Arghhh Matey, Take 2.

Hello all! If you're new to Sparlke, Sparkle, or if you didn't read the most recent post, or if you have short-term memory loss, I'm going to tell you right now that this post will probably be very confusing if read out of context. So let me just back up here a second and remind you all that I did indeed promise a blog post about life with specific references to pirates. So here we go, and don't say I didn't warn you.

Lately life has been feeling a tinge anti-climatic. It's been more than a year since graduation, I'm still in Seward at the same job, and I'm beginning to feel like my life really should have started by now. What's the hold up, huh? Have I not paid my dues yet? Does having a glamorous job require several more years of servitude in the lower ranks of employment? Perhaps so. Now, what would a pirate have to say about all of this?

I don't know much about pirates, but I'm assuming that you can't just jump on a ship and declare yourself "Captain." (keyword!) The current Captain would never stand for that. You have to spend some time swabbing the deck and rigging the mast and stuff. (Is that even right? Rigging the mast? If so, I'm very impressed with my intrinsic knowledge of ships.) And as you're doing all these menial tasks, a young pirate should always be NETWORKING. Ahh, yes, one of those buzzwords of college that hardly means anything anymore because so many people have told us to do it that we forget how it's done. But I think it involves getting in good with the first mate, bringing a bottle of rum to the deckhands and even cozying up to the guys in the brig, because you never know when they're going to redeem themselves and remember your kindness and give you a job that pays six figures and a generous Christmas bonus.

So yeah, sucking up seems to be key. But not in an ingenuous way, or the Captain will see right through you and make you "walk the plank." (keyword!) And then you're worse off than when you started - in the ocean, sinking fast because I'm not convinced that too many pirates actually know how to swim. Irony? Aye aye. So how does one little pirate get to the "buried treasure?" (keyword!) AKA, the dream job, family, house, what have you. Frankly, I have no idea. If I did, I'd be doing it, duh. And then my blog posts would have a more now-that-I-have-what-I-want-what-d0-I-do-with-it quality about them. So at least you have that to look forward to!

I think the bottom line is this: No matter what your profession, you're probably going to have to spend some time below deck. Sure, there are people that get handed their dream life on a silver platter right along with their diploma, but I am not one of those people. And I know for a fact that most of the people I know are not that person either. I suppose it's just best to sit tight and work/hope for the best. It's not so bad if you have other pirate friends who are going through the same thing.

Hey, here's a thought! Let's all band together and buy a ship and just sail around for a while and see how that suits us. We can go to tropical islands and hang out on the beach, drink lots of rum and make a regular vacation out of it! A pirate's life for me, right? Great! Meet you at the dock. I call being Captain.

Arrrrgh, Matey!

Well, the day has finally come. Yes, the day where I make a wonderfully coherent and timely life analogy about pirates. Didn't see that one coming, did ya? OK, that's sort of a joke. Really, I just wanted to post my newest printmaking creation because I'm pretty proud of it. And if you can't show off your pseudo-artwork on your own blog, where CAN you show it off? So here:

Ta-da! And let's see here. Pirates are like life because... well, sometimes we feel as if we're in a crazy storm, and barely staying afloat... Or maybe you've been looted. Or perhaps you have a talking bird. I don't know, I'm really not my usual metaphorical self today. Sorry to let you down. I will brainstorm on this and return soon with the answers to all life problems using the words "Captain," "Walk the plank" and "buried treasure." Get excited!

Growing Up Is Hard To Do, Or The Emotional Complications of Rearranging Furniture.

So it turns out I'm getting older. Not very quickly, of course, just at the normal rate. But it also turns out that as you get older, you have to do more things for yourself. Recently, I've taken on a slew of things that are making me feel pretty grown-up. Like buying a couch. I mean, a REAL couch, not a futon. And I bought it with MY money! That I earned at my job! Sheesh, it's exhausting to even think about for too long. Granted, the couch did come from an estate sale. (Which is just a glorified garage sale, except they charge tax, the jerks. Just remember this.) And yes, it is white brocade fabric circa 1968, but whatever. It's actually fitting in quite nicely in my apartment which is a funky conglomeration of furniture highlighting all of the best decades in design, AKA the '60s through '80s. And when I say "best," please know that I mean "most questionable in terms of actual taste or style." At any rate, I now have the following items in my living room: 1 couch, 1 chair, 1 shelf, 1 small table and 1 lamp. At least I didn't get overloaded with lamps or something. At least I'm balanced.

So figuring out where these 5 items go should be a breeze, right? Wrong. I think it would actually be easier if I had about 20 things, so that I could fill the space a little better. Instead, I currently have these pieces of furniture spread out as much as possible so that I don't have half a room with nothing in it. Of course the result is that each piece is in awkwardly in its own corner, with the open space just in the middle of the room. So now all the furniture pieces look as if they're laying in wait, prepping to attack each other, eyeing each other with doubt and mistrust. They KNOW they don't go together. Yes, I'm personifying my furniture. See what kind of emotional toll this has taken on me? It's hard trying to be an adult.

Unfortunately, until I find a coffee table, or a large potted plant, or something to tie it all together, I'm just going to have to deal with how it looks right now. It sort of reminds me of a college apartment, but parts of it are more real-house-esque. Perhaps I'm living in some sort of limbo, an interior design purgatory. Who knows. All I do know is that it perfectly reflects my life right now. Sort of a jumbled, odd combination of a bunch of different people, places, things, and plans. The weirdest part is that I feel strangely satisfied with it. I'm not content to stay here forever, but I feel as though I'm almost going through some sort of adult initiation. "Here," says Life, "I'm giving you 5 totally random pieces of me, life. Make it work." (I think Life kind of sounds like Tim Gunn here.) And so I'm trying to make it work. It's looking OK - a little ramshackle at times, but definitely some potential in there somewhere. So to all my post-grad friends, and anyone else who's in transition: I hope that you can work the bits of life you've been given into something lovely. If it's not working, try to rearrange the pieces. Cheers!

These Shoes Rule! Let's Get 'em!

Ladies, have you ever had one of those days where you're out shopping for shoes and after searching numerous department stores you're just about ready to conclude that classy gray pumps are apparently just not "in" enough to offer anything that isn't satiny or covered in rhinestones and you're just, JUST about to walk out of Macy's in defeat and then THERE THEY ARE SHOES FIT FOR A QUEEN but they cost a bazillion dollars? No? Guys, have you? No takers?


Well, twist ending - this happened to me today. Let me just break it down a little bit more for you. As stated earlier, I guess gray is not the color of the season because let me tell you, gray heels are really no where to be found. At least not cute ones. Silver shoes, sure. But I'm not going to prom. I want to pretend to be slightly more mature. Anyhow, I really was about to give up for the day until I decided to take one last swing through the Macy's shoe department and I found them. I think they literally spoke my name as I stopped in front of them. They had an angelic sort of glow emanating from them, like the genie's lamp in Aladdin or something. After I checked the price and privately cursed the fact that I'm not independently wealthy, I just stood there looking at them. Then came the salesperson...


Me: (to self) I'm not going to buy these shoes. I can't spend this much money. It's not practical. Ugh but they're so pretty. I waaaant them. No! No. Must. Resist. Shoe. Temptation.


Salesman: And what size do you need in that pretty shoe?


Me: (hands over shoe) 8 and a half.


Ok, ok. But I was just going to try them on. Until I did and it was love at first step. At this point the shoes were practically begging me to adopt them. What could I do? Just leave them there? To be taken home by someone who could never love them as much as I already did? Of course not. That would be rude. So I bought them. And tried not to think about my poor checking account, which was unquestionably also screaming at me, but for other reasons.


I'm not sure there are too many good life lessons to be learned from this tale, besides maybe that I need to stop anthropomorphizing inanimate objects. But you know what? I don't even care. I love these shoes and I'll cry (with joy) if I want to.

Going Mobile... A Lesson in Never Losing Hope

So it has come to my attention that I have not updated Sparlke, Sparkle in quite some time, which is surely throwing all of your lives into a tailspin, wondering where your joy is going to come from now. Well, for that I must say I am deeply apologetic and I hope that any and all future haituses will not be as long or emotionally painful.

I was feeling particularly content with life about 45 minutes ago, which prompted me to think, "Hey! I should spread this contentedness via the intraweb!" So I ventured to my grandparent's basement to try my luck at their antique desktop. Alas, it was not my day. After loading a second tab on Internet Explorer, the computer got frazzled and decided to go catatonic. So I'm attempting to write this from le iPhone.

"I'll just get on Safari and type away!" I thought foolishly. Nope. Apparently you cannot actually type in the New Post box on le phone. This is still a mystery to me. So I try to download a blog app, which should solve all my problems right? Wrong. "Cannot connect to HTTP. Try again later," this app told me. No! I have to spread joy NOW!! So I got a different app and finally, success! The moral of this story being, if you don't give up hope, you will eventually be able to bore people to tears with the tales of your unimportant phone malfunctions.

But maybe I'll stop being totally shallow for just a moment and say what I really wanted to say originally. Which was in fact, don't lose hope. I have been blessed recently to find myself feeling rather good about life. Job is a little tedious, but at least I have one. I'm going to be coaching volleyball again in the fall as well as taking some art/art history classes , so I'm looking forward to that. And I'll be getting an apartment soon! All good things. And just a year ago, heck, just 6 months ago, I was thinking if I survived this year, it would be a miracle. It reminds me of something someone said on Twitter once: "Last year was shitty and this year I live in Paris. So if you aren't happy, cross your fingers for luck, put your head down and work." I know it's just Twitter, but I thought that was actually rather inspiring. So much can change in a year, or even in a few months, or sometimes even just a few days. As cheesy as it is, there really is no way to know what is going to step in front of your life's path.

So please, dear sparkle, sparkle fan, if you're having a tough time of it, don't lose hope. Much like connecting to your blog on your phone, sometimes it takes a few tries to make a proper connection. But seriously. Eventually you will find joy, and if you're not looking around, joy will inevitably find you.

Sparlke, Sparkle Showcase: Tim

I'm sure by this time you all were thinking, "Is Sparlke, Sparkle gone forever?? Where is the joy in life???" Well, have no fear, ladies and gents. I have not disappeared completely. Although that is slightly deceiving because today's post is actually by guest author, Tim. Here's a quick bio. Tim is a friend of Devin's, ergo, a friend of mine. He likes bike riding to and fro, using maps as decorative elements, formulating intricate plans to win the love of Katy Perry, and pondering the moon. So without further ado, a sparkly bit of prose from the one and only Tim.

***

a yarn of a pool

Today, I wanted to share a story with you about the pool party that never was meant to be. To give a fair warning: it’s a story of heartbreak. But stick with me because when the dust settles you just might learn something about yourself on this short journey we’re about to take.

Back in late January, I went with my friend Dan to the ARC to run on an early Sunday afternoon. I had made the stereotypical New Years resolution of getting into shape, and I knew that it would only last until mid-February, so I had to act while there was still time. We ran at the indoor track-- not anything too extensive, just enough for us to realize how much running sucks again. Afterward we decided to lounge in the pool.

The purpose of going to the pool was just to chill out after the run, it wasn’t meant to be any sort of intense exercise. After a while we learned it was a lot of fun just splashing around and jumping off the diving board. I reminded myself that I cannot jump off a springy diving board, and came to the realization that I may never learn how to properly do it, and will have to go through the rest of my life not being able to.

But anyway, between the splashing and jumping off the diving board in an incorrect manner, an idea hit me. Now, ideas flow through my mind on a daily basis like the Deepwater Horizon pumps oil into the Gulf of Mexico (is this joke too soon, or too late? Maybe a little bit of both). But this was different, and I knew it right from the onset. My idea was a simple one: sometime in the spring we should all get together and have a pool party at the outdoor pool here at the ARC. You know, there will be sunshine, warm weather, beach balls, dance music, everything.

But what day to choose? That, my friend, is simple. The very first day the outdoor pool opens. Why? Why not? But what day was that? I had no idea, so I decided to ask the lifeguard there, “Could you tell me when the outdoor pool opens?”. “Well, I think it’s late April, early May, I’m not exactly sure.”

This, of course, was absolutely no good. I’m a man of dates, of specifics, of marking things on a calendar. I can’t pencil in vagueness into my calendar.

So, I got to work. On Monday I called the ARC and started my investigation. They told me that the ARC outdoor pool was set to open on Saturday, April 30th. I searched weather records, finding average highs, average lows in Champaign, IL for April 30th. The data was overwhelming. Numbers, graphs, charts, old video weather reports dating back to 1982. Finally, I arrived at a conclusion: the average high was 61 degrees. Is this doable? Yes. Well, wait. Actually 61 is quite cool for swimming weather, isn’t it? Well, it’s not that big of a deal, and 61 degrees would never stop me from going into the pool. Ever.

Turns out, that’s exactly what happened. (This is the rising action part of the story).

It was decided and the date was set. A simple Facebook event was created, and invites were sent out. People were excited. I was going to buy a beach ball. What could go wrong?

Actually, several things. The first major clue came in mid-February. At approximately 3:30 a.m. I decided to run the Champaign-Urbana Half-Marathon, which, coincidentally, was April 30th. The same exact day as the pool party. Well, I decided I would do both. The race was in the morning so it left plenty of time for pool fun in the afternoon.

What followed was 2 and a half months of patiently waiting. The buzz was building up. Rumors were flying around about guest celebrities that were set to make an appearance. The week before the pool party was relatively quiet, and again, this should have been a clue that something was amiss, but alas the curtain of naivety was placed before me and my conscious coaxed me into thinking that everything was all right.

Then, during the week before the party all of a sudden I get news from my friend, Sarah. She told me that the website of the ARC has the pool opening on Sunday, May 1st. May 1st!? No! This can’t be.

Needless to say, my world was completely flipped upside down. We were mere days away from the big day and just like that the date had been pushed back. I immediately got on the phone with the ARC. They said that the pool always opens on May 1st, and it was never set to open April 30th. I knew I was defeated. Frustrated, I said, “You have no idea how this impacts the lives of so many people,” and hung up.

Well, I calmed down. The date would just have to be moved to the next day. Luckily, many people still had their schedules free on that Sunday so it was not much of a hardship.

Race day arrived. It was a perfect day to run, and likewise would have been great for a pool party. The original forecast was for rain the entire weekend, but Saturday slipped by as being a nice spring day.

The next day, Sunday, May 1st, is when it all went down. In the morning, it was very nice out-- sunny, warm in the mid 60s. You could tell it was going to be a bit chilly to be jumpin in any pools, but it was definitely doable. Then, around 1pm in the afternoon the temperature dropped. It got cloudy and cool very fast. Now we were in the 50s with just a couple of hours until the party at 3pm.

At around 2:30 you could just tell no one was going to show up, but the captain always has to go down with his ship, and I decided that I was going to go anyway. At least I’ll be able to say I was in that pool the first day it opened.
Well, two of my buddies somehow agreed, and we decided to meet at 3pm. I got to the ARC just before then and as I entered I saw that the pool was completely deserted. When I went inside there was a sign at the desk to swipe in that said “Pool Closed.” Pool closed? I asked the attendant about it. “Well, when the temperature gets below 60 degrees the lifeguards have to close the pool because it’s too cold. It’s a safety thing.”

Talk about dreams getting crushed. And safety issue? Please! I don’t need Big Brother going around telling me when it’s too cold to jump in frigid water and when it’s not. I can get hypothermia all by myself, thank you.

That was it. My two friends and I went in the indoor pool, but it was not the same as a full fledged outdoor shindig.

Sometimes in life, you gotta roll with the punches every now and then. Sure, plans didn’t go as expected, but at each stage you have to view with what was given to you and go from there. Just because things didn’t go exactly as you had planned doesn’t mean you failed. Look at it as being nudged into changing direction. Take it from nature herself-- flexibility is key. Trees bend instead of resisting the wind. Bears just sleep for a whole winter because it’s cold out and can’t find anything else to do. Elephants got stuck with a really long nose but they use to to throw twigs and stuff at each other. I think you get the idea.

So I think we can all sparkle a little brighter if we keep our heads high, never look back, but also never forget the lessons learned from the past. My lesson? You’re really throwing the dice when you plan to swim when it averages 61 degrees outside. But you know, I would still play those odds any day of the week. Life can punch you in the stomach sometimes, but you have to get back up and kick it right back, because you just can’t take that nonsense from anybody, especially if you’re trying to plan an outrageous pool party.

Summer, Or That Time of the Year When I Don't Want To Cry When I Go Outside

I'm a warm weather girl. I don't think there's ever been a time when I've actually been excited about going out into 30-degree weather. Some people relish the crisp sting of frigidness, but if I could, I'd hibernate inside from November to March. I hate the way you have to tense your muscles just to retain any sense of warmth, rendering you perpetually sore for an entire season. I hate the way you have to wear 18 layers of clothes just to feel remotely comfortable. I hate the way my fingernails turn blue on a regular basis and my nose always feels like ice. Snow is pretty, but I don't want to be in it. Give me a white Christmas, and then pack it up by New Year's, thank you very much.

Anyhow, this ranting is not to focus on the trials of winter, but rather to show you all just how much I love summer! Summer is warm and bright. The days are long and the nights are beautiful. Sure, we midwesterners deal with humidity that does scientifically unexplainable things to a gal's hair, but it's a small price to pay for being outside without growing icicles off your eyelashes. So now that it's officially summer, here's some things I'm looking forward to in this hot and sunny season...

*Eating and drinking outside is fabulous. I can't think of anything more pleasant than sitting outisde in the evening after the worst of the heat is gone and just relaxing in the sunset. Doesn't it sound like a Norman Rockwell poster of the 21st century? I mean, really. Talk about a utopia. As long as there's no 50 mph wind (which, unfortunately, is rare in Nebraska) I would do this everyday.

*The OUTDOOR pool! Woo! Let's get excited for laying out right next to a glittering oasis of chlorine! Except that's going to have to wait here in Seward. Apparently there were some massive repair errors at the Seward Municipal Pool, and now it won't be open for another couple of weeks. Well, you say, just go to another pool in town. Ha! Do you know where I live? We're lucky to even have one. So I continue to trek to the YMCA and swim inside, which is less conducive to tanning/burning in my case.

*As kids, my brothers and I would always get dragged along to outdoor summer concerts by my parents (read: by Papa Lange) and although I don't really remember getting into the music, I do remember running around various parks, just absorbing summer at it's finest. Now that I'm older and can appreciate this, I'm going off on my own summer concert adventure. Yes, I will be channeling my inner hippie at Bonnaroo, a music festival in Tennessee. Despite my nerves about possibly not sleeping and/or showering for 4 days, I'm pumped to see talent the likes of the Black Keys, Florence + the Machine, Amos Lee, Alison Krauss (Cham-paign Cen-tral clap, clap, clap-clap-clap), Mumford & Sons, Iron & Wine and oh so many more. Not to mention, Lil Wayne will be there, so how can you go wrong?

*Summer themed cupcakes! Why stop at cake when you can take that extra leap and make summer cake?? Really, all this involves is putting some fruit or something on top, and you instantly have something that is more reminiscent of warm weather and summer vacation. I like raspberries and strawberries, personally. There's also the bonus of getting sucked into the delusion that putting fruit on cake makes it healthy. Which is totally accurate, right? Riiiight.

And there's so many other things that are wonderful about summer. Summer dresses, summer storms, summer road trips, summer sporting events, summer weddings... the list goes on and on. So soak up your summer! Get outside and do something that looks like it could be a spread in a home-living magazine! Roller blade! Bike ride! Jump rope! Hop scotch! Drink scotch! Whatever you need to do to enjoy this most wonderful time of the year, do it! Marvel at this world in its peak of alive-ness. And don't forget the sunscreen! (mostly note to self.) Happy summer!