Things Aren’t Always Picture Perfect, Spills Happen

Last week I had the opportunity to grab dinner with two of my good friends from my old office.  Thrilled to catch up on the latest news, we took the opportunity to go to one of our favorite restaurants in the city, Le Diplomate.

If you know DC, you know Le Dip.  My best friend, Jaclyn, and I used to have a standing, post SoulCycle, brunch date there every weekend, ordering the warm shrimp salad and champagne rose like regulars.  Since she has left DC, my Le Dip experiences have become less frequent, but even more cherished.  (Jaclyn, please come back!)

So, while perusing the menu over a glass of bubbles, I decided to shake up my order and go for the steak frites.  Born and raised in the Midwest, I have been a carnivore since birth.  Any opportunity to order a good steak is hard to pass up, and anything you order at Le Diplomate is guaranteed to be good.  So, as we eagerly awaited our meal we spent time sharing our most recent, newsworthy information with one another, laughing, gasping, and nodding in agreement.  When the food did arrive, it was nothing short of picture perfect (although we restrained).  Now, before I continue, what you must know is that I am a Goddard.  Why might that be relevant?  Because it means I come from a long line of elegant people who manage to spill at nearly every meal.  (Seriously, I think its genetic.)  True to fashion, not four bites into my fantastic dinner, my steak did some sort of inexplicable twitch, and, in the blink of an eye, juice was down the front of my jumpsuit.  Now, you would think that after 27 years I would be relatively used to this scenario, but I’m not sure a clotheshorse, which I am, ever becomes used to constantly having near ruinous experiences with her most prized possessions.  In fact, the possibility of ruining clothes has, at times, pushed me to order two of things, knowing that inevitably one will get ruined.  And, (pro-tip) if you’re going to take a picture with me, best to do at the beginning of the adventure.

After a moment of shock, I stayed relaxed, laughed it off, and enjoyed the rest of my evening.  Upon getting up to leave the table, I had a two second internal pep talk, telling myself to throw my shoulders back and march home, head high (in reality, its not like anyone is going to notice or care).  However, as soon as I was in the door of my apt, I was simultaneously on the phone to my mother and googling to see if there was any way or chance my jumpsuit could be saved.  Raising me has given my mother nothing short of a Ph.D. in stain removal.  Fortunately, she told me to take a deep breath and run the jumpsuit under ice cold water (I actually used an ice cube).  This did manage to get all of the coloration out of the stains.  She then instructed me to take a tiny drop of Dawn dish soap (“remember, Dawn is used to get oil off of baby birds, Mercy”) diluted in water and gently rub to remove any remaining grease.  By some miracle I was able to execute her instructions and save the jumpsuit.  But, the fact remains, spilling and staining your clothes is a fact of life.  It may not be something we highlight or Instagram, but it happens to everyone (some more often than others).  When it does happen, don’t let it ruin your night, stay chill, keep your head up, call your mother, and always know a good drycleaner.

Who am I and Why should you care?

FullSizeRender 3

The first question I pose here is superficially easy.  My name is Mercy, I am 27 years old (terrifying), and I live in Washington, DC.  I grew up in a lovely family in northern Illinois, I proudly attended the University of Southern California (Fight On), and graduated in 2012.  I then continued on to law school at Notre Dame, mostly because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up and I thought three more years would buy me (literally) plenty of time.  Also, pretty much everyone in my family is a lawyer, so if I wanted to be taken seriously at family meetings or Christmas dinner, a respected advanced degree was necessary.  Following law school and the bar exam (which I passed, thank heavens) I confessed that I had absolutely no interest in actually being a lawyer, but, bright side, knew where I wanted to live.  I had spent my last semester of law school interning for the NCAA in Washington, DC (yes, I am a sports fanatic), and had totally fallen in love with the city.  So, I packed my bags and moved.  There I decided I was going to start a journey to “find myself.”  A concept which I had spent the first 25 years of my laugh mocking, before realizing I had no idea who I was or what I hoped to accomplish with my life.  This lasted a few weeks before I was offered an internship in a Congressional office, which turned into a job, where I stayed for 18 months.  By this time I had just turned 27, I was chewing my cuticles bloody and calling my mom on a regular basis to explain that while I understood I had a job thousands of people would die for, I was miserable.  Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t the job’s fault.  I made friendships I can’t imagine my life without, and I truly believe everything happens for a reason.  But a career “on the Hill” was, alas, not for me.  So, in April, I inexplicably quit.  Since then I have spent three months dodging all questions related to “so, what do you do,” while spending time with my family and friends, and getting myself into the best shape of my life (okay, honestly, probably best shape since high school).  However, the question of what do I want to be when I grow up still eludes me.  How is it I can look around at all my friends, swimming like fish, careers taking off, conquering the world, and I’m still taxiing for takeoff, destination unknown.  But, since when did “what do you do” come to define who we are? So, who am I?  Well, I’m quite happily me.  What do I do?  That’s yet to be answered.

Why should you care?  Well, that’s entirely up to you, and if you don’t want to, I certainly won’t be offended, feel free to continue along, no comments necessary, thank you, bye.  However, I will take a second to try to give you a few reasons to stay… Over the years, I have had a lot of internships and summer jobs, several of which have focused almost exclusively on learning about the “millennial.”  Who knew our generation was such a fascinating (and, to some, terrifying) beast?!  Well, it is.  Entire industries have conducted studies to figure out how to relate to, market to, interact with, and understand “the millennial.”  Companies are panicking as we enter the workforce and struggling to understand how we operate.  Part of me finds this strangely hilarious, part of me finds it completely fascinating.  But, as a millennial, I guess I find our behavior normal, even if I can also see how it breaks from tradition.  Some say we are superficial, and I am not totally sure that assessment is wrong.  Between Instagram and Snapchat, and the rest of social media (most of which I actually don’t know how to use), we are consumed with displaying ourselves publicly in the best light possible.  But, the reality is, we are all humans, like the generations before us and those yet to come, and we all put our pants on the same way.  (Is that actually a saying?  I heard someone say it once and it resonated, but I am not sure if it’s a real thing.)  So I want to use this space to share my reality.  Yes, I have embarrassing moments… such as, the other day, when my flip-flops broke in the middle of crossing the street (in a very trendy area) while I was jaywalking, drinking an iced chai, and talking on the phone to my mom. I totally panicked, considered changing my name and moving to Siberia.  Did anyone see me?! Obviously.  Do I know anyone who saw me? Please, I hope not.  Is there a car coming? If there was, it didn’t hit me.  Yes, the panic went in that order, sorry, I’m basic and that’s how my mind works.  And while just sharing my embarrassing moments would be humorous (for you), what I really want to do is provide a snapshot of [real] life.  What are my interests? Sports, fashion, food, work out classes, travel, animals, and the people that make it happen.  What are the trends in those areas.  How am I, a fairly average millennial, following or not following those trends.  A diary of sorts, if you will.  If that sounds even remotely interesting, feel free to follow along!