New Dirt!

In honor of my formal graduation from UMass a year ago this week, I'm pulling from the signs that littered my undergraduate career.


Whenever something on campus was under construction, they'd label it as "New Dirt". These signs were promises of beautiful future facilities and better experiences for the students - but they were also totally indicative of potholes up ahead in the roads.


So, to all of you graduates from my Alma Mater and my home, I wish you the best of luck. You get to be the New Dirt now, and you get to be all excited for what lies ahead.


You don't know exactly what will be built, but you know something good is on its way. The road may be a bit bumpy, but if you keep your eyes open you can avoid those big potholes and keep on your way ahead.




In other news, you may notice that a lot of posts are missing. The page needs some serious work, and instead of looking like a giant photoshopped hot mess, I'm putting in a bit of effort, so bear with me and check back in the future. Who knows, maybe it'll look like a real, honest-to-goodness website!*


*Let's not get ahead of ourselves...

Wishin' and Hopin' and Thinkin' and Prayin'

Early this morning, I dragged myself out of bed in my natural hot-mess state to go watch the single most beautiful event I have ever seen in my life. In sweatpants.

Now, it's not to say that I was absolutely hideous this morning (actually, pretty fair assessment), but who can possibly be bothered to look good when this is your competition?

Inhumanly Gorgeous

The dress, the veil, the hats and fascinators, the guards, the carriages and general splendor of a royal event - there is nothing that can spoil the illusion.

Well, except that.

Fortunately, Princess Beatrice chose to wear an anatomically correct model of the female reproductive system on her head. Suddenly, I was lookin' kinda good in those sweatpants.

Side note: Beige on beige is just as bad as gray on gray. Just say no!

Now, every man in the world has a huge problem because every girl is now thinking this:

correct.

So Prince William is now off the market officially, which means Harry is in the #1 spot. And let's face it,  I'm way cuter than Chelsy Davy.

You said it!

History

This building has been in our family forever. It was a silver shop for years, and produced some pretty cool stuff. Later on, it was used as part of the large furniture industry here in our hometown, and after its production years, was used as a warehouse for a lot of the furniture pieces my family's old factory created.

Around town, a lot of people are curious about the building. No one's really ever been inside unless allowed by a member of our family, but even then, I hadn't been in for years. When my grandfather died this past fall, we realized that there was a lot of stuff to go through in there - a job my father took on bravely, considering the large quantities of old furniture, strange collectibles and years of neglect to the building. 

My father, my family and even some friends have been working for months to go through this building, and being in there for only a short time today really astounded me. The silver shop isn't in the best shape. You can tell no one had been in for years, there was evidence of break-ins, broken windows, and forgotten furniture - fine pieces that have withstood the years of forget, and that will last far longer than anything bought at an ikea or large chain discount store. This place is hauntingly beautiful, and I couldn't help but take some pictures to remember how amazing it was.

And while finding all of this stuff was incredible - I found something else that was an even more meaningful window into the past.

My grandfather won our town's soap box derby and placed third in the country at the National Finals in Akron, OH when he was only 10 years old. To this day, he still holds the speed record for the distance traveled at that time. I had heard about it a few times, but he was never one to brag. When I found these pictures, it really made me miss him. To represent your hometown proudly, have a parade thrown in your honor, still hold a land speed record and be featured in book regarding this historic race, and to never boast? Well, Grandpa, I'm not above bragging for you. My father said it best when describing my grandfather, "He was a yankee, and he was a gentleman."

I found myself surrounded by a lot of history today, both industrial and personal. This just goes on to show that there really is more to things than meets the eye - and while things may appear neglected and falling apart, there is a lot that will withstand time. Memories, and honest good workmanship.

Friday Night Jam Sesh

It's Friday, and as such, you should all be gearing up for a fantastic weekend filled with lots of non-work activities, and what better way than to kick it off than with some great music?


My cousin Greg is some sort of hotshot at Disney in NYC, and when he's not working on films, hanging out with important movie folks and going to the coolest parties EVER, he's collaborating on music and making some amazing beats of his own.

Greg working at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade - seriously, who gets to do this stuff?

So lately, Greg's project has been a mashup between the soundtrack from "The Social Network" and Lady Gaga - Poker Facebook, if you will. He released it last week, and I have to say - it's pretty genius. Yeah, I understand I am potentially biased, but this isn't opinion...this is fact.

Do yourselves a favor and listen NOW because it's already generating some buzz. Wouldn't it be cool to say, "Oh yeah, that? Yeah, totally heard it when it first came out" and actually mean it, rather than just trying to impress your hipster friends?

Side note:

"How many hipsters does it take to change a lightbulb?"

"It's a pretty obscure number, you've probably never heard of it..."

So this weekend, while you're pre-gaming, getting ready, rocking a dance party or sitting alone knitting (or whatever it is you crazy kids do), turn this up and make your weekend even better!

(Do yourself a favor and listen to all 5 of them - the intro and #3 are my absolute faves!!)

If you like it, be sure to check out his other stuff and like him on facebook - it's totally worth it, I promise!

Birthday Present

A week from tomorrow, I will be leaving the "ripe ol' age" of 22 in the dust.

A week from tomorrow, I will celebrating my 2nd annual 21st birthday, or as some of you puritans like to refer to it, my 23rd birthday.

Some of you have already reached this milestone, some of you have some time left - but what's pretty remarkable about it is how unremarkable it really is.

You get to do new things at ages 16, 18, 21 and 25, but for everything after and inbetween, there's not much going on. You get to look forward to hanging out with your friends and family and celebrating as much as you'd like.

I never really thought about it until recently, but this will be my first birthday away from everything - away from my family, my friends and from my home...sooo...what do I do?

Well, in the past I've had parties at skating rinks, clubs in Worcester and Boston (Shboom's, anyone?), and McMurphy's Tavern, but this year I need to do something different. I'm growing into my adult years, and going out binge drinking with a day at the office looming the next morning isn't exactly the best choice. The thought of cake isn't even as exciting as it used to be:

Oh, 8 year old Molly. Maybe cake didn't excite you then either...

Solution!

There's this amazing charity campaign that let's you donate your birthdays to raise money to help get clean water to developing nations. It's called MyCharity:Water, and for only $20, you can give someone clean water FOR LIFE.

I set up my own campaign page (ordained with this terribly flattering picture of myself), and have set my goal for $300. If we actually reach that, we will have helped 15 people or 3 families. How amazing is that?

When was the last time you truly did something nice for someone you'll never get to meet? And just think, instead of buying me a drink on my birthday, you'll be buying someone a lifetime supply of clean water for the same price as that bar tab - and you'll be sparing me the hangover!

I've already donated $23, and it's practically unmentionable to buy yourself a drink (let alone someone else!) on your birthday, so pitch in. $1 or more can really make a difference, see for yourself:

So I may not have presents, friends, families or an epic night out to the bar this year - I don't really know what I'll do to celebrate this year - but if we could do this together, I know it'll make this year unforgettable not only for me, but for everyone we can help.

Just think it over (especially if you're in desperate need of some serious karma points) and on April 7th, whether you're celebrating with me or not, we can all raise a toast of clean water together!

Luck Be a Lady?

I don't exactly know how much credit I can grant fortune sometimes. Part of me likes the idea of it, but part of me is hesitant to give much weight to something that can also come in cookie form.


Senior year of college I went to fortune teller with my friend Kath on a whim. Palm readings for $5 on the side of the road on Rt. 9. Well, we were missing class anyway, and graduation was swiftly approaching, so why not?


This young woman brought us onto her sunporch and we each took turns having our palms read. We opted for the personality reading, where she'd tell you more about yourself rather than what was going to happen somewhere down along the road. She told Kath things that seemed to resonate strongly with her, and for the most part seemed really accurate. I was really curious about what she would have to tell me.


When it was my turn, we sat down together behind a screen and she asked me when my birthday was and which hand I wrote with. I opened my right hand for her, and she grabbed it and began tracing it with her finger like they do in the movies. She looked at me and asked (pretty ominously), "do you want to hear only good things, or the bad things too?" 


Damn my curiosity.


Well, to be perfectly honest, I was kind of astounded at what she picked up on. In about five minutes, she was able to tell more about me than some of my good friends would be able. No, I won't write what she told me, why spoil the end of the story for anyone? What I will say though, is that after that I was pretty impressed and could finally see why other people put so much consideration into things like this.


That is, until today.


It's amazing how quickly you can abandon an idea. We all love those fortune cookies we get at Chinese restaurants, and generally always try to apply it to our lives in some way, whether it be the message, the lucky numbers on the back or in some cases the "learn Chinese" phrases that are never useful. 


Well, today my co-worker Lindsay and I stumbled across a pair of fortune cookies in our office breakroom. Being the Nosy-Nancies we are, we took them and greedily opened them to see what fate awaited us. Lindsay went first, and as I heard the cookie crack open, I heard her squeal, "Molly! Look! What does this mean?"


When she opened the cookie, she didn't just get a small paper fortune, OH NO. She got six.
SIX FORTUNES.

Oh, so this is what luck looks like?

5 of them said "Life to you is a dashing and bold adventure", while the remaining one said, "God will give you everything that you want." Not too bad. I was really excited to see what I got.

Well, I only got one fortune. What a fortune it was.

Really?

Touché destiny. Well played.

Six months?!

So, I've hit the six month mark in Virginia.


Part of me can't believe I've been here this long, and part of me is pissed at the other part for its lack of confidence.


I never really expected for it to be easy, and rest assured it hasn't been. I'm still adjusting to things after all this time, and making new cultural discoveries almost daily.


Note: DO NOT refer to any liquor store as the "packie" in your colloquial Massachusetts way. It is often misinterpreted as a racial no-no...FYI...


Today, I found myself watching Boston Med and realizing that in all the time I've spent here, I really never allowed myself to be actually homesick. When I moved here, I started work the following day and haven't stopped since (minus holidays, yes, UMass homecoming counts). Listening to the accents, the casually dropped "wicked", combined with the noise of the sirens outside my apartment made me so homesick I could hardly breathe.

I miss that dirty water...

That's not to say that everything in Virginia has been bad. I don't want to give off that impression at all - I have had a lot of fun in the six months I've lived here, and I've been incredibly lucky with all the opportunities that I've been given.


I've been very fortunate with my job. I'm getting better at it all the time, learning so much I wish it was graded, and having fun with my co-workers. In all honesty, I lucked out. Your co-workers could just be people that you have nothing in common with, besides walking the same bit of carpet everyday. No, these people invite me out because they know I'm new to the area, answer my questions, and (usually) understand my obscure pop culture references free from judgment. Not many people get that.


I live a mile from the Pentagon, 3 from the Lincoln Memorial and National Mall, and less than a 10 minute drive from that high school in "Remember the Titans". That's pretty cool. This is the most powerful city of the free world (as advertised by radio station 99.5), and has been the setting for some amazing things, including this:

This is why I majored in Poli Sci, people.

Every so often though, I find myself missing all of my friends from home to death. Watching your friends get tagged in pictures together on facebook only reminds you that you're not there, and only being able to call your mom instead of going into a different room in your house to talk or hug her really sucks. But, fortunately I'm getting better with it.

I've learned way more about myself in these 6 months than in any of the four years of college where you're expected to "find yourself". I never knew that I could really cook, fix a broken fuse in my car, paint on a canvas and have it not suck, or put myself out there in place where I'm pretty much alone. And to risk sounding completely narcissistic, I'm damn proud of myself.

For anyone out there that has moved from home, or is anticipating doing so, this is my advice:

1. Expect nothing and prepare for everything.

2. Evolve, but don't lose your quirks (ironically, they'll keep you sane).

3. Do something unexpected whenever life gets boring (today I joined a kickball league!)

4. There is nothing a glass (read: bottle) of wine and a Jen Lancaster book can't solve.

PREACH!

I don't really know what life has in store for me next, but if it's anything like the last six months, bring it on...

An open letter to Judy Blume

Are you there, Judy? It's me, Molly.


I'm not ashamed to say that I have been a reader for quite some time. You were inspiring during my formative years - you weren't afraid to tackle the hard-hitting issues of the day, and for that, I thank you. I'd like to say that your aptitude of dealing with middle school girls and helping them prepare for their bright futures was en pointe...but Judy, I would be wrong.


I feel like you should have prepared us much better.


Judy, in middle school I was bright eyed and bushy tailed and eager to take on the world of rainbows, cute boys next door and the promise of being a blossoming flower...blah blah blah. I feel like you left a lot out.

Yeah, I got a few things to tell you, Judy...

You said nothing of real world jobs, the trouble that is having your own health insurance, student loans, crazy stalkers and Craigslist Killers, fake british guys you unknowingly date, tequila, living in an area where there are 21 registered sex offenders in your immediate vicinity, and people that you try your darndest to friend-zone for everyone's well being without looking like a complete asshole...




Judy, you BARELY covered the basics. I went into this life like a lamb into the slaughter that had been  blindfolded while wearing noise canceling headphones. While you had me looking one way, the whole world was colluding in left field and then hit me in the face with a truth-filled baseball.

Aww, enlightenment. FEELS GOOD doesn't it, Blume?

Get your shit together, Judy. I expect revisions, new editions and you bet that I'll be looking for my name in the acknowledgments section. I'll also accept a dedication.


Fondly,
Molly


p.s. I really did like Superfudge though. Classic.

Craigslist Killer

Everyone wants it. You see that hot manski (or lady) over there in the corner, eye them from across the room and hope to strike up a conversation that leads to a glorious long term relationship filled with romantic getaways and lazy sundays gazing adoringly into each other's eyes...


Well, in reality this doesn't happen. Sorry.


Sometimes you just don't have enough time to strike up that conversation at the bar/party/grocery store...that's where the art of giving your number comes in handy.


I did such a thing (shocking, I know!). His name was "Joshua", and he was very attractive, educated, funny and nice. I received the first texts while I was in Massachusetts for New Year's, with my flight back down to where we lived in Virginia in two days. If we hit it off via text, why not see if there was any more chemistry?


The texts were charming in the beginning, as the night drew on they turned a bit strange. I wasn't too concerned, my good friend Jamie Foxx told me to blame it on the alcohol, and so I did. He's drunk, I figured. He couldn't comprehend why I wouldn't be in Virginia with him for New Year's, and kept trying to get me to switch my flight to that night (it was about 1:30 AM at that point).


Note: The conversation has been edited for privacy. I don't want him to find it and go all Craigslist killer on me, so most personal information has been deleted, but I assure you all texts are legitimate.


Note: No, I haven't seen the Lifetime movie yet. Yes, I'm absolutely dying to.


When I kept insisting that this wasn't possible, he switched to other tactics to guilt me into it...

modesty

I should have red-flagged this more seriously then. The next day, I got some stranger texts, mainly him talking about his father, and how he had died in February. I felt bad for the kid, I still didn't know him very well, but still, losing a parent must be hard. Well that was one giant Pandora's box that shouldn't have been opened.

Apparently, his father had "turned gay and left our family" to live in DC and do drugs. He said that he had gotten involved with some shady people and that things were pretty bad...at this point I was getting pretty concerned. If you don't really know someone, and you're attempting to date them, you probably shouldn't pull out your arsenal of dark and dirty family secrets immediately. Just sayin'

Uh oh.

So by now, little red flags show up in my mind every time my phone indicates I have a new text. I rarely respond to them now, but when I do it's usually pretty vague or generic so as not to encourage anything while still attempting to be polite. Yeah, that doesn't work FYI. Pretty soon, he was inviting me to google his father's obituary.

Yes, Joshua. Really freaked out.

I am no longer responding at this point, but if I do it's a subtle hint that he shouldn't be saying these things to me. I don't want to be rude, but it's late, I'm tired and my flight is in the morning. This doesn't stop him though, he continues to soldier on.

Sweet Jesus there is NO way I'm calling.

Now he's finally noticing that I'm no longer responding. He moves on to more bold moves and begins trying to evoke sympathy from me. He tells me that his grandfather is in the hospital and that it's "lonely in this waiting room with no pretty girls to hold my hand". I'm not falling for it. An hour or so goes by and I get the text I've been dreading (and not just because he has suddenly decided to call me "babe")...

NO, I didn't ask him what the mean thing was. Ignorance is bliss.

Well, I'm not a monster. I just lost both of my grandfathers within weeks of each other, and this is a huge soft spot for me. 

Wait...what?

Now, I'm no medical expert, and it's clear that Joshua isn't either, but generally if you're:

A. In the hospital with him

B. Listening to the doctors

C. Sober

D. Past the age of most kindergartners 

...you can probably figure out within the past seven hours if your beloved grandfather is dead or not. 

That's it for me. I'm done now. I don't care. That's pretty low. Again, I stop responding and a few days later I hear my phone buzz while I'm sleeping.

Weary? Yeah, that's one word for it.

Here's a tip for all the single ladies out there - if a guy has to tell you that he's "totally safe", there's a 90% chance that he isn't. 

So here we are, days later. Still no responses from me, yet his crusade continues. Now he's taken to drunk texting me nonsense at 3:50 AM. Lovely.

So the next time you see that cute guy you don't know very well and you want to slip him some digits, think twice. Sure, I'm safe and sound now, however there was a large probability that I would've ended up featured in his bedroom as his newest lampshade. I'm rather attached to my skin (har har) unfortunately, and as such I say "Good day, to you sir" Joshua, and wish you all the best on your quest for a ladyfriend with which you can make a charming addition to your living room set.