I am so glad to be going home for so many reasons. But, I think one has been obviously glaring in the past couple days. A 15-year-old girl, Kathlynn Shepard, has been missing since Monday afternoon. Her abductor was later found dead, having committed suicide. Michael Klunder, of Stratford, was a Tier 2 sex offender and had committed quite a list of horrendous crimes. He was released from prison on Feb. 25, 2011, after serving half of a 41 year sentence. He kidnapped Kathlynn and an unnamed 12-year-old girl, who was able to escape.

http://www.kcci.com/news/central-iowa/possible-abduction-of-young-girls/-/9357080/20229204/-/o6jgt0z/-/index.html

This story is shocking and absolutely sickening. I remember seeing Klunder’s face regularly, when I was a reporter at The Daily Freeman-Journal. I would check the sex offender list quite often, to see if there was new faces or charges. The fact that he served only half his sentence, well, I could go on quite a long time about that, getting pretty angry, but no.

Instead, I want to focus on why I love central Iowa so much. Local media coverage, especially the Dayton Leader, have done a fantastic job getting the information out to the public. Law enforcement has done a spectacular job, and local businesses have been helping as much as they possibly can. The town and surrounding communities have poured all their resources into one task: Finding Kathlynn alive. According to the Dayton Leader, food, drinks, bug spray, you name it has been provided to search teams from a barrage of individuals. Yet, this is not unexpected out of small town Iowa. No, it’s kind of a given.

When a tragedy strikes, everyone gets together and tries to solve the problem. Whether it is someone dealing with an illness, a tornado disaster, or a kidnapping – as hard as it is to imagine happening in this area – people pull up their boot straps and get going. I love that about central Iowa.

While I wait for good news to pop up on my news feed at my desk in NYC, I thank all the people who are doing all that they can to find this little girl.

“Well, I don’t want to play with you,” I muttered, my arms crossed in front of my body. This boy who lived a couple blocks down, decided he could just join our neighborhood capture the flag game, a summer tradition, and rewrite the rules. Not on my watch. I mean, I wrote up rules on a piece of paper, put it in a “Capture The Flag” binder – I don’t remember putting this kid through our strenuous vetting process. And now, he wants to play this game without girls. Huh. Since I was the admin, it just showed how ignorant he was to the whole shebang.

I disliked Nate from the start. He was a know-it-all (so am I), and so in elementary and middle school when we crossed paths, I kept my distance.

In high school, we meshed again. This time, we became friends when I started dating his best friend. Band geeks to the core, we were always thrown together in jazz, marching and concert band. From my vantage point on the floor where the first clarinets would sit, I would glance back from time to time to Nate sticking his drumsticks up his nose for my amusement. I would roll my eyes, and this exchange would continue until our band teacher would sigh and scold us out for not paying attention.

We worked together at a local grocery store, and I would always look at the schedule, extremely excited when we would work the same shift. Slashing boxes and putting up canned goods, we made every mundane chore fun.

Things started to change, and I thought, “No, no way. He’s my friend. I don’t like him like that.” Also, I was going to college soon and he would still be in the whole high school scene. But still, this lingering feeling took hold.

Finally, the week I graduated high school, I did the mature thing. I asked my cousin Elizabeth to ask Nate’s friend Adam if he liked me. This process usually takes awhile, but when it was confirmed, I was ecstatic.

It was puppy love all summer. We’d hold hands on walks through our town’s cemetery, to awkwardly stop, extremely shy of one another. I don’t think we even kissed until a few months later. And then there was the time we declared our “love” for one another.

“I, um, you know, feel really good around you. It’s, like, really this feeling, of you know? You know?” I feel that this rambling speech went on for a few minutes.

“Me too.”

Throughout the years, we have argued, laughed, split up, gotten back together – the gamut. At times, we should have never gotten back together, but we did. We were horrible for one another, and then we’d be each other’s greatest advocate.

Last fall when we took that big leap and moved to New York, it said a lot to our determination to make this work. And it has. Our relationship isn’t perfect, but we try really hard. And the benefits have been worth it all. He’s my best friend.

So were we ready for the next step? Maybe. We talked it through many times, and I always thought he would propose on one of our many trips to Central Park. I kind of suspected something was going to happen soon.

So on Friday, when I took off my coat after coming home from work, his asking, “How was your day?” followed by my, “OK”, didn’t seem extraordinary. “Do you want it to be better?” Confused, I spun around and there he was on one knee with a diamond ring in a box. It definitely wasn’t what I had expected (which is good, because it’s nice to be surprised).

It didn’t take me long to let out ‘Yes” after he popped the question. And while I was flooded with emotion, a reel of our past – the good and the bad – started to play out in my head.

I never thought I’d end up with the stubborn little boy who didn’t want to play tag with me, but I did. And I’m glad.

If there is one thing I love more than makeup, it’s shoes.
A pretty common answer among girls, and I am totally okay with that.
When I was younger, I always looked forward to school shoe shopping. Each year, it was a new pair of athletic shoes. Oh, I always had a couple pairs of brown and black boots to accompany my leggings, but it was all about the Nike or Adidas sneakers. What color was in? Was it white or was black in this year? And another question: What length of socks was trending in the Midwest? Was the Champion sock calf-length, ankle-length, or were we finally hitting the no-shows (which was incredibly hard to get used to).
When college came around, my parents didn’t pay for my shoes anymore. And while, I felt that athletic shoes were appropriate for sports, my new school shoes had advanced a little further. I had discovered Gianni Bini and the world of fancy shoes.
Since familiarizing myself with high heels and having the knowledge that I can sprint in them quite easily, my feet have become used to the wear and tear – the blisters, bloody scars, infected toenails – the gamut of problems associated with uncomfortable footwear. Yes, my vanity is pretty high on the scale. No pain, no gain, right?
After moving to NYC, that shoe obsession hasn’t stopped. In fact, it has grown. On the subway, out on the street – someone has some kind of shoe that I covet and need. There’s just one problem: While walking around Iowa in painful heels was okay, at least I had a car or a place to crash nearby. I was always walking to a nearby destination. Here…well, there is always a commute. And always more walking than I have ever dreamed of doing. So wearing those cute heels or those straw wedges aren’t always possible. Oh, if you were only walking to a taxi and out to your destination, it would totally work. But when you are on a budget like me, that’s not possible. So yeah, if you think the Carrie Bradshaws of the world are out there, they are, just not all girls have money or capable of such long-standing pain. I see girls in spike heels out and about, and while they look cute, all I can think of is, “Oh God, that must be painful.” That idea of being That Girl, has all but left my silly little head.
I live in flats now, and even then, it isn’t super comfortable. Some don’t provide a lot of support and while cute, kill your arches. And it rains a lot. So, yeah – one torrential downpour and you can kiss your Steve Madden ballet slippers goodbye.
I have quite a collection of cute shoes, but most are unwearable when you trek as far as I do.
Yesterday, I broke down and bought my first pair of Aerosoles. I walked past the store, found some that didn’t look too old ladyish and took out my credit card. My feet thanked me although I feel somewhat disappointed in myself for giving in. I won’t give in and wear tennis shoes everywhere with my dresses, but I do have to think a lot harder when purchasing shoes. I can’t buy anything super cheap and I really have to try on and walk in a pair before buying at a department store. The “they’re so cute!” standard doesn’t hold up as a marker for buying shoes anymore.
So now, when I see that pair of coral pointy kitten heels on the girl on the PATH train, I think, “Yes, I want them. But how much support do they have?”
I’m getting old.

Yesterday was one of those days.

It started off okay, but went downhill from there.

I mean, I woke up in a pretty good mood, besides tossing and turning in bed all night – so I guess I was a tad tired.

And then all the little things just seemed to add up. One after the other. By the end of it, only one word described my mood: Shitty.

While I headed to my train, I texted my boyfriend with this: “Want to grab a beer? LITM, Lucky 7 or Barcade? Like right now? I will buy.”

That is all I wanted right then and there, other than to crawl in my bed and wait for the next day to appear.

So when I hurried to our favorite neighborhood watering hole, low and behold, there he was standing there listening to his IPhone. For the first time all day, I smiled. I didn’t know a tall guy in a plaid shirt could cause that reaction (well, maybe a special one).

When we ordered our happy hour drink specials (he wouldn’t let me pay), he just said, “So what’s up? Did you have a bad day?” He then listened to my list of everything bad, my worries, concerns. Only asking questions or offering words of comfort. Wow…I really like you, I kept thinking.

I had planned on cooking a big pasta dinner with tons of fresh veggies, and had my work cut out for me. “Let’s just order some food here,” he said. So we did, and continued to talk for a couple of hours. By the time we left, I was pretty unsure what had gone wrong that day and just realized how much I truly loved this guy walking by my side. He had put aside grading papers, watching his beloved NBA games to listen to my problems. It wasn’t forced upon him to listen to me whine and complain. He just did it.

Today is definitely better. I couldn’t help but think I found something really, really good. And I could not stop listening to this hit by the Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros. I had grown tired of it long ago, but now I listen to it and smile. It’s definitely my soundtrack today.

Yes, I saw it. Yes, I read all the reviews. My thoughts: It was pretty spectacular.

It was quite a few months ago when I saw the first trailer for The Great Gatsby in our favorite Hoboken theater. And when it comes to literature on-screen, I am the kind of person who will investigate a movie like crazy and then attend – bad review or not.

And so I went to the Rotten Tomatoes website, saw that it got a 49 percent “fresh” rating and read the problems. “Pretty boring”, “Overblown”, “Should tell instead of show”, one of the “biggest bombs”. Blah, blah, blah. So when I went to Richard Roeper’s review (the one I count on most) it said, “The best attempt yet to capture the essence of the novel.” Yes. Agreed.

We went to a movie theater in Union Square, and it was one of those epic NYC movies that I was glad to see in the city. Paying $19 for a 3D ticket was uncomfortable, but pretty much the norm here. From the start, it was a spectacle. Sometimes completely overwhelming, especially in the party and bar scenes. But that is what I wanted. It was literally a feast to the eyes and ears, almost as crazy and exciting as a “Flaming Lips” concert. The blasts of confetti, constant modern soundtrack, and blatant opulence basically rocketed me back into the novel, a book that I haven’t read for many years. I remembered the general extravagance and the Robert Redford film, and thinking “wow, this is pretty cray cray.” But this, perhaps a bit less story-based and more about the flavor of the novel, catapulted me into a world filled with bootleg liquor, complete excess, and lust.

There were a few instances when I thought the film could have been edited down, like with the words and letters falling through the sky (that was a bit too telling) and when some of the background actors seemed to be mouthing the now-a-day tunes, but the rest was pure candy. Some man-made, and others like the sky and the Hudson, just added to the constant high of the story. Nick tells a story far away from the Roaring Twenties lifestyles that NYC provided, and while it is “telling” and the audience doesn’t have to think too hard about decoding the central themes, hidden meanings – I think that was the point.

It was if you were in Nick’s head and the excess that he imagined, whether completely true or not, was right there waiting for you. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel was cynical and cautionary, and by the end of the movie, enough was enough. The overload made you almost grateful for the simple things in your own life and you didn’t want to be staring at a screen that was covered in gold glitter anymore. While Nick lamented the flaws of people who were no longer in his life, he seems relieved to be able to look at it from afar, like a dream. And that was how I generally felt, walking away from the theater and back to my humble abode.

So summed up? It was worth the $19 ticket. Maybe Baz Lurhmann’s attempt at such a complicated and daunting work was not some people’s cup of tea, but for me, he was pretty much right on the money.

When 7 a.m. rolled around, I was still not there. 7:10, maybe, if you were lucky. I’m one of those … the people who can’t get anywhere on time. It started in high school. Before that, I was almost too on-time. I remember being one of the first kids in the building at middle school. I’d sit and read next to my locker for 45 minutes, waiting for the first bell. That all changed when I started overextending myself like many high schoolers do.

First, there was band. We’d have early morning practices for marching and jazz, and after school there was some sort of running practice for cross country or track. And almost every night I had theater practice – either at school or at the local community theater. And work. I worked any free night and weekends at the local grocery store. So I wasn’t exactly home much during that time period. Except to sleep. And I sure needed it. So when that alarm clock would sing, I’d shut it up – for probably a good 20 minutes more of sweet slumber. I’d usually rush to school with wet hair from the shower after a 15-minute get-ready rush.

Nothing really changed in college. I always took a large class load, 15 hours minimum/21 hours maximum. I was in plays with rigorous practice schedules, always had a job or two, and had found my way to a few university committees. Overcommitting myself is what I do best. And I always pushed the envelope on time. So I ran, disheveled to my classes, tried to shovel down food when I could, and that poor alarm clock was my most hated enemy.

Since that hectic, crazy time period, I can’t seem to get my clock to run right. I will try to get somewhere early, and something inside me says, “five more minutes.” Whether it was to work, to a party, to some sort of meet-up, it became kind of a joke that I would be the last to show up. Oh, I’ll get to doctor’s appointments right at the nick of time, but everything else was on the back burner.

Especially in the last few years. I worked at the newspaper from 2 to 10 p.m., and would get up to work from 7 a.m. to noon, most days, at a local coffee shop. It was, again, a rigorous schedule that didn’t allow for much sleep or downtime, so I fudged that time as good as I could. Of course, I always made it up, but still. One day, someone pointed out a quote about being late. It read something along the lines of, if you are late, you show how unimportant you feel that appointment (or person) is to you. And honestly, I agree, but that was never the reason why I was late. I was just so dang tired. But it abruptly slapped me in the face…for about a week. I returned to my ways soon after.

Since moving here, things have changed quite drastically. Perhaps it was because I became money hungry after not having a job, or because each appointment was far and few in between that I looked forward to something to break the monotony of my day. In any case, I’ve had to throw more than 10 years of being late conditioning out the window. Whether it was bartending, babysitting, or grabbing a drink with some friends, I have been on time. And with the first couple months of my writing and editing job under my belt, besides a couple train delays, I’m proud to say that my track record is flawless. There have been a couple instances where I have gotten lost in the city, but even then, mustered only to be a handful of minutes late.

If you miss a train, another one might not be around for 20 or 30 minutes, depending on what time of day and what area of town you are heading. Or you will miss your connection to another train. Time really is money here. So, unless you want to get fired or eventually have your friends just stop calling you to go out, you get your butt out the door.

That threat has made it simpler, but I have had to do other things as well. Instead of writing down chore and shopping lists like I have done in the past, I have written down a schedule for myself. Detailed with times I will complete the task at hand. Maybe that seems a bit childish, but it has been necessary for me. My cell phone alarm clock is set for various times: One to wake up, one to exercise, and one to get into the shower. And I have set things that I do within my day. At exactly 8:45 a.m. each morning, I have my daily video chat with my mom and niece Quynn. At that time, I have my lunch packed, bags ready, and am able to unwind and relax until 9:15. I say goodbye and head out the door by 9:20 a.m. for my train to work.

This new, changed “me” hasn’t been easy, but it has been necessary. And as I add more time scheduling to get personal writing done in the morning, I know that this scheduling technique will continue to be necessary for a long time down the road. And I’m hoping when I eventually move to a place where I don’t have to take the train every day and where a commute isn’t as hectic, I’m planning on taking my newfound “on-time-ness” with me. Not just because I want people to feel important, but to know that my own life is important and that time shouldn’t be squandered.

Those lazy, hazy, incoherent days of summer.

Summer.

It’s coming up, and boy, is the season sending a lot of memories my way. And not the good kind. I’ve had a lot of depressive episodes during those sunny months – especially in the past decade. Okay, maybe two summers of holy hell, but still. One of these summers was somewhat comical and just a bit sad. I’ve repeated the funny quippy tales far too often, while leaving out most of the other details.

I worked at a state fair in the marketing department. And while it was something I had been looking forward to, it happened at a pretty inopportune time of my life. I was just experiencing my first big break up, and was ill prepared to deal with the consequences. One, I didn’t want to deal with it, and two, I couldn’t let go. So there was that. And while I was excited for this experience, I was also very immature at the age of 21.

So many things to go wrong.

One, I stayed at a frat house at an unfamiliar college. It was basically the most disgusting and noisy place I’d ever slept in. I was angry all the time, and ended up going home every weekend. Twice, I slept in my car (in a really bad neighborhood) just to get away from all of the partying. My parents ended up giving me gas money so I could make the hour and 20 minute commute back to my hometown each day, because I hated being there so much. It was my own damn fault, because I could have easily found another place but chose to be there instead.

Two, to cope with my breakup, I did a couple things. Stopped eating and replaced that with drinking. I’m not a large person in the first place, so when I go down to less than a size zero, at my height, yeah, not good. So a couple drinks would make me drunk. A few more would lead me to black out. The eating wasn’t because I wanted to weigh less than 110 pounds, no, I just couldn’t keep food down. When I get super upset, my anxiousness makes it impossible to eat a cheeseburger. I found it to be a good day when I could keep a can of chicken broth and a Snack Pack pudding cup in my stomach.

Three, I was coaxed to go out on dates with guys who had shown any interest in me. To you know, get over the break up. Don’t ever recommend that. I was a complete bore, hated myself for being there, and there was never a second date. I knew that from the get-go. Instead of breaking me from my cursed sorrows, I just drowned in them. I remember one date, going into the Cheesecake Factory bathroom and crying on top of a toilet in the middle of the date. I’m not sure how I explained my swollen eyes, but, yeah, that happened.

Four, back to the drinking. Part of my job was being the fair mascot at events. While I have some humorous stories about that aspect, I had one that wasn’t. I was the mascot at a baseball game. While that went without a hitch, I was supposed to drop off the costume early the next morning, which wouldn’t normally be a problem. But I decided to go out with a bunch of friends and get wasted. I pulled myself out of bed the next morning a couple hours too late to one of the worst hangovers I had ever experienced. Not only did I not return it on time and got rightly lectured by my boss, I puked all over the parking lot in front of her. A stellar moment in the life of Carrie Olson.

Oh, there were a few shining moments that happened during this time period, but they are pretty marred and masked by all of my mistakes. It’s just when I try to describe this time of my life, I usually gloss over it and pick out those highlights that were few and far between.

I can’t totally blame it on the breakup. I was young, stupid, and unsure of myself. And I don’t look back and think, “oh, those wild and crazy college days.” No, instead I see someone who wasted some opportune time of their life. Yet, I can’t regret it. It’s taken me a long time to see those parts as being learning moments, but, like a Full House or Brady Bunch episode, I’ve reached the last three minutes for that lesson with the mundane background music playing behind. Lesson: Why I don’t like losing control and being known as the messy, drunk but fun-loving girl. Yeah, don’t want that title anymore.

When summer comes, I remember these sad moments starkly. Just like those PSA ads for people to stop smoking, it plays out in my mind as a “don’t let that happen again”. And I’m not planning on it.

Basically, anyone should wear dresses if they feel like it. Anyone. And I think all ya ladies look absolutely fab in ‘em.

I’m pretty jazzed for the warmer season and dress weather. Yeah, totally wear ‘em in cold weather, but always with leggings. So that’s a bummer and a half. Why? Why, love dress weather? Why not, I ask. Here are my main beefs with wearing other kinds of clothes and why I prefer dresses y’all.

Can sleep in
Will be the first to admit it. When allowed, I am the laziest, most worthless human being alive. Meaning, I will lay (never sitting, always lying down) on the couch and finish off a few seasons of Gilmore Girls in a day. A weekend if nothing is happening. I will get off said couch only to reach for more chocolate, cream cheese or nachos. Perhaps if the pizza delivery guy needs paid. Maybe. So girl needs comfy pajamas. And sometimes this girl doesn’t want to change out of work clothes for this whole day extravaganza. So my cotton work dresses can sometimes pull double duty as lounge wear. And as a handy drool cloth. Not ashamed.

Can go to the bathroom in
Did I mention I am extremely lazy? Yeah, when it’s spring/summer-time, I can skip that whole unzip the pants business. So much easier. Again, not sorry if this is TMI, but public restrooms in NYC are scary and the less time I spend in them, the better.

One stop shop
I like to wake up and be out the door in 20 minutes. I seriously don’t like “getting ready” to interfere with my slumbers. There are freaky weird dreams going on, and they don’t need to be messed up by a stupid alarm clock. So I get out of the shower, pull a dress off a hanger and done. No, I really don’t like accessorizing. So the dress is enough. And the makeup from the night before on my face is all the fancy-fying I need.

Less expense
I always guffaw (yes, GUFFAW because that is a word I don’t use frequently but feel I must!) when someone complains about the price of a dress. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking “so?” It’s probably cheaper than the outfit you put together. Don’t need no scarves, no leggings, no pants (NO PANTS), no shirts, no necklaces, nothing else. You can put the dress on, zip, and wala! A whole outfit. Stop complaining.

Pants can go… just go. Hate pants.  
Maybe you have gained a few pounds. Pants suck. Perhaps you lost a few. Still kinda suck. I mean, it’s nice to be able to feel the room in between the fabric and the skin … but hey, let’s get back to putting on some weight. Pants can seriously suck an egg. All they want to do is make you feel bad about yourself. And if you decide to wear those tight things, you are reminded of that weight gain all day long by that damn waistband leaving red marks on your skin. Eff pants. At least with dresses, the ones that I like, they are forgiving, nice and could care less that you ate a couple boxes of crab rangoons last night.

• Another thing about PANTS. Repeat, hate pants. When it’s cold, rainy and wet outside, the cuffs of your pants always get wet, rub grossly on your skin, and yeah. Did I mention I really hate pants hard?

Oh, yeah, that whole time thing again
Another bonus about wearing a dress is that people, for some reason, think that when you are wearing it, that you spent a whole lotta extra time getting ready. Like you were trying to look super great. Lies, I tell you, lies! For me, most likely it’s not true, it was just the easiest, simplest solution. But hey, got to get those compliments when you can!

Classic, classic, classic
With dresses, I try pretty hard to buy ones that won’t go out of style in the next few years. So plain colors, plain styles – very classic and clean. With other types of outfits, it’s really hard to buy something that isn’t trendy. Five years from now, if I have kept a dress in good condition, I can wear it and still get someone to say, “You look nice today.” Well, MAYBE.

My teeny dress problems:
•Since these are complete, whole outfits for me, I have to be careful of what kind of material I get. Sure, I have tons of dry-clean-only dresses, but I rarely wear them. That’s why my closet is fully loaded with Calvin Klein cotton dresses. Throw in the wash with like-colored clothes. Easy peasy.
• I have a problem sitting lady-like. Basically always. So I have to constantly remind myself (or be reminded by someone else) to sit properly while wearing a short dress. It’s like being in that scene in A League Of Their Own where they have to go through Miss Manners classes, but all the time.

Anyways, dresses. Love them. That’s all.

I used to despise Omaha. I didn’t care if it was a pretty town or that it was close to home, it just wasn’t the big city I wanted to live in. So when I would make my 3-hour trek (it was exactly 3 hours, no more – no less), I would hem and haw about having to spend more time in a place that I had already determined was awful. But here’s the thing: It isn’t. It’s actually pretty awesome. The reason I had such a dilemma with the city was that my boyfriend (who lived there) tried his damnedest to convince me that I wanted to live there too. And like a small child, I would argue the opposite until I was blue in the face. It’s just in my nature to be that immature. And while I pretended that I would rather be anywhere else, I secretly enjoyed being there. In fact, I’ve even suggested moving to said city if he were to get a teaching job at his alma mater (University of Nebraska). Of course, his jaw dropped.

Wells people, since I spent almost every other weekend there for three years (THREE YEARS? My poor car.) I have some advice on some of the coolest places to visit in Omaha. Well, the places I enjoyed exploring, anyways.

STORES

Scout Dry Goods & Trade – 5019 Underwood Ave. http://ilovescout.com/

Guys, I have a serious second-hand clothing store addiction. And honestly, I haven’t been super happy with the selection in NYC. Yeah, blasphemous, I know. But, it is all because of this store. It spoiled me. I like a store that is going to sell amazing vintage/fancy brands/at a decent price. You can find the first two, but not the third. Most of the second-hand stores here (like the one that they featured on a TV show) are way too expensive for what they provide. And people go bananas for it. BANANAS. But this store has it all. I also bought my first Theory skirt here for $50. Yeah, it’s that awesome. Every weekend, there was a new awesome selection (they are very picky with the product that comes through their doors). My meager paycheck went basically to car payments and this store. Oh, and for all that gas to drive to said establishment. Anyways, go to this store. I miss it so.

The Afternoon – 10000 California St. www.theafternoon.com

There are actually two locations for this store in Omaha. This just so happens to be the one I enjoy going to the most. It’s a store of knickknacks, a hodgepodge of great things that you don’t realize you need until you get in the store. I got my more quirky presents for people exclusively at this place. There is also one in the Mall of America, if you are thinking to yourself “Hey! I think I know that store, but you are thinking the wrong location!” No, my friends. I’ve been to three of them so far. All deliciously wonderful.

Homer’s Music – 1210 Howard St. www.homersmusic.com

My first trip to Omaha was memorable. Nate and I were completely unsure why I was there. Were we dating? Maybe, who knows, can’t keep track. But I knew one thing. When I saw this record shop, I had to go in. If you love music (good music), for the love of God go in. ‘Murica.

RESTAURANTS/PUBS/BARS

Bangkok Cuisine - 1905 Farnam St.

Um, I have a confession. I have tried a lot of Asian food in NYC (Chinatown, Midtown, East Village, many other places), and I have yet to find a place that will beat this restaurant. I’m not even joking or exaggerating even a tiny bit. We have been to many restaurants and bars in Omaha (that’s just our favorite form of entertainment, eating). We basically ate here almost every weekend I visited. The first time, after going on a major Urbanspoon kick, we took the recommendations and went. We went round and round the block, because there is not actually a well-lit sign or anything. Just a bright yellow door. And while the ambiance of the restaurant might be lacking, it is the best Asian cuisine I have ever had. We have even half-joked about flying to Omaha just to get some Tom Yum Gai soup. Oh, and the prices are unbelievably cheap. So, yeah, GO.

Dundee Dell - 5007 Underwood Ave.

Awesome pub. And surprise, it’s a few stores away from Scout. So, double plus! The entire Dundee neighborhood is just pretty bad ass. Warren Buffet lives there. We loved to go look at Christmas lights in the Dundee district, where houses are located on cobblestone roads. It’s pretty beautiful. Back to the pub. Try their Philly Cheesesteak Po Boy. Num-num.

Crescent Moon Ale House - 3578 Farnam St.

Sticking with the pub theme a couple more rounds. This place is boss. Their food, their drinks – we just freakin’ loved this place. In the afternoon, in the evening. Whenever. Try their soup menu. So great. Also, they are right next to Beertopia, a beer heaven.

Upstream Brewing Company - 514 S 11th St.

Because I don’t want to seem like I just hang out in bars (kinda true), I’ll put a couple in this one entry. Just if you go to the Old Market, which is beautiful, check out this brewery. Again, this is sad, but I have not found a beer I like more than one of their house beers, the Firehouse Red. I get excited when I find something that somewhat rivals it – but it still loses. Okay, I also give shout-outs to Jake’s Cigars & Spirits (crazy mixed drinks) and Old Mattress Factory Bar (great atmosphere).

Rick’s Cafe Boatyard - 514 S 11th St.

This restaurant is located right on the Missouri River (that’s the right one…I think…). Although the food is just alright, it’s the atmosphere and being right on the water that gives this location a top vote.

COFFEE

Crane Coffee - 5923 Center St.

Besides eating out, we like to go get coffee. A lot. And there are some great options in Omaha: Caffeine Dreams, Blue Line Cafe, Scooter’s – we just really enjoyed Crane Coffee. There are a couple of locations, and it just seemed to be our go-to place.

MOVIE THEATERS

Aksarben Theater - 2110 S 67th St.

Hold on to your britches, because I have four favorites in this category. Besides eating lots of food and drinking copious amounts of liquids, we like to watch a ton of movies, children. Yeah, we’s gots favorites. We go to a lot of movies, and it was super important for us to find some great theaters in our area when we moved to Jersey City. It took awhile, and we learned that just because there is a movie theater in a mall close to us, it doesn’t mean we should go there. Like ever. Anyhoo, this theater is super clean, hip (has a full bar), and just great. This was our go-to mainstream theater that shows blockbuster films.

Marcus Midtown Cinema - 3201 Farnam St.

I brag about my experiences at Marcus basically anywhere I go. We Love Marcus Midtown. Okay, so you go up a couple escalators. And then you buy your ticket, I mean your seat. You can pay for standard seats, or leather, or the creamy leather Oh-my-god awesome seats. In the upgraded seats, you can ring a buzzer and ask a waiter to bring you food and drinks. It’s basically one of the best things I have ever discovered. The prices are not unreasonable for dinner and a movie, and it’s just a lot of fun. Oh, and the quality of the screen and sound are pretty spectacular.

Film Streams - 1340 Mike Fahey St.

We admit it. We see a lot of films. We can be big movie snobs. And so we sometimes like to go to snobby films. This is that place we can enjoy said movies. With other people with turned-up noses.

Dundee Theatre - 4952 Dodge St.

This theater is disgusting, dirty, and very old. And very beautiful. It’s so grand and lovely with chandeliers, but you go there for the midnight showings. Whether it is The Rocky Horror Picture Show or something completely hideous, you can heckle the crap out of a movie with many other young adults. It helps if you have drank a few.

NATURE-Y THINGS and such

Fontenelle Forest - 1111 Bellevue Blvd N. www.fontenelleforest.org

We have gone to many parks in Omaha. We have also visited many of the trails, and while this is a bit outside of the city, it’s definitely a must-see. This forest has many winding bridges, and is just a real green beauty.

Heartland of America Park - 800 Douglas St.

This man-made park was a place we spent a lot of time at. Mostly to watch the geese around the lake, because we were cool like that. Honestly, many important conversations were had at this lake while we were busy making sure we weren’t sitting on goose poop. “Should we break up?” “No, don’t sit there. Goose poop!” “Thanks for that, so should we?” “Nah. Eh, maybe.”

Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge - 705 Riverfront Dr.

Kind of one of those must-dos in Omaha. I always grudgingly trudged to the bridge, but enjoyed being there when I was finally on it. Especially when it was lit up at night.

THOSE OTHER GREAT THINGS

Old Market

If you are going to visit Omaha, more than likely you have heard of the Old Market. It’s a cobblestone shopping mecca filled with restaurants, eclectic stores, and other attractions. There are hidden stores in back allies that I super enjoyed and it’s just a place that will put a smile on your face. If you like that sort of thing.

Henry Doorly Zoo - 3701 S 10th St.

Okay. You aren’t from Nebraska. You are definitely, most likely going to the zoo. Or to the airport. In any case, you won’t be disappointed (I mean the airport is nice ). We should have bought yearly passes for the money we plunked down to watch penguins and gorillas. The aquarium is wonderful, the desert dome is wonderful, it’s all just a happy-happy-joy-joy kind of place. Tip: Go on a weekday. And if you are going, get there when it opens. It gets crowded fast and parking is free, but finding a spot isn’t always the easiest.

So there. A few of my favorite places in good ole Omaha. I look forward to seeing this city again someday. I also look forward to driving a car, seeing green spaces, friendly Midwesterners … okay, done grumbling.

BYE!

It’s approaching the nine-month date since I moved to the East Coast. I didn’t think the time would fly like it did, but it did. And although the lack of space sometimes is enough to make me want to lose my mind, I’m glad I did this. Oh, and not just for the abundance of street food or graffiti, no, the location wasn’t super important. (Okay, who am I kidding? NYC was kind of an important factor to the equation.)

From many of my favorite authors, they have said this about their trials and tribulations: Move away from home. At least once in your life.

Of course, this isn’t ideal for everybody. For me, though, it was pretty necessary. Not for writing, but for me. I’m a person who could dish out big advice to anyone and everyone through my columns. I’m someone who could say something but do the complete opposite the next day. Don’t gossip, but I do it all the time. Don’t hold grudges, but I will hold a giant one. It seemed like a never-ending recurring cycle.

I was making decisions and then would take them back. Half-heartedly never knowing what I wanted, whom I wanted, or who I was. Should I go back to school? Should I be in this career? And the what ifs. Maybe I was meant to be in a relationship with this person. Or perhaps I was meant to do this with my life. With no direction and no certainty for such a long time, it was time for a change.

There was a time in my adult life when I needed the cocoon of my parent’s home. I needed to feel protected and that I would be okay. But it’s damn hard to get out of that warm spot. So when this decision about moving to NYC loomed above my head, I had to stop listening to all the bull my head kept bouncing back and fourth. I couldn’t question it; it had to be a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. The whole process happened quickly. We bought plane tickets and on a weekend signed our apartment lease. Then it was getting the moving truck, paring down our belongings and packing the rest away. It seemed so hectic in the moment, but looking back, it all came together pretty fast.

I had to get out of my comfort zone at the same pace. Living with someone in a new place, trying to figure out transportation, just finding the direction to the grocery store – my focus was no longer on these fleeting thoughts that had always filled my head. There wasn’t any time. Instead, concrete questions had: Should I apply for this job? Is this item in my budget if I want to fly home for the holidays? And it seemed that the less attention I paid to the ‘what-ifs’ and half-hearted notions, the better off I was.

Moving away has made me grow up and be a little more centered. The decision forced me to grow up. No, I definitely am far from perfect and make mistakes on an everyday occurrence. But I’m definitely trying more. In doing so, I don’t give myself much time for the nonsense of life – the gossip, grudges, or petty judgements. And, I’m definitely not trying to dish out the advice like I used to … because seriously, if I’m not taking it, who else should have to?