I work accross the street from a Garretts Popcorn, and hoo-boy does it smell incredible every morning! The fear of getting fired is the only thing that keeps me from hopping in line behind the hoards of tourists clamoring for that magical Chicago Mix.
I love that certain bridges and streets smell like chocolate, particularly in the winter thanks to the Chicago chocolate factories just outside of downtown.
Walking home through my Lincoln Square neighborhood it is all I can do not to steal bites off the tables of the al fresco diners. Each patio smells different--bar food, Indian, Italian, Mexican. (You'll notice, all of this mouth watering smell business happens after I've departed from the CTA. Those are smells of a whole different nature and I chose not to go into it so close to dinenr time.)
Today was entirely different, and I hope temporary. I swear, the entire 700 block of North Michigan Ave smelled like EasyMac. I know it smelled like EasyMac because EasyMac has a very distincitve smell that is altogether different from that of regular Mac N Cheese. I think it's because of whatever they do to the cheese powder that makes it not need butter.
The toursists didn't seem to notice anything. Maybe they brought the smell with them? Maybe as countless cars from Wisconsin parked for the day and opened their doors, the fregrance of EasyCheese was released into the city air. Maybe it was one VanGelder Bus full of retirees who brought the smell with them? Perhaps there is a Kraft Convetion in town?
I take pride in the fact that you can breath deeply in Chicago. That we don't have the summer garbage smell that NYC is known for, nor the smog of LA. But somehow, I was deeply unnerved by the EasyMac smell. And also nostalgic for my freshman year dormroom.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Great Fiction Fail of 2010
“How’s your story going?" he asked.
“What story?” I asked.
“The one for class. The 20 page one that you’ve been talking about!”
“Oh, that,” I hedged. “It’s going really well. Wow, these tater tots are fantastic! How are the nachos?”
“How long is it?” he pressed.
“Try this Sam Adams Summer. I like it better than the Winter Ale,” I respond.
“Your story, how long is it?”
“Well, I don’t actually have anything written down. I’ve been going for walks and thinking through it and have written some outlines,” I said. “It’s all just part of my process. “
What a load of crap.
It’s really not very nice to lie to one’s fiancé. I’ve never written fiction before, how do I know what my process may or may not be? You aren’t allowed to be that pretentious until you have something to show for it, and as yet, I have nothing to show for it. I don’t think that I even realized it was an outright lie until last night when the squandered eight weeks came to a screeching halt. I had to face it, this story will not be finished on time. I haven’t done enough work on this. I have been doing other things.
Rather than writing I have been talking about writing. I have been telling people, in a very smug manner, that I’ve been really busy, what with the story I’m writing and all. I have sighed that this weekend I really should devote some time to the story I’m working on. “I have so much going on right now, and really I just want to sit and write my story.” Once I even caught myself saying, ‘well, it’s sort of an unconventional coming of age story.” Oh, brother.
Rather than writing I’ve been wedding planning. Incidentally, I’ve been wedding planning rather than doing my job, rather than doing my housework, rather than pretty much everything else. For a year and a half I’ve more or less avoided being the girl who obsesses over her wedding but those days are gone. With two months to go I have embarked down the one way road of flowers and fabric swatches. Rather than writing I have studied invitation fonts and I am mortified to admit that I actually lost sleep debating the virtues chicken versus pork. It is my fervent prayer August 1, 2010 will mark the return of the Erin I was before I learned what a French Bustle is.
Rather than writing I’ve read Harry Potter. All of them. Again.
Rather than writing I have been enjoying the spring. Who can sit at a desk and write when it’s Sunday and 65 degrees and there is corn hole to play and burgers to eat and beers to drink? Rather than writing, I spent my picnic in the park watching kids play tee-ball and listening to hippies in their drum circle. I made friends with the other sun deprived Chicagoans waking up after their eight month hibernation. I only mildly regret the Vitamin D nap that I took with my blank journal opened next to me on the blanket.
Rather than writing I’ve searched for apartments on Craig’s List, even though I know that there are no postings for a September 1st yet.
Rather than being a writer, I’ve pretended to be a writer. This is a sobering truth that I can’t quite ignore. I’m not a writer. Not yet. Until I can pass up Pub Trivia in favor of sitting at home and working on my piece, I’m not a writer. Until I can ignore my roommates and the T.V. and the phone and the e-mail from our florist and $5 martini night and going to plays and just sit and write and focus, I am not a writer. Until I write more than I talk about writing, I’m not a writer. Not really, anyway.
It scares me that writing isn’t a desperate, burning desire within me. Don’t all the great writers say that if you don’t have to write then you should find something else to do? Like macramé? The truth is that I don’t have to write, I just feel better when I do. I feel better when I shelve my self-consciousness and just write something, anything, and listen to myself and the words I’m putting down. I feel better when I dig deep and exert a little bit of discipline and just write. When did writing become like exercising?
And so rather than turning in my twenty page story-cum-novel that has been rolling about in my head for weeks, I’m turning in an essay. A non-fiction essay at that. Major fiction fail. Still, I hold out hope that my embarrassing honesty will somehow propel me along the road to becoming the writer that I pretend to be. I’m hoping that by holding a mirror up to myself, I can finally identify the places I need to fix. By writing about not writing, I’m hoping to help myself write? Wow. Shouldn’t have sat that close to the hippie drum circle!
And Isaac? Please. Please, don’t ever let me use the word ‘process’ again. Seriously. Pretentious.
Making My Own Advice
I have a theory that as soon as a couple gets engaged, a ripple vibrates the fabric of the universe. Like a whistle only dogs can hear, it alerts florists, caterers, bridal shops and Martha Stewart. Then hits the deluge of information. Macy’s Bridal Registry finds out where you live. TheKnot.com stalks you with invitations to every bridal expo in the greater metro area. Facebook ads chide you for the wedding diet you swear you’ll start on Monday. You are inundated with must-haves and conflicting reports of The-One-Most-Important-Place-to-Invest-or-Your-Day-Is-Ruined.
When I said yes, I had no idea what I was getting in to. I knew there would be stress. I knew there would be cost. I even knew there would be fights. I did not know that rather than saying congratulations, most people ask what my colors are. I had no idea that weddings require a theme. (Surely I learned my lesson on theme after the senior prom debacle?) I am intimidated by other brides-to-be and how they gracefully glide along that fine line between the latest trend and classic tradition. I think they burst forth from the womb with a complete working knowledge of the rules of etiquette and a library of color-coded spreadsheets, all organized in a coordinating Kate Spade bag.
I want a beautiful day as much as the next bride. I want to be the undisputed prettiest girl in the room while pledging myself to my soul mate. But I do not have a trust fund, nor the wherewithal to craft my own centerpieces. Magazines assume that you can either afford everything or make anything, both without breakouts or binge drinking. Clearly they haven’t met me.
I have read the guides and the tips and almost none of them are applicable to my life. And so I give you my own. These are tips from the trenches—not from a bridal expert but a comrade in arms unwilling to stress eat for the duration of planning. Hopefully writing them down will help me remember them myself.
#1. What You Didn’t Care About Before You Were Engaged, You Won’t Care About After You Are Married
Choose the three things (other than the groom) that you are absolutely passionate about. Flowers? Location? Guest list? What will make or break your wedding? With so many vendors and relatives telling you new things you’ll regret, it becomes easy to believe you must have all of it. However, armed with your list of three you can keep perspective of what’s truly important and remember that it is your mom, not you, who just has to have the prime rib and your father-in-law who thinks it is madness not to have a brass quartet.
#2. Let Others Do the Work for You
No matter your age, I’m willing to bet you know someone who has recently planned a wedding. Why meet with 10,000 photographers when your cousin was very happy with hers? Rather than chasing down your friends for addresses, ask a recent bride for her invitation spreadsheet. Read the registry list of friends whose taste you like and steal liberally. Obviously you can’t avoid all research, but you can substantially limit the field and save yourself a headache.
#3. Manage Expectations of Yourself
One day, you will become That Girl. Accept it. Regardless how calm you swore you’d be, you will become the person who prays that people ask you about plans. Every morning you will check your registry before your e-mail. All conversation will dovetail nicely into a decision you just made about flowers. Don’t beat yourself up. It is inevitable. However, for your sanity and that of those around you, establish No Wedding Zones. Stop all wedding thought two hours before bed. No planning during meals. Ask your friends questions about their lives, then pay attention to the answer. Take a class. Volunteer. Distract yourself. Your friends will thank you for it.
#4 Listen to Everyone, Then Ignore Them
Everyone has at least one good idea. My mom has a many good ideas. People will not be shy about sharing these good ideas with you, and examples of just-the-cutest-thing-I-saw-a-bride-do-at-a-wedding-once. By all means listen to them. Process them. Consider them. Then forget about them. Repeat after me: Just because the girl in my office hand-crafted ice swans does not mean I have to. With every well-meaning friend tossing in their two cents, insecurities will bubble to the surface. It becomes all-too easy to assume that if one person rented a brass quartet, you have to as well. It is imperative at this point to put blinders on and remember your style. Revisit tip #1. Trust that who you both are will shine through the day. While the advice of others is valuable, know where to draw the line.
#5 Remember Why You Are Doing This
Remember that you get to spend the rest of your life with the person you love most in the world. You can commit to each other with all of your loved ones, quite literally, standing behind you. And finally, you are able to throw a celebration thanking all of the people who have nurtured you along the way. And isn’t that a lovely thing?
Relax. Pack a flask. You’ll do just fine.
When I said yes, I had no idea what I was getting in to. I knew there would be stress. I knew there would be cost. I even knew there would be fights. I did not know that rather than saying congratulations, most people ask what my colors are. I had no idea that weddings require a theme. (Surely I learned my lesson on theme after the senior prom debacle?) I am intimidated by other brides-to-be and how they gracefully glide along that fine line between the latest trend and classic tradition. I think they burst forth from the womb with a complete working knowledge of the rules of etiquette and a library of color-coded spreadsheets, all organized in a coordinating Kate Spade bag.
I want a beautiful day as much as the next bride. I want to be the undisputed prettiest girl in the room while pledging myself to my soul mate. But I do not have a trust fund, nor the wherewithal to craft my own centerpieces. Magazines assume that you can either afford everything or make anything, both without breakouts or binge drinking. Clearly they haven’t met me.
I have read the guides and the tips and almost none of them are applicable to my life. And so I give you my own. These are tips from the trenches—not from a bridal expert but a comrade in arms unwilling to stress eat for the duration of planning. Hopefully writing them down will help me remember them myself.
#1. What You Didn’t Care About Before You Were Engaged, You Won’t Care About After You Are Married
Choose the three things (other than the groom) that you are absolutely passionate about. Flowers? Location? Guest list? What will make or break your wedding? With so many vendors and relatives telling you new things you’ll regret, it becomes easy to believe you must have all of it. However, armed with your list of three you can keep perspective of what’s truly important and remember that it is your mom, not you, who just has to have the prime rib and your father-in-law who thinks it is madness not to have a brass quartet.
#2. Let Others Do the Work for You
No matter your age, I’m willing to bet you know someone who has recently planned a wedding. Why meet with 10,000 photographers when your cousin was very happy with hers? Rather than chasing down your friends for addresses, ask a recent bride for her invitation spreadsheet. Read the registry list of friends whose taste you like and steal liberally. Obviously you can’t avoid all research, but you can substantially limit the field and save yourself a headache.
#3. Manage Expectations of Yourself
One day, you will become That Girl. Accept it. Regardless how calm you swore you’d be, you will become the person who prays that people ask you about plans. Every morning you will check your registry before your e-mail. All conversation will dovetail nicely into a decision you just made about flowers. Don’t beat yourself up. It is inevitable. However, for your sanity and that of those around you, establish No Wedding Zones. Stop all wedding thought two hours before bed. No planning during meals. Ask your friends questions about their lives, then pay attention to the answer. Take a class. Volunteer. Distract yourself. Your friends will thank you for it.
#4 Listen to Everyone, Then Ignore Them
Everyone has at least one good idea. My mom has a many good ideas. People will not be shy about sharing these good ideas with you, and examples of just-the-cutest-thing-I-saw-a-bride-do-at-a-wedding-once. By all means listen to them. Process them. Consider them. Then forget about them. Repeat after me: Just because the girl in my office hand-crafted ice swans does not mean I have to. With every well-meaning friend tossing in their two cents, insecurities will bubble to the surface. It becomes all-too easy to assume that if one person rented a brass quartet, you have to as well. It is imperative at this point to put blinders on and remember your style. Revisit tip #1. Trust that who you both are will shine through the day. While the advice of others is valuable, know where to draw the line.
#5 Remember Why You Are Doing This
Remember that you get to spend the rest of your life with the person you love most in the world. You can commit to each other with all of your loved ones, quite literally, standing behind you. And finally, you are able to throw a celebration thanking all of the people who have nurtured you along the way. And isn’t that a lovely thing?
Relax. Pack a flask. You’ll do just fine.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
