the art of being quiet

I know that at least six women will be talking about me when they go home tonight.

One of the things I hate the most about being a commuter is the noise on the train. The older I get the more I rely on quiet to be able to focus and get my work done. In the morning I can usually manage to sit in the quiet car on Metra. The people who sit in that car know that if you sit there you have to be quiet. They are habitual commuters. These are the people who are responsible for the quiet car's creation.

In the evening, especially a small window of time between 3:30 and 5:00 p.m.. Today was my last day, for about a month, to go through my regular commute. I had gotten off to a rocky start by missing my normal train in the morning and had to drive to Barrington to get on the next express. Friday is a day I look forward to because I can sit in a quiet car on the way home. There are several days a week where I go home too early for the quiet car hours.

I had my last day of classes today and I should have been feeling wonderful and free, but instead I was anxious. Maybe it was an omen. When I got onto the 3:45 train and found my quiet car it was awfully loud. I never know whether or not to say anything at that point or wait until we get closer to departing the station. I should have said something at that point. I think if I had been in the car before the talking began I would have been more comfortable letting them know that this was a quiet car. Plus I really hate being the one who informs the other passengers (even though my gut churns when people are talking because all I want is for them to shut up).

Today I did say something. I said something and the three groups of two women kept on talking anyway all the while shooting me dirty looks. We start moving, the conductor announces that there are quiet cars on the train, and the women keep talking. I get fed up and say something again. More dirty looks. Then backtalk from the women. They were affronted because they thought I was being rude. I wasn't. I was just informing them of the rules of the quiet car.

To say it was a shit show is an understatement.

Here is what Metra says about the quiet car: "Metra Quiet Cars: To give passengers some peace and quiet during their commute, Metra has designated Quiet Cars on all morning inbound and evening outbound rush-hour trains Monday - Friday. The cars are designed to give riders a space free of some common nuisances such as cellphone calls, loud headphones and loud conversations. On all lines except the Metra Electric Line, the Quiet Cars are the second car from the locomotive and the second car from the other end of the train on rush-hour trains with six or more cars. If there are five cars or fewer on the train, only the second car from the engine is a Quiet Car. On the Metra Electric Line, only the third car from the south end of the train is a Quiet Car. There are no Quiet Cars on two-car trains. All Quiet Cars are identified with decals on outside of the car and signage inside the car. The rules are simple: No cell phone calls. If passengers must answer their phones, they should make it brief or move to the vestibule or another car. Conversations are discouraged; if they must be held they should be short and in subdued voices. All electronic devices must be muted, and headphones should not be loud enough for anyone else to hear. Quiet Cars are in effect on all inbound trains arriving downtown at or before 9 a.m. and all outbound trains leaving downtown between 3:30 p.m. and 6:30 p.m, Monday - Friday. Click here to see the Quiet Car brochure. Metra expects Quiet Cars to be largely enforced by peer pressure and conductor intervention when necessary. Many riders said that having a rule in place empowered them to ask noisy people to be quiet or move. Conductors carry small notices that they can discreetly present to passengers who are violating the quiet car rules. Metra hopes all passengers will remember to treat their fellow passengers with courtesy and respect, no matter where they are sitting."

As I was leaving the train one of the women said "won't miss you" as I walked past. At this point I was so hopped up I had to turn around and confront that. I'm sure I made things worse. All I was trying to do was point out that they were being disrespectful in ignoring the rules of the quiet car. Her parting shot to me was that I should "get a life". How is it that adult women can behave like such insolent teenagers. Get a life? Really? That was my problem - I had no idea! Then the next set of women had something to say to me. Did I understand what quiet even meant? Yes, I did, but according to the rules established by Metra these women did not.

Could I have handled things differently. Of course. Should I have? Maybe. I will take responsibility for my actions, but that doesn't mean I was wrong to have informed them. When I got off the train the tears were already threatening to unleash themselves. It was so hard for me to say anything in the first place. Then to be treated with such hatred was hard. After a bout of ugly tears I decided something. I can work on my approach, but in the end I'm still the asshole no matter what I do. If I don't say anything I stay anxious over being annoyed that I'm in the quiet car and people are being disrespectful. If I say something (no matter how nicely) I'm the asshole for saying something. Now, I know that the people who are talking are not regular train riders. I get that. But just because you're only taking the train today doesn't mean you aren't subject to the same rules as regular riders.

shift

The leaves are changing color and the weather is FINALLY shifting from the brutal heat we experienced this summer to the cool mornings and evenings of fall. The shift from summer to fall is one of my favorite. I'm finding that this year the shift in weather is also mirrored in my personal life. I'm settling back in to living with my mom. School is in full swing and I'm being a neurotic crazy person again.

This is a reflection of my brain right now.

It's hard to believe that I'm already more than half way through the semester. There is so much on my plate right now that I rarely have time to just wind down and relax. Today I took a mental health day. I should have spent my time trying to catch up on somethings, but instead I spent all of the day catching up on my DVR. I can't even work up the anxiety over that because I think I just needed a day to mentally check out. So at about 2pm I decided I would take advantage of it and go all out. Tomorrow I can worry about everything, today is just for chilling.

writing

I want to be a writer. That is my professional dream/obsession/compulsion/future career goal. This dream was one of the reasons why I decided to go back to school. There kept being this voice inside me that wanted to know if I could do it. I though that the only way I would ever figure it out, instead of constantly wondering and filling my days with what ifs, was if I just jumped in and tried.

I think that everyday is a journey to get there. Some days feel a whole lot more productive than others, but each word I write, each sentence that I revise, is one small step closer to realizing that goal. The hardest part about being a writer is actually sitting your butt in the chair and writing. One of the goals of this blog was to try to get my butt in the chair and start writing, no matter how small a contribution I made.

This last month has been a little crazy, and I've thought of a thousand things I want to blog about, but actually getting my butt back in the chair has been a chore.

There have been some things that I want to write about, but I don't feel like I'm ready to share them with the world yet. No matter what I do when it comes down to here, there will no longer be a way to hide it. I don't mean that in a negative way. Naturally I'm a sharer. But sometimes there are things that need to be kept close to the heart because that's the only way they'll ever get resolved.

I digress...

Now that I'm settled back into my mom's house and school has started - I'm trying desperately to get into a routine. Today is Sunday and that means that I should be doing as much homework as possible so that my week is as smooth as it can be. (Plus there's a whole bunch of stuff that's due tomorrow morning!) My mom is at work, the doors are open to let in the wonderful breeze, the dog is sleeping, and I'm working. It takes me a while once I finally sit down, because let's face it who really wants to do homework? So I mess around on facebook, check my e-mail a few hundred times, look some stuff up on Google, maybe do a few chores - these are all things that I do in order to get ready to do my work.

One of my tasks is to figure out where I'm going to go to grad school. My parents would like to see me get a job after I finish my bachelors, but my dream to be a professional writer means more education. The last couple days I've really been starting to look at possible programs. Most of them only admit 8-10 students a year. Half of those students are fiction and the other half poetry. Since I'm neither a poet nor do I want to try for both (if they even let you that is), it means that the competition for those few spots are very, very tight. I had a quick moment of "am I crazy", but then I glanced over at my bookshelf.

I have an over flowing shelf of how to books on writing. When ever I go into a bookstore I always peruse the reference section for writing books. It's more than just a desire, it's a compulsion. Something that I just HAVE to do. So, I may not be a professional now, but I'm already a writer in my heart and soul.

Isn't there something that you just feel compelled to do, no matter what the obstacles?

hag hair limbo

Moving day is looming like that black hair on your chin you just noticed is 2in long and glaring at you every time you look in the mirror - and, of course, you don't have your tweezers handy to get rid of it. I've been in that weird state of limbo since the thought first came up that I might have to move. I kept it together pretty well in the beginning. Or at least I convinced myself it wasn't really going to happen - because I said so, but in the back of my mind I knew that it was most likely inevitable. It would have taken a really great job or a miracle for me to not move back home. My initial denial lead to this eerie calm about going back. Honestly I wasn't sure what was going on because I kept waiting for the true freak out. Sure I would have twinges of pain over the thought of leaving, but no major meltdowns. I was afraid to pat myself on the back for having such an adult reaction.

I've been going through the motions of getting my stuff ready and I have the majority of my things all packed and waiting for the movers. Still no freak out. I feel like I should be impressed with myself, but I have to admit that waiting for the freak out to happen is almost worse than just having one. It exemplifies the state of limbo I've been living in for the past few months. I HATE limbo. I'm just ready to move on, literally, and get my life and world back on track. I'm finishing up packing my stuff for the movers tomorrow and trying to regain some of my focus for my studies.

Here's what packing looked like 2 weeks ago at the very beginning of the box-a-palooza

and after the very productive packing session with my wonderful friend Martina

and of course the lovely Martina helping me pack (Gideon would not leave her alone the entire time she was here!)

rock and a hard place

Recently I've had to come to some realizations about my living situation. In January I moved to the city with a lot of hope and optimism. I didn't have a huge plan - but I had the feeling that it was just going to work out, because at the time that is what I needed to beleive. Hope is the one thing that keeps us going on a regular basis. I mean can you imagine a life with no hope? What would be the purpose of getting out of bed every day?

We often just want things to work out "just because". I am no different.

At this point it is a certainty that I will have to move back home. I'm really torn about this. I absolutely LOVE living in the city. I love the hustle and bustle. I love how at certain times of the day 100 or more people could walk by my apartment or early in the morning it is so quiet and peaceful you can't imagine all the noise that comes later. I have the most awesome apartment in the world and I decorated it very cute, trendy and the grown up erica way.

It would be easier in a way to live back at home (as well as save a lot of money), but there are down sides as well. It means being very limited in when I can work (if at all). A long commute every day.

When I look around at my apartment my heart hurts a little to think that I'm going to have to leave. But I also think that it's $10,000+ less that I have to be in debt. Living on my own has been a new experience and I think that no matter how you prepare the reality is degrees different. Money, money, money....why do you hate me so?

The eventual thoughts of "did I do enough?" always crop up. And of course looking back it feels like there could always be more, but perhaps at the time it felt like you were.

I started writing this post a few weeks ago, but didn't have the heart to publish it because I felt so torn about my situation. I have been making plans to move for the last week. I went home this weekend to start getting my room ready. My friend Martina came over yesterday and helped me pack about 50% (maybe more) of my things. I still feel torn, but I know that I am making the best decision for myself. Everything else will fall into place as it was meant to. Now that I know how much I liked living in the city I have something to work towards so that I can live here again.

laugh at yourself

I am not the most graceful person and I often find myself doing things and then quickly looking around to make sure no one saw what I just did. I wish that I wasn't so obsessed with how others perceive me, but it's something that I'm working on.

A few weeks ago I was getting coffee early on Sunday morning. I'm super obsessed with Dunkin Donut's coffee to which I add their blueberry syrup. It is soooooo good. I wish that I didn't like it so much especially because the amount of cream and sugar I like in it is not waist friendly. I used to just get a cream and sugar coffee palooza once a week, but there happens to be a DD on UIC's campus. It's probably a good thing that I run late a lot so I don't have time to stop. Hey - a different flaw working for me! (For those of you that know me well, you know that I have time management issues which are inherited from my mother.) Back to my story - it was very early on Sunday morning, about 6:30, and I had just taken the dog out and decided to get coffee. The DD is a couple miles away so we drove. Their parking lot is super tiny and hard to get in and out of. I managed to find a spot right in front of the store. It was a quick in and out in less than 5, but by the time I get back in my car there are at least 3 other cars trying to park. A BIG white van is waiting for my spot. There was no one behind me I thought it would be easier to just back-up, let the van park and then try to get out of the parking lot.

Bad idea. I gunned it in reverse and was quickly stopped by the cement pole near the door of the store. I was slightly shocked at first, then terrified I had hit someone or another car. Mortification quickly seeped in. The guy in the van had this look of horror on his face, naturally I felt I had to say something. I rolled down my window and told him it was still really early and I hadn't had my coffee yet. Then I got my ass out of there as fast as I could. The entire drive home all I could do was shake my head and laugh. When I was able to park and check out the damage I couldn't believe how lucky I was, just some of the paint was scratched off with no dent. It would have been better if it never happened, but that's not the way life always works. I was so happy that no one got hurt and the damage wasn't too severe and it's nothing that can't be fixed.

When I think about these kinds of things I just have to laugh at myself. It doesn't always happen right away, some "dummie" things need more time. If you can't laugh at yourself then life is too serious.

When was the last dumb thing you did that made you laugh at yourself? Didn't it make you feel better?

procrastination

Why is it so easy to put things off? I often wish that I was the kind of person who just did the things I'm supposed to when I'm supposed to do them. I think that everyone has a little bit of a procrastinator in them whether they want to admit it or not. Lately my apartment has started to look like a hurricane came through. The kitchen is constantly a mess and no matter how hard I try I can't seem to catch up with the dishes. After a while it gets frustrating to look at, but sometimes I start to not see it at all. Starting this past weekend I went back to my to-do lists. In general I think that they are a huge help in knowing what needs to get done as well as the satisfaction you get when you cross something off the list.



No one can be perfect all the time. I try to remind myself of this a lot, especially when I feel like I'm not getting anything done. But at the same time I have to remember that it does actually take some effort to get things done, even when I don't want to. With the extreme heat the last few days getting other things accomplished has been a huge effort. I find that after a huge bought of procrastination the best way is to ease back into getting stuff done. Like trying to get into a regular routine, which means going to bed on time and setting the alarm clock for a time that you will reasonably get out of bed. I also find it easier if I break up the time I spend trying to do things. For example I set a timer and do as much cleaning up, picking up and putting away until the timer goes off. It can be easy to start with 10 minutes at a time. Sometimes you see how much you can get done and then it's easier to do more time the next time. I've found if I try to set aside a whole day for this kind of thing I end up procrastinating more and then nothing gets done and I feel horrible about myself.



What can you get done today?

celebration

On Monday I turned 31! I have a special fondness for birthdays. For me its a reminder that life is precious and special. You made it though another year. In many ways birthdays remind me of the beginning of the year. They are filled with endless possibilities and the sense that you can conquer the world. For myself I want to celebrate. It doesn't have to be a grand extravaganza, just a nice day filled with no drama and people I love. This was the first year that I spent my actual birthday alone. I have to say that it was a very different experience. It was also a reminder that I'm getting older and growing into a more mature adult. I think being single and not having anyone else to take care of (well, besides the dog) that I don't feel like I'm in my 30's, a lot of the time I still feel like I should be in high school. Which is weird, because I don't think you could pay me to go back and be in high school.

I guess you could say I have a "thing" about celebrating on the actual day. I did get a chance to celebrate with both my parents the days leading up to the day and it was wonderful. But it just never felt like my birthday. When I woke-up on Monday morning I sang to myself, took the dog for a walk and got ready for my summer school class. Class on my birthday was also another first. I've always been very lucky to not have to go to school on my birthday, usually because it was late enough in the spring that school was already out. Late that evening I took the L to the bookstore and browsed for a while, picked up a couple of writing books, then took myself to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. So far, it really felt like my birthday. Somehow Mexican and books are the two things I usually manage to do on my birthday. If you know me, you know that I love books and go to the bookstore frequently. When I go on my b-day it just feels different, the only way I know how to explain it is a calm tranquility. It's probably part of the new beginnings feeling that comes with the mark of a new year.

I had some great conversations with family who wanted to wish me a happy day and gobs of friends on fb writing on my page. And last night I had a fantabulous friend take me to dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. I have not been so stuffed in a long time. It was such a special, special dinner. As I continue to get older I'm starting to learn to be more flexible about my ideas and I hope that next year's celebration can be just as great as this year.



My mom made me gluten free cupcakes!



Me and dad



Me and my step-mom Debbie



At Ruth's Chris - Stacey had they make a special plate with my desert. I made a really good wish!



Me and Stacey (limo was for her parents Anniversary)

romance authors + book signing = my celebrites

I haven't always like to read as much as a I do now. When I was little my mom used to say that when I read all the books on my shelves I could buy more. Of course much of that was in reference to the book flyer's they passed out in class. I loved those little catalogs - all the books looked so awesome. I was in middle school when I first got turned on to romances. We were having a garage sale and some of the neighbors brought stuff to be sold. Afterwards the unsold items hung around our garage for a while. I found this book, Years by LaVyrle Spencer - the cover was oh so racy. I was intrigued and took the book. You could call this a turning point. For a while I read the teen romances, but closer to high school I really fell in love with the Zebra Historicals as well as other single title romances. One summer my step-mom took me around to all the garage sales and we found bags and bags of romances. Soon I found my favorite author's like Julie Garwood, Johanna Lindsey, Jude Deveraux and Catherine Coulter.

In a few short days I'll be turning 31! I realized that well over half my life I've been obsessed with romance novels. About 7 years ago I discovered that you could actually meet the women who wrote these books. I have to say that this was kind of a revelation at the time. So I took a big bag of books and went out to a book signing to meet some of my favorite author's and get my books signed. I can't begin to tell you what a thrill it was, because to me these authors are like celebrities.

Anderson's Bookshop in Naperville has a steady stream of authors that come through its doors. Last Sunday they had 5 romance authors: Rachel Gibson, Pamela Palmer, Julia Quinn, Sarah MacLean and Elizabeth Boyle. Usually I'm the first to jump on these events and I like to plan in advance. I was a little wishy-washy about going (reasons unknown). But I did go and it was so much fun. I'm always inspired more to write after hearing the authors story and how they got started.



This was one of my first major signings. Brenda Novak came with about 9 other authors for the K-Mart Sizzling Summer Tour.



Sarah MacLean at Anderson's in Naperville for the Avon Romance Author High Tea.



Rachel Gibson - she was so gracious to sign all the books she's written.



Elizabeth Boyle - between us my stack of her books, some I had managed to put away already!



Julia Quinn - this was my second time meeting her and just as great the first time around.

adult bib

This morning it's raining again. Except today is the kind of annoying, spitting rain that doesn't really require an umbrella but manages to get you damp. This reminds me of that annoying habit each person has about their own self that they just can't stand. If you're like me that annoying habit can't be fixed, no matter what you try to do about it. For anyone who has eaten with me on a regular basis knows that I am a spill-er.

Last night I was out with my new city girlfriend, Molly. We had dinner at Trattoria 10. A nice little Italian place in the downtown area. The food was divine! Inevitably some of dinner managed to get on my white shirt. She said something along the lines of you spill on yourself every time we go out. I can't deny it. Just about everyday I spill one of my meals on my clothing. Makes it hard to wear a shirt twice or even walk around in public sometimes. Let's just say that I do a lot of laundry.

Over the years there have been many suggestions on how to conquer this "problem". My mother likes to remind me to sit up straight and eat over my plate. My dad is always telling me to slow down and use a napkin as a bib. Many, many friends have suggested that I get an adult bib. I have to admit the idea has merit and I'm surprised that no one has ever gotten me one as a gag gift. But there have been times where I consciously tried not to spill and used my napkin as a bib. Inescapably the food will find a way to my clothing, if I'm wearing a makeshift bib it will find the one spot that it is not covering and attach itself there. In some cases this can be very frustrating.

Spilling is the one thing that I have just learned to live with. At times it still annoys me, but it seems like no matter what I try and do it just continues to happen. So I carry a tide pen or wear a cardigan or try to blot it out. But what I can do better than most is get that stain out when I do the wash.

This is me on my birthday a few years ago. You can see the spill next to the birthday pin.

should and want

The struggle between what I should do and what I want to do will be endless. There will always be things that I should be doing when I would rather be wanting to do something else. Take this morning for example: I "let" myself sleep in by hitting the snooze half a dozen times. When I got back from taking the dog out all I wanted to do was climb back in bed and read for a while. I managed to at least talk myself into checking what my assignment for class was first and then I got hooked into facebook and a few blogs that I read. Whoosh! There went my reading time. I was still really tempted (and am even as I write this) to crack open that book and dive in for a bit. The thing is I want to change. I want my life to be different. If I don't start making changes and perhaps exchanging a few wants for shoulds then things will always be the same struggle.

It's not like I don't give myself down time, because I do. The real problem is how much down time I allow myself. It always manages to be some kind of avalanche, I say to myself I can watch one episode but then I have to get up and do something off my list. Before you know it I've watched an entire season and done nothing off my list. This, of course, leads to the overwhelmed feeling and then I feel like I can't tackle anything. So starting today I'm going to make an effort to replace more wants with shoulds. Now, I don't want to get all crazy and get rid of all my wants because let's face it whenever you go cold turkey on anything it ends in disaster.

I can't remember when, but at least 5 years ago I made a commitment to make my bed in the morning. I had started to feel like my bedroom was a constant state of disaster. I knew that I could never really commit to making sure my room was picked up all the time, but I could make a small commitment like making my bed. To this day I make my bed every day. There are only ever a handful of days that it doesn't get made and I'm okay with that. In the beginning it took a lot of concentrated effort to make it happen, but the end result was so worth it. When my bed is made I feel like I've accomplished something and my room just looks cleaner.

perfectly overwhelmed

Like every good overachiever I tend to put a lot on my plate. Of course once it's there I want to do perfectly at everything, but the truth is

I get overwhelmed. Sometimes I can handle it and other times the tiniest addition will send me into a tailspin. I'm taking two classes for my 4 week summer session at UIC. Of course the school warns against this kind of intense course over-load, but I have a goal to graduate in the Spring of 2013 so I'm uber pushing myself. There are a handful of other reasons why I needed to take 2 courses during this short session like health insurance and fitting in that silly Italian 102 class, but really I just like to make myself crazy. A typical day goes like this: get up at 6:30am to take care of the puppy. Eat breakfast, shower, get dressed. Rush around trying to finish my reading and homework assignment for my English class and get out of the apartment by 8:30. And, oh yeah, take the dog out one more time. Let's just say that I never get out of the house by 8:30 and there is usually some kind of running to get to class on time, which also involves huffing it up 3 flights of stairs. My first class is a survey of American Literature, which goes form 9 to 11:55 - or really noon because my teacher doesn't quite remember what time the class actually ends at. Then I wander around trying to figure out what I'm going to eat for lunch because I still haven't managed to make my lunch yet. Too soon it's time for my second class - American History, which goes from 1 to 3:55 and also gets out 5 min or more late because this teacher also thinks that class ends at 4. UIC: Don't you think it would have just been easier to have the classes end at an nice even, round time? Next I walk home, take care of the puppy, lie down for a few minutes if I'm lucky, maybe eat something - then it's reading time! I usually start at the kitchen table but by the end of the night I've manged to sit in just about every seat the apartment has. I literally read from the moment class ends to the time I go to bed and then again in the morning. After one week of class I still haven't managed to finish a a reading assignment. I keep trying to remind myself that I'm almost half way through, but today it's just not making a dent. Wednesday there are no classes so I got up at my normal time and wanted to get out of the house early to get some much needed errands done. First stop: the bank. Because this is my one day off I was fated for trouble. I drove around trying to find parking for 35 minutes, when I finally managed to nab a spot I go into the bank, but can't "find" it. There's a big sign on top of the building with my bank name. I decided that the easiest thing to do would be to call them. After all my day was quickly slipping away and I had already spent about an hour on my bank errand. Wouldn't you know that they closed this location about 6 months ago!?! I had two options here: call my branch and make an over the phone transfer (obviously the easiest option, but I had found out recently that these were limited because of the type of account I have) or drive twenty more minutes to a different branch. Since I had other errands I drove to the other branch. By the time I got home from running all over the city it was after 2pm. And did I mention that it was extremely hot? I had to take a nap when I got back, and didn't really get caught up or ahead at this point. Still trying to find the strength to make it through these classes. (She chants: two more weeks, two more weeks).

A favorite quote from (or maybe regarding) an awesome book: "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry". I'm starting to think that could represent my life in its entirety.

the beginning

Hi! My name is Erica. Welcome to my new blog Perfectly Imperfect. I'm one of those people who like things just so.  (You can ask some of my close friends for examples of this - it can get to be pretty crazy and it becomes a constant source of enjoyment for them.) This can get to be a challenge when things don't go my way, which I have to admit happens more often than not. Over the last few years I've struggled to find the simplicity in life as well as trying to learn to live with less. This has been a constant source of struggle, but when I can manage it I find that overall I'm lighter. My heart, my soul and my "baggage" are all lighter. One of the things that holds me back the most is the idea of perfection. In the world we live in today we are constantly surrounded by images and ideas of perfection. It can be hard sometimes not to compare yourself to these images and even if you say you don't they still can manage to get into your subconscious. I know that a lot of my ideas of perfection come from that little voice inside that is always saying "it's not good enough". Lately I keep noticing little things that keep reminding me of just how imperfect I really am. This blog is meant to be more of a journey towards accepting the imperfect and realizing that those are the things that help shape who I am, because really nothing, absolutely nothing, in life is perfect.