Within the Next Five Years Plan

Doesn't the title just sound like a chick flick just waiting to be made? (Attention Paramount: if you're looking at this shorten the name to Within the Next Five Years, get either Zooey Deschanel or Daisy Lowe to play me, and put at least 3 fashion dress-up and/or makeover scenes in the film. Soundtrack needs to include one mandatory Kylie Minogue song).

Today's post came from the little job interview phenom known as the 5 Year Question. Where do you see yourself in five years? The question with answers on the tip of everyone's tongue. If you're anything like me, you might be thinking you'll:

1) Give 'em the answer they want, in the kind of over-eager fashion nobody likes. (i.e. Working with this company forever and ever has been my dream since exiting my mother's womb! I even got the business logo tattooed on my lower back last weekend, to prove my dedication with you guys!)

2) Give 'em the answer you want, even if it does contain graphic content. (i.e. I kind of used to view my life as driftless, but then I saw this little movie that gave me a new lease on life. You know who my new role model is? Patrick Bateman. And that movie was American Psycho. Hey, do you like Genesis and/or Phil Collins...)

3) Give 'em the answer you want that has been edited in PG format (i.e. I mostly see myself traveling and doing what I love, writing. I don't need a lot in life to keep me happy. (FYI, this is my standard reply, except it doesn't contain the big green dollar sign stamped elephant in the room- I may not require much, but I refuse to settle for less than my worth.))

3) Use this moment to pretend you don't understand English and just smile, flutter your eyelashes, and enjoy the silence. (i.e. La la la la la la.)



After being asked this question in a style similar to a firing squad by a series of forgettable 40-somethings, I've decided to get some sort of concrete answer planned. And not just for work-related purposes. FOR LIFE. Five years is both a short and long time all at once. Even though I'm through with living by a set plan, I'm all for creating goals that are somewhat-realistically attainable for the next five years. Goals I can/will achieve. If not, then at least I tried. If yes, then I have something substantial to bring up when face to face with somebody I went to school with. Either way, I've done something I can be satisfied with at the end of the day.

Go to Coachella



I've been saying this one for two years now and for every photo, every set list lineup I see, it only increases my desperate want and need to be sitting in a dirty tent with an $8 bottle of water and a sundress on. Coachella, if you don't already know, is a music festival in Southern California that lasts for one weekend each year. It features a mix of both well-known and unknown musical artists and over the years a rapidly growing amount of celebrities in attendance. Ticket prices vary every year, but this year to stay an entire weekend was close to $800 bucks. And you will want to stay the entire weekend, believe me. They split the artists up each day so even if you do go for one day only, you'll be missing out on somebody you like regardless.

Coachella presents a clash of the Heather worlds. My love for great music versus my need to stay tidy, pretty, and not-sunburned. I really don't know any more than a handful at best of people who would be down to chill in the blazing hot desert for three days and of that handful, maybe one person (maybe) would be okay with paying for it. The experience is what trumps all in the end. Trying something outside of my comfort zone and having a good time. Because I don't know a single person who gets back from this festival in a bad or upset mood.

Re-Try Pilates or Begin Trying Yoga or Zumba



Once upon a time when I was a highly ambitious 19 year old, I took a set of Pilates lessons for an entire summer. I wanted to do something that would help me to become more limber, possibly forget my schedule in the process, and wasn't running (I hate running with a burning passion). The whole thing about Pilates was that it involves you reaching your "center", journeying deep inside of yourself to discover your own self-fulfillment and inner peace. Where you leave the world at the door and spend the next 90 minutes getting to know your own self in a calming environment.

Except I couldn't do it. For every moment I was supposed to close my eyes, breathe in, breathe out, and drift off to thoughts of Mother Earth, I was too busy thinking about my schedule for the day after. This was the same summer I was enrolled in a bunch of college credit classes and still worked two jobs at Panera Bread and Subway. All I could think to myself during these lessons with my eyes closed were, "Okay, I have 1.5 hours until it's over. Then I have math class 2 hours later. I should probably get to the campus math lab early to begin practice problems. I get out of that class at 1:45...have work at 4...need to mail off some letters when I get home...I wonder if my new copy of Nylon got here yet...might go out with the girls after work...shoot, I should probably do my history homework first...then go to bed...but Conan's new tonight...oh my God these lights in this room are the worst. How is anyone ever supposed to calm down when these lights are so grim? Fluorescent lighting is nobody's friend. God, I can feel my heart rate increasing. Calm, calm, be calm. Argh, I need a soda right now!"

I'm just the worst kind of person to convince to buy into Eastern European methods of thinking or just any train of thought that begs me to relax and just be for a moment. But I'm thinking I would like to try it again. Maybe I needed to get older and wiser to appreciate taking some time away from the world. Though all that silence does make me tired too which is why I added Zumba to the list. It's highly energized dancing to fun music that doesn't require I roll into downward dog or accidentally fall asleep on my mat during the Sunrise Salute routine.

Visit a Palm Reader



Can I be totally honest about something? More than visit a palm reader, one of my lifelong ambitions has been to spend one deliciously terrifying night with a Ouija Board. This is inspired by watching an episode of Beyond Belief when I was younger that featured three girls communicating with a spirit named "Victor" on a Ouija board one evening. The next morning, only two of them were left in the house. Puzzled as to where their friend went, the two girls decide to ask "Victor" where she is and he delivers on creeptastic answers, "With Me..."

How. Awesome. Is. That.

Unfortunately, I know 0.00 people that share my fascination with the Ouija, so I'm probably going to wait on that one for awhile. Preferably at a hotel in the future, whilst on vacation with a quickie trip to the toy store to pick one up from the Hasbro Bros. I do want my fortune told, to see how long my heart, life, and health lines are. I feel it's more effective to measure what you're born with on your hands than have some psychic tell you some gibberish out of a crystal ball.

Study French



Despite four years of Spanish, I'm utterly useless with the language and wished more than anything my parents would have allowed me to take French while in high school. It's such a gorgeous language. Rolls off the tongue like butter. Even prettier when sung. I want to learn it, even just the basics. Then my life can be a little bit like "Foux du Fafa" by Flight of the Conchords. Baguette, ha, ha, hun!

Attempt to Fuse my Wardrobe with More Color



My three favorite colors? Ivory, gray, and black.
Runner up fourth? Red (but typically only on the lips to enhance a popping effect).
Colors I look good in? Ivory, gray, and black. Most jewel tones. Pink.
Clothing colors I just don't own at all? Green and yellow.

Every spring, I feel the urge to dress ultra feminine and in light shades. As gentle and sweet as a little lamb. But I can only do that for so long. These days, I buy my clothes for longevity. When I look at a skirt or blouse, there's a certain criteria that needs to be met before purchase. I have to envision how long I can wear it, if it can go for all seasons, the number of compatible items in my wardrobe that can go with it, the length, how I can accessorize it, different hairstyles that will best complement it, the fit, and of course, the price. This is why I'm always shopping online. It gives me the time I need to make rational decisions and feel completely at ease with my choices.

Lately though, I've been inclined to move to color. Just hints of it here and there. I like the Briar Rose Button Shell from The Loft, am utterly in love with the dazzling Multi-Row Tangerine Necklace at White House Black Market, and would commit the worst crimes to get my hands on the perpetually out of stock Memphis Style Dress at Modcloth. Fingers cross, cross, crossed that my IRS refund hurries up and gets here! Haha, but seriously, I need that refund.

Talk to "John Stamos"



This is a short-term goal of mine. The people closest to me already know about this, but I'll fill you all in on the details. Basically, there is a really cute guy who lives down the street from me. He looks, and I shit you not on this one, just like what would happen if you combined John Stamos and Jon Hamm into one person. He is so beautiful, it sears the eye to look directly at him, like an eclipse. Only I've been managing to do so for several weeks now.

Other important facts to keep in mind include:

-He has a dog that looks like Chance from Homeward Bound
-I often see him exiting the gym and he's always biking
-J.S. is always super friendly to me
-Looks like he's 29, tops
-I do not get a gaydar vibe from him (my old roommate effectively and realistically told me to keep this in mind)
-I saw him driving once and it was hot. Plus he waved to me from the car. HOT.
-My roommate has seen him and confirmed he is a 10 on the hotness scale
-Both of my roommates affectionately refer to him as John Stamos as well
-It will probably crush my soul if I find out he has a girlfriend or worse, wife.
-He wears SCRUBS. Which means (I hope) he is in the lucrative and highly attractive position of being a nurse. In which case, I will drop to the ground on a really hot day and pretend to be suffering from heatstroke in order to get some mouth-to-mouth action.
-We have exchanged pleasantries, but I still don't know his name. If it turns out it is Jon or John or Johnny, I will probably bust up laughing on the spot. Then never tell him why I did that, ever.
-Pretty sure he lives in the same townhouses as my old internship boss.
-He's so handsome, I see him from afar and immediately a big grin breaks out on my face. All is the right in the world when I see him.

Now that I've creeped you out with my disturbing creeping on a random stranger that lives down the street from me, I'm going to follow this up by saying I will attempt to talk to him the next time I see him, damnit. I just want to get to know the guy, even if nothing comes out of it, as a friend, a person, a human being. And well yes, I'd love to get his name too. Placing names with faces is nice. And think of all the Googling I could do!

Whatevs if you think I'm creepy. He has already witnessed me singing out loud (when I thought no one was watching) to The Lonely Island feat. Akon "I Just Had Sex." Opening my eyes to see a dashing gent witnessing me say, "A woman let me put my penis inside of her" is embarrassing enough. The fact that my iPod refused to let me turn down the volume because of that accident where I dropped it in the sink and it slightly scrambled was another side of embarrassment.

I pray he doesn't have a girlfriend. Otherwise, I made for a good chuckle over the dinner table.

Dye My Hair



I just want to be a redhead so much. I blame Anne of Green Gables for this one. And for always making me crave dresses with puff sleeves.

Move to SF



An accurate portrayal of how my head looks if you open it. If you look closely in my head, you can see a teeny tiny layout of Lombard Street with some cable cars going by.

I don't need to rehash that I love this city, it holds my heart, and can cause me to start crying at my desk at my job because I love it so much. Every weekend I just want to climb up to the roof and cry out, "I NEED TO BE IN SF EVERY WEEKEND. I WILL WORK SIMPLY TO STAY THERE ON THE WEEKENDS. MY WEEKDAYS WILL BE IN SOCAL, THE WEEKENDS IN NORCAL. THEN OVER TIME MY WEEKENDS IN SF WILL BECOME WEEKDAYS AND I WILL TRANSITION LIKE A BUTTERFLY FROM A COCOON INTO THE CITY THAT I WOULD DIE FOR. THAT IS MY LIFE CHOICE. I NEED NOTHING ELSE. EXCEPT FOR CHILI CHEESE FRIES AND A GOOD HOTEL VIEW."

Knowing my terrible luck, John Stamos would totally see that.

That is, in essence, my five year plan. In five years, I'd like to be living within a bustling city that understands my need for public transportation, keeping stores within a 0.3 mile radius from my home, and makes great traffic sounds outside to help me sleep when I've had a bad dream.

Though in the event that that doesn't happen, I do have a back-up plan...



Just Keep Visiting SF for the Next Five Years

It's a crackerjack idea, I must say!

Love to you all,
Heather