I Moved To Wordpress

Dear readers (all 8 of you),

I moved to Wordpress.

www.kahunsinger.wordpress.com

I'm still working out the kinks, but for updates, find me there.

And when I can figure out how the hell to add blogs to my reading list from the Wordpress dashboard, I'll follow you from there, too.

xo
Kelsey

The Terrible Traveler

I am a terrible traveler.

I am a stress case, and an overpacker, and an underestimator, and a poor planner, and a hotel's worst nightmare (I should know, because I work in one) - and lack all the general survival skills necessary to navigate any major city.

Here follows a hypothetical one-sided conversation with a local stranger - who initially takes pity on me, thinking I am a sweet, innocent lost young woman who needs his expertise but who gives up in exasperation in short order:

"I am lost, thank you so much for helping me! I'm trying to get to the east bay. Where in the east bay? I don't know, they told me 'east bay'. Is that not a town?  Oh, I see. Well I'm supposed take the subway. There's no subway? Just a train? Oh, I mean the train, then. Where's the subway - I mean, train? Which way? That way? Like across the marketplace or around that building? So it's underground? I thought it was a train. Wait - it goes UNDER WATER?! Yikes, I don't like that. Can I take a cab? I see...that sounds expensive. Well how do I get there?  I go 'that way'? Well what kind of direction is that? Oh, around that building. So I go around the building - the one on the right or the left? The left? Got it. And then what train do I take? The blue line? The blue line going which direction? East?  Okay, so I take the blue line east but then I thought I was trying to go north - oh, it ends up north? It doesn't? Well where does it end? So do they take cash? No? Is there any ATM around here? Let me just get my wallet.... Preferably Bank of America if you know of one; I really hate those fees at other banks, don't you? Especially when you're traveling, I mean you spend enough on the flight and everything without... Sir? ... Hello?"

And I look up and around to discover that the Good Samaritan has run for his life, departing in a flash of desperation that leaves only the faintest whiff of his good intentions behind.

It's no better at the airport. Heaven forbid you be the unlucky individual whom I have requested to drive me there, as likely you'll arrive at my home on time only to find me unprepared to leave and cramming last-minute attire and travel "necessities" into my suitcase, often including a piping hot curling iron from hair that has just been coiffed, a selection of 6 pairs of shoes that I won't wear (and only 2 that I will) and a bag of makeup that I cannot decide upon (cool- or warm-toned eyeshadow? do I need both lash-extension AND waterproof mascara?). And then, in rushing out the door, I'll realize that I've forgotten something (probably my jewelry) and will make a mad dash back upstairs to retrieve it - and then won't be able to focus on conversation all the way to the airport, because I'll be too consumed with worry about missing my flight (unlikely, as I always give myself at least an hour and a half at the airport before departure) and whether I've forgotten anything.

And somewhere in the midst of this, I'll be calling the hotel - yet again - to confirm that my room does indeed have 2 queen beds and saying to the agent something like, "I know you can't really guarantee me the garden view but could you check your inventory today and see if there's a possibility of pre-blocking? The agent last night told me you weren't at full capacity so I'd think there would be an early departure today and maybe you could put me in that room? I know I called yesterday, but I just wanted to double-check... How's occupancy these days, anyway? Oh, sure I'll hold. ... Oh, thank you so much! I so appreciate it and will happily write you a great review on TripAdvisor - what's your manager's name? I just want to be sure he/she knows what a top-notch employee you are there. So I saw the cutest little one-bedroom suite online - any chance you might be able to get me an upgrade? I mean we are staying for three nights..."

When I arrive at my destination (we'll skip over the hyperventilating on the plane, and the obsessive-compulsive checking of the seatbelt and emergency procedures before take-off - and for the record, if you sit the emergency aisle and don't look like the kind of person who'd be up to the task of saving our lives, I'm totally judging you) I'll change my credit card at check-in, and will have failed to note that there are actually 3 people in the room instead of 2 (asking the 3rd person to stand by at the elevator and look inconspicuous so we don't get caught and charged the 3rd person fee) and will forget to have cash for the housekeeper. Finally, upon departure, I'll find myself in the exact same predicament as when I left home - late, with too much gear (how do the contents of a suitcase seem to multiply by the end of a trip, even when one hasn't bought anything new?) and not enough space for it and rushing to the airport (and probably in a bad mood, because it's almost never fun to come home).

But these are just the logistics. Over the course of the trip, I will have eaten, drank and laughed (at myself, a lot, for my ridiculous travel tendencies); visited someplace new (or perhaps old and familiar and wonderful); seen longtime friends or made new ones, and discovered places, people, things and maybe even a bit of myself along the way, and will have made wonderful memories. When I travel, sightseeing isn't important - nor is scheduling time for specific activities.  When I travel, what I'm looking for is an immersion of myself in the destination - so that I simply enjoy being there.  For as much time as I spend worrying about the logistics of getting away, I find that when I finally do get there the only thing that matters to me is simply being in the destination I've chosen. What I remember, at the end of the day, is what a great time I had while I was traveling - every part of it.

So perhaps I'm not such a terrible traveler after all. But I'd suggest giving yourself 10 extra minutes when you come to pick me up.

Mathematical Equations in Dating

I'm no mathematician.

In my freshman year of college, I had to take remedial math.  Remedial math.  Like X + Y = Z kind of stuff.  Or something like that.  I don't know - I wasn't really paying attention.  Much like in high school, which I'm guessing is why I had to re-take it in the first place.

But as an adult, I've found that even though theorems and calculus rules have gone in one ear and right out the other during the course of my education, there are plenty of practical mathematical applications in my every day life.  Particularly when applied to dating.  For example, if date ideas were a mathematical equation, "dinner plus movie" would equal "yawn" - "yawn" being the truth to a proven theory that factor "dinner", when added to factor "movie" exponentially increases both parts of the equation to their highest intrinsic value and leads to answer "yawn".  ("Yawn" being the subject equivalent to a root canal.)  See how easy that equation was?  Yet, it seems to be rather difficult to understand when it comes to planning first dates.

Here's the deal:  It's not like I expect The Bachelor-style creativity (read:  reality TV-style fantasy) when it comes to first dates, but all I'm really looking for in a relationship is to connect with someone, and I've yet to find that connection over an awkward dinner and a mutually agreed-upon movie in which both parties are only semi-invested, as often neither person is willing to expose the true nature of their cinematic interests on a first date.  No, I've found that the best first connections are those which are not "dates" at all.  coffee and a stroll in the park (where the dog runs away); a lacrosse match followed by beers (where the guy's teammates show up and make themselves at home between you); playing pool at the local sports bar (where a heated argument ensues over the actual artist singing the song on the jukebox), or a Big 12 college football game (where the guy's team loses - terribly).  These are scenarios that make no logical sense whatsoever:  "attraction" plus "undesirable/embarrassing/frustrating situation" equals "inexplicable great first date".  

I'm a mathematical anomaly, because I'm a linear person, and like to go in a natural progression of order when it comes to my life - but there are some social cliches (such as dinner and a movie) that are so straight and narrow that I just can't abide by them.  Why must we "start" by "getting to know one another" in this way?  It feels to me as though the tradition of the idea of getting to know one another often supersedes actually just doing it.  There's something about the randomness - or perhaps messiness - of a non-traditional date that's so appealing to me.  Even my worst relationships have started with a great story - and at the end of the day, that's made the initial (sometimes unromantic) connection and (sometimes challenging) subsequent attempt at maintaining the relationship well worth it.  I would trade traditional first dates for witty banter and simple, human connections any day - and I'm well aware that there's nothing linear about that.  

So no offense, but I'll pass on dinner plus movie - it's not that romantic, memorable moments and conversation can't be had using that particular equation, or that outcome is the same for everyone.  Perhaps it's just that I've yet to meet the guy who can disprove the theory that "yawn" is the answer, but I'd rather play around with other factors and see if I can create my own mathematical truth in dating - even if it takes a number of failed attempts to get there.

But maybe I've got it all wrong, because I'm just not very good at math.

Flight or Flight Response

I've never been one to shy away from telling anyone what I think.  Between my smart mouth, brace face and Coke bottle spectacles as a kid, I sometimes wonder how I made it through my whole childhood and into my adult life without getting beat up.  Actually, someone did shove me into a wall in the 7th grade (which I'm sure was unprovoked...well, pretty sure) but I believe he's now incarcerated (for the record, I didn't have anything to do with that) so suffice to say he's getting his.  

But I've found as an adult that nerds with smart mouths don't get very far personally or professionally - unless they aspire to be comedians, and unfortunately the humor gene skipped me in our family - so I've made a concentrated effort to curb my commentary (for the most part).  And I've also found that where once I wouldn't have shied away from potentially awkward situations (because everything's infinitely less awkward when you have a cheeky facade to hide behind), I now am much more hesitant to put myself in scenarios that I perceive to be stressful or frustrating.  It's the phenomenon of the fight or flight response:  "When we experience excessive stress—whether from internal worry or external circumstance—a bodily reaction is triggered, called the 'fight or flight' response. Originally discovered by the great Harvard physiologist Walter Cannon, this response is hard-wired into our brains and represents a genetic wisdom designed to protect us from bodily harm." According to the great Dr. Neil F. Neimark (the first Google response for keyword search "fight or flight response" and thus the most credible), this is "...our body's primitive, automatic, inborn response that prepares the body to 'fight' or 'flee' from perceived attack, harm or threat to our survival."

Well, in my case it's more like the "flight or flight" response, as these days my inborn response to perceived stress or attack is simply to run away.

Observe, a list of daily situations, individuals and tasks I make every attempt to flee at all costs:

Frenchie, the homeless Real Change guy who stands outside my local RiteAid.
Stressor:  Parading bags of useless stuff I bought on credit in front of a homeless guy.
Flight response:  Stalk him from my apartment (I can see the RiteAid from my window) and wait 'til he steps away for a minute - then throw on a hat, run across the street, dash through the store grabbing things madly and walk out really fast, hoping he doesn't see me or engage me in conversation.

Making decisions about getting together with people when I really don't feel like it.
Stressor:  Having to tell the truth.
Flight response:  Avoid calls and don't tell the truth (ie, "I feel sick", "I have a big day tomorrow", "I'm going to work out" - ha!).  I think it's really the most mature way to manage the situation.  No one's interested in the truth.

Deadlines.
Stressor:  Deadlines.  I hate them.
Flight response:  Do...nothing.  And then race around trying to get everything done at the last minute and hope it all comes together.  I've been doing this for years and years now - I highly recommend it.  Better if your job depends it.  Fear's a great motivator.

Putting away clean dishes.
Stressor:  There's really no great stressor here - it's just that putting away clean dishes is a hateful task.
Flight response:  Leave all the dishes where they belong - in the dishwasher - and use accordingly until they are all dirty again.  Dishwashers make an excellent storage unit.

Taking the bus.
Stressor:  Ending up in Beacon Hill - or worse yet, Burien - late at night.  By myself.  Probably when my cell phone battery's almost dead and also I have no change to get home.
Flight response:  Walk everywhere, looking like a country bumpkin suburbanite in my suit pants and sneakers (as if I'm walking, I'm not going to be wearing high heels).  Get lost anyway.

Dr. Neimark says that the flight response is counterproductive, but I tend to disagree.  I get all sorts of things done by running away, as evidenced by the above.  Perhaps not as quickly or efficiently as everyone else, but I seem to manage.

And now if you'll excuse me, I must go do exactly nothing about my project that's due tomorrow, as I'm quite sure I'll have plenty of time in the morning to get it done.

Auld Lang Syne

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and auld lang syne?"

In a word:  Yes.

Poor 2009.  It will never be looked upon with fondness and smiles.  Toward the end of 2008, it was pretty clear that 2009 was going to be a crappy year, and it's all 2008's fault, really.  2009 never stood a chance at being a positively memorable year.  Wait, I take that back - it was positively memorable as a really god-awful wretch of 365 days for a lot of folks.

I think most of us are ready to put "auld lang syne" - at least as it pertains to 2009 - behind us, where it belongs.  Personally, I'm trying to see the best in the year, but overall it was exhausting.  There was a slightly panicky note to every situation, a whiff of desperation and impending disaster.  Every new expense in the workplace could have meant another layoff.  Each evening phone call from an unidentified number could have been a collection agency.  A strange engine sound could have meant the difference between getting to work and getting paid to work.  Of course, all these things could have happened anyway, regardless of the down economy.  But the feeling that we were all right on the edge of lifestyle security was so pervasive in 2009 that  I can't help but feel uncharitably toward the year in general.

At the risk of sounding very Debbie Downer, I have to say that frankly, it was a tough year for me.  I traveled less to see friends and out of state family than I normally do, which was a major strain on my emotional health - and worse than the lack of travel was the feeling that I couldn't travel because I wanted to have the backup finances available to me, just in case.  I made no progress whatsoever in the department of relationships (male relationships), largely because I was so stressed out all the time that I didn't have any energy left over at the end of the day to even bother trying.  I haven't advanced at all professionally, as really I've been grateful just to have a job and with the uncertainty of revenues in the travel industry, there hasn't been any place for me to advance to in my job, so I've stayed put.  And it's been an up and down year for familial relationships as well - or, at least, I've felt it more acutely than ever.

Sigh.

I'm well aware that even though we've moved into a new year, nothing will change overnight.  Some of the things that weren't so great about 2009 for me will inevitably carry over into 2010, simply because unfortunately New Year's Eve confetti isn't actually fairy dust that automatically wipes the slate clean at midnight.  But I'm happy to put auld lang syne behind me (and yes, some auld acquaintances, too) and work on moving forward into a new year that will be remembered well.

Welcome, 2010.