I’ve had it. I’ve reached my limit of entertaining would-be “foodies” and their hobby of eating food that is realistically outside of their budgets and acting as if it’s nothing. La la la…no big deal. I’m tired of pretending to care, to corroborate with the latest in dining extravagance. I simply cannot stomach the blasé pretension of would-be foodies anymore.

The truth is, by this point in my life, I’ve dined at some of the highest-rated, reservation-elusive, and most expensive restaurants in the world. I’ve had the degustation pre fixe menu with the wine pairing, been amused by the amuse bouche, met the celebrity chef, had dinner for two that cost $900, even had an off-menu dessert made special for me on my birthday.

So what?

I grew up in a household wherein we always had food to eat, and always a balanced and nutritious dinner. But we were barely able to afford the grocery bill, often shopping at Aldi and eating left-overs for weeks at a time (hence my ability to overlook expired dates on several items- I’m still here!). As for dining out, that happened on your birthday and, more often than not, was at the all-you-can-eat buffet that I lovingly referred to as The Feeding Trough. There were refinements to come in later years- bisques and crepes and compotes to be explored- but the majority of my palette’s upbringing centered on tried and true recipes with basic ingredients and standard “plating” at home.

Now, as a single adult living in a culinary-lover’s city and with a meager disposable income to call my own, I appreciate those fancy dinners and the art form they evoke, but I prefer their less-showy alternatives. The diner down the street that isn’t “terrible,” the comfort food menu that is delivery-friendly, the bowl of cereal that is my bread and butter.

I blame TV shows like Top Chef, Rachel Ray (although I blame her for other things too not only but including that terrible voice of hers yelling out random shit all the time), and The Food Network in general for bringing “Chef-Culture” into our homes. They’ve done for food what Sephora has done for high-end cosmetics. They’ve taken what was once out of the reach and minds of even the middle classes and placed it right under our noses. And of course, we’ve obliged. Me, want that.

For our part, we’ve soaked it all up like sponges, parroting back the lingo and bravado that, quite honestly, is beyond us. Maybe that $51 free-range Amish chicken with organic locally-sourced harvest vegetables in a saffron broth is worth every penny. Maybe. But can someone who has a safety pin holding their pants together afford it? Is it worth it then? Why are we pretending that it is? Why are we pretending that such extravagances aren’t exactly that- extravagant? WHY?!

When I was growing up (holy hell that makes me sound about a bajillion years old), “foodies” were ACTUAL FOOD CRITICS…for a living, as in they received income for their educated opinions about food (not any of that Yelp bullshit we’re meant to imbibe). But, nowadays (there I go again) everyone’s a food critic. Everyone knows the lingo. Everyone is a demanding diner who can don a cardigan and seemingly whip out a credit card to pay for the single meal that just cost a quarter of their monthly rent. These blasé foodies drip of pretension, easily forgetting where they come from and what kinds of food they actually eat on a regular basis (me: Special K).

Even though this is what it has come to, I insist that eating is not an event but a necessary action for survival, and dining out is not a hobby but a luxury.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to confirm my Bloggers in Sin City dinner plans with my foodie friends at Top Chef Masters alum Rick Moonen’s sustainable seafood restaurant, RM, at Mandalay Bay.

Pot/kettle.

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The whole experience has left me reeling as a result and agape to find the “school-girl” soap operas of my adolescent years have followed me into my thirties. At this stage in my life, I’m supposed to be losing friends to marriage and babies and relocations- to “growing apart,” not this childish “tit-for-tat” text battle that never addresses the point and skirts whatever the hell is actually going on.

The thing is; I’m a big girl. If you have a problem with me, tell me. If I fall to pieces over it, well that’s my own doing. But, if I’ve somehow wronged someone- someone I care about and value, then give me the opportunity to apologize. This “cut-bait” and run bullshit is not only cowardly, but immature and serves no one. I’ve lost a friend…and so has she.

And it makes me angry. Angry because I am powerless. Angry because I cannot say or do anything to change it. Angry because I will not lash out, saying things or acting in ways that do little to demonstrate how much she mattered to me. Angry because I fought for this friendship time and again and it is apparent that my friendship was of little value to her.

Underneath that anger lays the deep and profound sadness of a broken heart. Much like working through a romantic break-up, each day I work through my friend break-up in an effort to avoid obsessing over the “what ifs” and “if onlys.” Ultimately, I know I did what I could, said what I could, reached out. She no longer wants my friendship anymore. Why am I so willing to give it?

I think that’s what hurts the most…that in the end, I was so expendable to her. After all we’d confided and shared. After how close we were. After years of friendship and memories…laughter, tears, spats, and misunderstandings. After everything…I mean nothing, merit nothing, not even an explanation.

I have to wonder if it would matter now, if it would change anything. I have a habit of never forgetting disloyalty and unreliability and this is the second time I’ve fallen victim to being cut off by her. My self-protection alarm has sounded and I’ve begun the irreversible process of letting go. There will be no third opportunity for harm of this nature from her.

And yet, if I could, I would say a few things in parting to her…

I would thank her for the friendship she once showed me, for the times she was there for me and supported me. I would remind her that she mattered to me, that I supported her when she needed me, that I didn’t judge her for her choices despite my personal misgivings. I would remind her that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt her; that her hurts have been my hurts too. And I would add that her friendship has been one of the most important and meaningful relationships of my life. I don’t take its loss, her loss, lightly. It pains me to see her take it so. But knowing this, she has perhaps disappointed and hurt me more deeply than she could ever hope to repair.

I have to admit that those words, cast out into this empty space from my anguished heart, are just as cowardly as her last ambiguous text to me. More words to cover whatever lays at the heart of the matter. More words that I don’t dare speak to the one for whom they’re intended. A farewell arrow fired into the abyss.

Those days, that friendship, are at an end.

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As a denizen of this city for seven years, I feel it my inherent duty to ardently and vociferously lobby on behalf of my fellow city dwellers for a greater awareness of our collective behavior whilst interacting with one another in public spaces.

In other words, if you are one of the Annoying People on the CTA or Metra, on the elevator, walking down the sidewalk, in line at the Jewel, or any number of other otherwise innocuous day-to-day activities; I’m about to call you out on your shit. Take note.

It is to you…Seat-Hoggers and/or Personal-Space-Crowders, Cell-Phone-Talkers, Loud- and/or Self-Talkers and/or Singers (WTF?!), Fingernail-Clippers, Sidewalk-Wanderers, Stinky-Food-Eaters, and Stinky-People-In-General that I now address.

These things in and of themselves are annoying. They are universally annoying to everyone everywhere ever in the history of time. Ever. In a crowded city space, these annoying things are compounded. Heaven forbid you get the idea to cross-categorize yourself or “innovate,” whereby you take on more than one of these annoying habits. We, your fellow city folk, will not reward you for your “ingenuity.”

If you are excessively unaware of your annoying behavior, I ask you: What THE FUCK is your problem? How have you managed to get by in life- in a city no less- without getting punched in the face? How are you so completely unaware of anyone else around you? How have you not yet punched YOURSELF in the face?

Rather than resort to violence, I propose the following: if you are unable to curb your annoying behavior, city dwellers should be able to silently hand you a card that instantly revokes your ability to continue the activity by which you’re currently offending.

Card to be handed to Annoying Person: Circle appropriate option and/or fill in the blank as necessary. Apply generously.

Pardon You,

It has come to my attention that you are annoying.

As a well-mannered citizen of this city, I hereby revoke your right to (ride this bus/ share this elevator/ sit next to me/ walk on the sidewalk/ stand in this line/ ______________).

Your prompt compliance is required and appreciated.

Now, fuck off!

Sincerely,

Everyone Around You

P.S. Don’t cry or get pissed off. The correct response is to STOP BEING SO FUCKING ANNOYING.

There is no warning before receiving  this card, no “three strikes;” it’s sudden death. If you’re annoying on the bus, you have to immediately exit. If you’re in an elevator, you must get off at the next floor. If you’re in the dentist’s waiting room, you must leave and try again next time. No exceptions.

Is that inconvenient for you? Yes. Is that the point? Abso-fucking-lutely. Because, as an Annoying Person, your continuous annoying state is an inconvenience to everyone around you.

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Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham: “Your turn will come.”

Lady Edith Crawley: “Will it? Or am I to be the maiden aunt? Isn’t this what they do? Arrange [wedding] presents for their prettier relations?”

Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham: “Don’t be defeatist dear, it’s terribly middle class.”

—Downton Abbey [FTW]

In a few short weeks, one of my brothers is getting married. He turns 30 later this year, has been with his live-in girlfriend for over five years, and seems to be “happy.” Their engagement was of the kind that “just makes sense:” more of a foregone conclusion than anything. Nonetheless, it appears to be the right conclusion and I can’t wait for them to have their wedding day!

Being the older sister, however, the past year leading up to their nuptials has proven surprising for me in all the ways perhaps that their engagement was not. I have unwittingly become exposed to the searching eyes and pitying nods of many a family member’s head.

But how are you doing, dear? What is new with you? Any luck?

Luck. Is that what it takes?

For all their prying and well-meaning- if misplaced- concern, I know that my family members want me to be happy. They want me to find “my person” and have a wedding of my own someday. They want to label me as “married” and shelve the worries they seem to have over why I’m not “settled.”

If it seems archaic, it’s because it is.

And yet, I feel a vague sense of guilt for my not having turned out more traditional in their eyes. I haven’t gone the path of so many before me in my family- haven’t married young, had babies, bought a house, taken trips to Disney World with my kids. In fact, there is no one like me in my family at all. On both sides of my family through the generations, I am an anomaly. Maybe I’m wrong in feeling this way, but I get the increasing sense that I’ve disappointed, that I’m a bit of a “problem,” and that they’re tiring of me and the way I’m “wasting time.”

It’s a strange place to be as I approach 32 years old. I have a job and a dog and rent an apartment in the city. I blog and tweet for fun. I have wine and cereal for dinner because I can. I hold Harry Potter Icky-Weather-Marathons on a weekend because yes, Zooey Deschanel, that IS rain. I travel by myself because I love it and go to “unconferences” in Vegas with my friends because we’re awesome and companies sponsor our awesomeness. I have time to read books and sleep in and eat gelato. It’s a quiet and small, but happy life.

So, why do I feel as though I should apologize and console family members who look like they’re going to cry when I tell them what’s new with me?

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In any given day, I talk briefly with and as needed to the people at work, talk to my dog, and mumble to myself and/or yell at the TV. And then I go to bed and wake up and do it all over again. Mix in a “hello” in the building elevator every now and then, or placing an order for food to be delivered for one and you’ve pretty much got the whole picture.

I’m surrounded by people, and for all outward appearances I am coasting along, but I am lonely.

When I made the mistake of sharing this with my mother over the weekend, she told me that maybe it’s time I “start looking.” Looking for what? A boyfriend isn’t the solution to my loneliness. In fact, the way I feel about relationships at the moment is such that I “opt out.” Although it disappoints her to hear me say it, I replied that I am in no rush to seek a status that only ends up making me feel bad about myself and about the state of relationships in general. I’m always happier alone.

So, if being alone isn’t the reason I feel lonely, then what is?

I’m lonely because I don’t have anyone to confide in like I used to. My “best friend” doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. My ex-boyfriend, who I am still “close” with and spend time with regularly has his own real worries to concern himself with. My mother, as evidenced, is a fount of well-meaning sympathy…by which I can drown myself with bad advice. And I have a number of friends I see on just an irregular enough rotation to keep me from confiding beyond our hour-or-so-at-a-time catching up.

There is always the “fail-safe” prospect of beginning to see my former therapist again, but my only requirement for doing so would be to have someone to talk to. Someone acting in place of a friend or confidante, who I’m also paying. My therapist, like a new boyfriend, is not the answer either.

I honestly don’t know what the solution is. I’m not in crisis, not depressed, not having any problems sleeping whatsoever, and feel no more disinterested in the day-to-day than I always have. But there is something that is lacking. And in its absence I am quiet and struggling with it quietly.

I’ve tried to bury myself in work, layer on new blogging and social media endeavors, and have read book after book after book. To no avail. Maybe the answer is to simply be lonely, to accept that- for a time- there may not be any help for it.

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What if I screw up? What if I say something that my employer sees and I “get in trouble” for it? What if I make an error and tweet what should have gone out from one account and instead goes out from another? What if nobody cares? 

The reality is, content and community management is where my career has taken me…and if I have my say in the matter, it is where it will continue to go. But, up until now, my entire web presence and this “persona” has been kept apart from my professional life. I know some of you have managed to integrate both, have experienced the “growing pains” associated with doing so, but have ultimately been successful. Believe me, I am in awe of you. But I also like to swear a lot and write really work-inappropriate stuff too. So, for me, I prefer to keep this persona separate. I prefer to remain semi-anonomous (because in fact so many of you already know me- hi!) so that I can continue to write freely as I have done for nearly six years.

With that decision made, the last month has proven challenging however! I am now managing (for myself):

2 WordPress blogs

1 Tumblr

4 Twitter accounts (I use HootSuite to manage them)

2 Facebook pages

1 Foursquare profile

1 Google+ page

1 Pinterest page (expanding to another)

1 Linked In profile

I’ll be honest: it’s a bit more than I’d intended. But, I view my blog like a brand at this point and am committed to keeping it up (I’m even contemplating a redesign! Any recommendations?) and the subsequent social networks associated with it. I’m now trying to apply that same thinking to myself and build my professional “brand” online as well.  The downside of course is that now when I’m not blogging, I’m not blogging on two blogs rather than one!

I’d love to know how you incorporate your blogging/social media presence into your professional life. Any pointers? Suggestions? Warnings? How do you manage multiple social networks?

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While I may not be running any of the activities today, I’ve gathered some VALUABLE knowledge I’d impart to a kid on “Kid’s Day” if given the chance.

Stop Crying About Your Bedtime, You Jerk

Some day, you will relish the opportunity to go to bed early. You will do this because you have to get up before the sun does in order to arrive to your place of employment. Sometimes, you may even decide you don’t care that it is still light outside and only 8:15 pm. You will still put your jammies on and go to bed. And you will love this. You will be unapologetic about this. When you reach this point in your life and career, please remember me and know that I am nodding my head in approval while I lounge on my couch in my own jammies at 7:30 pm.

Multitasking Is For Winners

One of the most important “on the job” skills you can acquire early in your career is the art of Looking-Busy-Whilst-Doing-Nonwork-Related-Things. Things like what, you ask? Well, things like planning vacations, your next move, or a wedding/wedding shower/bachelorette party; online shopping; extra-curricular reading; watching movies/TV shows/sporting events; looking for a new job/taking phone interviews; napping; and, um, blogging. The key to Looking-Busy-Whilst-Doing-Nonwork-Related-Things is that you still must get your Work-Related-Things done. Otherwise, you know, you can do those Nonwork-Related-Things all day long because you won’t have a job and probably won’t have that early bedtime anymore either. And if you get caught doing Nonwork-Related-Things, either find a way to apply it to your job, try to coerce the person into how cool whatever it is you’re doing is, or own it and lock that shit down (i.e. apologize and take it to your smartphone next time).

You Are The Saddest Snowflake

Understand that even though you’ve been brought up to believe you are a unique [and, let's face it, entitled] snowflake, if you are able to one day find a job- any job, there is a strong likelihood that you will be unsatisfied. How you cope with your dissatisfaction will dictate how much you enjoy your life and your career. It will invade every portion of your psyche and impact whether or not you want to get out of bed. It will be this important. Even if you tell yourself you don’t care and you’re just “in it for the paycheck.” At some point, your job WILL SUCK. You might actually be unique like a snowflake and may actually be a “creative person,” but the crushing reality and suffocating proximity of a grey cubicle wall day-in-and-day-out will bulldoze these sensibilities. You will realize you are one of many. And you will sit in your stall for 8.25 hours five days a week. At least until that vacation you planned while sitting there rolls around.

Your New Halloween Mask Is The One You Wear 9-5

Being nice to people, both in life and at work, will not always work out well for you. Not everyone is nice in return, some people play “games,” and others are simply untrustworthy. Recognizing that not everyone will like you and that you don’t have to like everyone else in return can be quite freeing after the “everyone is a winner” mentality you’ve been force-fed. The thing is, even if you absolutely detest someone you work with, you still have to work with them. You don’t have to be friendly and ask how their weekend went, you don’t have to get to know them in any way at all really, but you do have to be able to talk to them and interact with them when needed. Put on your mask, get it done, and hate them all you want privately (or vice versa recognize not everyone is going to like you) and that’s okay. Just don’t be an asshole, basically.

The Myth of Retirement (Sans Getting Political)

When you begin your career, everyone will tell you to set up a 401(k) or Roth IRA. While this is absolutely necessary and the earlier you do this the better, I believe there ought to be a better understanding of where this portion of your paycheck is in fact going every couple of weeks. Maybe your grandma or grandpa is retired now and you hear them complaining about “being on a fixed income” or how they don’t think Social Security is going to make it through their lifetimes. Maybe none of that makes sense to you- hell, it doesn’t make sense to A LOT of grown-ups who have spent their whole adult lives paying into it. BUT, it’s a catch-22. You have to do it- set aside money in a retirement account and you have to pay into Social Security- but when you reach the intended age in which you should reap its benefits (historically 65), you’re unlikely to be able to. According to my bank’s retirement calculator, I am supposed to plan to retire with $1.5 MILLION in order to keep myself in cereal, medicine, and rain-resistant babushkas. And therein lies the myth. I can’t retire. I can’t put away enough money to do so. I may “retire” from my career, but I will have to find some form of part-time income. And so will most of you.

If that doesn’t prepare a kid for the realities of becoming a working adult, I don’t know what will. What would you impart?

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