and then I do learn something, and for those factors, I am thankful to be employed. Most of my interesting drama-filled stories as of late come courtesy of this work environment, but alas, the internet is not the time or place, especially not on a blog that bears my name and picture. I've got standards (and hopes and dreams).

Obligatory New Year's Post

It's still strange for me to think of a fresh start in terms of a changing calendar year. My brain is apparently still trained to live and breathe in school terms and I can't help but hesitate in really believing I can start over at the stroke of midnight. The magical change of a single digit doesn't really do it for me. In fact, truly it feels that come January 1, I'm already behind. I'm nearly halfway until my next birthday, and what do you know, I'm getting (and feeling) older and older each day. I suppose I'm more mature and appreciative of every day I wake up alive, because for the first time in recent memory, when asked my age in the weeks approaching my birthday, I answered by telling the truth. I also remember the actual day and thanking God for giving me another year. I just wish I could carry that feeling all the way through each of the other 364 days.
I just can't help but become frustrated with myself and my current lack of direction.
Treading water gets old. All in good time.

I Want to be Back

I'm just throwing this out there.

Hi. I miss you. The collective you.
I miss this. Writing here.

I'm going to work on being back.
I don't know how or in what form, because I don't really have any long drawn out stories or events happening that I could work on relaying.
I want to change the design format, which will take time.
But I want to do it. I want to be back.

Hi :)

I Wasn’t Entirely Sure it I’d Ever Write About It.

I miss Miami.

There.  I said it.

I was watching the premier of some show and it had a Hispanic woman being a ‘typical’ Hispanic mother with all of her fast talking and love all over you and nonsensical cooing and excited noises only they can make.
And it made me miss all of the people who are even little bits and pieces of that character.

This weekend also made me think about my life in Miami.  Nobody was home except me and my cat the entire time.  Even the dog was gone.  And it made me sigh with a tiny bit of self-contentedness because I miss being in my own apartment with the TV and the big bed and my cat all to myself.

And I realized that I miss my dad giving me a countdown when I would half-dread going back down there “only 3 more semesters, Claire. that’s nothing, you’re halfway done! only 3 more semesters” or when in the middle of a semester I’d get lonely and jealous of everyone back home “only 10 more weeks until Christmas break Claire.  and then you’ll be home for the summer in only 5 months after that.  its nothing.”

I even sort of miss hating the weather right about now.  Oh the weather down there is awful from about May until November.  The humidity and twice a day thunderstorms are almost unbearable, but I miss thinking “when will it break? when will it break!” because knowing full well that when it would break I’d be living in paradise.  I’ll miss thinking to myself in February what a lucky girl I am to wear shorts and flip-flops all year long and be able to sit outside to study and read and play on the computer and getting a warm sun-kissed tan by just walking to and from the car.

I miss grocery shopping at Publix and running to CVS in the middle of the night for a snack just because its right around the corner and I can.

I miss Aventura:  the Mall, the Whole Foods, the Fairmont where I worked.  It always felt so much more like you were somewhere there.  I don’t have a good reason why, but it did.  I miss the drive to Aventura.  I really liked that short stretch of 95.

I miss the Panthers.  I started working there about a year ago this month or so and though it was a little awkward at first, I miss thinking “who picked this music?  I can’t dance to this music!” but still acting like a fool to get attention anyway.  I miss getting my face painted and coloring my lips blood red and spraying my hair blue and setting up intermission games and watching the game from the rafters where it was quiet and detached, like a little game or music box where the players move in predetermined patterns.

I miss the food I can’t get or cook here. I miss my apartment that was mine, all mine, and how I didn’t actually feel lonely once I got used to it because there wasn’t anybody who could come visit or hang out anyway.

I miss how everything was bright, always.  I miss driving over the 395 to get to south beach at night.  I miss the same thing during the day, but the two views were, well, night and day. And both were capture worthy. I miss the Parish where on random Saturday nights or Sunday afternoons I would attend Mass and the little old ladies that would sit next to me and tuck in my tags. 

I miss going to chic places and parties and knowing that only a few people (comparatively) will really ever be able to experience (or appreciate) the way it is just like the movies.

I miss the school, but a lot less than I miss those other things. 
I  miss my friends from that school, but a lot more than any of those other things. 

I miss working towards an end.  A short-term end.  Knowing that when I was done it would just be time for another chapter. Another adventure.
I’ve started that chapter and let me tell you, its very boring.  Its not supposed to be, and I don’t want it to be, but right now I’m treading water.  Doggie-paddled through the summer and I see no alternative destination in sight.
Terrified I’ll settle.
Afraid of what might happen if I don’t and what will happen if I do.
I’m pretty sure its a lot like treading water.

But, alas, I do miss you Miami.  I miss many things about you, and others not so much.
So much do I miss the people I left behind.
I also left behind a tiny bit more than a little bitty piece of myself behind as well.
So don’t forget me, because I’ll never be forever gone.

Real Estate

Somehow my memory just isn’t what it used to be.  Not that I’m roving around forgetting where I am or how I got here.  Oh wait. That is exactly what I’m doing.

Let me explain. 
I’ve been in school for the past 20 years.
The past three of those I spent in Miami.
Then the previous four were spent in Warrensburg, Missouri.
Thus, you could deduct that I haven’t been “home” in seven years.  Specifically not home for fall (or spring but its fall now so that's what we’re going with here).
This is especially pertinent when talking about living in Miami because fall doesn’t exist.
We’ve been having some very weird weather here in the suburbs of St. Louis, which isn’t saying much because we’re known for our oddly unseasonable temperatures and ungodly heat and freeze waves.  These past few days it has felt more like fall in the last week of August than it usually does in the first week of October.  And it hit me.  I don’t belong here.  Not that I don’t belong, but that it doesn’t feel right at all.  I suddenly felt like the only thing that would feel ‘right’ would be starting back school in Warrensburg (my undergrad town) and it was as if the past three years didn’t even happen.
The more I think about how odd this feels, the weather, not being in school, not moving back somewhere, the more I feel disconnected from everywhere.
Sometimes I like to visit sothebysrealty.com and peruse the houses I then dream of having when I’m rich and famous.  I’ll never move back permanently to Miami, but it did become a part of who I am and with the people I know and love that live there, it would be nice to just ‘have a place’ to visit (when I’m rich and famous) so in my Sotheby's search Miami is what I plugged in. 
When I started looking I recognized the individual city names and could tell what the views were of. But the more I looked, the more foreign it seemed.  The more disconnected I felt from it.  It was like when you say a word over and over and over again so much that it looses all meaning and you can’t use it for a while because its lost all recognition your brain was willing to give it.
I was sitting here trying to remember street names and zip codes and how the highways connected and how to get to each of the many niches that call Miami home and I found myself trying to remember something I didn’t feel I really knew.  Then I tried remembering the same things about St. Louis and those weren’t coming to me either.
When I was in high school and younger I could read something once, a novel for instance, and could tell you what color sweater a character was wearing and exactly what she had for lunch in the middle of the book, even when only mentioned to develop the scene. 
Now I’m having trouble remembering the feeling of living somewhere.  Its not gone, it just seems so far away---like it happened in another lifetime and I’m just here to tell the stories I can remember the details of but not the feeling of living them.

Not so sure what this means.  Maybe my brain is tired and so severely inundated with information that its too waterlogged at the moment to retrieve much of anything.

I need to clear some real estate up there.

Fantasy Football Draft

The boys roped Meg into being in charge of writing all the picks they yell out at her. It would help if she (or I) knew who these players were. It feels like we're sitting at the judges table though Im especially no help because Ive gone deaf or something and mishear nearly every darn name. Oh well, first time for everything!

"Its Sad But Its True"

"When she was 22, the future looked bright..."




(p.s. I don't think a man will make things perfect. other than that...)

Missouri Representative Cynthia Davis: Always Has Been One of the Worst. She Deserves Her New Title.

I don't usually use this blog as a platform, but since its mine and today I feel like going up on a soapbox, I hope you'll go up with me.

I got a voicemail this morning from my mother telling me that one Mrs. Cynthia Davis has been named by MSNBC as the worst person in the world.

I'm ecstatic someone finally agrees with me.

There is a short list of people in this world that I believe are genuinely awful human beings, and Cynthia Davis is on it.

I know I'm late on this (studying for the bar exam leaves me noticeably behind on current events) but Davis has been hailed into the public arena and given her most deserving title yet for her statements released in a June newsletter where she writes:

"bigger governmental programs take away our connectedness to the human family, our brotherhood and our need for one another." [Why not] "get a job during the summer by the time they are 16" [to feed themselves?] "Hunger can be a positive motivator." "Tip: If you work for McDonald's they will feed you during your break" (excerpted from Opinion L.A. and Davis' website)

I can't say much more that hasn't already been said about her position (there is a good article over at the L.A. Times that says it all). But I can expound on Davis and her hypocrisy; the article I just linked you to was recently updated with a response from Davis:

"We all agree on the importance of feeding children, but we differ on who should do this. I believe this duty belongs to the parents. Instead of honoring this time honored jurisdiction of the family, the summer feeding program treats families like they do not exist."

and I am more than happy to provide a story from years ago that shows what a hypocrite Davis really is. I italicized those sentences in her statement for a reason and here's why:

Years ago my mother was an Alderman for the City of O'Fallon, Missouri where she served alongside Cynthia Davis who too was elected as an Alderman in her ward. I never particularly cared for Davis, she has a weaselly air about her that was immediately off-putting. I could tell there was something not right about this women and I wasn't even a teenager yet. Being the daughter of a local politician and knowing what kind of personality and effort goes into winning your decided seat, I could not figure how was she getting elected to these positions of political power. (And much to my chagrin how she continued to get elected to those offices, up to even now as she sits in the Missouri General Assembly and has been re-elected more times than makes sense.)

One year during my mom's service there was a conference held at Tan-Tar-A at the Lake of the Ozarks that many, if not all, of the City's Alderman were attending. I was young still (11? 12? 13?--my mom is supposed to get back to me with the year so I'll update the post when she does) so the specifics of the conference I don't know, but I do know that many of the Alderman brought along their wives and/or children for a mini-getaway. Our entire family went along and while my mom attended the conference we did our own thing. Davis brought along one of her seven (at that time, six) children, a daughter somewhat around my age-maybe younger, doubtfully older.

[Let me now take this time to say I have met the Davis children on several occasions, albeit long ago, and they seem to be very nice people. Quiet, unassuming, gentle people. I haven't been in their presence for probably ten years, but I want to make it clear that this story has nothing to do with them. In far too many instances children are subject to their parents' idocracies and often bear a great burden because of them.]

One of the mornings of the conference we walked down with my mom to see what it was all about. I distinctly remember a huge platter of tea cookies set up by the hotel for the conference goers to snack on. I also distinctly remember Davis telling her daughter to fill up on cookies before anyone takes notice because that would be her meal for the day. I don't know what her daughter did for the rest of the day while her mother was busy with the conference, and I can't be sure if she had another meal during that day or not, but I feel confident that she probably did not.

Davis writes in her June newsletter:

"Parents want to give their children nutritious meals. This is an important part of nurturing their children. We need to give them the benefit of the doubt and not assume most families are pathologically neglectful."

If that isn't a hypocritical spew of spin then I don't know what is. You may think this is bad enough, but no my friends, this story and the glaring evidence of her hypocrisy is not over.

The last night of the conference the Alderman from the City and whomever they brought along with them went out together for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. This wasn't a mandatory part of the conference or an event one should have felt compelled to attend. It was just dinner. Well, for most of us it was dinner.

While the adults sat at one big table, my brothers and I along with Davis' daughter sat at another. When the plates of food were delivered, Davis' daughter did not have one set down in front of her. Her mother didn't let her order, nor did she order for her. As she sat awkwardly at the table with us, Davis' daughter excused her absence of a meal with that she already had (free) cookies earlier in the day and so she should be full. But Davis had food. Did Davis share her plate? Divvy up her meal so both she and her daughter could have dinner that night?
Absolutely not.
I sat in shock. My stomach turned and I have never felt so instantly sick in so many ways. I offered her some of my dinner. She wouldn't take it. My dad could tell there was something wrong, though her back (and absence of a plate) was to the group of adults, I was at an angle so that he could see my face. He knew how disturbed I had been by Davis' earlier instruction to her daughter to gorge herself on cookies so she would fill up for the day. He came over to investigate and quickly saw what the problem was. He told her, in a low voice so as to not draw attention, that she should order whatever she'd like and not to worry about it.

And that is how Cynthia Davis' daughter had dinner that night.
Because someone else took pity on her poor, hungry, child.

And that is how I have acquired one of the very worst memories I own. I see it in such vivid detail even 14 years later because it was that troubling and not only mind, but heart scalding. And since then I have told anyone with a reason to listen about what an awful person Cynthia Davis is.

What kind of motivation was she trying to instill in her young daughter on this trip by making her go hungry?
Should we assume that because she would not provide her daughter a nutritious meal that not only was she not interested in nurturing her, but also "pathologically neglectful"?

Davis letting children go hungry is nothing new.
Only where she wants to take away a state program because "bigger governmental programs take away our connectedness to the human family, our brotherhood and our need for one another" and because "the summer feeding program treats families like they do not exist" she couldn't seem to muster the "connectedness" or "brotherhood" she so heavily leans on to support her arguments when it came to treating her own family like they "exist".

Yes, this might be harsh. Yes, this is personal in nature. But this happened in public and she is (unfortunately for us) a public figure. Maybe you think it wasn't my dad's place to step in the way of Davis' "parenting", but there are certain situations where you cannot, with a clean conscience, look away--so I don't think so.

This wasn't an indiscretion of youth. It cannot and should not be excused away by the lapse in time between this incident and her crowning achievement in being named one of the worst people in the world.

Stephen Colbert jokes that "if you see Representative Davis at a restaurant or a hot dog stand or even through the window of her own dining room, do the right thing and take her food away."

It wasn't a joke when she did just that to her own daughter.

Legal Geekery Inaugural Post

Recently (okay, not so recently, I'm so behind in life lately) the blog legalgeekery.com was looking to amp up their contributor roll. I, of course, put my hat in the ring and was soon greeted by a "Congratulations" email announcing I was one of several fresh new faces to be given posting power.
Excitement was quickly followed by the "holy crap. I don't post about anything to do with law school or law at all on my own blog, so what am I going to post about on a blog devoted entirely to the law?"
Well I managed to finally knock out my bio and after hours of fighting with formatting (such a common problem of mine) I posted my first article. And it goes like this:

In my second year I took a Law and Literature class to give myself some sort of
relief from the typical law school class and to coddle my much neglected
theater minor self a little. It was a good choice: my professor
was dedicated and full of interesting legal references in popular culture
and had the movies to prove it. Our final was a take home and one of
the options was to write a blawg post. It was a fantastic class....Read more at
legalgeekery.com

The new bloggers were put on a sort of probationary period to try us out and see if we meshed with the site. I'm afraid I may not last the summer because I've only posted once, but if they let me stick around I promise to write up the suckage that is studying for and taking the Missouri bar exam once its finally done with at the end of this month.
Seriously, it sucks.
And yet, I'm still wary of calling this one of the worst summers ever. Because at least I've got a summer still. I can't be sure if that's optimism or pessimism right there. Eh. Go read legalgeekery.com and tell them I sent you. It'll make me look good.

(P.S. I won two free nights at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas and I'm going for Halloween. SUPER freaking excited. I love having something to look forward to)

There is no Ivy. There are no lights. There is only what was and how it worked for me.

Where I went to school, or where I didn't.
What kind of town it was and what it isn't.
Sometimes they bother me.
And others I'm content.

There were no hallowed halls.
There is no instant recognition.

Tiny town.
Tiny blips.

Mediocrity.
Somedays its that.
And others its not even close.

When it approaches the line.
Thats when it gets clear. And then again foggy.
Because what do I want it to be?
I wanted the name. The lights. The city.
But the limestone and architecture gave me a place.
The institution and programs opened their doors. They wanted me.
Dare I say needed.
So quickly I forgot. Put off the lights.
"When I graduate"

Only to move on to the opposite again.
In every way.
But still no lights. Still no city. Still no black stages.
Put me in the 4th. What does it mean?
Nothing to you. Only I know the work was the same.
But do you know the name?
And do you know the rank?
Can you forget it if you do?

What will you think
when you read where I've been;
of who has taken me in.

Does it matter?
Somedays.
And others its not even close.

What a Nice Day for a Bouquet

What a nice day for a bouquet, wouldn't you say?

Actually, Sunday was quite dim here in St. Louis. The sun decided to hide after making a lovely showing all week and the storm clouds took its place for the mid-morning/afternoon shift.

I had heard of "Flower Row" downtown but thought for sure it was a wholesaler's playground only.
Low and behold its not. Well, two that I know of at least, aren't. And they're even open on Sundays. So with a bridal shower approaching and a curiosity needing to be satisfied, my mom and I headed downtown.

After, typically, getting turned around in a not so great neighborhood and being told by a construction worker that we were far away from where we wanted to be (we weren't) I managed to find LaSalle Street. Bingo!

The entire street was absent any cars and devoid of all signs of human life. Mom of course didn't want to get out, but psh, that wasn't happening. So inside the warehouse we went. And just like I said, there were indeed people. They told us we could look around the entire place and then paid us no mind. Free roam without being bothered! I liked it.

These lovelies to the right are peonies impressively grouped together in the massive refrigerator. Their roommates are roses of every color, daisies, hydrangeas, tulips and more varieties of blooms than I can remember: all sold in bunches at wholesale to the public.

How I long for the fantasy dreamt days of when I'll be able to order ten bunches a day just because I want to.

The cooler is not all there is to be offered: there are also tables to be rented should you be an aspiring florist and like to have your flower selection and presentation implements complied and waiting for your arrival and creative touch.

Behind these tables are rows and rows of stockpiles of every kind of good you could possibly associate with florals: vases (glassware is 50% if you buy by the case!), ribbon, foam, hot glue, paint, glitter, I could go on and on. Its a one stop shop if you've got a substantial project on your hands and are willing to make the trip.

If you're interested in learning about the flowers,
the staff at Harold's Wholesale is happy to talk and teach you a thing or two.
These stalks of flowers are "Stock" flowers. Warren, who had been diligently ridding the individual stem cooler of the blooms that wouldn't last the required 5 days upon delivery, asked us what the stalk of the flower smelled like. I guessed celery. Stock is actually from the Radish family so I wasn't too far off. Then the bloom: what did it smell like to me? My guess was nutmeg, he went with cloves. Its an odd plant and a staple in many large arrangements and I learned something I never would have known.

Not bad for a Sunday afternoon.



Flower Row: 2600-2700 block of LaSalle Street (off Jefferson).

view more photos from the day at my flickr.

Pretty Exciting!

Anna over at Frill Seeker Diary: Peace, Love, and Adventure (where she writes as her alter ego Lola Gigglesworth) and I have been talking for a while about collaborating somehow, but we were unsure of where/how to start.

As we let our good intentions marinate, waiting for something to strike us, she happened to identify with my Open Letter to St. Louis.

Read her intro of the piece "Sweet Home: Returning to Your Hometown as a Visitor" (and see an iphone shot of St. Louis as I crossed over from Illinois on my way home from Miami) that she did for her website, a variety show of sorts focusing mostly on travel in its many forms: tips, deals, photo essays, etc. I know you love traveling, so after you read the part about me, make sure to stick around and browse for a bit.

P.S. let this serve as another endorsement for twitter. I (@theclairemarie) wouldn't be on FSD if I hadn't "met" and become dear friends with @TravelingAnna. So join twitter. Really, its only for your own good ;)