Thanksgiving with the dude

This was my first Thanksgiving spent away from my family. Even when I studied abroad in Denmark, they flew over for the holiday, bringing with them cans of pumpkin that would have cost me $10 in Copenhagen. But since I’m saving money for my trip, I skipped the pricey flight and went to Pittsburgh with Jon. We had a quiet Thanksgiving with his mom and dad; I say quiet because I’m comparing this to my normal Chicago family Thanksgiving, where we have about 25 people and multiple turkeys. So I filled my stomach with tons of his mom’s incredible stuffing, which was followed by a big stomach ache, which was solved with a nap (sitting up, of course) on the love seat in front of Home Alone on TV. Whew.

When I told people that I was going to Jon’s house for Thanksgiving, some reacted like it was a big deal. “Ooohhh have you met his parents before? Are you nervous?” Well, no. I spent Easter at Jon’s house when we had been dating for about two weeks. That was in 2005. Geez. For some reason I’ve never quite cared about the “meet the parents” phenomenon. But the real point I was getting to is this: When people who don’t know Jon asked me what I was doing for the long weekend, I couldn’t just name-drop “Jon.” I had to call him something. And after 3 years, 8 months, and 16 days (o.m.g.) “boyfriend” just doesn’t seem to cut it. How do you fit in “best-friend-love-of-my-life-roommate-round-the-world-travel-partner” into the word boyfriend? I know this topic has been beaten 500-comments-to-death on Jezebel, but I have to share what I’ve come up with. Last week, when a coworker asked me about Thanksgiving, I said “I’m having it with my dude and his family.” It worked! I didn’t feel like I was in kindergarten when Jennifer asked Michael to be her boyfriend! It felt both cool and accurate!

I’ve tried other names. I tried “partner” for a while, but it sounded, once again, too much like grade school. “Partner” is still synonymous in my mind with “buddy,” like in the buddy system, or a partner on a book report. Shoot, I loved book reports. I actually found an “official” word for what Jon and I really are: POSSLQ. It’s pronounced “poss-ill-Q.” It stands for Persons of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters. Bingo! Or not, because everyone is going to think I said “my possum” if I start calling Jon my posslq. Unless we can start a posslq revolution? This is why I’m sticking with “dude” for now. But I’m curious if any of you have words other than girlfriend and boyfriend. I’ve also read the argument that fiance, husband, and wife are goofy terms. I’m happy I don’t have to deal with that yet. What do you think? Dudes? Posslqs?

A wordsalad jazzmatron

I told myself I couldn’t have a blog until I had something interesting to talk about. I’m moving out of my apartment on December 17; when people ask me where I’m moving, I have no answer. That’s how I knew it was time to start writing. In a practical way, this blog will be handy while I’m traveling around the world. I’m bringing a laptop with me, so I hope to write often. You can see I added a cute little tab at the top of this page with my itinerary, which I’ll update as we buy more tickets. But writing for me has always been about a lot more than communication, just like how traveling is about much more than getting my picture taken at the Great Wall and the pyramids. I write and travel to explore and to grow. And because I may as well live up to my reputation of being cheesy, I’m calling this entire entity my quest for fabulous.

Somewhere over the past couple of years, I forgot that I was in charge of my life. Maybe it’s the result of leaving college and jumping into the real world; I could rock my small campus, but rocking beyond that was a mammoth task, and I was intimidated. And I’m definitely not alone. Pretty much everyone I know who’s my age has expressed some frustration and confusion about where they are and where they are going. Since we’re pretty new at this adult thing, it’s easy to get caught up in jobs, people, lifestyles that aren’t really you, but seemed like the best option at the time. So I’m cracking this thing open. Months ago when I realized Barack Obama was going to be our next president, I promised myself I’d be there when he’s inaugurated (truly the biggest benefit of living in DC) and then leave this city for good. I’m traveling around the world with Jon for four months, returning to the US in the summer to do whatever, and then starting graduate school for international education in the fall. BAM!

Can you tell I’m excited? I’ve kind of adopted a new philosophy lately: Do what you want. No excuses. I’m 23 years old, I’m educated and healthy, and I have nothing stopping me from doing whatever I want other than fear. Unless you or someone you love has a terminal disease or is in extreme poverty or prison, you have no excuse either. Heck, even people with terminal diseases do incredible things. I see them on the Today Show (all love). This is the most free I will ever be in my life; I don’t have a house or a kid or credit card debt or even a dog. Life looks pretty awesome when you think about it that way, eh? If this thought also makes you want to smack the next college kid or 20-something you hear complaining about how hard their life is, I say go for it. So goodbye to being a whiny 20-something, and hello to the pursuit of fabulous!