Seesters

It's spring, so that means that it's time for my sister to move again. You see, my sister works in theater which comes and goes with each season. It's typically around this time of year she tells me that she's uprooting from our shared zip code to her next job at a theater far, far, away. This usually sends me into a flood of tears, because as the wet blanket of the family, it's what I do. But as she prepares for the next chapter, for the first time ever, I'm overwhelmed not by the sadness that my sister is leaving me, but by the happiness that she's about to go follow her dreams. Travel the world, work for fair trade crafts, who knows? But whatever it is, there's no doubt that she's determined to find her bliss. And so, as I'm missing her terribly, I'm documenting the top five reasons why I love my sister.

I love my sister because together we can survive anything.

So a few years ago, we were visiting St. Louis during July, which essentially means it was hotter than hell. Because we are cheap, we decided that we would ride the train to the park to go do some sightseeing on foot. As each minute stretched on, the 95 degree heat and 1,000,000% humidity began to take a toll on both of us. Luckily we found refuge at the park's boathouse where we had some lunch before heading out on a paddle boat in hopes that being on the water could help counter the oppressive heat. About 40 minutes from shore, my sister began to peeter out, claiming that her skinny little legs could carry us no further...great. We managed to paddle ourselves under a pedestrian bridge to park for a few minutes in the shade where the only thing we had to wipe our sweaty brows was a panty liner...what can I say, we were desperate! After a painful journey back to the dock, complete with me fanning my sister in hopes she wouldn't pass out, we crawled out of the boat with sweat dripping down our backs where we read the back of our train tickets which told us that the air conditioned trolley was in fact free. We couldn't stop laughing at our stingy mistake and spent the rest of the day enjoying the sites with the breeze of the AC. So be it touring the Gateway City, climbing the Great Wall, or parallel parking in City Park, I know we can survive anything!

I love my sister because sisters never tell.
My all-time favorite story from my childhood is the day we broke our swimming pool. As kids, we had a round, stand up pool in our backyard where our favorite way to spend the afternoon was to spin in an endless whirlpool. On this particular day, our pool had seen better days and as our dad plunked us into the water, he reminded us not to push off the sides, which I, of course, ignored. As our circular laps began, I took a giant push off of the side wall and looked up just in time to see half of the pool bend...and then come crashing down. Immediately, 2,000 gallons of water created a tsunami in our backyard mowing down everything in its path. I will never forget looking over at my sister standing with floatie toys still in hand, looking at me like, "Who is going to go tell dad!?!" Well apparently no one, because the noise of the crash brought him running. Up until about three years ago, my dad never knew that I was the culprit behind the Great Pool Crash, nor did our parents know about the nail polish spilled on the carpet, or any of our other child secrets, because like I said, sisters never tell.

I love my sister because we make a great team.
If you're a member of our family you like to play games. This could be anything ranging from Cranium to baseball. If there is one thing I can tell you, it's that if you play against me and my sister, you're going to lose. You see, we make a great team. I assume this has something to do with being raised in the same environment with only 15 months separating us, but whatever it is, we kill it. We'll be playing a game, and I'll be like, "Mesopelagic!" And then she'll scream, "Oooh, let's name the zones, the zones, the zones. Let's name the zones of the open sea!" 10 points for Gryffindor!
 
I love my sister because she's nothing like me.
 My sister and I went to the same college, but most people didn't know we were related. Anytime someone made the connection they'd go on and on about how shocked they were that we are sisters because we are so incredibly different. We look nothing alike, (she's the spaghetti and I'm the meatballs), we don't act the same, (she's quiet and reserved, I'm loud and outspoken), and we like very different things, (she digs the arts, I dig the mall). But to me, that is what makes us get a long so well. When my grandfather passed away, my grandma asked my sister to speak at the funeral to represent the grandkids. Initially I was hurt because I wanted an opportunity to honor my grandpa. However, as I helped my sister practice her speech and watched her at the podium, I knew that she did what I never could have. She was perfect and I was in puddles and it was this difference between us that made her shine. I love our
differences because ironically, they bring us closer together.

I love my sister because she inspires me.
One of the bonuses of being the younger sister is that you get to watch your sister do everything first. She often gives me a hard time because she paves the way for me to do just about everything. Recently, I was telling her that I was planning to move in with Hot Stuff and asking her how to best break the news to our parents. Her reply was simple, "Well, I just told them I'm moving to a foreign country, so I'm pretty sure yours will be a breeze." But besides making things easier for me, I get to watch her achieve great things. If there's one thing that our family does well, it's that we support each other. I know I can look to her for everything from advice about an outfit to inspiration for my next adventure. How lucky am I?

These are just a few of the reasons why I'm so happy to have a fabulous sister in my life. So excited to see what happens next for you seester. I love you BV!

So You Moved in With Your Boyfriend...

Well, it's been about a month since Hot Stuff and I moved in together. I find it very interesting how people react to the news that you have moved in with your boyfriend. You get a rainbow of opinions from, "That's so exciting, we're so happy for you!" to, "Wow, that was fast." (*The author would like to note that these people should probably keep their comments to themselves). At any rate, what I've found the most interesting is that people are very curious about the so-called "transition period" of adapting to living with your significant other. According to their questions we were supposed to have had some type of argument, complaints about living habits, and/or issues with space by now. I asked my teammie if it was wrong that we've not yet had any of these issues. Our consensus was no. Am I saying that we are the "Dream Couple" immune to what seems to be the norm? Definitely not, but I'm also not ashamed to say that things are going well so far. If anything, I'd say that if you have a good sense of humor, moving in with your boyfriend can be pretty entertaining. So in the spirit of finding this so called entertainment, I'd like to give you some things I think you need to keep in mind if you are cohabitating...

So you moved in with your boyfriend...

1. Better make sure you listen to their health needs. When we first moved in together, Hot Stuff told me that he was allergic to all laundry detergents except for All. Me, being me, assumed that he was full of it since I'm a strict Tide girl. "He's used my towels and sheets before," I thought, "He's just being paranoid." So I continued to use Tide secretly until one day I foolishly left the Tide on the laundry basket. Upon seeing this, Hot Stuff lifted up his shirt to show me the rash on his chest that he'd apparently had for two weeks and couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Oddly enough, it only got irritated with the shirts that I had washed, and not the ones that he had washed. Yeaaaah, I felt pretty bad. He claimed he was going to start cooking me dinner with pineapple and mango in it, which would likely cause me to go into anaphylactic shock. We now refer to this event as his assassination attempt. Just to be on the safe side, listen to your significant other when they tell you they are allergic to something, otherwise you might have a "hitch"situation on your hands.

2. Always remember- he's still a man. See dialogue below:
Me: When are the walk through papers due?
H.S.: I'm not sure, soon.
Me: How do we get set up in the directory?
H.S.: Yeah, we need to look into that.
Me: How do we pay rent?
H.S.: I think I got an email...
Me: Where is the recycling?
H.S.: I don't think they have recycling.
Me: We are Democrats! It's our job to recycle!
Okay, so this conversation demonstrates that sometimes even when men are really trying their best, it takes a woman to figure out all those small, yet important details. 'Tis what makes us a good pair in my opinion.

3. Time to invest in some very necessary items. Our friends gave us this excellent housewarming gift. Invest in it, then have a giggle.

4. You might want to consider downsizing. It's no secret that we moved over the holidays meaning that Hot Stuff did the majority of the heavy lifting while I was lifting red bean buns to my face. During our phone conversations in which I continuously thanked him for his labor, there was an unmistakable feeling that he was concerned about just how much "stuff" I was bringing with me. So I have four boxes labelled "Cake Decorating Supplies" and a gift wrap holder bigger than a tent...don't we all? By the end of the unpacking and putting together the puzzle that is our kitchen cabinets, it was clear that some stuff had to go. The beauty of this was that it was actually very refreshing to unload some items. I have enough Goodwill receipts to get a pretty hefty tax write off, and I sold enough clothes to justify a trip to Ikea, (It's called Twice ladies, so easy and totally worth it!). So if you're making the move, at least make the best of it and clear out the clutter.

5. Things may have just gotten a whole lot easier. When I was living by myself I would often wish that I had a house elf to do my bidding. Okay, so my dreams of living in Harry Potter world never quite panned out, but there's no doubt that living with your boyfriend offers a lot of support that you don't really think of. Someone can start the coffee in the morning, pick up last minute groceries on the way home from work, or even make the bed with Orange Bear perfectly set on top. I guess I never thought that having someone around to help with everyday life would be just that, helpful. But what I've found is that it's a nice perk which I  want to reciprocate. Funny how that works right? I guess there really is no I in team.

 

Well, there you have it, just a few pieces of advice from this novice as I sit perched on my amazing new couch. But all silliness aside, it's quite hard to beat coming home to your person. So whether you've cohabitated for years, months, or never, go hug the Hot Stuff in your life...and toss out that old laundry detergent.

Quit Your Bitching

It was around this time last year that I read an article in my magazine titled, "Could You Go a Week Without Bitching?" This title struck me since it's not every day that you sit and analyze just how many things you've been griping about. And as 2015 began, I started to consider what my new year's resolution should be. Well, as most of you know, I've recently moved to a new apartment. When anyone asks how my winter break was, without even thinking I start talking about how terrible it was to move when it was -5 degrees outside, that it was incredibly busy and expensive to move just after the holidays, and that I'm so dreadfully tired of living out of boxes, not to mention the fact that the stinking couch is backordered. Did you hear that? Bitch. Whine. Moan. What I should be saying is that I felt great after donating many household items to a family of Congo refugees, that my sweet boyfriend moved the majority of my apartment while I was gone visiting my family, and that our new apartment is amazing and I'm loving the new living situation. How is it that I completely leave those positive details out and go directly to complaining?

After this little moment of self reflection, I decided I needed to look at this in a bit more in depth. First, I'd like to say that men bitch too, they just usually let it go and then they're done. Women on the other hand, tend to let it fester. For example, when eating lunch with coworkers one person's complaint turns into a series of complaints, and all of the sudden everyone has joined the bitching choir and we're all singing the same tune.  What I've also noticed is that when you don't join in with your fellow complainers you do one of two things:
1. You start bitching about their bitching. Ie: "Ugh, did you hear _______? She's so negative all the time, she makes me crazy!"
2. You feel bad that you are not bitching. Ie: "Everyone is complaining about their evaluation, but I'm not because mine was good. I'm going to go hide from them now."

Bitching is contagious, and incredibly easy to catch, so oftentimes you get sucked in. We are trained to think that if we can just get something off our chest, we'll feel better afterwards.  The trouble is that after we return to our desks, rather than feeling relieved, we are more bothered than ever. Your body feels tense, your blood pressure is on the rise, and then you need to go find someone else to share your complaints with stat...the ugly cycle continues because complaining is closely linked to gossiping, which let's be real, can be addictive. I recently met a friend for breakfast and decided to make the cognitive choice not to bitch about anything. Guess what happened? We still had things to talk about! Okay, okay, sense a little sarcasm here, but truly, it's amazing how good I felt after I left. I felt refreshed, joyful to spend time with someone I hadn't seen in a long time, and just plain happy that I had such a great start to the day. That is the feeling that I want to maintain.

Aren't we all tired of the complaining? We hear it over the annual family Christmas conundrums, we see it every hour from that one friend that we all have on Facebook, we think it each and every second we inch along the highway during rush hour, and worst of all we hear it coming from our own mouths about whatever small and trivial thing has happened to us. For me, I think it's just a change of mindset, a choice that you have to make to be more positive. Am I saying that from now on a complaint will never cross my lips? Not likely.  Because let's be real, not all days at work are going to be stellar, you won't love everyone you  meet, and some days there will be an inch of ice you have to carve your way out of before you go to work. But I think I should at least be a bit more conscientious. For both your sake, and for mine. Because if we can approach things without the instant need to exchange and bond over bitching, I bet we'd all be a bit happier.  It's a little less this:

  A little more this:

And a lot more this:

The Life of an Almost 30 Year Old

Halloween has just passed and my participation in this holiday made me laugh at how things have changed. My night of festivities started with Chinese takeout, worked it's way into watching Harry Potter, and ended with a very tired and happy me in bed by 11:00. This may make me sound like a total loser, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. You see, Hot Stuff had to work that evening so I had a few options. I could 1. Go hang out with my married/pregnant/have families friends or I could 2. Go out with my friends who were undoubtedly intoxicated and out all night dressed in some ironic costume. And not that I don't love both parties, but the thought of doing either was quite unappetizing. This event has made me think of signs that you may be entering the uncharted territory of a new decade.  You might be an almost 30 year old if...

You have your married friends...and your unmarried friends.
My friend has been married for three years and is a fabulous mother to two boys. I'm not sure if I make faces or funny comments, but lately she's been asking me if I'd prefer that my friends didn't have children. My response to this is, of course not! My married friends have made me an auntie and are still the loving, wonderful people that I've known for ages, just with the bonus of husbands and babies. But can I connect to breastfeeding woes or the trials of time out? Well, let's just say that I had to ask the two year old if I was changing his diaper correctly, ("Sure," was the response). Having friends that are married with families is different because you are not doing the same things anymore, your priorities change. I know I'm not to that stage in my life, but that doesn't mean that I don't support those who are.

Now let's scoot to the unmarried friends. These are the people you can call up more spontaneously for dinner or other happenings. You go out with them on Saturday nights, watch football with them on Sundays, and have a cocktail with them at happy hour. Now while I still love these friends, the trouble is that sometimes it feels like you're ready to move past some of these activities. I really am too old to be staying up into the wee hours of the morning, sometimes the couch is better than a bar, and some of those high heels will probably cause me to have back issues. So somehow, whether I intended to or not, I'm caught in between two very different groups of people and I'm not sure if I fit with either one...yep, I'm almost 30.

Your living arrangements are changing.
About two years ago I went through this phase where I was convinced that everything in my apartment was inadequate. All of the sudden I needed a new color scheme complete with eye-catching centerpieces to tie elements together. I was tired of my apartment looking like what it was- a place where hand-me-downs went to die. When you're in your early and mid 20s, you take whatever people give you because you'd rather buy shoes. But when you're nearly 30, you have to buy things for your apartment AND shoes.

Decor is not the only thing that you may change as you near the next decade. I'll take your color scheme and raise you a Hot Stuff. That's right, I know I'm much later to this than most, but I'll be moving in with my boyfriend at the end of the year. Talk about changing your living arrangements! And get this, we're getting furniture that does not have assembly directions created by a Swedish artist! Not only that, I've taken three carloads of junk to Goodwill already and will probably do three more, simply because I think he might reconsider dating me altogether if he really knew how much shit I can put into one closet. I also doubt that he'll understand that it's okay to own this many possessions if they were purchased on clearance. The scariest part of this moving ordeal has been telling my parents. The one clear response from both of them was, "Well, it's not like you're a kid. You're almost 30, you can make your own decisions." Now my parents called me old...gross.

You're suddenly very concerned about your health and aging.
I'm proud to say that I read my Glamour magazine cover to cover every month for the past 12 years. In almost every issue there is an article about how to take care of your skin, body, mind, etc. if you're in your 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s. Reality hit me when I had to start reading the 30s column. Do you have any idea how many more things you have to do once you reach that column!?! I've added anti-aging products to my regimen because apparently now is the time to protect my skin from cracks and crevices, my body from heart disease, and my mind from chronic stress. I meditate, I started buying organic, and I have eye cream on my nightstand. Who am I?

No doubt the biggest change I've made as an almost 30 year old is that nine weeks ago I stopped eating sugar. It only takes five family members to get type 2 diabetes to scare the sweet tooth right out of you. Was it hard? No. It was f-ing horrible! But I feel better, I weigh less, and don't even crave it as much now. I guess what I'm saying is now I'm not trying to be healthy to be skinny, I'm trying to be healthy so someday I can run like the old lady on the neighboring treadmill today.

You're constantly wondering if you are in the right career.
 Oh man, I could probably write an entire thesis paper on this topic, but all I'm going to say is this:
1. My job makes me crazy and I'm trying to find a way to make it better and more rewarding both mentally and financially.
2. All signs are pointing to me continuing in this career but my mind is telling me it is ready for a change.
3. I'm thinking this might just be adulthood.
4. I don't understand how people do the same job for 30 years. Wait...I bet those people get raises and respect.
5. My teammate is the only reason I'm surviving. Oh, and sometimes my students, like when they pushed me down the hallway on a cart. I've got to find some ways to have fun, right?

Well, there you have it, the signs that you might be an almost 30 year old. Am I complaining? Not in the slightest. But hopefully there are others out there that can relate to this interesting time. Oh, and hopefully someone is planning me an epic 30th birthday bash.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I apologize for my blogging absence! It's kind of crazy how your regularly scheduled programming changes once you have a boyfriend and school starts back up. At any rate, a few weeks ago we decided to voyage into the great unknown otherwise known as going on a vacation together. Our bags were packed and our alarm was set for our 5:45 a.m. flight to Florida for his cousin's wedding. Well, sort of.

What I do remember is hearing the alarm, rolling over, and managing to mumble, "We're going to Florida today!" What I also remember is Hot Stuff saying, "We can leave at 4:15 at the latest." Well, I rolled over and the clock was flashing 4:19. Shit.

 Long story short is we missed our flight, spent the day on standby to Dallas where we braved the ebola-filled air to miss yet another flight, got transferred to Tampa, and then rented a car to make the 2.5 hour drive to Fort Myers. Whew. At least we were able to pull over at one of the 143 Chili's located on I-75 to watch the Dodgers game, (obviously this smile is pre-loss, sigh).

Despite all the hassle, I do have to say that you learn a lot about your significant other when put in stressful situations like these. I laugh because while going through this entire day calling my mom and friends to update them of our status, everyone kept asking how Hot Stuff was handling the situation. "Things like this really tell you a lot about a person," they seemed to chant. Yeeeah...pretty sure they should've been asking how I was handling things as I was probably the person who required the most deep breaths. While talking to the gate agents I transformed into Kate McCallister a la this:

So I don't have an eight year old son that I left home alone, but I did quote that entire scene multiple times throughout the day. 

Whereas Hot Stuff got us on a flight because a gate agent fell in love with this smile.

She literally asked what type of toothpaste he used. I really didn't care what he flashed her, I just wanted on the plane. It worked. 

All in all it was a quick but fun trip. I learned to always set two alarms, to book the last flight of the night as opposed to the first flight of the morning, and that the TSA is very fast and efficient...just kidding. But what I will say is that I can officially cross missing a flight off my bucket list and thanks to the efforts of my calm and dapper comrade I lived to tell the tale.

Parental Guidance

Well, as of August 1st my birthday month officially began, and as I slowly creep towards 29, I have to admit that I've started feeling something...old. Okay, okay, so I'm not that old, but what I have noticed is something that we all fear as we are growing up. I'm going to tell a little story to illustrate this.

This is my father.

And yes, the little cutie patootie on the right is me. Anywho,when I was home for the holidays this year my dad had a sliver. He came into the kitchen and I watched him remove said sliver. He started by pouring peroxide into the cap of the bottle and dipping a needle and tweezers into the liquid to sanitize his tools. He then winced in pain as he worked to pull it out. Once the sliver was removed he poured the remaining peroxide over the wound, cleaned his tools, and all was good in the world again. This was the look that was left on my face:

At this point you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this story. Well friends, I was left with this perplexing look because this is EXACTLY how I would've handled my own sliver situation. What this small act made me realize was that I have become my parents (dun, dun, dun). I know. Scary right? 

There is an ongoing debate in psychology that is commonly referred to as nature vs. nurture. In other words, are we born with certain traits and characteristics or do we acquire them from our upbringing? Traits that I believe I have acquired via the nature path are as follows:

• Short Buddha legs- thanks Mom and Gung Gung
• Hairy legs- thanks Dad's Italian side
• Hong chin (which is a chin that looks like it just got smacked on your face, just look at all of my cousins below)- again from Mom and Gung Gung

• Curly hair- brought to you by Mom and Dad (not sure what happened in BV's DNA)
• Freckles- again from both sides of the family tree

But as I think more about my personality and beliefs, it becomes easy to see how my parent's nurturing has created the monster that is me :)

• Intellect- I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, but yes, I consider myself to be smart. I know that I owe many of study habits and my love for devouring new knowledge to my parents. Both of my parents have worked in the education field, but more important than that is they instilled in me the idea that knowledge is power and learning is important. They've taught me to be curious which is something I am truly grateful for.
• Creativity- My dad is a writer, my mom is a chef and a quilter. Therefore, my sister makes costumes for a living and I have a closet overflowing with cake decorating supplies. Not only do I love to learn, but I love to be creative and explore (much to the dismay of people that get forced to craft with me like my cousin below). Kudos Mom and Dad!

• Political beliefs- I think most everyone knows how I feel about politics. I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that your parents have an influence on your political beliefs, but my family apparently took things to the extreme because we had a teddy bear named Clinton and a stuffed beaver named Algore (all one word, mind you).
• Bargain hunting- Say what? That's not a family trait. Well, it is if you're in my family. For pretty much anything I own you can say, "Hey, I like your ________." And my response will be, "Thanks, I got it on sale for $____." I can't merely tell you that I appreciate your compliment, I must also let you know about the bargain/sale/coupon/additional percent off clearance that allowed me to purchase this product. And guess what? The whole family does it.
• Humor- I think my parents gave both my sister and I a very good sense of humor rooted around the idea that you should never take yourself too seriously. We like to have fun- to tease my Dad for his sweet dance moves and inability to whisper, and to laugh at my Mom's ridiculous charade abilities or random one liners. Our ability to laugh together is among my favorite family traits. (PS- Sorry Mom, I had to post this.)

• Sports enthusiast- Everyone knows the Pickle Family are Dodgers fans, but that's not all. Our neighbors could hear us yelling when the Utah Jazz were playing for the Championship, my Dad danced on the desks in his classroom the last time the Broncos won the Superbowl, and my mom's caller ID photo is still of her doing her best Tebow. The last time my sister was over at my apartment I watched her transform into my parents as she screamed at the Dodgers on T.V. "Are you eff-ing kidding me!?! What are you eff-ing swinging at!? That's a ball!" Yeah, Dad would've been proud. 
  

Well, what can I say? I am truly a product of my parents. But luckily, I think my parents are pretty fantastic and have instilled in me beliefs, values, and bits of personality that I am proud to say make me who I am. So the next time you see your dad taking out a sliver, or another act that reminds you frighteningly of yourself, don't worry, you're not the only one.

The Dating Games

Well, judging by the response to my last blog, a lot more people read this than I thought! And while I'm pretty sure you'd like me to cut right to how things went with Hot Stuff, I'd first like to talk a bit about my new dating theory which I have named The Dating Games. Those of you that know me well, know that I'm a big fan of analogies, therefore I've chosen to compare dating to the story of The Hunger Games. Allow me to draw some similarities between the two.

1. Dating is scary. One of the first scenes in The Hunger Games involves Katniss volunteering as tribute for her sister. When you say yes to dating someone for the first time, I feel like you sound a lot like Katniss in this scene- panicked, attempting to show bravery, nervous, and suddenly wondering why you volunteered to take off your sweatpants and go on a date instead. Like Katniss, we all instantly think, "What the eff did I just sign up for?"

2. Dating is cutthroat. The whole premise of The Hunger Games is that you have to kill people in order to win. Obviously I'm not killing people when I'm dating, but we're not exactly nice to each other either. We all play those stupid games that usually involve some sort of telephone call, (or lack thereof) or maybe being blunt and cutting someone's pride and self confidence to near nothingness. Whatever it is, feelings will get hurt and sometimes you just have to turn your head and pretend not to care. It's awful. Just as awful as it was to watch Rue die (cue mockingjay whistle).

3. Dating is competitive.  When the Games begin, there is a group of competitors called the Career Tributes. They are born and bred to compete in these games. In the dating world, they're called tall blondes. Bitches. We all bring our own combination of brains, beauty, and personality to the table when it comes to dating. I just choose to believe that my combo will conquer all of the other tributes, just like Katniss did-except she used a bow and arrow and I will use cupcakes.

4. Dating involves taking risks. I'd say the biggest risk that Katniss and Peeta take is when they decide to eat those poisonous berries to spite the Capitol. My biggest dating risk has been dating someone who I wouldn't normally date. I had this great epiphany where I discovered that my type isn't really my type, it's just what society tells me my type should be (did you get that?). To this I say, screw the Capitol, and screw society- he makes me happier than I've been in a long time.

5. Dating requires a support team. Katniss' support team involves a drunk, a chick with crazy hair, and Lenny Kravitz. My team consists of BV, Amanda, Chelsea, Abby, Laura, Allison, Di, Pam and Rachel who, in my opinion, are just as good as the representatives from District 12. One cannot survive this without their team.

6. Whilst dating, mistakes can be made. However, these mistakes can be mended. Katniss' biggest mistake is that she initially ditches Peeta who is undoubtedly her best ally- he is kind, knows how to use his strengths, and can camouflage like a Navy SEAL. Luckily she goes back to find him and together they are able to survive. My biggest mistake was having an anxiety attack on the corner of 12th and Broadway and word vomiting things about being unsure and needing time and space. I actually think I used that, "It's not you, it's me" line. Fortunately, after 48 hours, a t-chart, and some damage control it's now something to laugh about. Both Katniss and I have regrets about our mistakes and very understanding and patient male counterparts.

 7. Dating can only succeed when there are two winners. In the end of The Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta play the roles of star-crossed lovers to help them become victors. In other words, you must work together in order for dating to work. And so it is with me and Hot Stuff. Yeah, yeah, I didn't forget to tell you about him. It's been almost a month now and things are going quite swimmingly. Like Peeta, he is the nicest guy on the planet, ever so thoughtful, and makes me feel like smiling for days. I could go on for quite some time, but I'm pretty sure he'll reading this, so I have to leave some things to the imagination. :)

As an active participant in The Dating Games, I'll just say that beginnings are always scary and it's strange getting to know someone new. It is also incredibly difficult to just let yourself fall without knowing whether things will end with the deathly boom of the cannon or the joys of a victory tour. The challenge is to embrace the unknown because it might just lead you to finding the exact things that you were looking for in the first place. And so, to my fellow tributes currently competing in harsh reality of The Dating Games, I say stay strong, and may the odds be ever in your favor.