.
1.  I am terribly sorry how absent I have been.
2.  My life seems to be playing on the Crazytown [by Butterfly] b-side recently.
3[7].  Thankfully, come Wednesday evening, I will be on a delightfully crowded plane with my best friend Dan to number 37 of the NY Times’ 44 Places to Go in 2009.  He promised me wings and a trip to a bonafide Target.
.

I….C..A..N..N..O..T….W..A..I..T….

Nederlandse Spoorwegen. The Netherlands

.
I just wish I knew where I was going.

Esalen Institute. Big Sur, CA

I went.
I welded.
I wanna go back.

waaaaah.

.

Today, ilikeyoulikeyou welcomed its 1000th smash hit.  In order to celebrate properly I think I shall take a week-long vacation to my favorite spa/cult in the whole wide world . . . tomorrow!

Peace out, girl scouts.
Amy

10036 vs Big Sur. Weather.com

.
A fight between my upcoming vacation to Big Sur and nine to fiving in 10036 would be unfair, to say the least.

1.  I’ve been a paralegal since I graduated college (a year and some change).
2.  I have zero interest in ever doing anything remotely relating to law.  Disgusting.  Gross.
3.  I only accepted the position because I just needed a Jay Oh Be.  Baaaad.
4.  The honeymoon period ended about 2 weeks ago.
5.  Lists should be made in increments of 3, 5, or 10.

If you know me, you know that I’m at my happiest when I’m doing some combination of laughing, writing, organizing, thinking, creating, brainstorming, influencing.  Some might even say, obsessing.  If you don’t know me, you’re probably starting to get a decent idea seeing as how I just described almost all competent yet creative entry level paycheck to paycheck office drones my age still wondering why we were encouraged to graduate from the sublimely sweet comforts of college . . . for this.  Seriously.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know who I want to be.  I don’t know where to go.  It’s like I’ve hit this incredibly terrifying wall built conveniently between myself and my life and it’s leaving me frustrated and jealous and scared and ultimately wincing every time I’m asked what I do for a living.  Comon, do you really care what the answer is slash are you really going to remember any of this conversation, anonymous bar dude standing in my way while I’m trying to take up the least amount of space as I order my overpriced Amstel Light?  Yeah, I didn’t think so either.  I know most of us end up in this head space at some point, but I’m getting pretty fed up with feeling so stagnant and stale and still.  Therefore, I could really use your advice.  Or a giant kick in the ass.  Maybe both.  What do you think?

What should I do?
Who should I be?
Where should I go?

Thanks in advance,
Amy

{Possible answers may include, but are not limited to:  quit your job, don’t quit your job, take a vacation, take a class, take a valium, be an artist, be an ice cream store owner, be a better person, go West, go East, go abroad, go get em’}

bus driver.

[bus driver]

oh, here’s to the bus driver that’s with us today.

she drinks and she cusses.

she wrecks all the buses.

oh, here’s to the bus driver that’s with us today…

.

I would give just about anything to be a passenger on a hot, sticky bus destined for sleep away camp right now.

Punition. New York, NY (via Paris, France)

All last week, my boss (which I guess is a relative term since technically everyone in the office is my boss) was on vacation in Paris with her family.  From the looks of her fabulous post-vacation glow, she had a particularly lovely time, and upon her return this morning she left a delightful surprise on the paralegal/secretarial credenza.  These cookies come from Poilâne, a renowned French bakery whose founder, Pierre Poilâne, firmly believed in doing as much work by hand as possible and felt that a single baker should take responsibility for his/her loaf from start to finish.  A fellow perfectionist, swoon!  Oh, and the Poilâne cookies my boss shared with us are called “Punitions” which is French for -

. . . wait for it . . .

punishment.

Okay, to be fair, the bakery’s website says the name “comes from a little game Pierre Poilâne’s grandmother used to play [where] she would call over her grandchildren seemingly to punish them and, instead, would open her palms to reveal a handful of butter cookies…”  Seriously, though, I think Pierre might be on to something.  Maybe next time I violate an office policy or lose a highly confidential document I’ll get a perfectly wrapped box of Punitions instead of oh, I don’t know, fired.  Hey, it could happen.  [McWorld!]