My 30th Birthday Soiree

I turned 30 this week, and in celebration, I threw a Downton Abbey/Gosford Park-themed birthday party last weekend.  Nothing beats a group of friends who are amazing sports (everyone showed up in costume!) and many, many bottles of champagne.

A few photos from the party:

 2014 and my 30th are going to be a good year. I can feel it.

Life Without iPhone

I shattered my iPhone screen a week or two ago, and while I'm waiting for my cheapie replacement screen to  complete its long trip from China, I've been using the only back-up I could find... my phone from 2010 that, gasp, doesn't even have a data plan. 

No Instagramming the adorable pet moments and attractive meals I've experienced, no group iMessaging, no Googling on the go, no blingy apps to keep me occupied during the whole five minutes my dinner companion is in the restroom. 

I am more than a little ashamed of how incredibly attached I have become to technology. A mere three years ago, I was more than content to just sit alone at a table without scrolling through Facebook or making a move on Words with Friends, and I was elated to capture the spontaneous moment on my phone's 3-megapixel camera, without vintage filters and framing. I'm still able to call and text, and yet without all of the extras, I have still felt a bit like I'm missing a limb. However, yesterday, while waiting for a friend to arrive for happy hour, I updated my (paper) planner, and then I just sat there. I sipped my drink, I listened to the conversations around me, and then I had the company of my own thoughts until my friend arrived. And it was lovely. I have a suspicion that there is a link between my lack of iPhone and my increasing desire to daydream and think and write, and my increased quality of sleep may be due to the same. 

Is a few weeks enough time to break my tech addiction? I am in that state of half-hope, half-fear -- hope that I will be a bit more mindful of constantly grasping for my phone to check for new texts or social media updates and fear that I will just immediately Instagram my beaming smile into my now-functioning iPhone camera (#selfie) and immediately forget the lessons I've slowly been learning. For now, hope is winning. Here's to loosening the ties to technology and letting a little radio silence take over, for the good of my technology-pickled brain. 

Listen up, readers.

I hate that I have to clarify this, but just to be sure:

Please do not repost my blog posts into your blog without giving me credit. It's not flattering; it's creepy.

However, if you want to share something I wrote, gimme a little credit (or a lot; I love a good shout out) with a link back to my blog or something.

Thanks!

Listen up, boyfriend(s).

Late night thoughts about...boys. (What else?)

*Style.  Mine: If I hold up two dresses and ask you, "Which one should I wear?" You better pick one, and have a  good reason for it ("I like your rack in that one" never hurts.). If you give a half-assed response such as, "You look good in everything," I will fight you. That is not a compliment. It's laziness. Also, you aren't allowed to be mad when I inevitably go with the other dress. Bonus points if you take even a tiny interest in my style. Yours: fitted dark denim, classic looks, and a tattoo or two would not be judged negatively. Also, be able to grow facial hair.

* Music. Know a lot of it and a lot about it. More than me. All kinds. Old-school R&B is non-negotiable.

* Movies. Lots of these. If you don't do subtitles, get out now.

* Humor. Mandatory. Laughter is way sexier than...well, than a lot of things. Making me laugh is hugely important. If you think I'm a little bit funny, then this deal is sealed.

* Nerdiness. Also mandatory. Dudes who care about things totally do it for me. Please read books. Please.

* Dates. I could not care less about Valentine's day, red roses, or steak dinners. Be prepared for lots of laziness: bottles of wine and endless albums on a Sunday night, or heads bowed together over crossword puzzles (in pen!) in the corner of a coffee shop. Also aimless walks and talks. Tons of those.

* Dogs. Must be a dog person, or at the very least, a Maya person.

* Friends. Treat me slightly better than yours, and adore mine just slightly less than I do. I will do the same for you and yours. 

* Miscellany. Be able to: open jars, untangle my really tangled necklaces, stay calm if I cry (not often, but it happens), drive stick-shift, make conversation with my family, tolerate my personal dramatics, have street smarts (I am too naive), be slightly more realistic than me.

This is probably why I haven't been in a serious relationship for a while. But what can I say? I like being overly specific. If it were up to my Oma, any ole doctor or lawyer would do ("And if you don't like them that much, their jobs will keep them so busy that they'll barely be home anyway."). Oh well.

The Google.

Should I feel accomplishment or fear? I think this is a sign that I have too much of an internet presence. Oh well. I might as well keep going until "sabrina heise international celebrity" shows up. I also think I'm going to Google myself more often.

Repurposed.

New year, old idea. Frankly, I miss my LiveJournal. I miss just slightly over-sharing and name-dropping and philosophizing and rambling and throwing pity parties and celebrating the small things. I'll never be one of those gals with a dream-like, photogenic life, but I am someone whose garrulousness and awkwardness allows me to take part in some random situations, and I feel like sharing them on a public platform for the time being.

So follow me as I navigate the late-20-something waters with all the dignity and maturity of a 17-year-old.

For example, did I mention the time I joined Match.com (last week)? As you, dear reader(s), may or may not know, I am a social networking addict. In my more emo, pre-Facebook days, I was at one time a member of MakeoutClub (I can't believe this still exists) and other such sites. That, combined with my enjoyment of posting flattering pictures of myself  on the internet, and all the stories of people whose best friend's third cousin met the love of their life through an online dating site started getting to me. The idea of being able to be a voyeur into the lives of some of Charleston's single guys was too much to resist. Anyhow, once I joined, I lasted all of four days. I didn't respond to a single email, wink, favorite list, poke, cattle-prod and other such methods of semi-passive-aggressive flirting from random shirtless (and clothed) dudes in the Charleston area.

I give many congratulations to the people who have met the love of their lives online, and I do believe it's possible. I, however, was entertained yet completely weirded out by messages like, "How would you like to spend some time with an Italian Bad Boy???" or three consecutive messages from a 42-year-old with three children...the first two messages detailing his life and childhood, and the third telling me that he was so excited by me (though I hadn't communicated with him in any shape or form) that he sent my picture to his mother and brother. A day later, he wrote again, juuuust to check in.

Upon canceling a membership, Match.com makes you choose from a list of reasons why you're leaving.  No matter which selection I chose, I felt like a jerk. One was phrased like: "The selection isn't good enough here. I am looking for perfection." I could almost hear the seeping disdain in that choice.

Here are the selections I wish they offered me:

* Too many Republicans
* Not enough guys who know the difference between your/you're and their/there/they're
* Only solid profile belongs to best friend of someone I sort of dated
* I don't count hunting/four-wheeling as my top activities and would probably be a total bore to most
* I'm too awkward

Needless to say, until there is an online dating site for nerdy yet mildly attractive people who enjoy word games, music, and historical anomalies, I doubt I will foray into the land of online dating again.

However, this will give me tons more time to drink wine and over-share my personal life on my blog, so there's that.

27.

I am officially 27. I'm now going to go to Costco to purchase the biggest jar of eye cream I can find. Just kidding. I'm just getting Botox. Just kidding. I'm just going to eat a cupcake for breakfast. Not kidding.

Here are my 2011 and 27 resolutions:
More:
* cooking/baking
* yoga
* travel
* Seek Vintage-ing
* writing

Less:
* complaining
* impulse buying
* nail-biting
* interrupting
* procrastinating

Cougar Town.

It's my blog, and I can post gratuitous pictures of myself if I want to.

Since Halloween was a week ago, I thought this was a good time to share. I was going for Mrs. Robinson meets Joan Collins.

Fake nails and lashes courtesy of Wal-Mart, earrings courtesy of the roommate, metallic leopard-print dress courtesy of the Cancer Kids thrift store in West Ashley, giant shoulder pads courtesy of the dress.

Not pictured: leopard-print heels.

I love playing dress up.

A list of things I love today.

1. My life.
2. Everything in it.

Am I a magpie?

I have such an affinity for shiny, sparkly things:




And I'm wearing stripes again. What a surprise.

Cute headbands...

...are the best part of growing out my hair.

Oh, Vlogging.

I'm moving around a lot because I'm scratching mosquito bites. The skeeters are out and they ain't playin'.

Untitled from Sabrina Heise on Vimeo.

Blaaaaaaaagh.

First Video Blog, or "Vlog" from Sabrina Heise on Vimeo.

A Wednesday Evening

Maya by the white chair.

A pensive self-portrait.

It's days like this when I just feel happy to exist. After a long day at work, Chan, Maya and I ambled down to Hampton Park and then to Maya's favorite place: the dog park.

Chandler and I relaxed in the shade while Maya ran in huge figure-eights with her new best friend, a year-old blue merle Aussie named Stony.

Now Maya and I are stretched out in the living room, she on the floor while I take up the couch, while Chandler, in the kitchen, hovers over bubbling pots, stirring and observing with the patience of a chemist.