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Oh, f*ck.

1. I hate making mistakes. But I’m human, so I do sometimes.

2. I made a wee mistake at work today.

3. “Wee” becomes “biggest f*cking thing next to Haiti” with my giant client.

F*ck.

And do you ever find when you’re so scared of making a mistake that you invariably do? It’s like diminished self-confidence infects the brain, spreads like cancer and impairs your judgment and ability to process normal sh*t.

D likes to say that hesitation is the root of all f*ck ups. I think over-analyizing is the root of mine.

[Jam of the Day]: Jens Lekman, F Word

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Cool Conversation

Single female colleague (whose hyphenated last name is 29 characters long): Just read your blog post.
Me: Yes?
SFC: You’re not changing your name [once married] are you?
Me: Actually, yes.

<crickets>

We could talk name-changing convention until the end of time. But at the end of the day, it’s a personal choice and I think it’s odd to give someone grief about it.

Besides…she never asked what I’m changing it to.

I Like Even Numbers

I just realized that yesterday marked my 1,600th blog post. Sheesh. What a bunch of gum-flapping.

On a related note, I just received my 1,965th comment. Not an even number…but still sort of pretty to look at.

Fistful of Swoon

As most of you know, I’m getting old and crusty, and therefore don’t go out much on school nights. Last night I was a rebel. I broke rules and had a grand time doing so.

We started with an office cocktail party at a nearby bar to raise funds for a non-profit organization that gets gently used computers to young students in Guatemala. The party was sponsored by Midori (which our office manager/bartender used to concoct a most refreshing summer beverage) and was filled with photo ops for Washington Business Journal. It might be the most industry-related thing I do whilst here (which is fine by me).

Afterward, a group of us went to the new W Hotel bar  (a reservation gifted to us by office mate). Admittedly, the place is a little too Hollywood (velvet ropes, etc.), but the views, as promised, were breathtaking.

But my favorite part of the night came when D and I left the hotel and went to the album release party of Vandaveer (alias of Mark Heidinger), an incredible musician and all-around nice guy. (He often plays with These United States, whose front man is friends with D from college.)

ANYWAY, last night, he was joined by Rose Guerin at a club near our house—and the duo was an incredible sight (and sound) to behold. Pure joy. I can’t give a more emphatic recommendation, especially for those of you who like feel-good alt-folk music.

This morning I discovered this video of Vandaveer in the 20th arrondisement of Paris where he (and TUS) ended up crashing a wedding celebration and playing a couple of songs. So cool.

Also beautiful: “However Many Takes it Takes

Of course, we had a late night, and now I’m a bit too tuckered to be out and about tonight. Tit for tat, I guess.

Lately

June and July have gone speeding by with a little help from our friends.

As of late:

D and I are still successfully cohabitating (or living in sin, depending on your position). We christened our kitchen this past weekend by making breakfast for seven friends. (28 eggs; 10 potatoes; loads of veggies and two bottles of champagne. Should have bought more champagne.)

D’s best childhood friend Jake came to visit. There exist no photos, but we got Jake and friends up early on Saturday to float down the giant Shenandoah River in tubes. It was beautiful, but keeping the cooler upright through the rapids was tougher than anticipated.

Spencer left his borough in NYC to hang out with us this past weekend. From what we remember, we had a great time. I was personally thrilled by a Chicago Cubs win on Saturday night.

Now, we have a couple of quiet weeks before D’s parents visit us in August.

Looking ahead, September is locked, stocked and loaded. I tell ya; fall will be here before we know it.

Friday Jam: Passion Pit

Damn, have I been one sad sack this week. (Post forthcoming; written but not published.)

To help me shake off the week and start the weekend with a sunnier outlook, D sent me a Passion Pit playlist which I couldn’t help but share. Fun, summery, electronic pop.

And with that, I leave to begin a weekend whose end I’m already dreading. 🙂

Plan B

Now that I can walk to and from work, I find myself being better able to catch up on podcasts. (There was something about listening to talk radio in a packed, moving Metro car that made me want to verrrrpt. When I’m feeling ill, I prefer quiet.)

It takes me a couple of walks to get through an entire episode of This American Life, but I usually complete one segment per trip.

Today, I started segment #205: Plan B. The jist being that we all start out with a Plan A, and we all nearly end up switching to Plan B at adulthood and it becomes our life.

This is most certainly true for me, and for D (though I won’t speak for him more than that), and it’s something I’ve been struggling with for the last few months.

The problem is that up until recently, I’ve been happy with my Plan B. Plus, it turns out I’m pretty good at it and can make a good living staying right where I am. And, history tells me that as long as I’m working with and for the right organization, I genuinely like and get excited about my Plan B and can raise the visibility of worthy organizations in need of a lift.

The risks of trying to resume Plan A are obvious. Take a pay cut. Forgo benefits package. (Ugh. Obama: let’s get going on national healthcare, mmkay?) Take a chance at failure. Accept the possibility that I could be better at Plan B than at Plan A and/or that Plan B makes more financial sense for me, D and future little me and Ds (hello, cart! Meet horse!).

However, the payoff could be great. Fulfilled life goal. Continued education. Expanded worldview. Flexible schedule. Fame and fortune (ha!). And I suppose the risk is tempered by the fact that I can revert back to Plan B at any time. That’s what it’s there for, right?

The fact of the matter is that Plan A has felt like a dormant monkey on my back for the last five years, and I finally feel as if it’s been awakened, where it now hangs groggily, rubbing eyes and feeling confused.

So. What am I going to do about it? Quit my job? Probably not. At least not tomorrow. For now I’m kicking around a couple of ideas and generally soaking up the idea of what me + Plan A + D + the next year could look like.

Sigh. I’ve been waiting to get that out of me for awhile. Apologies for the self-indulgent post.

What about you guys? How many of you are living Plan B? How many of you daydream about going back to Plan A?