"30 Days Hath September, April, June and November"

This makes me think of those 7 years of Latin class I took with Mr. Gerenser and Mr. Woodruff (wow, throwback). I'm not sure if it's the "hath" or the fact that I often find myself thinking that March has 30 days in it, and not 31. Technically I am correct; March does have 30 days in it, but it's not done there! One more.

Maybe it has to do with the Ides of March, March 15, the day Julius Caesar was murdered. Et tu, Brute. "The Ides of March (Latin: Idus Martiae) is the name of March 15 in the Roman calendar. The term ides was used for the 15th day of the months of March, May, July, and October, and the 13th day of the other months."

Perhaps the confusion comes from the notion that some months have a certain amount of days in them and others, well, have a different amount of days. I'm pretty sure the Ides of March is just one of those things that only people in academia care about, too. I literally haven't thought of that term since my senior year of high school. In any case, it's true, "30 Days hath September, April, June and November. All the rest have 31, save February — the shortest one."

Riddle me this if you can, how did the Romans decide which months would have which amount of days? The Ecce Romani textbooks might be able to help you out.

No taxation without representation: Taxes are fair.

Taxes are the worst. At best they are sub-par. For the working world, taxes mean doom and gloom, and for others it can mean a fat refund. For me though, taxes are that nasty doom and gloom business. See, I'm technically self-employed. Independent. I'm not an island, per se, but not too far off in the eyes of the government.

Being self-employed sounds awesome, right? And the freedom of a play-by-your-own-rules work schedule is definitely not without its perks. (Too many negatives?) Let's try that again: there are perks to working solo!

But the Self-Employment Tax is enough of a non-incentive to ward off potential upstarts and consultants. If only I had read the fine print when I first began leasing myself and services out. Oh, the 1099-MISC., how you mock me.

Alright, cutting the crap, I love working for myself. This lifestyle suits me right now. It gives me time to have a (mostly) fun job in retail, while I can also work on my own stuff (ie classes, improv, performing and writing) at my leisure. I can be as motivated or unmotivated as I want. And, yeah, it's scary sometimes because I'm the one who has to kick myself in gear rather than some snarky boss-man, but I live under the mantra that if anyone is going to tell me what to do, it's going to be me. (Unless I'm at J.Crew — then it's everyone else.)

Flack for my stance on miracles: I am correct.

I've been getting some flack from my personal peanut gallery on my stance on miracles. Namely one person who shall remain anonymous, for his sake. The catalyst for this blog came one crappy day in December when I saw a comment on another social networking site that stated simply (and incorrectly, I might add) that "Miracles happen every day." To that I responded, somewhat critically: "Like hell they do."

My reasoning for said fact was the definition of miracle. Sure, definitions can change up depending upon the situation, but I'm not about to let a colloquialism rule my life. No, no idioms navigating this life.

The reasoning my friend tried to add up to supporting "Miracles happen every day" was this: that anything that's unique is a miracle. Sure, sure, uniqueness is a key — but I stress the solo "a." Let me take you here, to this snowflake.

Unique. One of a kind. Sure, all of those things. But, it's not a miracle that it exists.

Just as colds — which scientists have attempted to create a vaccination for in order to rid the world of these meddling runny noses, but just can't, as each cold is unique — are not a miracle.

I rest my case.

“It all comes out in the wash.”

I love that phrase, “It all comes out in the wash.” It makes me feel secure in my own strength, even though it’s meant to make people wary about telling lies. What's funny though is how someone can interpret this little ditty. I feel like it should be the catch phrase for a new detergent or spot cleaner — like, "Shout it out!" or something, but better.

There would probably be a lot of problems with "It all comes out in the wash" as the catch phrase. Namely, it's likely copywrited by someone somewhere — or — an ad man can get caught with their proverbial pants down when that lipstick stain his mistress left on his shirt collar didn't come off with that Tide-to-Go pen. Then it really "All comes out in the wash."

reading's for the birds.

Growing up reading was one of those things that my mom impressed on my siblings and me. I didn't fully grasp how much I loved settling down with a good book until college though. I read a lot up until then, but mostly for classes and the like; the concept of reading for the sheer pleasure of it didn't come until later. Fortunately for me, I was both an English major and a Journalism major at the University of Iowa, so reading was something that never fell by the wayside, as it does for too many. I can remember reading entire books from 7 am until 2:30 every Thursday for my post-colonial literature class senior year.

Something professors always dropped between the first and sixth day of class was this: "Good readers make good writers." And that's true. It's something to do with the company you keep makes you who you are. That concept has bothered me at various times, mostly because I wanted to be better than my company, my peers (sorry, I'm competitive — nope, I'm not sorry). But, that all just comes with time, becoming better, that is. Then again, sometimes the company you keep makes you who are in a way that more so means you're the opposite of your company rather than a reflection or composite. They've influenced you into an entirely different direction from their own, similarly to when a particular author influences your writing style. And, that's neat.

That's when reading becomes most interesting: when you read an author and, using what you've read, develop your own style — as life will force your hand to do.

So, I read, and you should, too. Go to the library; it won't cost you anything.

Health care. I really want to hear your thoughts on this topic.

The Health Care Bill was passed. It won't go into effect for a while as it still has to go through the Senate, but it probably will make it into every day society. Honestly, I'm not informed enough on the topic to make a statement of fact or fiction, so I open this to you. What are your thoughts?

Is this bill the answer or at least the beginning of the answer to all health care problems? Will insurance issues ever get resolved? How do you feel about pharmaceutical companies now getting to hold patents on drugs for 12 years instead of the current seven years? Is this a good thing? Is this a bad thing? And what are you going to do about your health care plan. After I read more on the topic, your comments either via comment or email and learn more about the general debate, I will make an informed decision.

Fact or fiction: This a good thing.

Link to NY Daily News Take: Here
Link to CNN's Take: Here

Acceptable Ways to Say the Current Year.

Twenty-and-Ten.

Two-Thousand-Ten.

Two-Oh-One-Oh.

Second Decade of the Two-Thousands.

First Year of Double Digits in the Two-Thousands.

Party Time.

The Year of Our Lord.

Not Nineteen-Ninety-Nine.

Second year of Barack Obama's presidency.

Last year of Barack Obama's presidency. [Disclaimer: this is not meant to be a prediction.]

The year of the Tiger.

The year of the Pig.

The year of the Rat.

OK-you get to pick which ones are fact or fiction.

You can't overpack.

Yes. You. Can. To all those ladies who insist on packing 15 pairs of shoes and everything else, please, think again. Think about the store you bought all that stuff in.

This morning I took a grueling five hour shift at J.Crew to help with this spring's new roll out items. Holy, hell. 4:15 a.m. rolled around and I was up and hardly at 'em. After three hours of sleep (clocking out the day last night at about 1 a.m.), I walked the half-mile to North Avenue, which was actually kind of nice. No one was out, the moon was there and so was the sun — no rats in sight! Hooray!

Then I get to 929 North Ave., pop music a'blarrin', and smiling, tired eyes awaited. Tired eyes and the most ridiculously overpacked boxes of t-shirts, sweaters, cardigans, shorts, etc. etc. etc. Ridiculous. Picture cardboard boxes. Picture a load of clothes completely plastic-wrapped. Picture each t-shirt individually wrapped with that weird lightweight paper and protective foam. Picture hundreds of these.

Overpacking doesn't just apply to suitcases any more. Talk about a waste of paper and plastic.

All Irish Sayings & Quotes Are True

I don't think anyone can even question any of this. Clearly, these are all 100 percent true:

"If you’re enough lucky to be Irish, you’re lucky enough!"

"There are only two kinds of people in the world, The Irish and those who wish they were."

"Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you fight with your neighbor. It makes you shoot at your landlord — and it makes you miss him."

As probably everyone knows, Chicago's South Side Irish Parade for St. Patrick's Day was canceled this year due to past years of belligerence. I'm attesting that those belligerent people could not have been of Irish descent, because "An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth." Agreed? Agreed.

Happy St. Patrick's Day [weekend]! Check back on the 17th for some more Irish love.

Note to Readers . . .

So, I've been giving this blog a little face lift. A lil nip here and a tuck there. Now very swanked. If you haven't noticed, please check out this new section I've added where you, dear readers, can throw in some of your ideas on what Might Not Be True . . .

Check it out HERE!

"Time flies when you're having fun"

Time remains one of the strangest concepts to me. During high school I was recruited to take a class called Clockwise. It was taught by Peter Ferry, who was also my coach on Forensics (otherwise known as Speech Team). I was practicing a reading of T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," a poem I love and constantly revisit. During the first class, which met two days per week, with the three other days reserved for writing, researching and thinking, Mr. Ferry asked me to join in on the lesson and give my reading of the poem, then asked me to stay in the class. I dropped my Law class immediately to make room in my schedule.

The class' main objective was seemingly to explore. So, the 15 of us who were asked and recommended for the class, got together to discuss topics of philosophy and religion and time and ethics and literature and all the things that education should be, but too often isn't. Even though I was asked to be in the class, I did feel a bit like an outsider, joining by happenstance. Sort of a right moment, right time, instance. Since then I don't think I've had a right moment, right time, instance.

But that semester just before high school commencement was my most enjoyed, tried and interesting. And it flew. And I wish I could recapture the essence of those lessons. It flew.

"And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;                               
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea."

-T.S. Eliot "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

"Can't Win 'Em All"

The thing about this little phrase is that actually, if you were good enough, you could hypothetically win them all. It's just that none of us are good enough. Sort of a downer. It reminds me of the movie "Pleasantville" from a few years back (holy heck, 12 years ago!), starring Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon and the guy who looks like Jiminy Cricket (Don Knotts).

There's a part in the movie just before life is in technicolor, just before things stop being constantly pleasant, so to speak. The basketball players miss every single shot causing them to lose. The coach pulls one of the players aside, and says, "You know, you can't win 'em all," and the player doesn't understand. The only response he can muster is this: "But, we do. We always win them all." The thing is, that makes this so sad, is simply that it's not the phrase that's false, it's the fact that as humans we innately fail.

Talk about two downer posts in a row!

Fact: Don Knotts is Jiminy Cricket:

"When it rains, it pours."

I don't feel much like being quippy. All I know is this saying is, for certain, spot on. During a recession like this good things can organically grow out of a bad situation, but so far not so good. It just keeps raining.

Up next, "Good things come to those who wait."

"No News is Good News."

This is wholeheartedly untrue when you're waiting. Waiting to hear back. Waiting for a ride. Waiting to get to where you're going. Any news is good news if you're about knowing things. I love knowing. Perhaps, that will lead me to a steady career as a know-it-all, but still. I like knowing things. Who likes being kept in the dark?

If something bad happened, tell me. If I didn't get the job, tell me. If clip art is out of fashion, tell me.

Spring is coming . . .

Yesterday: "Hello, Chicago." - The Sun

Today: "Goodbye, Chicago. I hate you." - The Sun

This weather is the first of the sneak up behind you trickery that will be coming for the next two to four weeks. Get used to the confusion.

The 1 of the 5 Dentists that Doesn't Agree with Trident is British

For many years now we Americans have known the English to be a resilient breed. Bubonic plagues, warring kings, iffy dentistry, you know. Well, I recently have simply just come to believe that the reason why Brits do strange things like drink their beer warm is because they have a crap dentist that said they should do all of these things.


This is an assumption that definitely falls within the parameters of assumption.

Go ahead, tell your friends.

Honking at girls on the street isn't always a come-on

In general, the honk at stranger routine creepy dudes put on is on its way out. Now people only honk if they support something. Like Barack Obama. Or breasts. Or Chuck Norris — but when taxi cabs honk at me, they really creep me out. No, it's not a come-on, but who wants to feel that, "Come on, girl, lemme give you a riiideee..." vibe?

I don't mind cabs if I've got to go to the airport or if there are four of us and we don't mind splitting. But, price point definitely adds to the vote for walking and the film Taxi Driver scares me.

What I do mind is taxis honking at me when I don't need a ride. It's midnight, and I'm the only one on the street, walking a quick three blocks from the brown line to my apartment, and they're feeling lonely, and they need the money. I get it.

At least I know cab drivers aren't trying to get your attention in that hit-on-way like those chotchkeys winking at you at the corner of Addison and Clark on a Friday night.

Shower Time: Great for Idea Generation

Yes, it's true. Showering tends to clear your mind. Allows it to breath. Take a load off. Relax — But it's terrible. More terrible than good.

See. There are no pens in showers.

You bring a pad of paper and a Bic ballpoint into the local YMCA after a sweet workout: endorfins are flowing and everything seems clear. People look at you like ya nuts. And you are.

A. Who goes to YMCA's?
B. You should probably work on your short term memory.

There are too many dudes below the age of 25 wearing suits before they're ready...

Millennials. That's what we are. We, meaning those who grew up with the Internet; those who can half-listen to someone while checking their Blackberry; those who have exponential means of letting everyone know how they feel about something (YouTwitFace); and yes, even those who text while driving (sorry, Oprah, this fad's not going away). We're at the forefront of most things.

But, what I've still not grasped is that in this time of everything being better because of communication, no one has communicated just how dumb young guys tend to look in suits. Over the last few years, younger generations have skipped suits and stayed in jeans, except for those mighty few: The Male Banker. Why is it a requirement for these smart young men to wear matchy-matchy suits that make them look like the Freshman of Life?

For the most part women can get away with the female suit: The Power Suit. Thanks, Ann Taylor. Thanks, J.Crew. No thanks, J.C. Penny's Young Professional Section. It's something to do with the empowerment of women wearing suits, I'd say.

Men though — it's a sad, sad world out there for the young, white male. Once a dominant figure in the world's story, young white guys are just sinking lower on the totem pole. I feel bad about it — low self-esteem and the very real knowledge that most won't live up to their fathers' expectations. So they throw on these massively unfitting suits and parade around hoping that one day the grind will lead to a larger paycheck so they can afford a tailor who can fix the box-y-ness of that three piece.

Can we please give these guys a hand, and just let them wear classy slacks and a button-up that doesn't billow behind them for miles? Corporate bosses, I'm addressing you. Your young male minions need this.

Links:
First thing that shows up when you google "Young Men in Suits." Help.