Age: Just a Number

"I'm thirty-five." - Carrie
"Oh shut up, I'm a hundred and forty." - Samantha

Sunday was my half birthday. Yes, I know when my half birthday is. There was no celebration or anything exciting and people looked at me funny when I even mentioned that I was now "twenty-two-point-five" years old! What does that mean though? Ugh, I'm on the road to being 23.

Now 23 isn't old. It's barely quarter-life. I have a good two and a half years before I need to have my quarter-life crisis. So why the freak out, you ask? Let's take a trip down memory lane to last week…

Last Tuesday I was a guest speaker at a college class. Yes, that's right, guest speaker. I had to talk about my job and explain the path I took to get there. The PR students sat there eagerly listening to me and actually taking notes, hanging on every word I said! Well, they were probably a little bored but hey I tried - and Diane said I was "spunky" so that must mean something positive. Wait a second, wasn't I on the other side of that just last year at this time? What kind of twisted world is this?

Exhibit number two. I went to see my sorority compete in the very exciting Greek Night competition (of which we won first place, thank you very much). I didn't know half of the girls and all the kids there looked so so young!! I guess it makes sense since there are 18-year-old freshman. But it was so funny to me. Some of them were younger than Ben, my YOUNGER brother. I felt so old being back at school and being that alum that came by to support her younger sisters. It was so crazy!

The other night I found out that another person from grammar school got engaged. It's almost like an epidemic. It's so strange that the little people you used to run around with at lunchtime are all so old now. We're all older - not old. It's just all very mature. And it's funny because I know that those older than me think I'm so young. It's a vicious cycle it seems.

Two weekends ago I went to a party at Ang's. Her little brother (who is 18) had his friends over too. All of my friends were sitting inside drinking and we felt like we were chaperoning - making sure those young college kids weren't getting into any trouble. It was ridiculous!

Getting older is a part of life, of course. It's just very interesting and ironic that when you're younger you can't wait until your birthday comes and you get a year older. Now, it's almost like another birthday just means another year bites the dust.

Age really is just a number - they say a fine wine gets better with age. I always thought it was all downhill after 21, but it seems that there are so many good things in store as the days go on and the years pass. And I'm so excited to experience them with all those I love! :)

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

"You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you…" - Carly Simon

As I walked out of the bathroom I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror. Why did I need to do that? What was I perfecting myself for? And I do it every single time.

Vanity. I think it's a vice. I don't mean for it to happen but it does. It's very important for me to always look my best, whether I'm running out really quickly, going to work or going out on the town. It may just be about being neat, but I always want to look presentable. And I don't really think it's because I could run into someone I may not want to see - and if I do see them I should look damn good (though it might be that a little bit).

This disease may have been inherited from my Abuelita. She always felt the same way and was one of the most vain people ever. But that was my grandma - always looking presentable like she was dressed to the nines even if she wasn't. She didn't give off the appearance of being vain or needing to look in the mirror all the time.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not high maintenance or anything. I could be ready relatively quickly and I do enjoy wearing sweats once in a while. I'm pretty down-to-earth and I love just hanging out. I don't even have a compact in my purse. But I'm always checkin' myself out in the mirror or reflection and defending myself when I feel like my appearance isn't up to par.

I could never be like Snow White's evil witch and beloved mirror, though. But what is wrong with me? Is this just a disease or is this some crazy insecurity I have?

It's all very interesting because, yes, I do always walk into the party…with one eye on the mirror.

Photo: Disney

Verizon = Ugh!

I went Verizon hopping last night. Why? Oh, because I enjoy running from store to store and visiting the same tech support people. We've really become great friends. Oh wait, those tech support people NEVER fixed my problem! That's right...

I thought my problems were over when I ditched my RAZR. Really, I did. It was the craze for that stupid phone that made me think it was a good idea when I returned from being abroad for six months. I was severely mistaken.

I was having my 5th contact with Verizon in three weeks. It's almost like you get pawned off time and time again because they just don't want to deal with it themselves. They tell you to come back in 30 minutes but do they actually do anything? Obviously not because I had to keep coming back.

Customer service ala the phone is so irritating because they continually put you on hold. And when they do, be assured that you'll hear that same darn music - something they should be playing in an airport or on a plane. In addition to this, that woman (who is obviously not having problems with her Verizon Wireless service) comes on in an irritatingly calm voice and lists all the reasons why Verizon Wireless is just so great. Ugh, it just makes me madder!!

Finally, after completing the same tests and programming methods over and over, I'm told that my phone can be swapped (I could've told you that a long time ago). So now I've got to make it over to a store. It's around 6:30 so I need to get over there soon because they close at 9. I've got time but I just want to get it done with already.

So I show up at the store, but of course, they don't have my phone. And the store across the street doesn't have it either. So I've got to get to the other one that is farther away. Real nice. It's almost 8 by this time. And when I get to that location, there's an extremely long line. Eventually I hear the woman behind the desk telling this guy how to enter a phone number into his phone. "You need to enter the area code, first," she says. Ugh! What is this? A tutorial? There's a line of us becoming very restless. And I just want to get this over with - my service isn't working. Fix it!

I finally got the phone. Was it really necessary to take so long to get this problem fixed? All I know is that it better work now, or I'm switching my carrier! Verizon is not my fave... sorry, Dad.