on making grown-up decisions

Here's a cheesy selfie because...

Yesterday I accepted a full time job offer.

It's an editor position at a small town newspaper; exciting but not necessarily my plan for myself. Yesterday was a whirlwind.

And today I quit my current job and set up a student loan repayment plan and made a budget and bought myself a winter coat and made an expensive coffee purchase and created a grocery list. When we become 'adults,' why does everything exciting in life suddenly switch from amusement parks and toys and candy to purchasing frying pans and curtains?

But on the other hand, when you're a kid, everything exciting in life involves growing up. And now here we are, just kids in adult bodies, wishing simultaneously for our own apartment and our mom's home cooking; for our own paychecks and a day off at the playground; for a giant step forward into independence and a giant step backward into nostalgia.

This is what taking a "real job" feels like: excitement and terror, pride and uncertainty, independence and don't-leave-me-alone-I-can't-cook-or-do-anything.

Updates to follow.

In favor of leaving your phone at home

This photo is unrelated, but sort of related; this is a story about how not using technology can make your life better. Here it is:

Last week one night I had an insatiable craving for Chinese food. So, naturally, I closed my computer and left my unfinished work for the next day. Technology could wait; I had a date with a folded white paper box and a pair of chopsticks.

(That's a lie, I don't know how to use chopsticks. I always grab some at the restaurant and lose motivation to learn a new skill by the time I'm home and my belly is rumbling.)

Anyway I forgot my phone at home, but there was no time to turn back. I had my mind set on food and, for God's sake, I could go 10 minutes without it. And I had no problem with that. There was plenty of people watching and potsticker smelling to do.

Those who shared my inconveniently-timed mega cravings for Kung Pao chicken included a stylish man who was probably in his 30s, and a mother with her teenaged daughter. I walked in and realized I was speed-walking to the counter; I slowed my pace from "chicken-get-in-my-belly" to "casually-stopping-by-after-work-cause-it's-on-my-way-i-guess." But it was okay, they didn't notice.

The young woman behind the counter said "We're making more chicken right now, it will be about five or ten minutes. Is that okay?" Of course it was, I came all the way here for chicken, I'm about to get it! I could happily wait.

She then turned around and walked back to the kitchen. I could see through the window that she was walking back to talk to the young man making the chicken, who was standing over the simmering food with a spatula in hand. She stood next to him with her hand on one hip, smiling and giggling, and they pushed each other playfully a couple times. They were totally flirting.

Then the young man turned his attention away from the sizzling chicken to look at her, leaned really close to her face and smiled really big, and just turned back to the chicken. She shrugged and giggled sheepishly and walked away.

Ah! I turned to see if my fellow Kung Pao Chicken enthusiasts in the restaurant had noticed too, because this was so darn cute. But they hadn't; they were all on their phones.

I hadn't even really noticed that the other three waiting on the chicken were dead silent. They all had their faces buried in their emails, texts, games, Instagrams and Snapchats. I looked from the 30-year-old stylish man to the mother and daughter several times in astonishment, to see if they even noticed me looking at them in astonishment. Nope.

Eventually the young woman walked out to the front of the restaurant with a large plate full of chicken. I walked excitedly towards her to get my share; it took the other three a few moments to notice that their food was ready. I wanted to say something about the adorable interaction I had just witnessed, but I just smiled and walked away with my food.

I don't tell this story to paint myself as some kind of saint for not being on my phone. For one, I didn't even have it with me, so I had no option. I am not exempt from being technology obsessed. But I simply noticed it with full force in this one instance. We are so obsessed with fake realities on the computer or phone screen that we don't notice the small moments of beautiful realities around us. I had the privilege of noticing these two strangers sharing an adorable moment, and I count that a win.

Anyway, from now on when I have a sudden urge to go get Chinese food, I will casually forget my phone and rely on those around me for temporary entertainment. Like I even need it.