Bucket Lists, Or Why You Should Never Make Them

When I was sixteen, I made a bucket list. It was (get this), inspired by:

THIS movie.

I suppose when you're a teen in the early '00s there was nothing better than a Nicholas Sparks book-turned-movie.

While sorting through my old journals (which, yes, I keep all of them and they have perservered through the many moves I have gone through since leaving home), I found this list. The range of my teenage goals quickly goes from the attainable ("Live in a foreign country") to the ridiculous ("Win a Pulitzer, Academy Award, Tony Award & Nobel Prize").

At the time I composed the list, all the goals seemed unattainable. Being able to cross off a few felt good. But, I couldn't help but feel the silent judging of my teenage counterpart. Early on in the list are things like "Get married before twenty-six" or "Be your collegiate valedictorian." Really? Thanks, teenage Leni.

So, with the crushing humiliation of disappointing my former self, I made a new list--adjusting it to reflect current goals and past goals that I view attainable. And while I will continue to save the original bucket list (*fingers crossed for that Nobel Prize*), I feel that the current one is more realistic, and affords me to ability to cross more things off.

And in the end, is there anything more satisfying than scribbling out goals attained?

I think not.

Love and to-do-lists,

Unattainable Leni

Say No More, Mon Amour

Borders, Inc. has announced its demise. Complete liquidation. As a former employee of the chain, with many friends still employed by the company, the news was devestating. While I understand why physical book stores are on the verge of extinction, as a writing student and book-lover, it is terrifying.

Being a Borders bookseller wasn't just a "job." It was a community, a family, a passion. People bound together over their love of the arts. And the employees and artists at Borders believed in their work.

I changed positions & stores from supervisor to bookseller to barista back to supervisor again for almost four years. The company changed its internal structure frequently and sometimes drastically, but when times got tough, the employees of Borders held hands with change and skipped through the manga section...literally.

And it might be the sickening proclivity I have towards nostalgia, but I will always look back on my time at Borders and think: Man, I miss working there.

That job was the closest I ever got to being IN the movie Empire Records (best first job movie ever). And for fulfilling that fantasy, Borders, I bid you a sweet sweet adieu set to a soundtrack of the Gin Blossoms.

You will be missed.

XOXO,
Leni "Did You Find Everything Okay?" Bookseller

I Never Wanna See A Sponge Again

Tomorrow is my birthday. Was hoping to go out tonight with friends, but have yet to hear back from any of them. Aw, shucks. That's okay. I'm sure the gathering tomorrow will more than make up for it.

As for right now, I am sitting in my apartment mulling over all the tasks I need to complete prior to people coming over tomorrow (dishes, vacuuming, food, blah blah blah). Why is it that I only clean when I have people coming over? Or rather, I only do in-depth cleaning then. It is literally (and god I hate using that word, but it's apropos here) the only time I care about scrubbing down my light switch panels and floorboards.

I love that I assume people would be looking at these things. As though my close and personal friends would suddenly not become as such because I have a dirt smudge on the floor. Who knew that dirt accumulated where we walk? Huh...strange.

On the up side, I was able to reorganize all the writing that I rediscovered. All these poems from college. Funny how the inspirations seem forever lost, but I can still go back and cut, thrift away words from them. It almost feels like stealing from my twenty-year-old self. Perhaps it is. She probably wouldn't've taken my criticism very well.

Well, the sponges and vacuum have taken to name-calling so I must attend to that.

Peace, love, and birthday balloons,
Almost-27

Sneezing in Pittsburgh

Wow! It has been a gosh-darn while! Uncool, Leni, so uncool.

Since I've last posted, I have moved to Pittsburgh, started grad school, lost my job, been broken up with, started dating again, started writing two young adult novels, and played a heckload of darts.

Will be updating here more often as I am now on summer break (much to come on the passings of June in the next few days: recap of Bonnaroo '11, OBX, and the great karaoke revelation).

I live in Squirrel Hill: an adorable little neighborhood that begs for the use of the word "quaint." The variety of restaurants and local markets give me an opportunity to explore a variety of cuisines and cooking styles. One of my particular favorites is The Silk Elephant. Reasonably priced thai tapas and an excellent wine selection (though, the last time I went I ordered a cucumber martini that wasn't too shabby either!).

My lease is ending soon, and as much as I've grown to love my little Squirrel Hill haven, I will be moving out towards the Dormont area. The past few months, I've grown closer with people out in that direction, and it makes more sense to be out there rather than twenty minutes away. I am hoping to rent a full-blown house with two other people.

This, of course, gives me a false sense of grown-up-ness. As though renting a house is the same as owning one and therefore I have earned my almost-27-year-old status.

Blech. That reminds me that my birthday is this Friday. I love birthdays, and this year I am having a themed party, though I am not sure that anyone will be participating in my awesome idea--"Dress As Your Favorite Comic/Sci-Fi Character." Easy, right? Put on a pair of undies and call yourself Leni-Woman: Defender of Mispronounced Names or whatever. I'd accept it for creativity points.

Anyway, I can't believe that I'm almost thirty. Making more progress than I have in the past few years, but it's been slow at best. Stupid recession. Stupid collapsing retail empires. Stupid...stupidness.

Yep. That's maturity for ya.

Love,
Leni-I've-Had-Too-Many-Energy-Drinks-Cat