Eek how does time pass by so quickly?

Almost 1 month since I last blogged... I love writing, but it seems my true skills are in my ability to actively not blog.

What have I been up to?

• Still working at my job at the domestic violence shelter. Seriously, though: never a dull moment. Never.
• Still in grad school. Twice a week at nights so it's manageable. I like it a lot. Which reminds me I have a paper due next week. Riiiight.
• Still madly in love with the boytoy. We are almost 1 year together and it's just great and wonderful and hearts and unicorns and rainbows everyday. 
• Still completely lacking a social life. I work weekends and am either in school or at work. Legit that is my life. #noshame

So everything is still going well. I am finding myself surprised at how I am turning into such a ... townie. The girls at the breakfast place recognize us, I frequent the same stores and get recognized there and any time I am required to be anywhere 40 minutes or farther away, I just dread it. I am what I have always mocked. 

Life is funny.

But, I do have some surprising/exciting/amazing news. 

I am getting a puppy!

A brand new, adorable pint-sized puppy!

So obviously pictures will be posted when he arrives. He is arriving Sunday from North Carolina via car and I will be unable to pick him up since I will be at work. But my parents will be there to greet him and keep him company until I run home at 9pm. 

I can hardly contain my excitement. The past two days I have been running around the apartment "puppy proofing" it. And reading up on training techniques. And buying wee-wee pads. And trying so hard to resist buying bedazzled dog collars. So hard. 

So that is my news! And I know once that little 3lb nugget comes home, I will literally never leave this apartment again. So that basically means I will be filming non-stop videos of my puppy to put up on YouTube and having photoshoots every hour. 

Let the madness begin!

Every Yom Kippur we turn to those around us and we ask for forgiveness, adorn ourselves in white clothing and refrain from eating or drinking. Yom Kippur becomes a day in which we are likened to angels and it is the only time of the year in which we say the second verse of the Shema out loud as opposed to the 364 other days of the year in which we recite this prayer under our breath, as it was “stolen” from the angels. The twenty-five hour fast of Yom Kippur is broken with an elaborate meal and thus we continue on with our lives, all our sins forgiven, a blank slate.

I remember the days of Yom Kippur as being extra miserable for me as I would not only mourn my sins, but also the chocolate chip muffin I knew was just waiting for me to be eaten back at home. I would find myself staring miserably at the food in the cupboard, just begging me to take one little nibble. I would resentfully slam the door and nap until the onset of the evening service. Then as the time came near to hear the blowing of the shofar, I would make a run for the dining room and grab possession of my plate in preparation for the feast that I would indulge in. For me, Yom Kippur meant a day of seemingly endless suffering as I would struggle to avoid eating and find ways to make the long hours fly by.

For my family, however, Yom Kippur is something even more. Yom Kippur marks the anniversary of the 1973 war fought between Israel and a coalition of Arab states backed by Egypt and Syria. On this day, thirty seven years ago, a surprise attack was launched on the holiest day in the Jewish calendar: Yom Kippur. The State of Israel was unprepared for such a brazen offensive and the entire country was thrown in to a panic. Egypt and Syria crossed cease-fire lines entering into the Israeli held Sinai Peninsula and Golan Heights. The Israelis quickly rallied and launched a counter-defensive and managed to push both the Egyptians and Syrians back. The war, however, had ended with the Arab states feeling vindicated after their humiliating defeat back in 1967 and the Israelis disheartened and no longer invincible.

It was also on this day thirty seven years ago that my father was sent to the frontlines of Egypt as a member of the Israeli Defense Forces. Each Yom Kippur my family would notice how my father would tense up and shadows would cross his face as we spent the day praying in the synagogue. I could always see a shadow of sadness in his eyes even as he would sit in the shul, his head deep in thought as he would sneak a candy in to his mouth while the Hazzan sang his mournful lamentations. Whenever I would dart a dirty look at him, he would smile and say, “I just need something sweet to taste”. He would open his pocket and I would find an assortment of sugared candies just waiting for me to indulge in, but I would adamantly shake my head and silently feel victorious in my own personal struggle to resist any food from crossing into my mouth.

Yom Kippur, I’ve found, is truly a bittersweet day for both my father and me; it marks the day that all of our sins are erased, and yet we are still left with the memories of those sins. And that epitomizes the most truly frustrating aspect of Yom Kippur; the fact that we are forgiven for our transgressions, and we are still burdened by the memory of them.

Just like my father is still haunted by his memories from the war thirty seven years ago, I am also haunted with the pain I caused the ones I loved, the mean words I said of others, the countless times I could have helped someone in need and I chose not to.

So, what does Yom Kippur mean to me? As I’ve grown older, Yom Kippur has begun to become less about not getting my daily bowl of Cheerios and more about transforming my past sins into future promises of change for myself. Yet, it also means that when I say my selichot, or prayers for forgiveness, I must also learn that while my slate is being wiped clean, I will still remember the hurt that I caused others. And it will be this realization that will prevent me from making those same mistakes again. And while memories of hurt that we received from others and pain that we caused are a deep burden that we must carry throughout our lives, I have learned from my father that the best thing to do is to accept- and even welcome- the pain. And in those moments of true weakness that we do have-  in which one more hour of fasting seems like an impossible task or in which the pain of our past transgressions hurts us more than words can describe-  we can’t let the difficulty overcome us so that we lose the true meaning of forgiveness and redemption. Instead, we must smile and sneak a little piece of candy to remind us of the true and constant sweetness that our lives possess.

My first week of job training has officially been completed! I survived! It wasn't terrible at all, in fact I really enjoyed it but I am definitely happy it's over; it was a really heavy week.

I am starting to work for a women's domestic violence shelter in the area and in order to begin working, I had to complete a certain number of hours of training. I am officially now a Sexual Assault Advocate and a Mandated Reporter. It's a little heavy knowing now that I have these responsibilities- essentially 24/7- but it's a good burden to carry. 

Training condensed a lot of information into a short 24 hours and at the end of each day, we spent the last 15 minutes devising a strategy for ourselves to 'self-care' and decompress from the day. Easier said than done. The first 3 days were fine for me and then on the last day, I left training feeling very... angry.

We had spent that day discussing sexual assault and childhood sexual assault. We then discussed safety planning and how women who have left a domestic violence situation need to prepare themselves. Some preparations included switching supermarkets, parking in different areas, changing bank accounts... And I thought about how predictable my routine is. I am at Target at least once a week. I am addicted to frozen yogurt and am there at least once a week. I coupon at the same CVS on the regular. I am a creature of habit. 

Why did this particular moment in our training make me so angry? We had discussed so many more  intense subjects and yet this safety planning discussion was the one that stuck with me the most. 

I think the reason was that I reached a boiling point. I was just so... pissed. Why should the woman have to change where she shops? Where she parks? Why can't we simply tell the man to stop hitting his wife?!!?

Is it really that complicated?

Apparently, yes it is. And it made me think of male privilege and all the times I have felt so uncomfortable or violated by men in my life. About all the times I am walking, minding my own business, and a man passes me and smacks his lips at him. About all the men who feel the need to tell me "You're a pretty girl, why don't you give me a smile?". About all the times I felt the uncomfortable touch in a bus or a metro train. And it angers me. 

I am educated. I have traveled the world. I read books that (sometimes) don't have pictures in them. 

And even if I did none of the above, the same is true: JUST BECAUSE I AM A WOMAN, YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO DEMEAN ME AND TREAT ME AS IF I AM JUST ON THIS PLANET FOR YOUR SHEER ENTERTAINMENT OR PLEASURE. 

I DO NOT owe you anything. Not a smile, not a response to your inane questions or pick-up lines. Nothing.

You see how I went from 0 to 60 there? 

And it is exactly how I feel. Why do I need to change the way I dress? To make sure my skirt is long enough, my boobs are tucked in enough, my make-up is not too dark.... Why can't you just control yourself and treat me like... a human being? This is not such a revolutionary concept, but unfortunately today- in the year 2012- we still need to be reiterating this. 

So if you ever see me on the street walking one day, and I look angry or upset, don't ask me for a smile because chances are you are the reason why I am not smiling in the first place. 

So I have been to Israel numerous times. Six months here, 8 months there, two weeks thrown in for good measure... Israel has quite easily become my second home. I have a slew of friends, family and former flings there that it almost sometimes feels as if there is a whole different Jessica alter-ego that is simultaneously living another life across the world. Whenever I go to Israel, I easily fall back into another life and the transition seems so seamless.

The beach of Tel Aviv. How dreamy.

While it was amazing to see everyone- especially because I had trained myself to forget about Israel because I honestly thought it would be years before I would ever return- this trip was definitely different from every past trip that I had taken. 

The main reason why it was so different was because it was just a trip.

Usually when I am off for Israel, I am there for months. And leaving is an incredibly dramatic and painful process where I typically spend the following week in a ketonic depression filled with copious amounts of chocolate and vodka. Seriously, a dangerously delicious depression- but depression nonetheless.

This time, however, from the minute I boarded my plane in Logan the moment I was most excited for (okay, well technically second most excited for. I was super duper excited to see the face of my friend Melissa when I surprised her at her apartment) for was to come back home and be with my boyfriend again (cue vomit... I know).

The girls... After the big surprise! 

But it was more than just seeing my boyfriend. It was getting back to the life I had started making for myself here. Because every other time I had gone to Israel I really had nothing to come back to. Sure, I had university and a smattering of friends- but no real foundation. I didn't have an anchor holding me and guiding me steadily. I always had assumed that Israel was my anchor. 

But now I am in a completely different place than I ever thought I would end up. And I love it. 

I am starting university in one week. Tomorrow I begin my job training. I have started volunteering teaching my citizenship classes again on Saturdays. I have a full plate, but I feel grateful for every bit on it because I have a feeling I haven't had in a very, very long time- or perhaps ever. I feel like I am where I am supposed to be. 

While nothing in my life has been according to 'my plan', it does not even seem to matter. Because finally, I have begun to finally "figure it out" and while I may not be there 100% (and let's face it- who really is?) I am definitely on my way. And if it took me $1,200 and two weeks across the world to figure it out, then I'll take that too. 

So after a cab, a train, two planes, a bus, another train and one car-ride, I arrived safely home on Thursday.

The trip itself was not bad at all. I have traveled extensively and have had horrific travel experiences (flight oversells, having the flu over the Atlantic and being treated by the resident airport doctor at Heathrow at 4am, sleeping in the Berlin train station) and this was definitely not the worst. And the best part was how I excited I was to come home. In the past, I have always lamented the journey back home because I would much rather continue my nomadic lifestyle. This time though, I wanted to run back home, shower, munch on Chinese and hang out with the boyfriend and cuddle all night.

In reality I ended up passing out in bed, but still  a lovely experience.

Now, four short days later and I have started a pre-req Statistics class at my university! The exclamation point is not really a testament to my love of Stats, but more of my excitement of being back on a campus.

I'm starting the part-time MSW program at Simmons which is nestled in the heart of the college district of Boston. I love the energy found on campuses, fresh notebooks and sharpened pencils. I guess I am a geek at heart. And I am so excited to learn more about Social Work, especially because I start training for my new job on Tuesday working at a women's shelter.

More updates later- now I need to study!

This past year has been nothing short of a twisty, sometimes scary, a bit overwhelming super-sized roller coaster. 

Exactly one year ago I had my bank accounts closed, my bags packed and ticket purchased to move abroad with my best friend to spend a year working, backpacking and partying in South America. About a week before we were supposed to leave, she canceled via a phone call that ultimately destroyed our friendship and took me an incredibly long time to heal from.

But then a little miracle happened. I found an inner strength in me that I never knew existed. Because even though break-ups suck, breaking up with a friend can sometimes be even more traumatic. And devastating. But then I realized how much stronger I was for it and I learned to forgive and move on. And then, somehow, amazing things happened. 

With bank accounts already closed and bags already packed, I decided to apply to get my Israeli citizenship and move over there. Somehow while waiting for my passport and citizenship card (which to this day I am still waiting for due to the Army being stubborn) I met the most amazing man and I fell incredibly, madly and deeply in love. Within weeks of dating, I just had a feeling in my gut and I knew. 

But that meant I had to make a decision: stay and see where this relationship would go or follow 'my plan' and my dream to move to Israel. 

A lot of factors influenced my decision. I was still reeling from the hurt I had experienced from my friend backing out of our original plan and was scared to take another risk on someone else. I was scared to give myself to them, only to have them decide they don't want me. From my friend, I had realized a really harsh truth: people are selfish and they will do whatever serves them best. Which isn't necessarily bad, but so far out of my realm of thinking. 

Luckily the man I fell in love with is also unselfish and told me to follow wherever my heart decided; he would understand. 

It was agonizing trying to make that decision. Weeks of late nights and pro & con sheets tormented me. But I always came back to the same decision: I don't want to look back on my life and know that one person ruined any trust relationships I would have in my life. 

I went with my heart. 

And you know what? I haven't regretted it for a second. 

True, sometimes when we fight I wonder "What would have happened had I left? Would I have been happier?" And it is such a fleeting thought because it is so absurd. Because even when we fight and I slam doors, I still love that man with everything I have. 

So exactly one year ago today I was recovering from a broken heart. That girl, jaded at the world and feeling so betrayed every night in her bed alone, is so different from the girl today. 

Life is still hard. There are still bills to pay, loneliness to combat and dreams to realize I am in a better place than I ever could have imagined. And even though the ups and downs of life can be intense, it still is a rollercoaster I intend on riding til the very end. 

One week ago I was reeling from a slew of job rejections, a general feeling of deprime (depression in French just sounds so much more sophisticated) and having just an overall tough time with life. Ever since quitting and committing my life to living in this suburban hell (melodramatic much?) I have been in a bit of an existential funk. I have also been really lonely as it has been hard to make friends and I have no job so essentially my life has consisted of a lot of Tostitos and Jerry Springer.

Until Friday of last week. In which I, hopeless and forelorned, received a job offer which took me about .005 seconds to accept. And not any job. It is not administrative job that I resigned to applying for, nor the front staff at a local gym. No, I actually somehow managed to score a job in my field and more importantly, something that is related to Social Work, which I will be studying starting in the Fall.

Additionally, the job is super flexible. I sign up for shifts a month before and can make my schedule around my classes. It almost is too good to be true. Almost.

Also, since I won't be starting school until the fall and my training for work does not being until the first week of September I came to the very astute observation that I have a good 2.5 weeks to kill.

So, in the good nature of spontaneity that I sometimes possess coupled with a recklesness that I have never possessed, I booked a plane ticket to Israel for 2 weeks leaving in less than a week. Yep, I dropped $1,000 on a plane ticket across the world to go see my friends, party and work on my tan.

I reckon it will totally be worth it.

So I am leaving for Israel to hang out with all my lovely friends for 2 weeks, have a great job lined up and am starting graduate school in 2.5 weeks. Awesome, right?

I am a little nervous about how everything will work out. Will I be overwhelmed working, studying and volunteering on weekends? Will I be able to balance everything and still be able to relax once in awhile and see my boyfriend?

I think know that it will definitely be a challenge, but I think I am ready for it. Or at least I will be after 2 weeks of fun in the sun... Right?

And just when I thought waking up every morning to a new slew of rejection letters from potential employers was not humiliating enough... I get this email:

At first glance, it's nothing special. I get a fair amount of lame and generic rejection emails daily. And then on second glance, I notice that I am not the only recipient on this email. Nay, rather I am one of 97.

Yes, this woman sent a mass email to NINETY-SEVEN people rejecting them from the job and also alerting the ninety-six other people that you also did not get this job. 

So in one way it is a nice comfort knowing that you can share your rejection with a relatively large pool of others. On the other hand... WTF? This is incredibly unprofessional, offensive and mildly humiliating. 

Depending on the job, I spend anywhere from ten to twenty minutes constructing my application. That includes tailoring my resume to best match the job position and crafting a cover letter after researching the position and the organization. I usually apply to anywhere from 5 to 50 jobs a day. You do the math. It is pretty much a part-time job for me to apply to jobs. 

And you- mass email sender- who is already gainfully employed full-time could not spare an extra ten to twenty minutes yourself to send individual emails? Seriously? You cannot have the consideration or professionalism to even accomplish that?

I think I am taking this even more to heart because it is just so symbolic of the frustration that I have already been feeling regarding my job search and its lack of progress. And when things like this happen... it just makes me lose even more hope. And not only that, but rejections on a daily basis can really just kick you in the gut self-esteem wise. It is hard when you spend your whole life believing you are an amazingly talented incredibly blessed gift on this earth and then spend an entire month getting rejected day after day. 

And to be honest, I am kind of sick of hearing everyone tell me "well, everyone is in the same boat as you" or "it's tough out there right now". Please, I know this. But at the end of the day, this is the last thing you want to hear. When you're super hungry and craving a Big Mac, you don't want your friend smugly informing you, "Well, imagine all those kids in Africa who haven't eaten in 3 days". You want to hear, "Girl, I hear you. We are going to get you that Big Mac. You deserve it. You have worked so hard for that Big Mac. You go out and get it. And make them give you extra pickles because you are such an amazing person".

Why does no one ever just do that?

I have been unemployed for officially 1 month. While in writing, it does not sound so treacherously long, some days it feels like a lifetime. I left my job with three interviews lined up- all very promising options- and the hope that I would be in a job within 2 weeks. And then reality set in. And, though I was offered a job, I knew that it was not a match and I would have been miserable. I now know that I cannot have a simple '9 to 5' where I clock in and clock out. At some point I know I will find that job where I feel passionate or I will just accept the next best thing out of desperation. When that breakthrough happens, however, I do not yet know. I have begun to adjust well to my new life of unemployment. I also like how it nicely coincided with the summer months. It also coincided quite neatly with my move into my new apartment with the boyfriend. Living together for the first time with a boyfriend is a new experience. I have never lived with a significant other before and I am pretty confident this will be my last time. You really do get to learn a lot about your partner- the good, bad and the ugly. But it is important to learn all that fun, dirty stuff too and it brings you closer. I can see how living together can totally destroy couples, though. So, while I am in a sort of limbo in life now I cannot deny I am incredibly happy and feel so blessed. I know that where I am is 100% the exact opposite of where I thought I would currently be in my life, but I also feel like in a way I skipped 30 steps ahead and found the true love of my life (super sappy, I know). I honestly imagined getting married in my mid-30's after having achieved some kick-ass career goals and traveling the world. And I know that whenever you make plans, God just laughs in your face but I think I am still pretty happy with how this version of life is playing out...

Have you ever been in a funk? One where you cannot seem to shake off your 'funkiness' no matter what you do?

Yeah, well that is me right now. 

The reason for my funk basically all boils down to the simple fact that I am currently unemployed after having quit my job. This is starting week 2 of my unemployment actually. While it is admittedly kind of enjoyable to sleep in, go out to lunch daily with my boyfriend and stay up until 4am- I cannot help but feel as if there is something missing. Oh, right- employment. 

I am trying to keep positive, but it is hard. Especially since Monday I will be meeting up with a small group of my former co-workers and I feel as if I have nothing to show for the fact that I pretty spontaneously up and quit my job. I had an Office Space-esque departure (minus the beating the shit out of the office equipment). 

I figured that I should at least try and do something productive with my life. I started redoing those crazy Insanity workouts and have finally submitted my application for my Master's program which for some reason I had been putting off for months now. But, writing has always been cathartic for me. And this should be no different. 

I hope to stick with it. I see no reason why I shouldn't- I quite literally have nothing else to do all day. True, I have been making lunch plans left and right. And I have been finding myself carving out an hour each day to catch Jerry Springer (I swear- I never used to watch this show and now I am somewhat addicted. Shameful, I know). 

So here is to being positive, hoping for a promising future, curbing my Springer addiction and renewing my blogger efforts. 

And here is to another night staying up til 4am. 

So around 2.5 months have passed since my last post. Oops. 

I have actually missed blogging a lot. Mostly because I love to write and have a sounding board somewhere out there on the interwebs where I can write what I am thinking and feeling and reflect on it. 

Like this little nugget of information: I quit my job on Friday.

The same one I was so excited about the last time I had updated my blog. 

I feel good about the decision though. After I officially had quit and submitted my notice, I felt a huge sense of relief. I also had broken out in hives on my chest and sweat through my entire shirt, but I still felt relief.

I have never had to quit a job and it was a really awkward experience for me, but I am so glad I did. I have been miserable in this job and in turn have been making life miserable for everyone else in my life. I was sick of people yelling at me, annoyed at the lack of internal support and frustrated with the overall mission and ethic of the company I was working for. I explained to my boss that I wanted to work somewhere I felt passionate and inspired. 

Volunteering and teaching civics classes on Saturdays has really showed me what I am lacking in my life. I want to feel inspired every day of the week. I want to change lives and feel good about myself. I simply cannot do that at my current job.

It was not the best timing to quit my job either. I just signed a lease for a brand spankin' new apartment where Pedro and I will officially be moving in together and even though I do have a cushion of money saved up, the pressure is definitely on to find something fast. And I know now to not just take the first job offered- I need something that will excite and challenge me.

Here's to new beginnings?

So I have been pretty MIA from this blog lately. Mainly because I have been attempting to adjust to working 9 hour days, managing a social life, trying to keep the boyfriend happy and balancing my working out. 

And yeah, it hasn't been easy. I think this is the week, though, will be the week that I master it all. I started the Insanity exercise program today, have started sorting my finances and even have made time to paint my nails an obnoxious bright red.

Balance. And time management. Skills I still need to master.

I am heading to bed due to exhaustion but stay tuned for more faithful posting. G'night. 

So while this week I didn't make any money off my couponing, I did get everything I bought for free. So that was fun. It also resulted in me dramatically coming back home, marching to my living room, turning off the TV and making my family watch as I unveiled all my newly purchased swag for my stockpile. The past two weeks I have really gotten a hold of the whole couponing thing and as a result, every Sunday I ride a my 'coupon high' and basically bother everyone with bragging about my most recent conquests. 

So this week was a pretty small haul. I ended up getting 2 Softsoap body washes retailed at $4.49 each (the shea butter creme smells amazing!), the RevitaLens contact solution at $8.99, CVS brand band-aids at $3.79 and the Revlon nail polish at $4.79.

Here's how it broke down: 

My first transaction was the Softsoap. CVS had them on sale at 2 for $7 and then you receive $5 ExtraBucks. I had $7 ExtraBucks from last week, which got them for me for free.

I then used the $5 ExtraBucks and a $2 Extrabucks from last week and combined with $3 off a $10 healthcare purchase CVS coupon stacked with a $2 off the Revitalens to bring the Revitalens and CVS band-aids to about 80 cents and received $3 ExtraBucks. 

I then used those $3 ExtraBucks to buy the Revlon nail polish, which brought the price down to $1.79 and from that transaction I got $3 more ExtraBucks for next week.

So all in all, I spent about $2.40 for everything but received $3 ExtraBucks making a slight profit of about 60 cents. Not bad!

Happy Sunday everyone!

So it is 7pm on a Friday which means that I have officially finished my first week of work. Whew.

It was an eventful week starting my first 'real' adult job. All week I have pretty much been shadowing my boss, watching her send e-mails and answer phone calls. It was a sort of passive-training where I pretty much just watch her do stuff while I took notes and made little drawings of stick brides.

Wednesday is when my week got sticky. I got into a fender-bender on my lunch break which lead to me crying my mother, hysterically crying and worrying that I had suffered brain damage as a result of the trauma. I'm a big baby at times.

Thursday I ended up going to the ER during my break to get treatment for a painful UTI that I have had since Monday and just ignored because I was so nervous about my first week of work and didn't want to ask for time off. Yeah, it is generally never ever a good idea to ignore a UTI. Like never. So that was fun to have to share with my new boss.

This morning I took off the morning to have an interview with a women's shelter in the area. I did lie to my boss about why I was taking the morning off (I told her I needed a follow-up for my ER visit the day before) and I feel super guilty about it. I hate lying. But I was so interested in this job. And I have been kind of stressed about having to maybe quit my job if I took this one. Basically, I stress a lot about things. Working on it.

But the interview went really well and I learned that the position is actually part-time. The center operates two shelters for victims of domestic violence and there are about a dozen 'relief workers' that take shifts operating 24 hours. We are just required to take a minimum of two shifts per month so it would be perfect for me: I can still keep my job working for a wedding company while simultaneously satisfying my non-profit, 'I need to help the world' urge.

I am also going to start taking classes at a university near my work to in Spanish, Middle Eastern cooking and belly dancing. 

I love how settled I am becoming and am loving getting into a routine after I have spent so many years traveling the world and being so restless. 

Never thought I would ever utter that sentence in my life. But, so what? I'm happy.

So as I previously mentioned, I recently discovered that I was poor. Ouch. So in an effort to save money, I have attempted to start couponing.

My first couple of trips were okay. I was getting disappointed though because while I was saving money, I wasn't necessarily getting them for free and I really wanted to get some free shit and experience the so far elusive "coupon high" that so many couponers describe after a particularly good haul. I craved it.

Well today I finally achieved it. I constantly am scouring the coupon blogs all day (now that I have a 'real' job which doesn't require me to sit in an empty store for 11 hours, I am sure this will change slightly) and last night I found a good deal for some toothpaste and eyeliner. Basically, life essentials.

I decided to drag Pedro this morning to try out the deal. Basically CVS has a deal running for this Colgate toothpaste, where the price is $4.99 and you get $4 ExtraBucks upon purchase (ExtraBucks are basically CVS money- it prints on your receipt and is only redeemable at CVS). There were coupons in the local paper from a week ago (and today's edition as well) for $1 off any Colgate toothpaste essentially making the toothpaste free ($4.99- $4.00 in ExtraBucks - $1 coupon= free). 

Additionally there was a deal for this Physician's Formula lash-enhancing eyeliner. It sells for $11.49 and there are $3 off coupon 'peelies' in the store. Use that and the eyeliner becomes $8.49. And for the purchase, you get $7 in ExtraBucks. Also, on each of the eyeliner's there is a "Try me free" rebate. You send your information in, along with the original receipt, and you get back your money. Which basically means that you are making money on this one. You make the $3 off that you got with your coupon in addition to the $7 ExtraBucks. And all for purchasing eyeliner and to send in a rebate. And even if you never send in any of this, my entire purchase today still completely cancels out. Not bad, huh?

So I went a little wild and made my mom go out and buy toothpaste. Then, during the Barcelona- Atletico Madrid match today (we won!) I clipped some more Target coupons and head over there to buy some cotton balls, toothbrushes, a cute dress and some face wash for about $15 all together. A good couponing adventure indeed.

Is anyone else out there couponing? Have any good tips or deals that they want to share? I'll show you mine, if you show me yours ;)

Currently I am enjoying a refreshing and chilled mojito at my favorite Mexican restaurant where the boyfriend works. And I like to think that I deserve it. Por que? You wonder. Well because today was my last day of work. Yippee!

I am excited to move on and explore new territory. Unfortunately- well not completely unfortunately- I have a little conundrum on my hands.

Today I received an email from the director of one of the largest and most prominent non profit organizations in Boston. I got his contact information via an old employer from high school that I recently visited with cupcakes and a plea for assistance.

This guy has been great. He spent a good hour on the phone with me, giving me advice about how to break into non profits and has generously forwarded my resume. I hadn't heard from him in awhile and to be honest, I was a little embarrassed to tell him about receiving my job offer (I need to work on not being embarrassed about this job just because it's not in the field that my parents paid a ridiculous amount of money for me to study in).

So he emailed me to tell me that there has been a job opening in the immigrant and refugee services branch of the organization. And of course I am stressed out because all I do is stress out about things even though I am trying to, as Pedro constantly reminds, "cry before the whip".

I am a work in progress.

My dad actually had a really good idea for how to handle the situation. Growing up I watched my parents deal with the pitfalls of owning their own business. I've noticed that while there are the traditional problems that are associated with businesses- such as maintaining clients, advertising the business and making a profit- the biggest headache that they had to deal with by far were their own employees. And because of that, and witnessing their countess headaches, I have always tried to be the best employee possible. Which is why the thought of starting a job and also interviewing for another at the same time makes me feel really... Dirty.

But my parents have been trying to reinforce that I need to think about myself and what is best for me. Which for some reason seems really daunting. And makes me feel guilty. And dirty. Where does all this guilt come from? Technically I'm only half Jewish so I feel like I should be experiencing significantly less guilt right now. What gives?

Anyone have similar experiences and want to offer me advice? A helpful motivational quote? Charming metaphor that will somehow explain away all my guilty feelings, perhaps with a witty anecdote? Any and all advice is welcome.

Happy Saturday! Looks like round two of mojitos for me!

So I am still sick. But I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. And by that, I mean my mommy is coming home so she can come and take care of me. Yeah, I'm 23 years old. Don't judge.

My mom's friend, Carrie, who is a Raki healer is convinced that I am sick because of the death of my grandfather. I think I just caught something when I was taking a $15 bus trip to New York City on something called the "Fung Wah" bus. I should be grateful that all I got was a cold, and not some weird fungus that is indigenous to only some jungle climates.

Anyways... Me being sick has forced Pedro into looking after me which he has actually embraced, so I am impressed. He even makes me my Theraflu tea before bed and watches me to make sure I drink every drop of it. 

Unfortunately for him, me being sick brings out my 'inner diva'. On a normal day, I am pretty high maintenance. I like to be texted, like simple little reminders of your undying love for me, sometimes (all the times) I enjoy a free meal. When I am sick, my divaness goes into overdrive. But it's not like a cool and empowered diva like Mariah or Beyonce. It's like pathetic, needy diva who wants a tissue and to have a manservant constantly readjusting the thermastat. And well, while you're up, a glass of water too. Not too much ice. 

This week has flown by though. I don't know how I suddenly woke up and it was Friday. I think most of my time has been spent in bed, watching HGTV and stalking coupon blogs. I am gearing up for a good shopping trip on Sunday at my CVS, and my mom will finally be back so she can bask in the glory of the 2 free toothpastes and eyeliner I plan on purchasing. If I am feeling daring, I might even try to get some razor cartridges.

I finally went clothes shopping for the first time in about 2 months yesterday though. I had some serious withdrawals- but I had a $20 off coupon for TJ Maxx and I decided to go for it. Somehow, I ended up with $80 worth of clothes but between the Mexican feast I had last night and the two donuts I managed to shove in my mouth this morning (oh why, why did I eat those?) I am sure I will be returning at least half of my purchased goods.

The dresscode at the new job that I'm starting Monday is technically business-casual. But all I know of business-casual is the DC version of business-casual which, from my experiences traveling this massive globe, is that everything in DC is 'special' and so I can't really apply the life lessons I learned in DC because DC is such a weird microcosm of the real world that is so bizarre at times.

So I think I am going to wing it with some black skinnies from Express, a nice print top and maybe a blazer that I can casually toss aside and be like "Oh this old thing" and throw it on a chair if I look like a complete douche. 

The more I think about it actually, it seems like the more nervous I get about this job. I mean, this is my first real post-college job. I have a cubicle and everything (It's not weird that I already have a Pinterest board specifically for "cubicle decoration", right?). 

But it is a good excited. Like the kind of excited I get when I know that there's going to be a 12 hour Law & Order: SVU marathon. But I am still soliciting any advice for starting a new/first job. Any cool conversational topic ideas? Or help me pick out an outfit! I'll take anything. Seriously... equal opportunity advice/help solicitor here :)

Being holed up in bed has allowed me to catch up on some reading. I am already a fast reader: I can inhale books in hours and will happily stay up all night in order to finish a book.

Yesterday I started reading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project after hearing about how great and amazing a read it was from a variety of sources. 

She documents her journey by a month-to-month basis, and I am right around the end of April. So far I am enjoying it, and appreciate the honesty of which Rubin exhibits in her writing. For my tastes, it is a little too much introspective. With each chapter, she seems to be questioning herself and her motives and wondering if she isn't being too narcissistic or too self-involved by writing this book. And for a lot of the book, I can't help but wonder if she isn't overanalyzing a bit excessively. This is something that she does address, however, in the beginning of her book. 

Overall, I am finding her journey inspiring in its simplicity. She is not making sweeping life changes, but rather changing the way she reacts and handles things. Like a favorite quote of mine states: Life is 1% what happens to you and 99% how you react to it. And I think by altering the way we react to situations and to people can speak volumes about us. It is good to constantly evaluate ourselves and our behaviors, and I think that is what Rubin has done with this book.

And following in her example, I find myself also wanting to incorporate little changes in my life as well. So I have decided to embark on my own little project where I incorporate some of Rubin's ideas mixed with some of my own to construct my own Happiness Project.

For my first goal, I want to tackle something that has been haunting me for 23 years now: my love affair with clutter.  I swear, junk just follows me everywhere and somehow accumulates into these huge piles that just seem too unmanageable and intimidating that I either just ignore them or move them somewhere else. Not very productive. 

Rubin has devised a plan where, every night before she goes to bed, she will do some light cleaning for ten minutes. Simple, right? And definitely something I want to incorporate. 

I think it will be something that will become a process, though. Especially because ever since I started dating Pedro, I would spend sometimes 7 nights a week at his place. This would involve me packing a small bag of clothes, staying at Pedro's , leaving for work the next day from his place and throwing all my clothes in my bag, coming home from work to my house where I would shower, dump out my old clothes and back a new bag and repeat for a whole week. This is not very conducive to cleanliness. 

I think once I start my new job next week, and I will have to spend Monday-Friday sleeping at my place, I will be able to tackle this goal more efficiently. Organization and a clutter free life are things I desperately want- but I do need to work for them. So here I go with my first Happiness Project goal: declutter my life!

So I had a really exciting start to my weekend... And then it all went downhill from there.

After waking up bright and early, I dragged my bushy-tailed self to a the commuter rail so I could head into Boston and from there take a 4 hour bus ride on the majestic Fung-Wah into New York City to visit my friend Jonas, who is from Holland and studying in New York City for the semester.

The bus ride was fun, filled with a lot of naps and the Blueprint 3 on repeat. It was amazing to see Jonas again and although we hadn't seen each other in over a year and a half, it felt like just a couple of weeks. I love easy friendships like that.

We walked around the city, grabbed some bagels for lunch and at night hit up the Museum of Modern Art for their free Friday night special.

Don't we look so happy together?

I know that I work in an art 'gallery' at my local mall and took one art history class in college, so technically that does make me an art connoisseur, but I do not understand modern art. There was this once piece that was a four-legged stool with a bicycle wheel attached to it. Legit. And then another piece where it was thousands of silver-wrapped candies strewn on the floor that was symbolic of HIV/AIDS. Yeah, that was lost on me. But for free candy, I was totally into it.

I did manage to find some van Gogh and got giddy to see his Starry Night piece. We sell at least a dozen of those 'replicas' in my art 'gallery', so it was nice to see an original. Plus, my co-worker and I have a hilarious inside joke about that particular piece and she got a kick out of my picture I texted to her.

After the museum, we headed to the Lower East Side and grabbed some thai food that was delicious. Also, beer for a $1. Won me over.

After that we walked down to this cool underground bar that had no sign and from the outside looked like it was just some hole in the wall dump. But inside it was super cool, totally hipster and the menu was just craft beer. Major score. It was fun to sample different beers and catch up at the same time.

We got to sleep around 3am. Seriously, this city never sleeps. The next morning, though, I got a sad call. My grandfather who has been battling multiple melanoma cancer passed away around 10 in the morning. My mom called me crying and although we had been expecting his death, it still felt a little surreal. 

I ultimately decided to catch a bus back home because all I wanted was to be with my family and Pedro. And around six hours later, I ended up home. So, all in all- I only spent about 20 hours in NYC and took around 10 hours getting there but it was still totally worth it to see Jonas. He looked amazing and was settling in so incredibly well. I get so giddy and happy when my friends are well- it feels like their success is also my success. Yeah I be riding on their coattails. 

It was nice to surprise Pedro at work, who still thought I was in NYC. It was also nice to just kind of cry with him and have him rub my back and just be there. I kind of held in all the sadness so that when we were finally alone and calm, I could just let myself go.

But now after my little adventure, I have found myself sick in bed with a head cold and I feel exhausted and crappy. But I am watching this show, the Voice, for the first time and I can see why it is so addicting. Much better than American Idol.

So later tonight will hopefully be spent in bed with Pedro, watching a movie and eating soup. A secret, little devlish side of me is kind of excited to see how Pedro handles me being sick and how well he takes care of me. I have always been a little spoiled- and whenever I get sick I always had friends or family to take care of me and completely pamper me. So we shall see... :)

I watch a lot of TV. And when I say "watch TV", I do not mean that I passionately follow any series or am emotionally and deeply attached to any character on a show. When I 'watch' television, I sit in front of a TV with a laptop propped on my lap and listen mindlessly to hours and hours of HGTV or Investigation Discovery. And before I know it, somehow four hours of my life are gone and all I've learned is how to make end tables work in my bedroom. 

I do not own end tables.

So when I saw some other bloggers doing reading and book challenges, I thought to myself "What a swell idea!". 

I used to inhale books. I could easily finish hundreds of pages in hours, staying up all night in anticipation of what the next page would bring. Nowadays, the most literary-esque thing I have read is People magazine cover to cover. It's bad.

I have been asking around for book clubs but I think the time has come to just start my own book club. Membership: me. 

So you can see how I am doing with my reading in the sidebar and I will also be completing a list of the books I want to complete, along with reviews once I do complete them. Only 11 more months to go!

Normally I kind of look forward to Valentine's Day. For my 23 years of existence, I have always been single for Valentine's Day. And since I went to an all-girls high school, it really wasn't that relevant to me. For me, the best part of Valentine's Day is gorging out on pizza, watching Lifetime and heading over first thing the day after to buy all the candy for 1/2 off.

So as this was my first ever Valentine's Day with a boyfriend- and it would be our first Valentine's Day together- I found myself getting caught up in making it 'super special and memorable'. I wanted the day to be like a really long Hallmark commercial. Except with more cake. 

My flowers at work. 

And my day was definitely.... memorable- and all thanks to Pedro. Firstly he surprised me at my work by bringing me roses and a balloon. Super cliched, but still- I couldn't help but melt.

After work I decided to treat myself to the massage that Pedro had bought me for my birthday. The place was called Asian Island and was one of those pop-up stores at the mall. It looked a little shady, but harmless. Yeah, understatement of the year.

The massage was something out of a horror movie. Firstly, I was quickly ushered into this little cubicle-esque space with nothing but a gauzy curtain to separate us from the hallway and thus, everyone else in the store. 

When I walked in, the 'masseuse' (I am using this term in the most loosely-defined way possible) told me 

"Shoe off" so I pulled off my boots and she pointed to the bed and barked out "Face down". I was confused as to whether I would take my clothes off... but with the lack of privacy and general language barrier, I just assumed this was one of those places that would rub my shoulders for an hour. Why not? It wasn't like I really had anywhere else to go.

So I lay down and she starts to lift my shirt and unsnap my bra. Oh okay. She starts to try to take my shirt off. Normally it takes at least 4 more drinks for this to happen. Especially in a place where literally anyone in the mall can walk by and see my girls. I jump up and say "Um, should I take off my shirt?" She nods yes and smiles. I point to the curtain and she kind of looks confused for a second, but then brings me a small hand towel and kinds of holds it up for a little privacy shield. Meager, but I'll take it. 

So I'm topless. Mildly petrified but keeping an open mind. She then puts said hand towel, which was super rough, on my back and massages me with that on me. I am confused. Why didn't she just leave my shirt on? At least my shirt was soft. And clean.

This lasts for 15 minutes. Then she moves to my butt. And she starts digging her elbows into my butt. Like she's digging really hard. So much that I keep squirming around which just motivates her further to the point that she joins me up on the bed, straddles me and continues to jab her elbow in to my butt. For about twenty minutes.

Then she starts rubbing my legs. She rubs then super hard, back and forth- kind of like she is washing the floor. Except I have my jeans on still. And I am getting rug burn. I am in pain.

This weird massage continues, with little bursts of her punching- quite literally- punching my arms and legs. She then cracks my fingers. Punches me a little more. 

And then the head massage. Keep in mind the whole time she is 'massaging' me she has not used any oil or lotion. And it's winter. My skin is dry. Do you know how incredibly difficult it is to massage someone without any kind of lubricant? Incredibly. 

Not the best picture, but you get the idea.

She also has incredibly long nails. That she uses to scratch my head. Exactly how I scratch my dog's head when he manages to pass a whole day without pooping in the house. Exactly like that.

And then for the best part. After scratching my head, she proceeds to stick her fingers- nails and all- in my ears and swirl then around for a bit. And then immediately after runs them through my hair again.

Needless to say I ran out of there straight home where I immediately jumped in the shower for a good 20 minutes. Almost 24 hours later and I still feel a little dirty.

The real love of his life.

After that adventure, I got ready for my date night with Pedro. We ended up going to for Mexican food (so predictable) and grabbed our dessert at our usual restaurant that we hit at least three times a week. By the time we got back to my house, Pedro was pretty tipsy off his giant margarita and he kicked me out of my room for 15 minutes. 

When he called me in, I saw that he had decorated the stairs leading up to my room and the entire room with candles and rose petals. And on the bed was a card with a huge Russel Stovers chocolate heart. Again, super cliched but so freaking adorable. He knew how much I loved the tackiness and lameness of all that Valentine's Day nonsense and he wanted to make it special for me. 

I really think this one is a keeper.

So as the title so mysteriously proclaims, I have quit my job! Celebrating tonight with a bottle of champagne and some form of chocolate cake.

Let's rewind. I got this job at an art gallery in the local mall back in October. I had just come back from Chile and was super lucky in that I got this job relatively quickly, it paid pretty well and it was incredibly easy. 

I was looking for a basic, part-time job that I could use for some extra income as I went ahead and proceeded on my plans to move to Israel.

But like my best friend, Gabby, has told me a thousand times over "Every time you make plans, God laughs in your face."

And laugh he did, because while I had closed out all my bank accounts, sold my belongings on e-Bay, and had a hanging calendar counting down the days to my flight (which actually would have been today!) I managed to somehow meet the love of my life and after spending an incredible New Years together, I made the fateful decision to stay back and be with him. And I haven't looked back since.

But I knew that I could not stay in a part-time job in the mall. I needed to get experience and have a job which didn't have hourly salary, but a yearly one. And while I totally think free wifi at work is a benefit, I do also appreciate health care coverage and vacation days.

So last week I got an offer to work for a company about 45 minutes away that organizes destination weddings. So, sure- it doesn't exactly scream "4.0 GPA International Affairs Major with a concentration in Conflict & Security and minor in History" graduate, but it seemed fun and to be honest- they were the only company to reply to me after spending about six weeks searching and sending my resume out around 150 times (I kept a spreadsheet record of every place I had applied. It wasn't pretty).

The job sounds interesting. It's a relatively easy commute. The people there are all really young so there is awesome friend-making potential. It's an internet based company so I can wear jeans and don't need to to have a wardrobe overhaul of Anne Taylor separates. I think I'll be happy. 

I have also had to recently re-evaluate a lot of my goals and life plans. It's only been about six weeks that I have actually decided to stay in the States and now I am still trying to piece together my life. This has sort of been my motto for this year. When I come to think of it, I shouldn't even have been here now. I should have been living in Chile, working as an ESL teacher and drinking pisco sours all day while lounging in a beach chair. 

But that is life. The only thing that is guaranteed in life is change. And ever since graduation, that has been the defining feature of my life: change. And more specifically, unexpected, cataclysmic, earth-shattering change- good and bad. 

So while my career and life goals have changed, a lot, I can't be deterred. I have new goals, new dreams and new hopes. And already I can tell how far I have come these past few months, because if the past version of Jessica had seen present version of Jessica working part-time in an art gallery, still living at home, in love with a Mexican bartender and planning to work in a destination wedding company- I think she would have totally freaked.