An Apartment Tour and a Startling (to me) Announcement

I’ve been increasingly hermity lately.  But unlike the past when times like this came from a pretty negative place (depression, social anxiety, general hate-the-worldiness) I’m thinking this time it’s more for positive reasons. 

1 – I really love my apartment.  It’s beautiful and makes me feel grown-up and I can do whatever the fuck I want there.  And I don’t have to wear pants.  Or shirts.  Or anything.  And it’s pretty darn awesome. All of the entertainment I want is readily available to me.  I have my books, my writing, my paints, my Netflix, my apt’s gym, my keyboard… and on and on.

And oh - hey, I never took you on a tour of my apartment.  Please see the below pictures. I took these a few months ago on my crappy cellphone that takes crappy pictures and that I can rarely hold steady.  My bedroom and bathroom are still rather boring looking so they're not pictured here.

Someday the keyboard will get a proper chair.

Backless bookshelf born out of "Oh shit, the bookshelf got
broken in the move!" and my brother's ingenuity.

The fun things on the windowsills get rearranged every time the windows
are opened. They look nothing like this anymore.

The scary wood thingie on the wall that Mom and Dad keep suggesting I
cover up.  Dad suggests an American Flag.  Jokingly... I hope.

Couch courtesy of Grandma and Granpa's old house.

Sadly, those stools still don't have cushions on them.

Clearly, this place is not lit for photography.

So yes, that's my little hodge-podge home :-)  Now, back to the post - 

2 – I feel like the things I do at home are better for my personal growth than the things I do outside of my home.  I go out, I have some laughs, I have copious amounts of alcohol, I make questionable choices and I… that’s about it.  But if I stay in, I have some laughs, I learn some things, I edge closer to being the person I want to be.

3 – I’m using my money more effectively.  AKA – I’m paying my bills and buying decent food instead of putting off my bills, feeling like I’m drowning in debt and eating takeout all the time.  I’m living more frugally and it feels freaking fantastic.

Now, I’m not saying I never leave my house except to go to work.  But Sunday-Thursday, you’re most likely to catch me at home than anywhere else.  Friday and Saturday I do try to get out of the house to socialize with my friends, but I’m also trying to make these events more likely to be events where I’ll meet someone new instead of just visiting the same old dive-bars we went to when we were 21. 

Because, really, I’m tired of the same old same old, and if that’s the alternative I’d much rather stay at home where I feel like I’m doing things that cause me to grow, than sitting around having the same conversations in the same tired places. 

Maybe I’m just becoming an old fuddy-duddy?  

***************

In other, sort of unrelated, news, I’m still writing my story. 

It’s weird.  This is the first time I’ve put this much thought into anything I’ve ever written.  I’m planning the storyline, creating the world (because it’s very Sci-fi/Fantasy), and trying to create believable but highly differentiated characters.

And so here’s the part where I decide I’m going to stop saying “I’m writing my story” and just finally admit (to myself as much as anything) that -

I’m writing a book.

Well great jumping jackalopes, that’s a little scary to look at.

But the fact of the matter is, the storyline that’s developed in my head is so incredibly massive it seems unfair to continue to just refer to it as “my story” as if it’s some kind of trifle.  Ever since I was 10 years old and began writing for fun, I’ve been writing “my stories”.

But this thing, it has taken on a life of its own and to call it anything less than a book feels like I’m insulting its integrity.  So it is, with great fear, anxiety, pretense and many vomity feelings, that I’m going to start saying –

I’m writing a book.

*Whew* Well, now that that’s out there in the universe…

I’m not going to share much of the plot because it still feels a little silly.  When you’re a rational adult, trying to explain a story about space travel and magical abilities is very blush-and-giggle-inducing.  So far I’ve only talked to my family and Han about the actual plotline and the physics of the world I’m creating.  Han’s gotten a chance to read the first ten pages and has helped me over a couple of the hurdles I was initially facing.

But here are a couple of questions you can all help me with:

• Do you prefer to know a character’s back-story all at once at the beginning or in little pieces throughout?
• What are some tired plot devices or character types that you never want to see in another book?

I’d love some input :-)

Much love,

Annie Jay

Deliciousness Born Out of Necessity

Someday I'll be brave enough to try the hot peppers...

I've been pretty broke the last few weeks and you know what I've discovered?  Apparently the best way to get me to eat healthier is to be broke enough that all I can afford is to pay my bills and buy fresh food.

It also helps that the Saturday Farmer's Market is only a few blocks from my apartment.

Since I've been broke and not able to go out to eat or order take-out as often, I've been forcing myself to use my food budget for good instead of evil.  I've been making myself buy fresh veggies, which in turn means I need to cook the veggies within a few days before they go bad.

This method is working pretty well so far.  (Note to self: Whenever I need to do something, make desperation be a factor.  Oh my god I hope it doesn't take me getting fired to finally finish writing a book.)

I've also been expanding my palate in the mean time.  For one thing, I've learned that I love tomatoes.  I mean, I'm still a ways away from eating a tomato like an apple, or eating a bowl full of chopped tomatoes for lunch (I saw my coworker do this a few weeks ago - do other people do this??) but where I used to be like "Oh crap, there's a chunk of tomato in this tomato sauce GET IT OUT!!"  I'm now like "Ohhhh yeeeeeeaaaaahhhh, I tots want that thick slice of juicy red tom on my turkey sandwich!"

One problem I've always had with veggies is storing them properly so they don't go bad before I get a chance to use them.  The internet has 5,000 different ways to store millions of kinds veggies.  Some are extremely crazy and perfectly impossible to do unless you have five kitchens and at least ten root cellars.

But I have found that this website has an awesome, practical list of how to store most common fruits and vegetables that we have here in North America.  So far, all of the tips have worked very well for me and I've tried about 50% or more of the tips on the page.  One great thing I learned?  Don't keep your onions and potatoes next to each other - they ripen faster when they're together!  And there are other fruits and veggies that should be kept separate as well.

So I mentioned in my post yesterday that I was going to make coconut oil refried beans.  They were delicious!  I started out following this recipe but because I'm broke and had to make-do with what I had in my cupboard I like to experiment, I did a little improvisation.  Here's my take on the recipe:

Coconut Oil Refried Beans

Ingredients:
3 Tablespoons coconut oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 cup diced red onion
1 can black beans, drained
1 can garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drained

Instructions:

1. Add garlic and coconut oil in a medium sauce pan over medium/high heat.
2. Heat until coconut oil is melted, stirring constantly.
3. Add onions and heat until onions have turned translucent.
4. Add in beans and heat until very warm, but not boiling.
5. Turn off burner.
6. Mix and mash beans in the pot with a potato masher (or a fork if you don't have a masher).  Since this recipe uses chickpeas, which are a little "tougher" than the black or pinto beans, you'll need to mash for a while to obtain the desired consistency.
7. Beans should have retained enough heat that you don't need to reheat them, but if you do, turn the burner to low and stir frequently.
8. Sprinkle with cheese if desired, but I felt like they were flavorful enough that I didn't need it.

I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures - I was just starving by the time my meal was prepared!  These beans will look different than your usual refried beans because of the chickpeas, but I thought that the chickpeas lent the perfect texture, color and flavor to the mix.  I also grilled chicken and made Mexican rice using the peach/jalapeno salsa I made.

Sometimes being broke can be delicious!  It definitely causes me to cook more and experiment with what I have around more often.

Have you ever created a culinary masterpiece from what you happened to have sitting around?

Happy Feasting,

Annie Jay

I Miss Smoking

Mmmmmmmm. Delicious.(Also, please let me know if this is
your picture, I couldn't find the source to credit it to)

It’s been around 5 months since I started quitting smoking cigarettes.  

At this point in time, I consider myself a nonsmoker. (YAY!)

Yes, I still have a puff or two if I’m out drinking, but I don’t count those because 1.) they almost always taste disgusting and, 2.) I think I’ll always allow myself a drag if I feel like I really can’t be without it – the stress of trying to completely say no to my urges is harder than having one puff and not enjoying it.  

Plus, my friends won't let me do more than take just one puff and sometimes they even deny me that.  Depending on the amount of alcohol I've had this either makes them amazingly awesome friends or the biggest dickfaces I've ever met.  When I'm sober I know it's a sign that we're growing up because we support each other in our attempts to kick the habit - it used to be that you'd say "Aww come on, it's just one drunken cigarette! You'll go back to quitting tomorrow!"

Which is just like what I do with heroin.  Just one little stick in the veins a week is ok, right?

That’s a joke.

We all know it's never just one stick with heroin.

Cigarette addiction not = Heroin addiction

Usually.

*ahem* Anyway...

The more time that passes I’m realizing more and more things that I miss about being a smoker.  If you’ve never been a smoker or if you didn’t smoke for a very long time or if you’re just, ya know, not me, maybe this list isn’t going to make any sense to you.  That’s ok, it makes sense to me.

Things I Miss About Smoking:

1. Having an excuse to stand outside in adverse weather conditions without people looking at you like you’re crazy.  I love to be outside in the rain or snow and I used to go outside for a smoke in order to enjoy the weather.  Now I’m just a freak standing in the snow/rain… not that that’s stopping me.
2. Having an excuse to roll my car window down in adverse weather conditions.  See above.
3. The Smoker's Patio.  I miss standing outside of bars and talking to people without having to shout over the noise of drunken frat boys playing Foosball or some half-cracked indie band trying to wow everyone with their lackadaisical tunes.  The Smoker's Patio outside of a bar is also a place where some of the best stunts and drunken hijinks take place.  At work, the smoke break is one of the best places to trade NSFW stories with coworkers.  Some of my best conversations have taken place and some of my best relationships have been formed on the Smoker’s Patio.
4. Giving uppity maafuckas that look.  Y'all know what I'm talking about.  You're standing outside having a smoke and some dickface walking by glares at you and fakes an obnoxiously loud cough.  You're obviously the scourge of the earth because you're smoking a cigarette.  You know cigarettes can kill you, right?  Obviously you're a dangerous maafucka and you should stop living and taking up space and resources that could be used by good people and kittens.  When I'd get that look, I'd smile my most "Yeah, I am that dangerous maafucka" smile at them (it's mostly in the eyes) and kind of shift my body in their direction.  Nothing, big.  Nothing threatening.  Just enough.  Just enough to make them think "Okay, I'm not gonna fuck with that chick.  I'd better go home and hug my babies and stop judging them based on their recreational activities.."
5. Smoking just looks cool.  I'm sorry.  I know.  I know.  In this day in age, we're not supposed to think smoking looks cool.  But it does.  It just fucking looks cool.  You're James Dean or Marilyn Monroe.  You're maafuckin President Obama.
6. Knowing what would kill me.  Lung cancer, emphysema, pneumonia.  All of those things were just waiting outside my door like "Hey, yo, we'll be there soon."  And I was all like "That's cool yo, I'll be waiting.  Just don't bring Dementia to the party."  Give me cancer, please don't take my mind from me.  None of the five billion diseases associated with smoking scare me half as much as the likelihood that I'm going to get Senile Dementia.  

So there are some things I miss about smoking. It's not everything.  Gods know it's impossible to put some of the feelings of withdrawal and "I'm losing my fucking mind" into words that other people can understand.  

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever stop missing smoking.  Probably.  Probably when it's been a longer span of time, or when I'm exposed to fewer people who smoke.

But just to remind myself, here's another list.

Things I Love About Not Smoking:

1. Asthma is less of a bitch. There's really no order to this list, I love all of these things in an indeterminate order.  Except this.  I love this SO much.  I can breathe.  Good gods - I. CAN. BREATHE.  Yes, it was stupid for an asthmatic to ever start smoking in the first place.  Yes I should've known better.  But I also started smoking to begin with so let's just stop those lectures right there.  Before I quit smoking I would have asthma attacks frequently.  But since I started quitting smoking, I've had only one asthma attack - in 5 months.  EFF YES.
2. Saving Money!  If I was crunched on money for a week I'd still have to make sure I set aside enough money for smokes.  Now, I am all like "Daaamn, look at all this mooooney!!"
3. Washing my hair less frequently.  (If you're not a girl, just skip this one.)  I already have dry curly hair.  The last thing hair like that needs it to be washed on a daily basis.  I used to stretch it for a couple of days but I knew that my hair was probably soaking up that cigarette stench faster than anything.  Now I can go a whole week without having to harsh out my hair with over-washing.
4. Singing.  I've been a singer since I was a little kid and my papa and I would go into the Music Room in our basement where all of his musical equipment was set up.  He'd play guitar, we'd both sing (to this day, this is one of my fondest memories).  I was in choir in school and extracurricular choirs from the time I was 7 or 8 until I quit school at 19.  I was a Soprano in high school and I lost my vocal range as soon as I started smoking.  I finally have it back! Now, when we go to the karaoke bar (which, let's face it is 1-2 times a week since Francesca works there) I don't have to hold myself back from singing certain songs that might be out of my range.  I even get complete strangers requesting that I sing certain songs for them and I don't have to turn them away.  I love to sing and I love the flexibility my vocal cords have once again!
5. I smell better.  And by that I mean my sense of smell is better.  Let's face it, with the allergies I have I am rarely able to smell anything, but since I've quit smoking I can actually smell things I never used to be able to.  Although there are times when this is not a positive change...
6. My purse isn't full of little tobacco flakes.  This is definitely something you won't understand if you're not a girl who has been a smoker.  But it used to be that any time I'd put anything in my purse it would come out with little tobacco leaves on it.  Cans of soda, pieces of mail, bottles of water, tissues - it'd all be covered in tobacco leaves.  Now, I can put anything in my purse and never have to worry about it picking up debris while it's in there.

There we have it!  I miss smoking - A LOT.  But I'm not about to forget all of the things I've gained now that I've quit.  

For those of you out there who still smoke, I feel ya and you've got no judgments from me.  In fact, you can expect to see me staring at you lustily every time you light up.

But if you want to quit - and yes, you really can't quit unless you really want to - I'm here for you.  We can stand outside in the snow/rain/hail and look like crazy people together.

Kissykissy,

Annie Jay

Wait Wait... Which Bar is Next?

*Disclaimer: This post is entirely about drunken antics.  If you don't like reading about mindless drunken antics - or if doing so makes you want to reach for a bottle of Jack right now - give this post about grudges and forgiveness a chance instead.  If you love reading about drunken buffoonery - read on!*

If you’ve been reading my posts for the last couple of days, you know I’ve been planning to tell you about Saturday and the fun times that ensued.  But now I’m sure I’ve built it up too much and when I tell you about it you’re going to be like “Really, this is what people do for fun in Iowa?”

Yes, yes it is.

I won’t get into all of the details because for the most part you just kind of had to be there.  But what happened is that 8 friends and I competed against 30 other teams in a downtown Pub Crawl/Scavenger hunt this last Saturday afternoon. 

Teams could be 1-6 people but we had 9 total so we decided to split into two teams and that we’d work together and then split the $500 grand prize.  Sure, $500 split 9 ways is only about $55 but we figured that if we won we’d at least be able to write the money spent at the bars that day off as a business expense.  Because drinking is a business when you do it the way we do.

Pretty much all day Friday was spent with mass emails racing back and forth about the plans for Saturday.  We decided that I would make lunch and have everyone over to the barpartment before the hunt so that no one would be drinking on an empty belly.  By the end of the day Friday, we were all so ridiculously excited.  I barely slept.  If you were checking the Facebook newsfeed for any of us Saturday morning you would’ve seen that we were all up early and taking care of our normal Saturday business so that we could devote the rest of the day to the mission.

At lunch, our typically boisterous group was subdued, like a group of soldiers preparing for battle.  We then carpooled downtown and went to the downtown bar, The Hub, to register at 1pm.  The next hour passed in flurry of activity as we registered, got our first beers of the day and The Hub filled with more teams for the hunt.  By the time it was all said and done there were about 30-40 teams.  Our teams were numbers 15 and 19. We had originally planned for both teams to go together but the rules sent us in different directions so we planned to meet up and compare answers before the closing ceremonies.

In case you’ve never participated in a Pub Crawl Scavenger Hunt (this was my first time), here’s how it works:

• Rule #1 – No driving.  Everything was within about a 10-block radius and you’d be walking no more than about 3 blocks between bars so taxis weren’t even needed.
• At each bar you would get a clue telling you what bar to go to next – This was very easy as they gave you a picture of the bar and a clue.  They knew they were creating a scavenger hunt for drunks.
• You also get a piece of paper with approximately 10 trivia questions at each bar.  These trivia questions could be about the history of the bar, about sports, about music – anything that relates to the bar itself.
• Then you have to take a picture with your team and one of the bar’s icons (for instance the giant painting of JFK on the wall at The Hub) and email it to the event organizers.
• We also had to take a picture of our team on the walking bridge across the highway (this is how they prevent you from just running across the highway while drinking – smart people organized this)
• They gave each team a mylar M&M balloon that they had to keep alive the entire night, this lead to many interactions with other teams trying to break each other’s balloons.
• They also spelled out the words “Bud Lights” (the hunt was sponsored by the local Anheuser-Busch distributor) and for extra credit you had to collect something that started with each letter. 

The extra-credit items were the most fun to collect.  We started off collecting somewhat mundane things but in the end we had some rather hilarious items.  Since one of the letters was “U” every team we ran into had at least one person who would come up to us and say “I don’t have any underwear on! I donated it to the cause!”  Oh, well, thank you for sharing. 

We opted not to go for underwear.  We went classy and got a urinal cake instead.  No no, we didn’t pry it from a urinal.  We asked our bartender friend to give us a fresh one.  At least I’m pretty sure that’s how it went down.  I wasn’t part of the process of procuring the urinal cake. 

I went classier and bought a Lifestyles Condom from a bathroom condom vending machine so we would have an “L”.  That’s me baby - all class, all the time.

Throughout the course of 5.5 hours, our team visited 10 bars, answered all of our questions, ate greasy bar food and came up with some great extra credit items. 

The highlights of the event:

• Seeing old friends I haven’t seen in years.
• Meeting new people.
• Playing with a lightsaber.
• My buddy Phin getting a tattoo in the midst of our hunt.  (We used “Tattoo receipt” for our extra credit “T”)  No seriously, this really happened.
• Running away from my team at one of our last bars.
• Finding our other team while I was running away from my own.
• Using the fire exit and setting off the alarm at one of the bars.  Twice.
• Sitting under a table with our other team’s Team Captain at the closing ceremony talking about what horrible Team Captains we are - right as they announced - 

WE WON! 

You would have thought that we had won the lottery with the way we were cheering. 

We collected our prize and ran outside to leap up and down with joy and count out our money.  And I mean we stood outside screaming out “20-40-60…” and on until we got to $500. 

We also might have set a world record for quantity, quality, and volume of "Woo"s in a 15-minute time frame.  Oh, who am I kidding? I didn't stop "Woo"ing until I fell asleep.

Then we went to the local karaoke bar to drink celebratory shots and to lift our voices up in joy.  I sang.  I don’t remember what exactly.  But I definitely sang. 

We were back to the barpartment by 11pm, enjoying leftovers from lunch and ready to pass out fall asleep. 

I’m sure this day doesn’t sound that extraordinary to a lot of people, but the all-day camaraderie and teamwork was just freakin fun.  Running all over downtown on our mission, meeting people we’d never met before, going to new places, spending time with people I love – it was just all freakin fantastic – all topped off by winning. 

And damn, do I love winning.

Highfives,

Annie Jay

Flat Broke and Running Around in My Undies

I recently started living in an apartment all by myself. 

I love it. 

My apartment has become this extension of me.  Each room is an arm, a leg, or a toe of this great body that is me.  I can decorate how I want without needing to take a roommate’s sense of style into account.  I can do the dishes without more dirty dishes magically re-materializing on the counter five minutes later.

Plus, walking around in my underwear all the time is pretty fucking awesome… as long as I remember to close the blinds… but I digress *ahem*

As much as I absolutely freakin love living alone, there is something that kind of sucks about it – I’m broke all the damn time! 

When I first made the decision to live on my own I knew money was going to be tight.  Here’s something about me you might know – I really like money.  As long as I’ve been working I’ve worked a lot so that I would always have the financial ability to do what I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. 

So when I made this huge life decision to live in an apartment on my own, I immediately went out and started looking for a second job.  Being gifted with the ability to bullshit the pants off any interviewer (I’m basically the Barney Stinson of job applicants) I was hired for the first job I applied for – a salesperson at a jewelry store.   My responsibilities were to sell jewelry in the evenings and on weekends.  I would make slightly above minimum wage plus commission - all in all not bad for a second job.

But I didn’t take it.

I already have a full-time 9-5 job that I love and have been at for almost six years.  Monday-Friday I pour my heart and soul into this job and I couldn't be happier.  When I was told the hours I’d be working at the jewelry store, I realized that my life would become filled with nothing but work.  I started to panic. When would I get to have fun? When would I get to write? When would I get to paint? When would I get to dance around my new apartment in my underwear listening to Aqua and Ace of Base?

That’s when I sat down with my notepad and looked at my budget.  After taking a few deep breaths and accepting the harsh reality I figured out that I could do the apartment on my own without taking on a second job.  All I would have to do is rein in my spending and make some sacrifices.  By the time all was said and done I realized that I would have just $100 a week for The Three F’s - food, fuel and fun.  Even now, it’s a scary idea, but the idea of still having free time to pursue my passions and relax is more important to me than making tons of money and never having the time to enjoy it.

So far, I’m two months in and I’m doing ok.  I do lament having the ability to go out and buy a new outfit on a whim or being able to afford concert tickets on a moment’s notice.  But by having less money to spend I’ve gotten to spend so much time working on my passions that I’m feeling more spiritually fulfilled than I have in a long time.

Writing has taken a leap into the front of my life now that I have the energy, time and lack of distractions to really get it done.  This focus on writing was one of the biggest deciding factors when I chose not to take a second job.  I’ve been yearning to grow as a writer for the last several years but keep finding distractions.  Now I find myself writing as much, if not more than I did when I was in high school and first got the writing bug.

Plus, I’m finally learning how to spend and save like an adult.  I’m honing my cooking skills instead of going out to eat all the time.  In return, I’m eating healthier, exercising more and I’m feeling better about myself.  I’m also learning the freedom a person can feel by having less stuff.  (Just because they make an avocado peeler doesn’t mean I need an avocado peeler if a knife will work just as well.)

But it’s not all self-help and personal growth.  I’m still having a fuck-ton of fun.  I’m finally replaying all of the video games I haven’t touched in years, so I’m helping to save the world from aliens all the time – and who doesn’t like to save the world from aliens?  Before going out for the night I invite friends over for cocktails and conversation.  So I’m spending less on a night out and having just as much (if not more) fun.  I’m heading out on the river with a healthy lunch packed so I don’t have to spend three times the money on greasy bar food.

I know the transition is still going to be hard and I still slip up occasionally by buying something I don’t really need, but I’m trying. 

The best part? In the past I’ve let my finances control my life.  I used to feel like I was standing in the middle of a river.  Occasionally the water would be waist-high and the current would be calm.  But more often than not, the water would be chin-high and the current would be so strong it would sweep the sand right out from under me so that I was always fighting to find a foothold and keep my head above the water.  Now that I’m controlling my finances, the water is calm and I get to enjoy it with a beer in one hand – or hell, maybe one in each hand.

So I encourage you all, if you’re facing a financial challenge – put yourself to the test.  You’ll learn more about yourself and the things you actually need. 

Jump in, the water’s just fine.

Hugs n kisses,

Annie Jay