I'm onto you

Leaving the movie theatre recently, the boyfriend casually glances up at the GIANT poster above our heads – the one featuring Scarlett Johanssan in medieval garb which makes it appear as though her breasts might jump out and attack someone at any given moment - and says extremely nonchalantly ... "hey, that looks like it might be good! We should see it." As though he hadn’t been spending the entire previous two hours since we first walked by said movie poster plotting exactly how to drop that line casually into conversation.

I am so onto you.

And I'm not alone - in an extremely unscientific poll, two out of every three girlfriends have experienced this EXACT same conversation.

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

I wouldn't claim to be a runner. Rather, I claim it now, but only very quietly to certain people. To a large contingent of those who know me, I was the girl that read at recess; the one who would go to great lengths to avoid the infamous "running the mile" day in P.E. I think I actually got a "B" in P.E. once.

When I recently told a friend that I was training for a half-marathon, he actually laughed out loud. Not in a funny, LOL-type way as we were talking online, but an actual hearty face-to-face laugh. I get it - if you had told me ten years ago that I'd be training for a half-marathon, I would have laughed too. Even louder.

Yeah, I still run funny (to the boy who made quacking noises at me during PE in 8th grade: heard you were in rehab - hope things are looking up) but who cares? I'm not the fastest, or the best, but that is what is great about growing up - no one keeps score anymore. There is infinitely less judging - at least not the overt, pass the note in class kind of judging.

The best part of all is the secret language of runners: the head nod or smile as we pass each other in the streets. It keeps me going. Cheesy, yet satisfying. And if they are running with a cute small dog wearing a sweater that I secretly wish I could ran by and steal, all the better.

Millennial Angst?

I have to confess, I didn't even know I was a millennial until a few months ago. Apparently, "60 Minutes" ran a story on us. I came into work the morning after the piece aired and was asked, "when were you born?" My reply was quickly followed by, "Oh. you're one of those millennials." [Insert judgmental silence here.]

I momentarily panicked - what was I? How could I not know this seemingly crucial piece of information about my own identity? (I'm not a frequent watcher of "60 Minutes", obviously.) Who lumped me in with all of these crazed yet dependent over-achievers? I did some research, finding out that it was extremely un-millennial of me to not know that I was a millennial.

Allegedly, we are...
smart (check)
goal-oriented (compulsive list maker here)
hopeful (sure, why not)
tech-savvy (I didn't own an iPod until literally last week...and its a shuffle)
lazy (nope)
uber-connected (I still don't have an internet connection at home)

I'm not quite sure I fit the mold. I'm not even sure I like the fact that a mold exists. With millions of us out there running around, having our parents call in sick for us, surely we aren't all alike?