Did you know I took tap dancing lessons? I did, in second and third grades. Tap dancing overlapped with the time in my life when I lost the ability to smile. Starting with my kindergarten school picture and until I was about eight, I went through a existential smile crisis. Any camera pointed in my direction caused my brain to panic and then attempt to move my mouth in various shapes. I tried everything from open mouth grimaces to tiny dimple-inducers to full on mouth commas. I was an ugly-cute kind of kid, the sort of girl with a Buddha belly, braces on my front four teeth, and a constant need for attention. Kids like me need a cute smile when all we have to offer the world are repeated shouts of "LISTEN TO ME SING LIKE THE LITTLE MERMAID."

Back to tap dancing. Every dance recital has a theme and my first year of lessons was "Dancin' Up a Storm", with each class having their own weather-related song and dance number. For Beginner Tap, we had "Raindrops Keep Falling On Your Head". Our costumes were ugly-ugly, as dictated by Dance Law, but the best part was our white umbrellas, a rare prop.

Twenty-one years later and I still remember thinking to myself, "Don't smile too big and ruin the picture," so in my personal dance portrait, one of me bending my knees while holding the coveted umbrella, I tried a wide no-teeth smirk. This smirk morphed my nose from an upturned snub to a pointy beak, made my full cheeks even rounder and caused my chin to grow an extra three inches. I looked like Dick Van Dyke. To be more accurate, I looked like Dick Van Dyke's chubby, awkward granddaughter trying not to pee her bloomers.

I guess what I'm trying to say I have a new job right next to a river and these are some of the things you think about when it takes you 15 minutes to drive to work and 10 minutes to walk from the parking lot to the office.

For the first few months, I only put them in on the weekends. Gradually, I got better at this whole thing and wore them more and more. I'm at the point now where my glasses rarely leave my apartment, like the facial security blanket that I've finally outgrown.

I didn't realize how much glasses were my mask until now. In contacts, I'm the reverse of Clark Kent. Even though I know better, I can't help feeling as if with this slight adjustment to my face, no one can tell it's me- nevermind that a high school classmate whom I hadn't seen in almost 10 years recognized me on the spot this summer. It's been months and I still feel this way.

Which brings me to the hardest part of this adjustment. It's not touching my eyes, rescuing lens cap lids from going down my sink or even getting overwhelmed by sunglasses (so many choices!), but feeling like I'm no longer part of this unspoken four-eyed community. There's an identity attached to being a daily glasses-wearer, and I don't have that anymore. Instead, I have questions. Am I more superficial than before? (Probably.) Am I still kind of smart? (Hopefully.) Am I cuter with or without them? (No consensus.) Maybe if I would have made the switch 15, 10 or even five years ago I wouldn't be in this place, but I'm glad I did it, even if I was resistant for a long time.

Don't ask me about Lasik. One step every 20 years.

I was hesistant to watch this show. Anything that tries to define a generation can cause feelings of anger, annoyance or secondhand embarrassment when it fails (Quarterlife, anyone?). I'm especially a little sick of shows and movies set in New York City (I love you NYC, but young people do indeed live in other cities too). But this show, you guys. It gets a lot of things right.

 Here's an actual exerpt from an email I sent to a friend:

OMG this show. I'm only 3 eps in but I have to note:

- Falling asleep to Mary Tyler Moore.
- Cupcakes.
- Googling diseases in a towel.
- The stuff that gets up around the side.
- Rambling at the gynos.
- Guys making the girl apologize for dumb shit.
- Dancing to Robyn

For me, it's the little things that ring the truest. Writing something about your friend that you hoped she'd never find- every show's done that. Correcting her that, actually, it's not a journal, it's a notebook- that's hilarious. Some people can't stand the characters and their flaws, but that's what I love about them. That's me and my friends. Perfectly imperfect beings bumping around trying to not to hurt ourselves.

If this show's not your thing, that's fine. There's lots of different choices out there. This is no longer a world where 121 million people will watch the same thing at the same time. I won't deny that the show isn't perfect and I'm curious to see how the criticism at season one will be addressed (or not).

Honestly, I think Lena Dunham is very talented. She's been making videos and web series for years and I think she has a good ear for how people talk and relate to each other. She's aware of her flaws and not afraid to poke fun of herself. I know there's been a battle cry that nepotism got her where she is- along the other actresses on the show- and maybe that's true. Personally, I think growing up in New York City was a much greater advantage since her mother is heavily involved in the art world, not entertainment. And really, let's be real: As if no one else in the world has gotten ahead because of someone they knew. I guess this is where I confess that I got my first job at McDonalds because my uncle knew the manager. Someone else should have hosted those birthday parties and mopped urine off the bathroom floor, but instead it was me. Sorry, everyone!

 I'm interested to see where this season goes.

DOWNTON ABBEY DISCUSSION TIME.

Obviously, this is full of spoilers, so scroll at your own risk.

• Let's get the big turkey off the table: What'd you think of Shirley MacLaine? Personally, I'm not a fan (Sidenote: The Apartment is massively overrated), but she was pretty great. Part of me wished she had more screen time, though it's probably good that she didn't or else it'd be like GUEST STAR IN YOUR FACE and that gets annoying. The only part that was a little disappointing was having her as a foil to the Countess meant less Cousin Violet time (Sidenote: I'm surprised more Harry Potter actors haven't popped up in DA yet. Obviously, not Dan or Emma, but the kid who played Seamus could have been a footman, you know? (Side-sidenote: Did you know Mr. Carson is married to Dolores Umbridge? YEP. Imagine that cameo.))
• Edith, Edith, Edith. GIRL. I think I was the only one who liked Edith and disliked Mary in series one and now I'm opposite for both of them (same thing happened with Jack and Sawyer on Lost). I was totally Tyra, you know? ("I rooting for you, WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU.") Part of me HATES that she's marrying the old dude just to say she's married and the other part of me has to acknowledge that it's accurate for the time period. Most people didn't have the starry-eyed, lovey-dovey relationships like Mary/Matthew and Sybil/Tom but rather the at-least-we're-not-alone-kind like E and the Old Dude. Still, knowing that didn't stop me from being all, STOP TRYING SO HARD HE SHOULD BE CHASING YOU UGHHH EDITHHH.
• I can't help but feel icky toward Lord Grantham after last series' affair with Jane. It just felt so out of character to me and a total soap opera wrench thrown in for excitement. I like this series better so far because it's a good balance between the character driven first and soapy second, but I haven't forgotten what's happened. I also thought Lady Grantham telling Mary how much fun the wedding night will be was a little funny considering she once helped her daughter dispose of a dead devirginizing Turk. No one remembers the past but me! Damn Crawleys.
• Of course I teared up over Mrs. Hughes. Of course I rolled my eyes at Carson fawning over Mary. Of course I loved the brassy American maid kissing the shy British footman. Of course of course of course.
• I have to make a confession. I'm totally FREE BATES like everyone else, but I love his jail hair. He looks so much better when it's not polished and slicked back. Like, ow ow OW, double take kind of better. I want him to be free with Anna and keep his hair like that.
• I won't lie, when I first the next series was going to be in the '20s, I immediately went, "Flappers, prohibition and the Crawleys, EEEE!" Then oxygen went to my brain and I remembered, oh yeah, they're English, moonshine means nothing to them. I'm holding out secret hope that the Crawley sisters will take a girls' weekend to NYC to visit Grandmama and will end up in a swinging speakeasy. A gal can dream, right? (If you this appeals to you too, you should probably read Rules of Civility, it's delightful.)
• Best line of the series so far: "You're not popular downstairs, Thomas?" UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR.

Dry shampoo, a bangs essential. I used to use Oscar Blandi, but the Suave stuff is cheaper, works just as well and smells better (something reminiscent to a mid-90s body spray as opposed to a gross lemon cleaner smell). Wins all around.

This little owl, who keeps my toothbrush safe and protects it from my tacky shower curtain.

I should have bought these years ago. GOODNESS GRACIOUS. I can finally breathe at night now. Year-round allergies are no laughing matter, kiddos. I'd wear these during the day if I could get away with it.

This mirror, until I broke it (whoops).

And I suppose the phone that I used to take that photograph, though it's more than $10. It's proven to be very helpful, though sometimes it causes some acute worrying about my dependency on technology, but let's leave those worries for another year.

Spoilers don't count when
the book has been on sale for
seventy-five years.

Let me start by saying that I'm not sure if I read the book or not. I think I did- I recall borrowing a copy from someone once when I was 11 or so, and back then I read every book I could get my hands on- but I can't remember. I also vaguely recall an illustrated children's edition at some point my life, though emphasis on vaguely.

I feel like I should say that because it seems that the people who loved the book hated the movie (my friend James is an exception) and I'm not a Tolkien fangirl. Sorry, Hobbit heads. You seem to have a good time, like the people who are obsessed with Doctor Who, which apparently everyone and their mother has watched but me including mine (really, my mom's a big fan of the Doctor).*

Anyway, yes, I guess this is my way of saying I liked the movie. I really did! I don't know, it was fun. I saw the previous Lord of the Rings movies in the theaters with my family at Christmas time, so it was nice to do that again.

Real talk: I'm not usually a fan of films with fighting or explosions- action movies, I suppose. The very things that keep many people interested- carnage, fire, near death experiences- bore me. I have a much easier time paying attention in a little sometimes-funny, sometimes-sad talky indie than Explosionpalooza. I just need to connect, you know? I'm one of those people. I don't want to detach, I want to feel.

But, as I'm sure you're screaming at your computer screen right now, The Hobbit isn't an action movie, it's fantasy! It is, totally, I know, but I still think of it as action-y, thus my potential to fall asleep, but like Harry Potter and Star Wars, I felt it. In this case, it was Gandalf being like, BILBO DO SOMETHING OUTSIDE OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE, and me being all, This is hitting too close to home, Gandaaaaalf. So there was that and now in 2013, I'm going to hop across the country on a pogo stick once I find one in the right color (a nice shade of cerulean). Or perhaps something less extreme. My sense of balance is a little off. But the name of the game is CHANGE, kiddos, and not the kind that rolls around the bottom of my purse with broken pens and receipts of regret, but the kind that makes your stomach feel nervous and excited at the same time.

Other notes: I like dwaves. I don't like orcs. I'm indifferent about elves. I was surprisingly charmed by trolls (??) and not surprisingly repulsed by goblins. I still love hobbits. I'm trying to like Gollum.

The only other thing worth noting was that I did not know this was only the first of three films, so I was all WAIT A SECOND when the movie ended with a close up of the dragon's eye. But of course it's three movies. I should have guessed. Rule of threes.

So, see this if you think you'll like it or don't if you think you won't. Peter Jackson's not giving me a cut of it, so do whatever the little creature in your chest cavity tells you to do.

*A month or so ago, a bouncer at a bar in Columbus, Ohio, gave me a hard time for not watching Doctor Who. This was after I also admitted to not watching True Blood or the Walking Dead**, so I guess the rule of the threes just got to him. I'll get around to it eventually at some point, probably while stricken with mono or a broken heart and out of commission for weeks.

**No, I haven't watched those either. I'm the worst with TV, and really, I'm okay with that.

Despite the really great shows I watched this year, (Breaking Bad, Girls, Veep, Bunheads), let's talk instead about fluff. I found Miami Ink on Netflix Instant and it's replaced Say Yes to the Dress as the reality show I blast in the background while pretending to clean my apartment. I don't have any tattoos, but I'm sucker for stories, so I eat this shit up, even though I'm a little afraid of suffering from Ed Hardy overload. I forgot how decedent life was back in the pre-recession age of 2005. Escaldes! Full back tattoos! Tramp stamps without shame! Man, what a life, seven years ago.

Rather than a clip of a show I'm embarrassed to be watching, here's one of my favorite scenes from Girls:

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In my kitchen, these past few months have been the Age of Avocados. I've always liked avocados though I never used them in my cooking. It turns out they're perfect in like, everything. I especially like this recipe for avacado and chick pea salad. I used lemon instead of lime and add a few shakes of red pepper flakes.

I was going to take a picture one of my sandwiches for you, but really, let's all stop photographing our food in 2013. Especially if the food looks like vomit. It's the least we can do for each other.

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I've read a few great books this year, but Salvatore Pane's Last Call In the City of Bridges really knocked my socks off. I read it in a day and a half. I want to say it's about being dumb and young in Pittsburgh, but the book is much smarter than that.

If you've ever worried about the fact that it's nearly impossible to get to know anyone anymore without the internet getting in the way, that the net of our social circles has gotten wider but not necessarily deeper, and that without a website, an entire generation (my generation) would be disconnected from each other and that the connections made on that site and others like it are as fleeting as the keystrokes it takes to construct this sentence, check it out. Real human moments n'at.

 Here's a passage I really liked:

So we stumbled outside and crammed into vehicles. Ivy sat up front with me, and Sloan sat in the back between Oz and Noah who discussed how much snow they thought we'd get- it had already accumulated like cotton candy at our feet, turning thick and wet during the potluck. The entire city of Pittsburgh stays home during snowfall and we rocketed through those abandoned streets like a spaceship, pressing together for warmth, Kanye blasting on the radio as we screamed along, our breath fogging the windows with tangible proof of our joy. I took Ivy's hand and gently kissed her knuckles. In moments like this, I still believed anything was possible, that I was special and unique, that an untold treasure trove of glory and never-ending happiness awaited me in the not-too-distant future. I closed my eyes and imagined the whole world ablaze.

So, what have yinz been into?

A) Maintaining my truce with the dust bunnies who really own this joint.

B) Eating, making, or thinking about soup.

C) Rearranging piles of overdue library books to make myself feel smarter.

D) Singing "Save the People" from Godspell to my cat, but replacing the word God with cat and people with kitties ("When wilt thou save the kitties? Oh, cat of mercy, whennn? The kitties, cat, the kitties! Not thrones and crowns, but kitttttttiiiieeeesssssss.")

E) Not wearing pants.

F) Telling myself that I'll write something great but playing Words With Friends and liking other people's photos on Instagram instead.

G) All of the above.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The correct answer is H) All of the above and then passing out to an old episode of Gilmore Girls.

If that answer surprises you, well, we must not really be friends.

• It gives my right leg a tiny bit of ventilation.
• It looks bad ass, like I'm the kind of lady who has better things to worry about than her tights.
• This bad ass-ness translates into walking with better posture.
• An excuse to buy more pairs!
• Not picking the runner is an exercise in resisting temptation.

• Froze coffee in an ice cube tray and drank it with almond milk (delightful, highly recommended).
• Woke up at 5 a.m. without any help other than the alarm clock on my phone (normal wake up time: 9:30 a.m.)
• Ran 3.1 miles/five kilometers (painful but strangely euphoric).
• Remembered to tell the barista at the coffee shop to add a dollar for tip on my debit card instead of forgetting and then feeling guilty for not tipping (no guilt is a good thing).
• Made one of the house teams at the Steel City Improv Theater (excitement level: through the roof).
• Bought a new dress for half off (also delightful).
• Used an entire bag of scallions before they went bad (one of several firsts).
• Won $2 gambling at Little Italy Days (lucky).