View from Nussbaum

Well summer 2010 in Oregon has come to a close, replaced so swiftly by an autumnal season on the eastern seaboard that it's hard to believe it's already here. Not only have our living conditions been drastically downsized from a spacious mad-house with fully stocked kitchen to a humble walk-through double containing little more than my clothes and L's cliff bars, but the climate has skyrocketed as well. A heat advisory warning is in effect for New York City, which is an official way of announcing that only the strong will survive our workouts this week. The cross country team has been reduced to running, eating, and napping machines, stripped of most personality due to other activities' effects on precious fluid retention. Conversations are slowed, social gatherings are limited (except in air-conditioned suites) and plans exist only to the extent of where am I going to get water/Gatorade/coconut water and how can I avoid going outside.

But I'm not here to write about the weather. With the new school year comes plenty of developments, including new teammates, new neighbors, and...God, it's so hot I can't even think.

To update on the summer: Ducati left the country for Spain the day after L left for New York. He told his dad there was no point to stay any longer now that she was gone. Will they meet again? From my informed, yet un-emotionally swayed position, the question isn't will, but when. I got sucked in by one of those annoying, overly-friendly and ridiculously persistent promoters today and have now committed to getting my hair cut, conditioned and "glazed" downtown sometime before March. I honestly don't know how he got me so cornered that I forked over my debit card and signed the paper but I've been regretting it ever since. L has agreed to come with me though, as it also comes with color and highlights (transferrable to a friend) and I refuse to let dye anywhere near my head. I suppose I'll update on that stressful experience when the time comes. I hate putting my trust in a grinning stranger with scissors.

Tomorrow morning's workout will be a challenging one, but should be rivaled by the evening workout (a.k.a. grindfest) that will come to be known as Freshman Party 2010. The freshman girls exude anxiousness and curiosity, as well as an obvious love for getting down that promises to keep things very interesting, not only for Friday night, but for the reunion Sunday morning. Freshman boys are in ample supply and most of the team that was not in yet arrives today or tomorrow, so conditions are lining up perfectly.

Considering the characters in this years crew, I can that guarantee that hilarity shall ensue.

Smooth As Velvet

We already knew Ducati's moves worked on L (read: "strikingly handsome guy of 6'2, with piercing blue eyes and a suave demeanor"), but it appears he knows how to put the moves on the rest of her circle as well. I was about to take a shower the other day when I hear what I recognize to be his silky voice and sophisticated vocabulary. Tiptoeing onto the porch so as not to be exposed as the curious creeper, I encounter a humorous yet pleasing scene on the deck below. L and Ducati are seated side by side on the bench; the distance between them is small enough to confirm them as a unit in the picture but large enough to assert the appropriateness necessary when a high school couple meet the girl's parents for the first time. Ducati engages both my parents fully in conversation--my dad laughs from his position leaning against the railing and my mom glows from the table with her Mirror Pond Ale. "Charming, just charming," she later reflected to me about her first impressions. He even talked to my 13-year-old sister for a significant amount of time.

His game suggests substantial practice pleasing parents and it worked no differently with my family. Of course I'm always reserved, skeptical, and difficult to convince...

He brought me a multigrain bagel this morning after he took L out to breakfast...obviously he's bomb.

Valuable Lessons...life's weird so don't Judge a book by it's cover.

Ok so I've come to the conclusion that the longer I live,and admittedly I haven't lived very long, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a team... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes. Ok don't worry... hah I'm off my soap box now.

Lately though, my life has been challenging in more than one dimension( and unfortunately, it has taken a toll on my time and energy for blog postings...I apologize guys.)Anyway, although it's been rather crappy and I found myself in a place so lonely and dark I thought I'd never feel strong again. I just kept living every moment like a gift and seizing the day, even if it was a pain in the ass. Ultimately though, right when I thought I'd lost all faith in humanity, and come to the conclusion that all people are selfish, ruthless assholes with piss for brains, God smiled down and was like, hey, L, snap out of it, look at this freaking gorgeous wilderness, look at your friends, look at your school, look at your awesome life. Ha ok, so maybe I wasn't done on my soap box, but I'm done now I promise..

So...you're probably wondering, where is all this going? Well, in the midst of all this drama, I was working one day taking care of kids at the local park when Ducati rides by on his um..Ducati. He rides by me, not once, not twice, but FOUR times.Alrtight, at this point, we need to rewind and give ya some background..remember one of N's first posts regarding bad boys and Ducatis and what-not? Well, at that point Ducati and I were texting, but nothing else. We both hadn't seen, met, or heard each others actual voices . We tried on three separate occasions to meet up and "kick it", but alas, it never worked out. Eventually, we both just stopped texting each other and we both sorta forgot about the whole thing. Until....(fast-forwarding back to that fateful day at the park...)he decided to pass by , because he got word that I was there and wanted to see what I looked like...and apparently he came to the conclusion that I was pretty damn awesome. So, anyway, when it's time for me to leave the park and drive the kids home, my phone is blowing up with texts. (side-note: In oregon it is illegal to deal with any type of phone call, text, or etc while operating an automotive vehicle.)So naturally, I don't check my phone till I get back to the kids house and start making them dinner. Casually, I glance at my phone and see a very verbose text from Ducati explaining that he just saw me in the park and wanted to hang out that night. At this point, I'm like f*%# all boys. I'm sick of men. I don't give a damn. I get home and tell Noelle about the texts and invitations I had gotten from Ducati, and nonchalantly brush them aside, all the while complaining that I don't feel like hanging out. She's like, L, snap out of it, GO GET CUTEEE. Reluctantly, I take a quick shower(which is extremely out of character for me) and throw on some non-running clothes. At this point, I'm like, "This whole thing is going to be extremely humorous. Our personalities are going to clash horribly and it's just gonna be a funny disaster that I can write about later." N, sick of my negativity,( I swear I was just being a realist.) says L, come here, DRINK THIS. Suspiciously, I take this shot glass of pulpy weirdness and swallow it in one gulp. Immediately after swallowing, I take a sharp intake of breath, and scream profanities. N just juiced a freaking lime and gave me the straight juice. It's nasty shit, but it does the job.

So anyway, Ducati finally gets here. I walk down the front steps down from the street and, waiting to greet me, holding the door open, is a strikingly handsome guy of 6'2, with piercing blue eyes and a suave demeanor. WOW. So anyway, long story short, we get along perfectly. He wasn't at all what I expected. He's smart, bilingual, on a swedish reality t.v. show, humble, and has awesome theories about life and stuff just like I do. HUGE PLUS. As of late, we have become pretty much inseparable and exchange cheesy texts daily. Wow, life is unpredictable.Basically, moral of the story, NEVER EVER think you know what's coming up next, good or bad. Life's gonna prove ya wrong every time. (P.S. tons more stories to come that coincide with my soapbox rant at the beginning of the post...will be put up very shortly. But right now I have to go eat, I'm starving ha.)

A Verbose Late-Night Rant

Five days ago I started a post about a new summer fling, including expectations for our first date, and didn't quite have time to finish it. Four days ago I actually went on the date and then elected to combine two entries comparing expectations and first impressions. Now I find myself in an awkward situation after date number two, when I have decided the fling is actually over. That was quick wasn't it? Embarrassingly quick, in fact. Do I really get bored that easily? I don't think I can honestly chalk it up to bad luck given the fact that this is standard operating procedure for me. I meet a guy when I'm not expecting to, we hit it off, (or at least seem to because I am completely caught off guard) and then exchange info along with vows to "hang out". I am thrilled by the new possible love interest (a.k.a. fresh meat) and flattered by the fact that I gave a decent enough first impression that someone would want to see me again, as opposed to just giving them a temporary chuckle with some ridiculously odd facet of my personality. Assuming we do meet up, one of three things happens, all with the same result. I might discover that they're a douchebag, rude to others and generally not someone I want to associate with. Alternatively, I discover they're kind and shy and by definition awkward, meaning I have to play the role of the male and make all the moves, not something I enjoy doing and am very easily fed up with. The third possibility is that they're nice and sweet and must have been around the block a few times so they expect girls to just fall for that kind of shit. I think those are the worst kind of all.

What's wrong with nice and sweet? I'll tell you what's wrong: A sense of entitlement. I hate when a guy thinks that just because he got your number and hasn't done anything outright wrong, you're going to be head over heels for him. I'd been on one date with this particular boy before tonight (he needs a nickname but is by no means a bro...I'm gonna go with Panda because according to L, his spirit animal is a red panda) and tonight Panda was acting as if we were a freaking item. I was on the phone with my mom receiving some infuriating news about the charades of a family member and panda comes up to me, strokes my hand, and says, in a genuine-sounding, but genuinely fake concerned voice, "Are you stressed? You look stressed."

First of all, if I was stressed, you would not be able to understand, nor know what to do because you don't know me. Our first date was a movie; we've barely even talked before. Don't pretend to offer emotional support when we're practically strangers. Second of all, if you did know me, you would know that when I say "What the hell is wrong with that person?" I am not in need of any emotional support. I don't want a hug--I want to slap somebody. Which brings me to my third point, why are you touching me? Usually when you put your arm around me, it's entertaining for me to debate in my head whether you're serious or not, because if you are serious, then your touch affords nothing more than a humorous reminder of your delusions. Do other girls actually appreciate that? In this situation, I'm already pissed, so it just makes me want to smack you for being so belittling.

Occurrences like these kept me in a constant state of disgust towards Panda this evening, as we went on a double date with L and her new boy toy. Thank God Ducati was so engaging because the more time I was forced to converse with Panda and his delusions, the harder it was to resist being a cold-hearted bitch. L and Ducati continued to hit it off quite perfectly, however, which made it even more obvious how Panda and I did not get along. I tried to walk the fine line between honesty and manners--I was not interested in him anymore but he was supposed to be my date.

Finally, when Ducati professed a late night burger craving and announced that he had called a cab to take him and L there, I took the opportunity to exaggerate my fatigue and send Panda on his way. He wanted to know what day I want to get together next and I told him I didn't have my work schedule yet. Any guy would tell me I should just be up front and say I don't want to hang out again, but I elected to wait until I was a little less annoyed with him and could thus say so in as nice a way as possible. I suppose it was my fault anyway for not figuring out earlier that he gets on my nerves.

I'm fully aware of how harsh I sound, but I can't help it. Today my brother told me I'm going to die alone because I can't stand if boys call too much. Panda called me four times while I was working the day after we went to a movie...said he just wanted to say hi. That kind of stuff freaks me out. Summer flings are difficult because I'm not comfortable with the idea that someone could own you after a very short period of time so the idea of even trying to move towards that feels incredibly artificial. Panda tried to finish my sentences today and I just found it embarrassing. Let me speak for myself already and stop pretending to be associated with me. I want to speak for myself. I want to be responsible for myself. Very special people I hold near and dear in my inner circle and everyone else just feels like dead weight.

It's 2:28 AM. I've been back at my house for almost 2 hours. L and Ducati are still out on the town. Glad someone's having fun.

V

I want to apologize about the extreme lack of posts lately. I realized today that a solid ten days have passed since the last NLSynergy update, an issue which I am sincerely embarrassed to admit. The ten days have been packed with happenings which I am stoked to write about, including but not limited to an awkward lunch date, fugitive shenanigans, the exploits of my future husband, and L's and my heroic party first-aid, which resulted in the resuscitation of a social gathering under cardiac arrest. If it is meant to be, these stories will come out in due time. Meanwhile, V-blog is approaching (or perhaps has just eclipsed...it's unclear) it's one month anniversary of creation. In honor of this momentous occasion, I would like to at least partially address the question that is on all of our new reader's minds (assuming that freshman and upperclassmen take the bait we dangle in our perpetually soon-to-be-written introductory e-mail): WHY V?

The only inkling of an explanation came in our first post: as you will soon see, V stands for a lot of things...

Something intangible appealed to us about the letter V. Not only does it take after my favorite core exercise (the V-sit DUH), but L was convinced it had something to do with being feminine. From Venus the goddess of love to the universal sign for peace, the open bloom of the letter V offers unbounded potential and virtue. The Roman numeral for five invites logic and a penta-layer explanation. Then again, why stop at five? This summer, V has been a means of commemorating our ventures and vacations. It has been an outlet for our vices, vendettas, and even vapors. And at the end of the day, it is my goal that it stands for voice, vision, and virtuosity. As the fall season begins and our living quarters shift approximately 3,000 miles east and 9 stories up, the view will vary, the tempo will pick up along with the pace of life, and the voice will likely assume an increased sense of urgency. We'll continue to project weird humor, random wisdom and strong opinions, but hopefully for the collective benefit of our track sisters. In what ways, I'm not exactly sure, but in the same way that I didn't know everything that V would stand for, I'm sure we will figure it out. Whatever the team needs, V can be that.

To all of our new readers--welcome. Thanks for taking the two seconds to check us out. Peruse, become a follower, give feedback...I don't know where V-blog is going but I'm getting some very good vibes.

Victory on the Robust Summer 2010 front...

Over the past couple of days, N and I have traveled more than most people do in a couple years. Ok, so we didn't exactly drive across the country, but we saw some pretty amazing things here in Oregon. This place is freakin awesome.(Kudos to Gigi by the way, who funded the operation.) Also, (surprise, surprise) I got lost in the woods yesterday.(However, I would like to add that I found my way back home with nothing guiding me other than my WAYYY outta whack directional intuition...which seems to be operating on surprising new levels!)Go figure. We also plan to be going to an Animal Themed Birthday party tomorrow night. Get excited for the update. This is going to be the party of the summer.We plan on busting out our highly perfected dance moves made possible by our new hard- ass core routine. That's right, we can pop,lock, AND drop with perfection all the while, showing off our freshly chiseled abs that even the most highly defined roman statue would be jealous of. ( I still can't jerk though...some things never change.)Also, there's costumes involved. It's going to be epic. I would write more about the sheer awesomeness of our show-stopping threads, but I'm going to be late for hot yoga....

Vendettas

L and I have just returned from an all-around disappointing double date with a pair of soccer bros we met Tuesday at a pizza parlor. There's no clear explanation as to why we agreed to this--the confidence with which they rolled slowly up by where we were enjoying our dinner and asked for our numbers through the open car window certainly caught me off guard and the fact that this happened less than two minutes after L was complaining about how hard it is to find a good summer fling in Portland made us wonder how this could not be meant to be. A text conversation followed and Bro 1's "not real" vernacular (to quote T) combined with his atrocious spelling made it obvious that he probably struggled to remember his own name. In any case, people with such little intelligence can be very entertaining if you're in the right mood and his Jersey Shore-esque physique made him an attractive summer fling candidate.

The first date was decent. We met at a Starbucks to make sure they weren't sketchy and migrated to their house for a showing of What Happens in Vegas. They were hotter than we remembered and at least more interesting than the texts had let on (later, L will post excerpts of that conversation that are quite hilarious). So we were excited today when we made plans to go hot tubbing (or hot tubing as Bro 1 likes to spell it) and fully launch operation Summer Fling.

How does this post relate to vendetas? It does, I promise, but I have suddenly gotten extremely tired. So stay tuned and I'll update tomorrow. Peace, love and V.