My friends are huge fans of Sex and the City. I like it, and I’m gradually making my way through the box sets, but I wouldn’t call myself a hardcore fan. One major problem I have with SATC is the culture that has developed from it – girls craving designer clothes, girls thinking cocktails with lunch is the norm, girls who think they are better than others. I don’t like it and I don’t like others who try to push it onto other people. It’s the whole mentality people have over how women should behave – SATC is not real life, it’s fiction. When people label each other as the Samantha or Carrie of the group, when people talk about sex over dinner, when people think that life is one big friggin’ fairytale – it irritates me.

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Cool: The kids slept in until shortly after 8 this morning.

Not Cool: There was a big mess waiting for me in Oliver’s room.

Cool: One of my closest friends came for a visit yesterday and spent the night.

Not Cool: She brought this cheddar flavored popcorn with her that, once popped, made the whole house smell like gym socks.

Cool: I played Dave’s newest addiction for the first time last night and discovered that I am not good at it.

Not Cool: It’s like crack, man. All I can think about is when I’ll be able to rock out again.

Really Not Cool: We discovered the reason behind Julia’s mystery fever: She’s got a throat infection. Again. We were supposed to pack up and take a trip north to my aunt and uncle’s house for more Christmas festivities this weekend, but with Julia sick that’s looking doubtful.

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For one or two days out of every year I have to wear a suit to work.  This is one of those days.  I hate it.  I can’t stand wearing suits.  I feel like I’m at my own open-casket funeral.  I don’t mind tuxes, in fact I quite enjoy wearing my tux.  I think a man in a tux is just about irresistible.  And most men look pretty darn good in a suit.  I just hate wearing one.  They are itchy and stuffy and blah.

I own two suits.  The first one is now a museum piece, as I had a small waist when I first bought few years ago.  Days gone by, my friends, days gone by.  The second is a chunky dark gray suit that looks like it was taken right out of The Sopranos wardrobe.  It was poorly tailored in a rush to have it ready for my grandfather’s funeral and completely unsuited (ha, unsuited!) for business use.  Unless I’m conducting business in a titty bar.

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Do you remember during Bill Clinton’s first term, in response to a question about her past, Hillary Clinton said “I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas, but what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession.”

At the time, I completely supported her statement and thought the backlash from certain women’s groups was unfair. She was a strong smart woman and what she had meant was that she chose to pursue her career instead of being a home maker. What was wrong with that? Good for her I thought.

Well, now life looks a little different. In the last seven days, I’ve made at least eight dozen cookies and I love going to and having ladies teas.

What the hell happened to me? I went from being an ambitious lawyer climbing up the career ladder with both hands and both feet on fire to spending an entire afternoon making the most awesome snowman cookies EVER with my sons!

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Sometimes I get the urge to write about something, and it hits me quickly, almost hard. When I get hit with an urge like that it’s usually to write something about my mother, which at times is easy for me to do and other times is extremely hard. Sometimes I write about her and intend to post the piece, but end up sitting on it instead, because like writing about her, there are times when it’s easy for me to post something about her and times when it almost scares me. And there is a part of me that wonders if you, my readers, get tired of me writing about my mum – yet when I wrote about her recently, I was touched by the supportive comments that were left. I was thinking of how it was to be a teenager, but my mind drifted back to my mother… 

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I had a sudden realization this morning. Ten years ago this fall I was starting my senior year of college, I had accomplished a lot since then and currently I’am also working as a volunteer developing online GED classes with an online platform named MyCareerTools, though my education was in the classical music field.

Fall means back to school time, but for this conservatory alum that means back to choir time. We’re two rehearsals into the new season and it’s shaping up to be another amazing year for the  Choral Society. First on the program is Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms at Carnegie Hall in November. Next on the list – and the highlight of this season for me – is Rachmaninoff’s All-Night Vigil (aka Vespers) in February. I’m so excited to tackle this work. There’s no way to describe how exquisite it is, so y’all’ll just have to come and hear it in the winter. And speaking of all things choir, we could use some additional singers. If you happen to be a tenor or bass, willing to dedicate one night a week to rehearsals and a few hours of personal music study, are a good sight-reader and have choral experience, let me know. I’ll set you up with an audition with our director.

But going back to studying during those first three years of school, I had completed several very important rites of passage:

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Have I ever told you the story of how I use to be a people pleaser? Yes I did? Okay great, so we can skip that part of the story. But incase you have no clue what a people pleaser is here is my personal definition:

A People Pleaser: A person who is willing to sacrifice their own happiness for others’ enjoyment. 

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This is probably the most personal post I could come up with, but it is also the most relevant.  So here it goes, what is love really? What does it mean to feel loved, be loved?

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Lately I have been enjoying the book The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. It details how she strives to find more happiness through taking on different routines and outlooks on life. One of the greatest points that I have taken away from the book so far is the saying “It is fun to fail.” Let me explain.

As a perfectionist it is definitely not fun to fail, in fact that is my biggest fear! I have hated any type of criticism, or public mistake to the point that it has stifled my chances of really growing and reaching my fullest potentional. My vocabulary was riddle with says of “Oh I can’t do that.” Or “I don’t have enough time to get this done.” What I was really thinking was “Oh, I can’t do that… perfectly the first time so I am not going to try.” And “I don’t have enough time to get this done…perfectly the way I know you and I would want it.” You see what I mean. Perfectionism is crippling.

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I can’t do that because I don’t have enough experience in that field…

I will start monday…

I am not skinny enough to wear that…

No one will ever read or listen to what I have to say anyway, I am just not good enough…

I can’t submit my resume yet, it is’t perfect…

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