Failing Like a Boss

Life’s a whirlwind. We all have our plates full trying to check things off our to-do lists and keep up with day-to-day responsibilities. Sometimes it’s hard to forgive yourself when you don’t live up to your own requirements.

Give yourself a break today.

You wanna know the best way to exercise a little self-forgiveness? By attempting a Pinterest craft. Nothing will remind you that you’re a mere, imperfect human being like your unsuccessful Pinterest project can.

Pinterest crafts are elaborate, eye-catching, and exquisite. They’re the reason why women are attracted to Pinterest. They’re also the reason why most men wouldn’t touch a “pin” button with a ten-foot pole. I can imagine my brother saying it now:

“Kids’ snacks shaped like animals? What a waste of time.”

My brother and I have a lot of differences. He’s brown-haired and brown-eyed; I’m blond and have blue eyes. He’s buff; I have a nagging suspicion that the only muscles I possess are in the fingers that I use to text. My brother writes off Pinterest crafts like expired applesauce; I approach them head-on with fervor and dedication.

Whether you’re more like my brother or more like me is no matter, though. You don’t have to know much about Pinterest to know about these so-called “Pinterest fails.” I’ll put it into context for both types of people, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.

Pinterest fails from my brother's view:

• Searches Pinterest to find a Christmas gift idea for grandma.
• Settles on a DIY rustic twig picture frame. Easy enough, right?
• Frame requires use of a hot glue gun. What 20-something dude owns a hot glue gun? Not this one. Finds superglue in the garage. Uses that instead.
• Follows directions (kind of). Cusses a lot when superglue gets on fingers.
• Gift ends up looking more like an armored beaver dam than a dainty photo frame.
• Buys grandma a bird feeder for Christmas instead.

Pinterest fails from my view:

• Searches Pinterest to find a baby shower gift for a friend.
• Settles on a collection of hand-sewn pieces of food made out of felt. This newborn child is really going appreciate the effort, I just know it.
• Starts crafting. Sewing machine needle breaks. Quarter-life crisis ensues.
• Stays up for 96 consecutive hours finishing the felt-salad before the baby shower.
• Shows up to the shower looking like the Bride of Frankenstein. Present shows up looking the same way.

Either way, we can all agree that Pinterest fails are annoying. But maybe what’s more annoying is the unrealistic standard that Pinterest holds us to. Sorry, but no normal person must possess the skill to bake a cake that’s a scale replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. We should all be allowed to live in peace with our mediocre baking skills.

The DIY crafts you see on Pinterest are, for lack of a better term, works of art. Pinterest is Michelangelo. We are Jackson Pollock. Maybe Salvador Dali at best. But next time you fail at Pinterest, fail proudly. It’s all art in someone’s eyes.

Rules of the Road

If you don’t live under a rock, there’s a 100 percent chance that you’ve been in a car. If you’re fortunate enough to have driven one, then the coming words may resonate with you.

To start off our time, here’s a brief resume of the long and arduous journey I have had with driving:

• I failed my first driver’s license test.
• Both of my car mirrors are attached by duct tape.
• Once, I locked my keys in my car while it was running. I biked to my parents’ house to get a spare. They didn’t have a spare.

I’m only 22, but I’m practically the Ghandi of all things driving-related. As a result of this sage wisdom, I have come to learn that the only true things in life are death and taxes and road rage.

Road rage is a universal truth; all of us have experienced it. There’s just something about getting behind the wheel that puts us on edge. If only we could just stick our heads out the window while we drive like dogs do.

As a self-proclaimed Guru of the Road, I’ve written a few mantras for you to live (and drive) by. They’re not as inspiring as the ones you find on Pinterest, but they’ll do.

Blink unto thee as you would have others blink unto you.

You don’t realize how annoying it is for someone to not use their blinker until you’re in the car behind someone that doesn’t. Sometimes, surprises can be a good thing. Not when you’re changing lanes.

Your brights are mightier than the sword.

Seriously. They’re super powerful. Like, they’re-actually-blinding-me-right-now powerful. If you’re alone on the road and want to light the entire western half of the United States, then be my guest. But when there’s another car your direction, give your lights a much-deserved break.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But keep your student drivers far, far away.

Don’t take this one too personally, student drivers. I feel your pain. The day I turned 16, my dad gave me the keys to his truck and told me to figure it out as I went. (No wonder I failed that first driver’s test.)

Don't do your makeup while you're driving.

This isn’t really a mantra, but it was just way too vital. I just had to get it out there. Once I was driving on a one-lane highway in the backroads of Florida behind a car with two girls inside. One girl was driving as slow as cold molasses and the other girl was doing the driver’s make up. What?! My car crawled along behind this chaos for upwards of a half hour. I’m telling you this story now so that you’ll never make the same mistake.

Parking speaks louder than words.

The way you park says a lot about your personality. If one day in an alternate universe I am blessed to have a boyfriend that is an exact replica of Ryan Gosling, but he can’t park in one space to save his life, he’s out. Ain’t no spark if you can’t park, honey. If you park on the line and fail to rethink your actions, then it might be time to reconsider your way of living.

Easy come, easy please just go. You have the right of way.

You know the feeling. It’s that moment when Car #2 (directly to your right) gives you the nod or the wave or the “go ahead” pointer finger. But you, the connoisseur of all roadside laws, know that Car #2 should be the first to go—so you give them the nod/wave/finger right back. The nod/wave/finger pattern repeats, and you both abruptly start and stop until someone decides it’s their time to go. Long story short: don’t be Car #2.

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These are just a few mantras in my laundry list of road rules to live by. Don’t even get me started on my mantras about four-way stops.

P.S. If someone knows the address of the person that created the four-way stop, let me know. I have a strongly-worded letter to send to them.

The Problem with Millennials

"Ugh, Millennials" by Jenna Qualsett Photography

If you’re reading this, then you’re either a) a millennial yourself, or b) you’re a non-millennial that hates millennials. It’s definitely one or the other because—like my mom would say when I was little and asked “Why?” one too many times—that’s just the way it is.

But really, I don’t understand why everyone gives us millennials such a hard time. We pretty much have the world eating out of the palm of our hands. We dictate business trends and invent genius couple names like Brangelina.

As great as millennials are, though, I will admit that we have our vices. They mostly include standing in front of the mirror for too long and eating Chipotle too often.

That’s why I’m here. One millennial speaking to another, peer-to-peer. I’ve been through the millennial trenches and I have some sage wisdom for you 19 to 35-year-olds from near and far. Let’s get crackin’.

Stop taking pictures of your food.

Ha, just kidding—that’s crazy talk. I’m not asking you to do something insane like put down your phone while you’re eating out with friends. Ew. “Disconnect to reconnect?” Who are you, my great-grandmother? If this whole ‘evolution’ hoo-ha is right, then my phone will be fused to my right hand by 2020. Let’s find some more realistic advice.

Don’t let people call you entitled.

If people do call you that, they’re probably just Baby Boomers and/or jealous of your glistening, unwrinkled skin. (Kind of like that guy from Silence of the Lambs. Okay wait, forget I said that.) As respectfully as you can, remind them that you’re not entitled, per say—you’re just privileged. Privileged to be a part of the most remarkable generation of all time, that is.

Don’t let people call you a millennial either. Ugh, that word is so pre-Internet era. At the very least, encourage them to say “mllnnl,” because vowels are a waste of time.

Stop trying to do everything.

Make more time for yourself instead. Watch more Netflix, for goodness' sake! We all know you need it. Any normal person needs some rest after a long day of texting, eating Doritos, and not raising kids. Don’t let yourself be the exception.

Here are my tips:

• Instead of nine different things, try being really good at just one thing. My thing is buying stuff from clearance racks that I don’t really need. I’m pretty much a pro at that. Try finding one skill of your own to master.
• Forget work-life balance. Try 20 percent work and 80 percent rest. It all adds up in the end, so you’re giving 100% all the time.

Use your power for good.

Today’s world is completely polarized. No one can agree on a single definition for “feminist,” much less decide whether or not this dress is black and blue or white and gold. But when we band together, the sum becomes greater than its parts. The same goes for oatmeal and cream pies.

Millennials are the future. We have the power to affect change. Let’s make that happen by doing good, not evil. Like making memes. The world needs more memes. And clickbait videos.

Stop wishing. Start adulting.

Buzzfeed (and any other website with online quizzes) basically prey on our nostalgia for being 90s kids. I’m 95 percent sure you’ve had a mental conversation while on Facebook that goes something like this:

OMG. 35 things only 90s kids remember?! OMG. I totally remember all of these things. OMG. I am such a 90s kid.

I hate to break it to ya, folks, but it’s time for us to leave behind the glory days of Pokémon cards and Easy Bake Ovens and to finally embrace the joys of adulting. That means we have to start waking up before 2 p.m. and paying for our own Netflix accounts. I know it’s hard, but you have to grow up some time, right?

David and the Social Media Goliath

Photo by John Ficenec.
Doodles by Claire Shinn. 

The opinions expressed in this blog post are solely my own and do not express the views or opinions of my employer.

You know why? Because every employer and their grandma is on LinkedIn nowadays.

If you’re an avid user of LinkedIn and/or clicked on this article from the post on my LinkedIn profile, you’ve been warned. It’s about to get ugly.

I’m toeing the line yet again, and this stance might be my most unpopular one yet. In this day and age of resistance and free expression, though, I’m learning to show my true colors in spite of the haters.

So here it is, folks: LinkedIn stinks. If social media had a family tree, LinkedIn would be the overbearing mom that acts like she has it all together and honks at everyone that’s taking too long in the carpool lane. Facebook would be the wise grandfather, Instagram the favorite child. Twitter’s the cool aunt. FarmersOnly is the drunk uncle.

Okay, enough jokes for now. Allow me to explain myself and my deep cynicism toward this social network. I’ve broken down my pessimism into the three stages of having a LinkedIn—enjoy. (Or go back to perfecting your business professional headshot.)

PHASE 1 - Creating Your LinkedIn
I created my LinkedIn account for a class project. Now I’m going to go out on a limb and say (from experience) that any social media account that a teacher makes you create is bound to flop once the semester is over.

Don’t get me wrong—I love educators. They lay the foundation for our future and they deserve way more recognition than they currently get and maybe I’m just writing all of this because my professor has to read it, but sometimes they’re a little bit like Amy Poehler in Mean Girls: well-meaning and funny but trying just a little too hard to be the cool mom.

All this to say: if you’re creating a LinkedIn profile for reasons of your own, get ready for your #hip, #young, and #cool aesthetic to be seriously cramped. Unless you have a six-digit salary (because people with six-digit salaries can do whatever the flip they want), that funny baby picture or viral video where YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENS AT 0:30 have no place here. Where's the fun in that?

PHASE 2 - Maintaining Your LinkedIn
“You’re in it for the long haul,” they say. “LinkedIn isn’t going anywhere,” they say. So you hunker down and prepare for the long road ahead.

Keeping up on LinkedIn is a long and winding road, dabbled with “Congrats on the new role!” messages and LinkedIn spam in your email inbox. Every once in a while, you stop to add your brother’s friend’s aunt’s boyfriend that you met once at a job fair. Who knows, maybe that connection will come in handy at some other point down the road. Maybe not. Geez louise.

PHASE 3 - Living with LinkedIn
This blog is about the little things in life. The Oxford comma, bay leaves, and the like. LinkedIn used to be a small thing, too—but now it's becoming a big one.

With over 400 million users worldwide, I am but a mere David compared to the LinkedIn Goliath. For now, I have to learn how to live with LinkedIn and you do, too. But David prevailed long ago, so I’ll fervently hold my stance on this Facebook wannabe until the fall of LinkedIn arrives.

But also, who knows? LinkedIn might prove me wrong. If (emphasis on "if") that day comes, I will happily eat my words off a silver platter with a napkin tucked into my collar. Like acne, hopelessly defying my parents, and Justin Timberlake’s frosted tips, maybe hating LinkedIn is just a phase.

A Love Note to the Oxford Comma

I’ll start off with an apology. Last week’s post got a little out of hand—sorry about that. Sometimes you feel so passionately about something that it bubbles up and spills over. For you, maybe that means talking about politics. For me, it’s talking about bay leaves.

Anyway…

It’s time for me to address the elephant in the room: love. Our favorite sitcom characters won’t stop bringing the stinkin’ thing up and Jason Derulo won’t stop auto-tuning it and then there’s the cherry on top—Valentine’s Day is just around the corner.

Well, lemme tell ya, if Valentine’s Day was a batting average, my record would be abysmal. Of the 21 Valentine’s Days I’ve been alive for, I’ve spent 19 alone. Of the two remaining, I spent one at a Chinese buffet. There was a raw egg cracked on the countertop.

Thus, I will be spending this Valentine’s Day (and many of those in the foreseeable future) as single as a Pringle (if Pringles could be single). My friends tell me it’s because I’m an independent person, but I think it’s really because I do weird things like write about bay leaves and eat Cheez Whiz on celery.

BUT if you think that’s deterring me from having a great holiday, then you’re sorely mistaken. In fact, I’m writing a valentine this very moment. It’s to the Oxford comma.

Why the Oxford comma? Let me explain.

I’m passionate about three things and three things only: puppies, Proust, and punctuation. I could write a love note to puppies, but that’s too easy. I actually know nothing about Proust; I just needed a third word to complete that alliteration. But punctuation has really got it goin’ on—in particular, the Oxford comma.

The Oxford comma is my second favorite punctuation mark, only to be outdone by the em dash, which I use incessantly. The em dash is the single most versatile form of punctuation, but I’ll rant about that another day.

If you’re not a grammar nerd, then just humor me for a second. For ages, writers and institutions have debated the use of the Oxford comma. The Modern Language Association loves it; the AP Stylebook shuns it. So far, the only solution to this is to make it optional, but that simply won’t do. I took a risky stance last week, so I’ll do the same again today.

I love the Oxford comma. I love it.

A lot of miscommunication can be avoided by just using the Oxford flippin’ comma. Simply put, it keeps us out of trouble. Take these examples.

1. We invited the rhinoceroses, Washington and Lincoln.

Do not make this mistake.

Know Your Meme

2. I love eating, children and dogs.

Okay, that is just plain wrong. Even this dog knows it.

Wikimedia Commons

3. My heroes are my parents, Superman and Wonder Woman.

THIS IS A LIE. Your parents probably look more like this.

Flickr

Alas, after a very big tangent about a very little symbol, I present to you what I promised from the very beginning: a love note to the Oxford comma.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

When I’m making a list,

I will always choose you.

Your Biggest Waste of Time

Have you ever experienced a piece of art that shook you to your core? I'm talking about art that, when you look at it, impacted you profoundly because you could relate so deeply. You walked away a changed person. Your whole outlook on life was completely new.

That's how I felt after I read this article on bay leaves.

Bay leaves are the—excuse my french—bull-hooey of all culinary seasonings. Basil leaves I can get behind. Oregano, parsley, and cilantro? I get it. But bay leaves?! If "seasonings" were seasons, bay leaves would be the dead of winter. Actually, they would be hibernation.

Like my roommates, some of you might not even know what a bay leaf is. If you were to turn to Wikipedia for some enlightenment, you would find it states, "Bay leaf (plural bay leaves) refers to the aromatic leaves of several plants used in cooking." Spare yourself and read no further.

I'll break it down into some simpler, not-so-biased* terms: BAY LEAVES ARE BULL-HOOEY! Bay leaves are stale brown plants that you drop in your stew or your pot roast or what have you to add a little flavor. (Ha. I just said "bay leaves" and "flavor" in the same sentence.)

Alas, I can't just go around spewing my opinion on bay leaves willy-nilly here. This blog was created so I could look at things with a critical (but mostly satirical) point of view. Yes, I hate bay leaves. But why?

I decided to talk to my dad about this. He's a restaurateur and a head chef, but most of all, he was really good at toasting Pop-Tarts just right when I was a little kid.

I said, "Dad, have you ever cooked with bay leaves before?" 

He said,** "No. I haven't. Bay leaves are a disgrace to the dining experience."

There you have it, folks. The culmination of my extensive research on the uselessness of bay leaves. Here are just a few other reasons why I think they're a waste of time:

1. If you abbreviate bay leaves as "BL," that's just one letter away from the abbreviation for bowel movement. Coincidence? I think not.***
2. If you try to feed an infant a bay leaf, they'll just make a face and say "blegh" or "mama," which are both baby-talk for, "Don't you have something better to feed me?" Out of the mouths of babes, I tell ya.
3. One time, the fortune on my Dove chocolate wrapper read, "Are you a bay leaf connoisseur? If you are, find something better to do with your life."

Alas, that's all I have to say about this subject. Thanks for hanging in there. Feel free to chime in on the topic—but if I'm being honest, I've already spent more time thinking about bay leaves than I had planned to for my entire life.

Love bay leaves? Have some great leafy recipes? Feel free to share those, too.****

__________

*These are definitely biased.

**He definitely didn't say this.

***Definitely just a coincidence.

****Just kidding. Keep those to yourself.