Let’s make this quick. It’s almost 2013, and you’ve got places to be.

The picture above is me exactly one year ago today. Today, my hair is longer and darker, but my waist size and sense of humor are the same. I’ve soaked up more knowledge this year than should be legal, and below is a short yet sincere list of what got me through the challenges, set backs, and tired nights of 2012.

#ONE

It’s true. Jack and Diets have been my saving grace this year, coupled with Coronas, white Zinfandels, and Chardonnay. No alcoholic here, but there’s absolutely no denying the fact that my weekends with Sir Daniels have put me to sleep, erased heartache, increased appetite (as if that were ever a problem), boosted confidence, made me forget, and helped me unwind this year, as I struggled with studying for the GMAT, trained hard for half-marathons, and wrote my admissions essays.

 #TWO 

They say laughter is the best medicine, and I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but they’re right. I’ve been on Twitter for two years now, but 2012 was the year it saved my sanity. Through it I found comedians, bloggers, and friends who gave me inspiration when I needed it, and laughter when I craved it. More importantly, it served as a creative outlet for me, to purge whatever sour or dull thoughts I was thinking that needed expelling. And expelling sour or dull thoughts creatively is therapeutic.

#THREE

Kimbra’s music not only makes me happy, but her ability to make beautiful music out of the trappings of whatever ails her soul gives me strength. She is big on staying true to the beauty of self expression through art and creativity, and that speaks to me a lot. She is beautiful, talented, and makes me feel better about myself. When her music comes on, nothing else in the world matters but the songs she is singing, and I get lost in them.

#FOUR

 

Lauren O’Nizzle (a.k.a. Lauren O’Neil) is my favorite blogger ever. She lives in Toronto, and I found her through Peter Shankman on Twitter (surprise, surprise!). Since discovering her, I’ve been a dedicated reader of her blog posts, Tumbls, and tweets. This year, her hilariously spunky self has made me a better blogger, and a more confident human. I was going through a hard time at the beginning of the year (men were driving me psycho), and her presence on the interweb has giving me so much to look forward to in life, and even helped me find solace in time spent alone. She inspires me to blog kooky things, have fun, and ultimately be who I am. I can’t wait to follow her shenanigans in 2013.

#FIVE

RUNNING! This year, running has given me the best highs of my life, and made me feel free from every burden. The half-marathons this year have tested my strength and endurance, and pushed me to the ultimate limits. What a fucking rush.

#SIX

Music. Florence and the Machine, Ellie Goulding, Miike Snow, and Katy Perry. This year, they’ve gotten me through it all, out on the running path, on long drives, late night blogging, and when I needed uplifting. Oh and add Kid Cudi, Kishi Bashi, and Passion Pit to that list too. Not pictured, obvs.

#SEVEN

Friends and family, no explanation necessary, but I can’t even begin to say how helpful they’ve all been in getting me through another year.

 #EIGHT

And this sexy mofo.

This year has been amazingly tiring, and 2013 looks like a clean, fresh, powdery blue. I can’t wait to go through it with you. Tonight I’ll be celebrating with the gang at Icon Lounge in Downtown LA, and I think the most exciting part about that madness is going to be the midnight balloon drop. I’ve always wanted to be part of a midnight balloon drop.

And in case you didn’t realize by the title, since it’s too obvious to make the list, blogging is one of the best things that happened to me this year. Come and get me, 2013.

 

Reading back on my first blog post of 2012, I noticed how very excited I was about this year. 2011 was without question one of the most depressing years of my life, and by the tail end of it, I realized I wanted to give myself another shot at being happy, at overcoming all of the soul ripping muck that made me feel dirty, stupid, young, and lost.

The greatest part about that first post of 2012, was that even 12 months later…I am still very excited! I have not lost that enthusiastic and hopeful outlook for the future. I did mostly everything I said I was going to do at the beginning of the year, and while 2012 had its own set of pitfalls and setbacks, they weren’t enough to bring me to my knees. They have given me considerable reason to slouch on numerous occasions, however.

I’d like to summarize 2012 in four words: struggle, accomplishment, failure, and love.

Struggle: From the very beginning, I have struggled to find direction with this blog. In fact, I started it because I couldn’t find direction in my life. I must have decided “what I wanted to do with my life” three times this year. Consequently, I changed the direction of this blog at least three times this year as well. Not to mention countless design changes, haha.

I struggled with the GMAT. I struggled with training for my half-marathons. I struggled with not having my dad for another year. I struggled with my sister going through a tough time at a distant college, and I struggled with my personal relationships. I strugga-lug-lugged with the rest of humanity, and in 2013 we’re gonna do it again.

Accomplishment: Then comes the accomplishments! My favorite! Two half-marathons, a decent score on the GMAT, recognition at a poetry reading for my writing, consistent posting on this mother fucker, sharing my poetry with the world at a reading, a small promotion, an amazing bonus, a fuckload of followers on Twitter, and my submissions to business school will be complete in a couple of weeks! I’ve come a long way, guys, I’ve come a long way.

Failure: I use this term loosely to describe the failed projects I started this year, and a few things I said I was going to do that I didn’t. Vlogging turned out to be short lived, but it was for lack of time. I spent it on other things, like the GMAT and running. I intend to get right back into it next year. My YourFiveThings project also never took off, and I never signed up for SMARTY, nor did I submit any of my writing, anywhere. I never joined improv, and I will probably never be a comedian (something for a short while this year I sort of wanted to be).  The Shit Girls Say video never happened. I also got a HORRIBLE score on the GMAT the first time I took it. It deserves its own section on the notorious Fail Blog.

Love: I fell in it. And he loves me back.

That’s it for now. I wanted to reflect. The “Best of 2012” list is still on! I’m going to try and get it posted up by Sunday. It will be…happier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 28, 2012

This story is about how negativity breeds negativity times ten. I’m here to tell you the bright side exists.

This morning I woke up mad for no reason. Well, there’s always a reason, but let’s just say it was too small to be this angry over.

I wasn’t in the mood to be smiley to the baristas at my usual Starbucks. I’ve been a super shitty tipper to them all year, and after giving them $50 and a box of truffles for Christmas, I knew they would be sweet to me when I walked in, so I didn’t want to see them. I decided to stop  at the new Starbucks that just opened up closer to my apartment.

Let the record show, that even though this new Starbucks is closer to my apartment, there is no left hand turn lane to enter into their driveway, so I actually have to go out of my way to turn into this Starbucks without getting honked at.

So I go out of my way to go to a closer Starbucks, but thankfully it’s practically empty, and I know that once I’ve got my coffee in me, I’ll be feeling better.

While waiting for my coffee, the barista behind the espresso machine calls the name of the man who was in front of me in line. She tells him she is so very sorry, but she doesn’t have much soy milk left. The man pauses a moment to consider another drink, but she interrupts the pause to say, “Actually, I have just enough soy left to make your drink”, to which the man smiles, and she smiles, and I say, “But not enough for mine, right?”

Her smile dies a little and she says, “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Now typically, I’d be okay with not getting my two-pump, sugar-free vanilla, extra foamy soy misto, because I’m not horribly lactose intolerant, and it probably wouldn’t taste all that bad. But today wasn’t typical. Today I was annoyed.

“Okay can I just get a refund then?”

The barista looked a little taken aback, even though I said it nicely.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to make you something else?”

Uh, yeah I’m fucking sure. You just said you were out of fucking soy and I want my fucking soy. I smiled and said something about not being able to drink milk, some snobby gripe she probably gets all the time.

So I’m back at the register, and a line has built up by now, which for some reason makes me nervous, because I have to barge in front of everyone and ask for a refund. So there I am, barging in front, asking for a refund. I’ve only brought in my phone, because Starbucks has a mobile application that I can use to pay for my coffee.

After the barista at the register scans the bar code on my phone three times, she says, “I’m sorry, it’s not working. I can’t refund you on your phone.”

Of course you can’t. Why would this be easy?

So I tell her, “Can you just give me a free drink coupon? I’m going to the Starbucks down the street anyway, so I can use it there.”

She smiles. I have solved her problem. She walks away to tell the supervisor to give me a coupon. The line hasn’t moved, and the lady waiting next in line is looking fabulously patient.

The supervisor comes over to me. “It’s going to take two minutes for the coupon, I’m sorry. I have to get it out of the safe.”

Of course you do. Of course I have to wait. At this point I’ve been waiting for what feels like almost ten minutes, and if I had just brought my wallet in with me instead of the stupid phone with its ‘convenient’ Starbucks mobile app, I would have been refunded on the card and not have had to wait two minutes for a fucking recovery coupon.

Then the barista from earlier pipes up with, “You know what, I’ll just make it for you.”

Excuse me? Did you just magically find some soy? Were you lying to me a moment ago? I guess I wore these questions on my expression because she says, “Oh, that’s right, we’re out of soy.”

Infuriation. Infu-ri-ation. But I say “no problem” and stand by one of the tables nearby, furiously scrolling through Tumblr, trying to find soothing pictures of floating doughnuts to remain calm.

It helps a little.

I guess two minutes had passed, so the supervisor gives me the coupon and says she’s sorry and I lie to her and say it’s okay. I get in my car, I get in the right-hand turn lane behind a red Camry at a red light, and even though it’s okay to make a right turn here on a red light, and there’s no traffic, this red Camry is not making a right turn here. In fact, this red Camry is half in the “I’m going straight” lane and half in the right turn lane with its right-turn blinker on, and it is not moving at all.

I am cringing. I pull up as close to the bumper as possible, so whoever is behind that godforsaken wheel understands that it is absolutely okay, if not NECESSARY, to turn right at a red light when it is legal and there are no cars coming. This works, so the Camry slowly inches up to make a right, but just as it does, an old man with a cane from across the street, WAY ACROSS THE STREET, decides it’s time for him to take a stroll. So this Camry, decides he is going to wait until that old man from WAY ACROSS THE STREET crosses safely to our side of the street, before he makes his right hand turn and by God I swear I almost lost it.

Finally, I get to my usual Starbucks. I’m ready to fake a smile to get some damn soy milk in my coffee, ready to do whatever I have to do. So I walk up quickly, carefully averting my scowl, recovery coupon in hand, and some young bum is loitering about the front door, his clothes and luggage scattered all over the place. He is just pacing, looking lost and confused. As I approach, he stands in front of me with a bright red scab on his chin, saying he is going through a rough time, that he’s somehow lost his way, and if I could please just help him out so can get some food, and some other stuff I couldn’t understand.

I plunge the recovery coupon in his hand and say, “Here, just take it. You can get yourself something to drink.”

So I have lost my $4.25, because I paid for a drink I couldn’t drink or get a refund for. I have used my ‘free drink’ coupon to help some young bum. I am late for work, I am decaffeinated, and I am ready to combust. Worst of all, one of the baristas smiles as soon as I walk in the door and says, “Monique’s here!” and “Thank you so much, Monique, thank you so much that was really nice of you”, giving me just the kind of attention I’d been hoping to avoid. Then, when I get to the register, this other girl thanks me but for some reason it annoys me coming from her. She says it without smiling, like she expected this from me all year and she is silently thinking, “Monique gave us money for Christmas? What else is new?”

But after all that internal screaming and scowling, this chick gives me my drink for free, and in fact it’s ready and waiting for me right at the register. The irritation fucking seeps out of me like hot air from a beach ball. And for some reason I want to cry.

Why does life give us tiny beatings for no reason? Who knows. But I do know that this is not the first time something good came from a string of bad, this ‘bright side’ to my irritated dark.

Kinda makes me want to roll up my sleeves, and talk to whoever’s in charge here.

 

 

December 27, 2012

It’s because I was completely swamped with finishing my Math class, my Tech Entrepreneurship class, and my admissions essays that I was away, and don’t you take that as an excuse. But there was also Christmas shopping, and Christmas itself, and lots, and lots, and lots of chardonnay, but those are weak excuses as well. Merry Christmas by the way.

To make up for lost time, I’m compiling my very own “Best of 2012” post, like every other Jack, Tabitha, and Shirley in the blogosphere, if not to look back at this bulbous year, than to see if there are some cool songs or videos you can use in it to help you find solace in the next one. And by “best of” I mean my favorite musicians, books, songs, movies, people, quotes, and YouTube videos that absolutely got me through this year. The point being, to look back. God only knows why we’d want to.

Tonight I spent five hours working on my USC admissions essay and it was all crap. Every last sentence. Then suddenly, it wasn’t, and I churned out 300 words of absolute gem-studded substance, and I can finally give it a rest. I honestly think it’s the best of stuff, and I absolutely gave it my all, so I’m hoping it still looks good in the morning. Sometimes when you’re going and going and going the good stuff decides it wants to get going too, and by George you’re a fucking genius!

Also I started watching TV.

 

American Horror Story to be specific. First season. It’s really bad because now I look more forward to catching up on that than anything else, I mean anything else. It’s an addiction and I’m petrified. And it’s worse because it’s on Netflix with no commercials and so CONVENIENT! Where is the watchaholics anonymous? I can’t stand it. I want to watch TV now more than I want to read. It’s vile. It’s pathetic. I got sucked in and can’t get sucked out. I can’t let this happen to me, I can’t. It’s worse than Breaking Bad. Parks and Rec. DAWSON’S CREEK. Only then, of course, instant streaming was never available and I can see why.

But at least I got a blog post in after, well, I won’t say it because it makes me cringe. My apologies are worthless! Okay I’m done banging these keys like I hate them, especially the backspace. I’ll…er…good night.

December 7, 2012

I smell like a chicken mcnugget.

(Disclaimer: Bad grammar ahead).

I talked to an admissions consultant yesterday, and she said I was unique and interesting and that I had excellent writing skills and that my elevator pitch for my admissions essays was SUPERB and that I was a better fit for USC than UCLA and who would have thought ME for USC (an English major for God’s sake) and then she said she liked me and that I was very focused and driven and that I would get into Pepperdine but who wants to go to a school they know they’re already going to get into, I mean where’s the challenge am I right?

There. I just had to get it out. I’m not even going to apologize for the run-on. Was it Ernest Hemingway that went on and on? No one gave him shit about that, so I have a little bit of right.

And then tonight when I was in math class (it’s my final math class before the big final) and we were reviewing all of the concepts that are going to be on the test and I know it I just know it I’m going to do good because I was learning stuff and I was understanding it and it felt like I was on drugs. I learned decision making analysis and normal distribution and how to use a “Z” table and linear programming and I’ll tell you one thing right off the top of my head LINEAR PROGRAMMING SUCKS.

And earlier I had a 5-hour energy that I spilled on my keyboard because I was in a hurry to watch this viral video about a girl who robbed a bank and told the YouTubeverse and got thrown in jail. And also I joined this guest blogging service called PostJoint, and I am SO glad this was not one of the first blog posts they looked at when determining if my blog would “fit” with their service…because it is RUNNIN’ ON LIKE CRAZY and I’m starting a BUNCH of sentences with the word “and”.

And then when I was on my lunch break I watched this Kimbra interview  and it made me cry (from 0:3:08 – 0:3:13 below), because being acknowledged for hard work is special to me too. One day all of it is going to pay off.

It all started with the KitKat that wasn’t. If you look closely, there’s nothing but pure milk chocolate inside this fun size KitKat, and absolutely no delectable crisp.

One fine day in early November, Bailey opened said KitKat that wasn’t, and was very disappointed about his lack of crisp. He urged me to alert the world. I then reached out to KitKat on Twitter. It took a couple of days, but this was how the conversation played out.

So naturally, I contacted Nestle at the suggested email address with the following.

Subject line: KitKat without the Kit

Hello there,

The other day I opened a KitKat candy, and to my utmost surprise found it did not have any crisp inside of it. I told Twitter, and the company Twitter account recommended that I tell you fine people.

Attached is the picture of my KitKat without crisp. It was not tasty without the crisp, as you might have guessed. You guys are doing great with the crisp. Keep it crispin’.

Thank you and have a great day!

To which they responded (3 days later):

Dear Ms. Muro,

Thank you for contacting Nestlé® Chocolate and Confections.

Kit Kat is not distributed or sold in the United States by Nestlé® USA. Kit Kat is licensed to Hershey’s for sale in the United States. For further assistance, please contact Hershey at Hersheys.com or at (800) 468-1714.

We appreciate your interest and hope you will visit our website often for the latest information on our products and promotions.

I forwarded the response to Bailey. To which his response was.

So I contacted Hershey’s then, through this HUGE contact form on their site. I gave them all kinds of information. Most of it didn’t even seem pertinent, like my social security number, but I’m sure they needed it for something.

(joke)

I can’t recall the day I submitted that contact form. Must have been days after the email, because Bailey harassed me about it a bit. In all honesty I did forget for days.

So I submitted my issue to Hersheys.com via their humongous contact form. On November 28th, 2012, I received this:

Dear Monique,

Thank you for contacting us about our KIT KAT Wafer Bar. Although we are sorry to learn of your disappointment, we appreciate you bringing this to our attention.

A great deal of care is used in our manufacturing and packaging processes to make sure that consumers receive quality products. The information you provided was reported to our Quality Assurance Department.

We apologize for the problem you experienced with our product. You will receive reimbursement by postal mail in two weeks.

We appreciate your loyalty as a consumer.

To which my response was–reimbursement? Like what kind? Like a lifetime supply of KitKats? Like a five dollar bill? WHAT KINDA REIMBURSEMENT ARE WE TALKIN’ HERE, AND HOW ARE YOU GONNA SEND IT? (At this point, I did not recall submitting any information).

Until tonight. When I opened up my mailbox, and received this:

To which Bailey’s response was:

He was clearly joking. When I saw that little coupon in my mail box, I couldn’t believe it. I got a BIG TIME chocolate giant like HERSHEY’S to send me a $1 off coupon because I had mentioned dissatisfaction on Twitter?

#mind #blown

It was like mumbling to God how you could really use some new wall art for your room and having a bunch of cool paintings fall into your lap. Like, did I just ask for something and actually get it?

Now, granted, it wasn’t like they sent me a lifetime supply of the stuff, and it wasn’t like we really wanted anything out of it. I think we were just curious as to how far our little crispless KitKat issue would go before it reached a resolution. I am so surprised and in awe of the time that I live in, I probably won’t even spend that little coupon. I might just hold on to it and show the grand kids. To which they’ll probably respond with, what’s a Twitter?

Way to go, Hershey’s. I’m not a huge milk chocolate fan, but you just earned a customer fo’ life.

I woke up so lazy this morning, I didn’t even bother putting the toothbrush away. The art of whiskey is a slow, drippy one, that sometimes blends in with the colors of the day after you’ve already had a whole day to recover. The beauty of coffee, however, reverses this. It makes you sharper, more alert, smiling even at the people you do not wish to see.

 

On my lunch break I felt alive again. I went to Trader Joes and spent nearly $100 on food (and a bottle of Pinot) that I am hoping will last me 2+ weeks. After work I even got a frame for my Jack London quote, nails to hang it up, and a full tank of gasoline. When I got home I polished up my admissions essays. And I mean really buffed those fuckers. I did a little research to find a good admissions consultant to edit them, and it’s going to cost me close to $300 an hour for them to make them really shine.

 

Where do people get money.

 

As far as I’m concerned, the essays for my top school are done. Even though I’m still waiting on last minute critiques, I’m crossing them off my list, and moving on to getting my transcripts sent, polishing my resume, and requesting my letters of recommendation. Wednesday I start in on the next school I’m applying to, but now that I’ve gotten these first essays out of the way, my goals for business school are a little more fine tuned, and it shouldn’t take me too long to churn those out.

 

For the last hour I edited and polished a landing page one of my teammates started, that had to be submitted for the online Stanford class I’m taking on Technology Entrepreneurship. I wish I had more time to be creative with it, but it’s due tonight at midnight, and currently, we’re 1 minute away from that deadline.

 

Every time I wanted to quit tonight, I looked up at my little London quote. I love it so much. Apparently it is from a poem called Credo. When I see it, I’m reminded of what little space I occupy in this world, and that my time here is finite. Whatever number of days I have left, I’m going to use them.

 

Ask me if I’ve unpacked yet.

 

 

December 3, 2012

Feathers, fishnet stockings, bourbon dripping out of our eyelids, and a big band ballroom after three awesome days in Oregon visiting familia. It took an In’n’Out burger, Elf, and a ten minute power nap to pull me out of my whiskey-induced haze today, and even then I could only muster up SOME strength to work on my admissions essays.

On the upside, it’s raining in Los Angeles, and the buildings look lovely.

Our flight was almost delayed coming home from Portland, and we almost missed the Great Gatsby shindig near downtown LA, an event that was already bought and paid for. My sister Julia spoke a bit about buying the ticket and her overall excitement for the event in a vlog a few weeks back that you can watch here, if you are interested in that and/or Mexican candy.

The night started out well.

We got all dolled up and took a taxi there, Julia and her boyfriend Tom enjoyed the luxuries of the VIP section with an open bar, while Bailey and I  went back and forth between the big band ballroom and the outside smoking area with a coworker of mine that was also there.

Here is a short clip of me dancing at said event. Bailey used an app to make it look aged.

As the night wore on however, the bourbon and many other liver-mutilating substances flowed, especially in the open bar area where my sister was. As great as the whole VIP section sounded, it may or may not have been a good idea, given my sister’s sincere inability to walk later in the evening.

And her mad sprint down a hallway for absolutely no reason at all.

I am happy to report however, that she is doing fine. And aside from everything tasting like whiskey today, I’m doing great.

So what’s the status apparatus with everything else? Well, the trip was great, and I’m slowly coming out of my fog to get some work done. No matter that it’s nearing 11pm. It’s raining and I’m happy and finally awake. OH! I forgot to tell you I went and visited Powell’s Bookstore in Portland as well. You know, the biggest bookstore in the United States (NBD).

I bought a book of poetry by Mary Oliver and this.

“Frame soon.” That’s what it looks like on my mental to do list. Being in that bookstore made me remember the smell of books, just as I was starting to warm up to odorless digital versions. Being in that bookstore made me feel warm and comfortable, lazy, made me want to pick up a book and roll out a sleeping bag or patch of grass and chill on it till the book was read. Being in that bookstore reminded me that my reading list will never be finished.

In closing, my sister ended up getting sick on my boyfriend’s couch after the Gatsby event, and he snapped a picture of me face-palming while it was happening. Then he turned it into a video. With music. It’s quite entertaining. See you tomorrow?

(FYI, he calls me Mursa).