I want to be Natalie Portman

On my way home from work last week, I listened to half an interview with Natalie Portman and realized, once again, that I want to be her. I always fall back on this sort of thinking when I don't know what to do with my life. I got bored again at work, and so naturally fell down the wormhole of what ifs.

While watching dumb TV shows, I thought I could maybe be an actress. And before I started typing this post, I surfed the web for "somatic psychology graduate program," because I've been digging my new found meditation and yoga classes for the past few weeks. If a few weeks isn't long enough to make a career change choice, what is? I pretty much decided against that future, because I spent most of that internet search judging the pictures on the school websites, deciding that I wouldn't want to get locked in a room with any of the touchy-feely earth tone scarf people in the pictures.

I also thought briefly about becoming a baker yesterday, after watching a video of a girl singer who has a day job baking bread. I also listened to an interview with Ina Garten, and decided that I will continue to watch her cook things, but that I never want to run into her because she seems like a real annoying handful in person.

Thanksgiving was fine. I was getting over a head cold, which made the whole holiday kind of blurry. Unfortunate that I couldn't really get into the moment, because now I feel like I really wasted an opportunity to practice awareness. God, that sounds ridiculous. Scratch the somatic psychology graduate degree completely.

One especially exciting thing that happened during Thanksgiving was that my kitchen sink broke. Again. Rough holiday for a plumbing issue. Joe's mom, who was on crutches with a broken fibia, laid herself down on the bathroom floor and did dishes in the tub. Joe donned a slicker. My dad did some really good supervising. I went back and forth, back and forth, between my house and my landlord's cabin, which had a working sink and about an ounce of mushrooms in the freezer. Forgive me Jesus, I had to peek.

Yarn: My Newest Nemesis

Last week, I attended my first and last crochet class. Prior to that one fateful day, I found myself harboring grand delusions of sewing up fabulous creations for everyone for the holidays. Friends and family would be fighting over all my amazing hats and scarves and whatever else one crochets. I went so far as to spin around the idea that I would naturally be such a natural fiber arts star that I would quit my day job and sew my way to riches.

Fat chance. I might be the worst crochet-er in California. I should have known something was up the week before, when I would excitedly tell people that I was about to take my first croquet class.

So I'm in the market for a new hobby. If anybody has any ideas, I'm all ears. The only requirement is that it cannot involve yarn. Or string. All I will make, if said hobby includes any sort of twine or rope, is knots.

Oh, and fyi, if anyone is in need of a big ball of hippie yarn and one dumb pink crochet needle, they're in my dining room, hiding in the china cabinet with all the other castaways from half-ass art projects. This is just like when I decided to help run a clothing company. The realization hits: I like clothes fine; that doesn't mean I have to make them.