And since I don’t really do anything about Halloween, um….
HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS! 😀
And since I don’t really do anything about Halloween, um….
HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS! 😀
My god, Vegas. My god.
Vegas, you were everything I had ever expected with a billion trillion surprises thrown in. Complete with random Darth Vaders.
I did not actually call for any hot babes.
There were hooker cards scattered like rose petals on the surprisingly clean streets. The source of the cards were t-shirt clad people who would slap a deck full of loose women cards against their forearm when people walked by. It felt almost like a rite of passage to accept a hooker card from one of these employees. Other people did–most of them also threw their cards in the street. I wasn’t quite able to work up the courage, though. It was unnerving, and the pictures on the cards were a deterrent in their own right.
If you stay off the streets, Vegas is beautiful.
We only went to a few places in Vegas because we were there for a work conference, so I don’t have many pictures. I also don’t have many pictures because my camera was dead for half the trip. But that’s okay. We’re probably going to the Summit again next year and I can make up for it.
We did get to go to Madame Tussaud’s. You know, the wax museum. It was actually more awesome than it sounds. I married George Clooney, danced with J-Lo, and sat with Simon Cowell for a bit. There was even a haunted house inside–with real actors–that we frolicked in for a bit. Or rather, that I frolicked in. Everyone else was too afraid of the costume-clad guys.
Honesty time. If everyone else hadn’t freaked out, I would have been scared out of my mind. I’m sure there’s lots of bad karma that go along with laughing at other people’s fear. But I’ll worry about that later.
The only other thing we did was wander the streets of Vegas (in groups, with rape whistles*) and look at stuff. Like how there were four Transformer-Bumblebee costumers within a half mile of each other. And like the fountain show at the Bellagio hotel, which was awesome and set to the song “All that Jazz” from the musical Chicago. And like the tiny marmoset that some lady had doing tricks on a bridge for tips. And also like the ridiculously high-end shops which we explored with great fervor.
Have you ever been in a store where one necklace costs more than you make in a month? I have. It was fun. And sparkly. Like Edward Cullen in the sunlight.
What I enjoyed most about Vegas was how completely out of my element I felt. I love a good adventure and, even though it feels weird, I love experiencing something totally off-kilter from my drab everyday life. Sin City was definitely different, but what surprised me was how similar some aspects of it seemed. The city was a lot like Myrtle Beach back home–a really, really big Myrtle Beach where prostitution was legal and also without all the beach touristy stuff. And with giant mountains on the horizon instead of a beach. The layout was about the same, though. The neighborhoods and the buildings and the big freeways. That mix of similarity and difference was just….unforgettable.
Everyone should go to Vegas at least once. Except really religious people. You would probably not like it at all.
*I’m kidding about the rape whistles. But not about the groups. Nobody went out alone into Vegas, that would be stupid.
I’ve done a fair amount of travelling lately, but I haven’t been writing about it! Seems like a shame to me, so I figured I’d fix it.
As promised, Fair pics!
I love the “fried dough” sign. It’s like they ran out of creative ideas. But at least they’re being honest.
Oh, the state fair. A world where agriculture and the people who care about agriculture suddenly appear everywhere, like Wranglers-clad earth-fairies.
I realized something, though. I never got any pictures of myself. I think it’s mostly that I refuse to accost random strangers to take my picture (because it’s weird), and I am also really, really bad at aiming my camera at my own face.
I did, however, get a Ferris wheel shot.
I drove an hour and a half to get to the fair. We only spent two or three hours there, but we did manage to have some fun and hit the highlights of the fair: Apple Cider and hushpuppies.
If you don’t know what hushpuppies are, I am very sorry. They are tasty little devils.
Even though I love going, I don’t think I’ll go to the state fair next year. Nothing ever really changes. I think I’ll go to the Renaissance fair in Charlotte instead. Anybody want to come with?
People are the dominant life force on this planet. We are amazingly strong creatures. We can build skyscrapers, explore space, and solve the mysteries of the world.
We are inspiring. We are powerful. But we are so, so very breakable.
Today, a 15 year old girl lost her life in a car wreck.
I did not know her. But my cousin did.
He was with her in the car during the accident.
He held her as she died.
She was the latest in a slightly alarming string of young-person deaths in my community. Their young lives held so much potential, and their deaths hit home the fatal point that life is short–and death comes often when you least expect it.
Life doesn’t guarantee you time. Life gives you the opportunity to choose your path and face the consequences of your choice.
Sigh. I just….it saddens me. Fate is a cruel mistress.
The bottom line is this:
Don’t wait until tomorrow to do the things you love. Tomorrow isn’t promised, and Today might not last.
My thoughts are with the family and, of course, my cousin’s recovery.
But if it does, make a lemon grenade.
Today I’m off to the State Fair! Whooooo! This was very unexpected and I thought I’d have the afternoon to prepare something more fun for you.
To make it up, I’ll be posting tomorrow–complete with fair pictures of Ferris wheels and apple cider.
I love the fair. Today is going to be a very good day.
It’s been driving me nuts.
This question of significance, this existential asking–this idea of who that has no concrete definition…
Someone told me recently that I wasn’t an adult.
“But, I’m 23,” I said. “I’ve been an adult for five years.”
Apparently that wasn’t a good enough answer.
So I went looking for the definition of adulthood. You know what I found? Semi-vagueness.
Adulthood seems to have two common definitions. One is a noun of a physical nature, of bodily maturity. I meet that specification–I’m no longer a child, I don’t grow anymore–the only growing I’ll be doing is growing old. I am an adult.
The second definition is an adjective, a describer of persons. It’s an attitude of being, a subtle maturity that cannot be defined in specifics.
I believe this definition is subjective. That it means different things to different people based on their presuppositions about life and their values.
It’s the anti-thesis of “immaturity” which is usually the blending of recklessness, stupidity, and the idea that one does not have to become accountable for one’s actions and situation in life.
When I was in high school, I was “mature” because I wasn’t sleeping around, doing drugs, or skipping class.
When I was in college, I was “mature” because I wasn’t getting drunk and partying every weekend.
Now that I’m out of school, I’m not “mature” anymore because I don’t live on my own.
But I have not changed all that much from my high school days. I still don’t sleep around, do drugs, or party every weekend. But suddenly it feels like I am no longer “mature.”
That does not mean that I cannot claim the moniker of adulthood as my own.
What frustrates me is that I have spent years rejecting the notion of adulthood, trying to cling to the wisps of my childhood, and now that I’ve finally accepted my transition to another life stage, I’ve been told that I don’t qualify based on a subjectively vague idea of adulthood.
It frustrates me because I no longer qualify for the criteria of childhood, or teenager-ness.
There is no middle ground.
Us twenty-somethings are cast off in the pool of unknowing. We have no set definition, no set criteria of what we are. We are forced to figure out who we are on a year-to-year basis–and I think that’s what makes us so amazingly vibrant.
Curiously, there is no in-between for maturity and immaturity either.
Because there is no middle ground, I can claim adulthood. But I can also claim some aspects of my youth. I can be flighty, imaginative, and free-spirited. I can travel. I can explore new things and revel in the wonders of life.
But I can also be mature, predictable, and persistent. I can hold down a steady job, pay my bills, and be a good pet-owner.
I am an adult, but I’m not only an adult.
I find myself undefined.