Twentysomething in Buffalo

Starting a New Trend

This past March I joined the BAC for Women in Depew. Since then, I have been running on the treadmill and at Losson Park pretty steadily all summer.

Still determined to improve my former partying ways, I thought a healthy hobby would be to get into running 5K events around the area. So on Sept. 11 a friend and I participated in our very first 5K run at Como Park in Lancaster to support the troops overseas, remember 9/11 and do something a little more productive than pajamas and boxed wine.

I'm not your average runner. I showed up to the race with makeup on, a brand-new outfit, and my nails painted, but when I looked around the park there were no "average runners." Ages ranged from 10 to 65. There were families running together, couples, friends, some serious long-distance runners and some people there for their usual evening stroll.

Usually when I go for a jog I am constantly stopping and starting to catch my breath. This wasn't the usual jog. At first I didn't want to stop, and I really didn't pace myself because I would get competitive when people would pass me. I got over that real quickly when we reached our first check-point. I was convinced we had to be at the 2-mile marker but given a swift reality check when I realized I was only through the first mile.

My final time was 34 minutes, which I thought was a pretty good pace for my first run. And it wasn't as rigorous as I had anticipated. Although, echoing in the back of my head throughout the entire race were the sarcastic and motivating words of wisdom from my father: "Whatever you do, don't finish last." -- ha ha dad.

Well I didn't finish last, but it didn't matter. Crossing that finish line was something that a year ago I never thought I would do. Not because I couldn't, but because I really didn't care. But, I have to admit, it was so rewarding and I felt great afterward. I'm already scanning the Web for the next one to participate in.

It was pretty clear that I was a 5K-rookie. I'm not really sure what to eat before a race, how to prepare for one, and I could really use some tips on how to improve.

Any suggestions?

--- Kelly Boquard

Campus tours

I am planning on heading to my alma mater to take in Saturday's UB-Temple football game with some friends.

Nothing terribly out of the ordinary since I try to make it to at least one football and basketball game a year. And it is not as if UB Stadium, which was almost completely empty (even during games) during my time as a student, is going to tug at my heartstrings.

But I was thinking that I have not really set foot upon the college campus I spent plenty of years on. I have not peered into the academic buildings, strolled from one side of campus to the other as I did countless times or stopped by the Commons.

I will not be able to Saturday, but I was planning on participating in the Linda Yalem run later this month. Maybe after that I can spend some time on campus, reminiscing a bit. Is it a strange sentiment?

After all, I am a Southtowns native and now live in Buffalo -- only a few miles from UB and not a flight away as I am sure is the case for many. And though I think the north campus was pleasing to the eye, I don't think it would be confused with Princeton or Duke.

A friend of mine recently went with her boyfriend on a trip to his alma mater to do a similar type of thing. So it is not all that weird then, is it?

---Geoff Nason

A Costly Welcome

The News' NeXt section recently ran a college guide offering advice to freshmen on everything from roommate issues to participating in clubs and activities to finding safe food choices. Having recently finished my four years, all of these "tips" on first-year survival made me smile, yet there was one piece of info that caught my eye: orientation costs.

When I was welcomed onto the St. Bonaventure's campus awhile back, there were no fees for the orientation packets we received, for the tours we were given or for the meals we were served. We were all tucked into the standard "freshman dorm," Shay-Loughlen, for our introductory first night, but none of us paid a price for the beds we used or the rooms we shared. I thought all of this was normal orientation procedure, but according to the article in NeXt, not all colleges share the same "free spirit" that Bonaventure does.

In order to prep its incoming students, Buffalo State charges $140 per student for its orientation, which is said to cover room, board, meals and materials. UB has a similar price tag - $190 - but it includes a few sessions on academic planning and advisement. (I can't believe students are paying for academic advice before they even enter a classroom; I now feel grateful my advisers didn't charge a fee for every time I took advantage of their open-door policy).  What's more, parents and family members can now attend an orientation to prepare themselves for the big break as well ... but should expect to pay at least $130 for the first family member and $70 for each additional one.

Looking back, I know so many people who recall orientation fondly, or at least have a funny story about the strange roommate they were paired with or the weird guy that tried to meet the most girls but was never seen again. These stories made this strange beginning more fun than scary for so many. But if you ask those same people if they were excited about orientation, they would be quick to admit that they almost didn't attend because a) they were already homesick, or b) they were a total bundle of nerves. If St. Bonaventure had put a price tag on freshman orientation, I guarantee  at least a quarter of our class would have found an excuse to bow out, and in doing so, missed some of the best memories of their college days.

Was your freshman orientation completely overrated? Or, if you had to pay, was it worth the extra cash? And lastly, should schools even charge students (and parents) for what should otherwise be a friendly welcome?

--- Molly Hirschbeck

Thunderstorm scare

Lily scared
Originally uploaded by LilyGoo

As some of you might remember, my family adopted a one-and-a-half year old "puppy" from the SPCA a few months back. Back then, she was a hyper but surprisingly sweet angel - no barking, no biting, no aggressive behavior - it was like a miracle. Today, she's a bit more - ahem- comfortable in her surroundings, and we've found that she really does have a voice (but fortunately only uses it when she's trying to protect us). For all of the 45-pounds boxer/lab that she is, Lily seems to think she's a 120-pound St. Bernhard, and when she's tackling the dogs next door or wrestling with my 6-foot brother, her false sense of reality can be pretty entertaining. She's rough, she's tough and she can run for hours.

But she can't handle thunder. Or water. And unfortunately for her, we've pretty much had Noah's Ark these past few days. We don't know what it is, but as crazy and as strong as she is, she absolutely freaks when she hears even the slightest thunder rumble or even when we bring the hose out for bath time. If a storm starts brewing, Lily automatically starts shaking like a leaf right on cue, and burrows her body as close to you as she can. I laugh at this picture (which was totally not staged - she's a natural paw-crosser) because she looks like she's praying to get through the storm. All kidding aside though, it's one of the hard parts about having a rescued dog - wondering what happened to them to make them so scared in such a situation.

Has anyone else had a pet with a problem like this? If so, what can we do to help ease her fear?

--- Molly Hirschbeck

Lessons Learned

We exist in a society that fosters extended adolescence. The first time I heard about this was from a teacher in high school. He said that twentysomethings, as we now call them, are taking longer to get married, more time to finish school and moving out of their parents' houses later.

How true this may be without statistics is questionable; but I've been relying on that information to be true.

I don't want to feel like I have to know exactly where I'm going right now. I have a lot of options open to me, and even more that I would like to pursue: going graduate school, traveling through Europe and getting a job I love top the list.

I know that I can't possibly do everything all at once, though that's what I want, and I also realize that I might grow out of the idealism characterizing a lot of my life choices up to this point.

Still, having this "extended adolescence" as a sort of excuse to keep a 9-to-5 job or mortgage payment at bay has been working so far.

Because this is my last day at The News, this will be my last blog entry. From this experience I have learned a lot about having a job, which requires me be responsible and sometimes sit out fun times with my friends. I probably needed to learn all that.

I've also learned alot about criticism. Good or bad, when you put your thoughts out there it's going to come back to you. Growing a thick skin must be part of the twentysomething growth cycle, as well.

So thanks for your comments, constructive and otherwise. I can only hope I don't outgrow my need to respond to them. Cheers, all!

-- Kristen Rajczak

Too much cell phone talk?

Stephen King says in a recent novel that "cell phones are the slave bracelets of the 21st century."

And we've all heard that these chains of communication could cause cancer.  It's a claim that has been circulating for years but doesn't seem to frighten people. Hoax? Unfounded? We just don't know yet.

But reports like these get me thinking about my own cell phone use. I didn't get one until about three or four years ago, though my mom had one for work earlier than that. And, as I knew it would, as soon as I got one, I couldn't be without it.

Surprisingly, though, days happen that make you want to put your cell in the house and run the other way. I did this for most of the weekend, unwilling to carry it in my jeans pocket around the house, or driving out to Clarence to pick up my grandma.

There are times when you just don't want to be found or know anyone is looking.

That's where the "slave bracelet" idea comes in. We take out phones to text someone when we're with someone else, almost as if to say, "Hey, look, other people want to be with me, too."

We answer the phone at dinner, out, in, everywhere. Of course, cells are great for emergency calls, but is it necessary to call someone, tell them you are taking a shower and then call them immediately afterward?

On top of that, what if we are increasing a cancer risk?

So what do you think - cell phone cancer? Too much communication?

I think I'll go call my dad to see what he thinks.

--- Kristen Rajczak

Dinner Parties for Dummies

So, recently my friends and I have tried to embrace being young, single, and in our mid-20s by throwing a weekly dinner party.

I hosted the second one last night and it definitely had its up and downs.

I threw the party at a friend's house because I felt like there would be too many distractions at my own.

The problem with this friend group, which consists of about nine people, is that everyone has different taste buds and two of those attending are vegetarians. Being the enormous meat eater that I am, it threw me for a loop. So to be safe, my original menu was healthy: salmon on top of a rice mixture of some sort.

Then the complaints started rolling in. Some didn't know if they liked the fish, others wanted chicken (which I think is too bland), and others were all for it. I thought it was extremely rude for everyone to be so unappreciative. One of my friends even suggested that I ask everyone to pitch in some money, which I was NOT about to do.

Regardless, it was time for a new menu that would make everyone happy. So, I opted for linguine with two types of vodka sauce, one with sausage and mushrooms and another without the meat (to appease the vegetarians).

Aside from a lack of enough pots and pans, everything went smoothly. I tried to do a wine tasting, but by the end of the night my girlfriends were getting antsy looking for the $13 boxed wine and weren't really paying attention to the flavors of the various bottles - as long as their glasses were full. Well, can't win them all.

Even though there were no serious hazards, you could tell I still had my training wheels on. I'm planning on hosting another one soon but want to spice it up a bit more and get a little creative.

Any ideas? Themes? Menu item?

--- Kelly Boquard

Bachelor Pad Move-In Day

My boyfriend and three of his close friends finally closed the deal on their apartment, and move-in day is this weekend. The cool thing is, it's not your average year-long lease in your average cramped quarters. It's a beautifully restored three-story house downtown, and they got it for a complete steal considering the condition and location.

While they've all made it clear that their new "home" isn't going to be an obnoxiously loud party house, I know it will be a nice bachelor pad, especially for football and hockey seasons. As I continue to shop for my Boston-Buffalo care package, I'm wondering: should I be picking up anything special for these guys?

I know I won't be much help with move-in. My weak muscles can carry lamps and kitchenware, but I pretty much draw the line when it comes to couches and TVs. So I'm thinking my help can come in a different form. Maybe a case of cold beer and a homemade dinner of chicken enchiladas? Or is that too Martha Stewart?

What's a nice housewarming gift for a bunch of guys in their mid-t20s?

--- Molly Hirschbeck

Accidents Happen...Too Much

Bodies aren't supposed to bounce off the ground.

But for the second time in a month, that's the image I saw when going to work. Normally I wouldn't write anything because accidents happen all the time, but this particular scene stayed with me all day. This was the second motorcycle accident I'd seen at the exact same intersection where the rider had flown over the handlebars and hit the ground hard.

The first time I was waiting to make a left turn, and I looked in my rear view mirror only to catch a glimpse of a biker crashing into the car behind me and flying over his bike. All I saw was a body flying, and I quickly pulled over to the nearest parking lot, thinking the worst case scenario: the car had hit a bicyclist.

Fortunately, everything turned out OK. No one was hurt (though shaken up), we were able to call the police on my cell, and by the time they got there, everyone had resolved the issue.

This morning was a different picture. I was the first car waiting at a red light, and all of a sudden I saw a motorcycle heading full force into a streetlight pole directly in front of me. The rider was thrown off, the bike rolled a couple of times, and several parts went flying into the street. My stomach was in knots; it seemed like there was no way this rider would walk away as easily as the first had.

I pulled into the same parking lot as before, and by the time I ran over, another man was talking to the rider and calling 911. She was sitting up, OK by some miracle, and completely aware of the situation, even reaching for her own cell phone to call police.

She told us she thought her bike had gotten stuck in first gear, and that was what she believed had caused the crash. After a few minutes, a crowd had gathered to help move the bike (which was streaming gasoline) and support the rider. I walked away as police arrived, but as I started driving back to work, I had to pull over for a second because my heart was beating so fast.

Sure, it shouldn't be a big deal for me. My car wasn't physically involved in the crash, no one was hurt and plenty of help was available. But there's something about seeing someone so physically vulnerable, getting thrown so forcefully and violently, within only a few yards from your own vehicle, that really sticks with you. I know I'm an adult, but at those moments, I feel like a scared and disorientated child.

--- Molly Hirschbeck

The Wedding Bell Blues?

Nothing brings me back to my freshman dorm building like the scent of laundry detergent.

I remember the first time I had to do my own laundry. I thought I had it under control but after four flights of stairs, I had to call my mom for her to reiterate the directions I had forgotten within the span of just a week or so. The laundry room smelled like someone took a big bucket of Tide and just soaked every surface with it.

In my new apartment, the one that I have been paying for all summer and stayed a scant two nights in, has a laundry facility much nearer to my apartment, and I have long mastered the intricacies of lights and darks. But I'm facing other challenges of growing up in my new place.

My roommates, who have been dating for about a year and half, just got engaged and I was named the maid of honor. In my excitement, I forgot that really, this is going to be a big job to do during my last semester of college this spring. Unlike the pile of jeans and Bright Eyes T-shirts I faced as a freshman, the gourmet cupcakes, scented candles and other wedding accoutrement I will be tackling cost money and take time to assemble.

Maybe the outcome won't be as satisfying as the scent of warm, clean towels emerging from the dryer, but I'm excited about all this. Helping to plan a wedding is a truly adult thing to do, marriage being one of the entryways into that daunting realm of responsibility.

Part of me feels young and energetic that I have friends getting married and I can help. The other part feels aged and worried that carefree days of watching "The Wedding Date" wrapped in fleece blankets with my friends are going to be over.

How did you feel when your first set of friends got married?

--- Kristen Rajczak