A Little Break

It's been a busy summer and it's only going to get busier (and hotter). Since I'm running around ragged, I've decided to take a summer break from the CW33 News at Nine. Don't get me wrong... I love my CW33 folks!

This summer I need time to travel, clean out the closets and ramp up more material for my segments! But don't think I'm gone for good... I'll still be posting commentary on my CW33 site as well as new blog posts right here at niclively.com.

In the meantime, make sure to check out my latest blogs and look for new video diaries at niclively.com. I've got an exciting summer planned which means great material to share with my friends and fans.

Keep the Nic Lively love alive and make sure to visit me at:

niclively.com
the33tv.com

And if you have any story ideas or topics you want me to write about, just shout!

Father Time

Where did June go? I look at my calendar and realize that this summer month has vanished without even saying hello or sitting for a while. I somehow managed to type out one blog entry in June – and that was only due to the severe depressive state I was in post-iPhone-meets-the-Guadalupe.

It’s amazing how fast time flies. And these days you don’t even have to be having fun for that to happen. I find myself looking for the lost moments I once had to write a friend an email or simply do the laundry. My once loved home cooked meals have been swapped out for restaurant cuisine or food on the go. It’s like my quality of life has hit the shitter because I’m being pulled in so many different directions.

Lesson learned… I’m not Stretch Armstrong. Between my “real” job, the CW33, my boyfriend, family, friends, and everything else, I haven’t had a moment to breathe. I’ve felt stifled and sick to my stomach. I am in a place where I second guess all my decisions and worry that I’m forgetting something I promised to someone. That’s no way to live.

Everything in my life has sacrificed due to the sheer amount of responsibility I balance in my hand. Work doesn’t get my usual 100 percent and my boyfriend certainly doesn’t get the Nicole that he fell in love with. I am not whole. I am just a pile of remnants leftover after a clearance sale. I’m bits and pieces. I’m not Nicole.

I madly desire a quiet place where I can just be me. A place where I can rejuvenate and become whole again. I need to recharge my batteries and start all over again. I have a great life… now I just need to give the right attention to the appropriate pieces.

I want to make silly jokes or talk about inappropriate things with my friends. I want to be the person who people depend on and count on. I want to snuggle with my boyfriend without feeling like doing nothing at all is a waste of time. I want to go to bed at night without panicking about what I may have to deal with when I wake up.

Time passes and life goes on. You can either fulfill your time here or be passed by. If I keep living like I am I will surely be passed by. I need to stop and smell the roses. Life is too short. Time is too swift.

Canada Bound!

I would consider myself a pretty decent traveler. I hop on planes for work and pleasure quite often. I’m an efficient packer and I tend to stick rather strictly to a predetermined agenda – leaving little time for extracurricular activities.

I recently took a colleague with me to Canada for a few days. I had worked out an efficient plan for our time in maple leaf country and was looking forward to the new scenery. Little did I know that nothing would go as planned.

We were told that the weather in Canada was quite warm and inviting, so we packed accordingly. We were armed with slacks, cardigans and heels for our venture. It wasn’t until I picked up my co-worker (we’ll call her “Ginger”) that she informed me that the so-called 70-plus-degree weather was actually going to be more like 50 degree weather. At that point, it was 5 a.m. and I wasn’t in any place to turn back for home to get a coat.

Ginger and I made it through security with ease, as expected. I wheeled my favorite on-board suitcase onto the plane with confidence, but as I lifted it over my head to place it in the overhead bin I was faced with quite a dilemma. My normally-small-enough suitcase was apparently way too large for Air Canada’s overhead capacity. Instead of freaking out I politely retreated into my row and contacted a flight attendant who was nice enough to place it in an unoccupied First Class seat. After further thought, I should have convinced him that I was more worthy of that First Class seat than my cheap carry-on.

Once we arrived in Canada we hopped in a taxi for the 20-so-minute drive to the Toronto office. As we peered out the windows and made small talk, Ginger teased me incessantly about the Brookstone “Nap Kit” that I brought with me on the trip. I proudly defended my plush, matching blanket and pillow with a convenient carrying case (and listed the myriad of reasons why I also packed my own sleep shades for the early morning flight). Then I proceeded to rub it in that I slept ever-so-comfortably from take-off to landing while I found her asleep with her head on the pull-out tray.

When we arrived at the office, things seemed to settle down. We made ourselves at home, met with different folks and then met our ride for the extensive trip to Burlington where our hotel was located. Our Northern co-worker was kind enough to drive us to our hotel, but little did we know that he was about to load the two of us, our luggage and a box he had picked up into his gas efficient hatchback. We held on tight as he zigged and zagged through traffic, with the sunroof open, while telling us stories about his life and his wife. We had a good chuckle during the ride, but we were very glad to arrive at our hotel safely.

We had a free evening, which is rare on a business trip, so we decided to walk to the neighboring outlet center to check out their shops (and discounted prices) as well as get something to eat. We found the same types of shops they have in the States, but we were intrigued by some of the restaurants we had never heard of. We settled on a restaurant called Montana’s and sat down to enjoy our first still moment of the day and some good cookin’.

The next morning I woke abruptly at 2:30 a.m. – which was way earlier than I had set my alarm. Unfortunately, it was my internal tummy alarm that woke me up. I had just enough time to sit up, realize where I was, and turn over to puke on my hotel bed. I spent the rest of the night worshiping the porcelain god and sleeping on the community tile. Needless to say I was a little late for my meeting the next day. But at least I had a great story to lead in with.

As we learned about the Canadian business and shook lots of hands we also took in the scenery of Toronto and learned about touques and their importance to those in Canada. Ginger and I quickly made note to find a touque ASAP and purchase it! We discussed business over a shady Chinese restaurant and trekked miles in our heels as we learned more about the landscape. Then I met my future partner-in-crime… It’s called a Coffee Crisp. It’s basically a Little Debbie Nutty Bar with coffee flavored filling. It’s heaven on Earth. As far as I was concerned, my day had been made.

Our last day in Canada was a quick one. We met for breakfast and tasted our first peameal bacon (AKA a slice of ham deep fried in cornmeal). Then we worked from the Burlington office until it was time for us to head to the airport.

We somehow made it through security and customs with ease… although I had convinced myself that one of us would be pulled aside and molested with the metal wand. As we searched for something to eat, my ever-so-put-together Ginger managed to get on a moving sidewalk, lose her shoe, twist her leg while trying to put the shoe back on, and nearly collapse as the moving sidewalk came to an end and almost ate her shoe. As I was bent over in utter laughter at the site of it all I was rather let down that no one else witnessed the debacle. Where is a video camera when you need one? As I teased Ginger about her less than graceful dismount, she turned on a dime, tripped over her foot and her suitcase hit the floor. Case in point. Funny.

Before boarding the plane, Ginger found a Brookstone kiosk that was selling my ever-so-trusted Nap Kit at a serious discount. She purchased the kit that she had teased me about and has been carrying it ever since. I’d like to think that I inspired that purchase, although I’m completely bitter that she purchased it for half of what I did and didn’t even recognize its genius until after she berated me for using it.

My trip taught me that using the slang, “eh” can be possible without sounding like a retard. Ginger, however, thought it was, “aye.” I had to correct her and let her know that they were Canadians and not pirates. Oh, Ginger.

Nic's iPhone: October 3, 2008 - June 12, 2010

Dearest iPhone,

Having you by my side is one of the things that keeps me sane in life. You connect me to all my loved ones, you allow me to check my email on a regular basis and you even provide entertainment when I become the victim of boredom. Just knowing that you’re in my purse makes me feel calm. Every time I hear your little ding or feel your vibration, I know that my friend is with me.

Please know that my intentions were honest and true. My only purpose in bringing you along with me was to stay connected. I promise. I would never do anything to hurt you. Your pain is my pain. I brought you to the river with me because I could not bear to be without you. I wrapped you up tightly in a top-brand zip lock bag and then double bagged you for extra protection. Your well being was of the utmost importance to me.

Somewhere along the way someone borrow our sunscreen which was packaged snuggly tight with you. Due to their inebriated state, they did not seal your comfy bag up, therefore dowsing you with more water than you could handle. Not being able to breathe must have been torture. I cannot even begin to imagine drowning to death. The thought of your demise brings me to tears.

I tried to revive you. I attempted to pry your pieces apart and blow my mighty breath into your crevices, but alas, whether it was the flow of the river or my lack of strength, I was unable to bring you back to life. You vibrated constantly until you just didn’t have any more energy in you. I held you to my chest as you quivered the very last of your vigor upon me. I carried your limp body with me as we continued to float the river; knowing that you would need a proper burial. The dingy water of New Braunfels was no place for you to rest in peace.

I now sit at home with a cheap temporary phone, awaiting the arrival of your successor. But as my first iPhone, you will always have a special place in my heart. I will never forget the day we bought your first gel case or when we uploaded Scramble to your memory. All the great times we had listening to Pandora on the treadmill at the gym, all the long conversations you fostered and every single text message you delivered that made me smile, will always be in my mind and in my heart.

It is now with shame and dishonor that I had to insert your SIM card into a contemptible Go Phone. I have put the phone on continual vibrate, not wanting to even hear the sound of communication in fear of breaking down from the loss of you in my life. I will mourn your death and hate myself for any negative thing that I ever said about you. I would take back your short battery life and assumptions on how to spell in a heartbeat!

May your memory live on with the iPhone 4G I get on June 24; but remember that you will always and forever be the first iPhone in my life.

With love,
Nic

I Think I’ve Grown Up

I double checked my driver’s license, my passport and even my birth certificate. I looked at myself closely in the mirror. Crow's feet still present – check. I opened up my calendar to confirm. Sure enough; meetings instead of happy hours. Yep. I’m not 21 anymore.

Life was so easy 10 years ago. School, part-time job, bar and home. A simple equation that somehow didn’t stay with me over the last decade. I have memories of pitchers of beer, shots of cheap well offerings and endless plates of Tijuana fries. I can remember waking up the next morning in a friend’s apartment and rushing to class in my clothes from the evening before – mascara circles under my eyes, official stamp on the back of my hand and the aroma of alcohol, sweat and smoke. Classy – I know.

At what point did I get old? When did I trade in the irresponsibility of life for scheduled work meetings and trips to the grocery store to pick up my meals planned for the week?

This past weekend was a bit wild for my taste. I won’t lie when I say that I’m exhausted on the weekends. Yes… I’m pathetic. The boyfriend and I may have a beer with dinner or go to a late movie, but it’s very rare that we drink ourselves to oblivion. And if you know me, I’m not really the kind of person who likes to lose control. This weekend, I checked that hat at the door. Goodbye responsibility, hello retardation.

Friday I had to go to happy hour after work. After all, it was a three-day weekend. About eight drafts, five cigs and no dinner later, I found myself too drunk to drive and feeling great! I hadn’t laughed like that in ages. The pure joy of feeling no pressure was a nice break from my normal combination of stress and responsibility. The boyfriend picked up the liability of driving us back to his house. Not sure that was the best idea. But I’m still here to talk about it.

The next morning I felt fine. Truthfully, I was rather impressed. Normally I’d have spent the night with my head shoved into the toilet. Somehow the gods were with me. They understood that I never acted like this so they were giving me a reprieve. I tempted that fate.

My roommate and I decided to kick off day two of our long weekend with some wine and a mani/pedi combo. Give me a moment. Let me bask in the relaxation. It’s not often I get treated to something that’s just for me. Somewhere into our two-hour heaven, we had agreed to have dinner and drinks with one of my boyfriend’s friends. My thoughts – free steak – where do I sign? The roomie and I had one decision to make… beer or wine?

We walked into the house with four bottles of red. Oh, sweet red wine, how I love you so. After a delicious meal, a myriad of games and some deep discussion, I found myself draining the contents of the fourth, and last, bottle of wine. I looked at the bottle, then over at my roommate. Then back at the bottle and back at my roommate. How had we consumed four bottles of wine? And why didn’t I feel drunk?

The next morning it was quite clear that I had been drunk after all. Memories of tucking my roomie into the couch-made-bed and forcing my boyfriend’s head into the toilet all came flooding back. Obviously I’m able to curb my drunken stooper when in crisis mode. And there’s nothing like a vomiting boyfriend to bring a drunken girl back to reality. And then there are the ever-increasing bruises on my back and butt. Not sure why they’re there. But they really do hurt!

It’s now been 36 hours since my last drink. I’m still in bed. I haven’t showered. It’s pretty disgusting. My head is still throbbing, my stomach is still churning and I’m not quite sure how I’m going to regain my normal composure for tomorrow. After some serious contemplation and several prayers, I’ve decided that being old is pretty ok in my book.

So goodbye 21. You were good while you lasted. Your memories are still there. The pictures still remain in my photo albums. But I’m ok with moving on. I’d rather have scheduled meetings and a healthy meal plan than feeling like shit for days on end. Hell… I think I’ve grown up.

Weight a Minute

I was walking through the mall the other day when all of a sudden I realized that everyone around me was averaging in at about a size four or smaller. I almost stopped my productive stride and did a 360 in slow motion, but that would have been too obvious. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to the fatty amongst the world of the skinny.

The funny thing was that most of the skinnies were moms! There I was, peering at the space between their thighs as they walked in and out of the high-end shops. A space between my thighs… the thought was paralyzing. I don’t even remember a time when my thighs didn’t rub together! I keep telling myself that when Hell freezes over that I’ll need that friction and all the skinny bitches will be jealous.

At what point in time did everyone become basically anorexic? Or did I just gain weight and not realize it? Granted, I’m not exactly at my thinnest right now, but still, I’ve never felt like the heifer of the group. Standing in the middle of the mall, it was all I could do but to imagine a bubble above my head that read, “Moo!”

Now take all of this and combine it with the fact that I have to be in a bathing suit in front of my boyfriend’s friends in about two weeks. That’s right… this thigh-rubbing moo-cow will be adorning a bathing suit in front of people that I don’t even know for an entire weekend. I’ve gone over and over this predicament for a few days now and I’m pretty sure there are three different ways this situation could play out. One, and the worst of them all, the friends will feel sorry for my boyfriend because he’s with a chick with cellulite. Two, I’ll just slather on the Nic Lively charm and hope they pay attention to that and not my fire-inducing thighs. Three, I’ll keep buying beer to get them drunk and hope they don’t notice that I’m walking around half naked. However it ends up, I’m still screwed (and I’m pretty sure that damn “Moo” bubble will be above my head).

I guess it’s frustrating because I’ve been pretty diligent about working out. I have an awesome trainer who kicks my butt and I try to go as regularly as I can – although that can be difficult when you have two jobs, a boyfriend, and a whole lot of other responsibilities. And I find myself cursing ten-fold because the workouts make me sore as shit. But regardless, it’s not like I’m a couch potato or something. Is it pathetic to blame genetics? Crap, I’m sure it is.

I guess I’ll keep working at it and try to keep a sense of humor about the whole situation. In the meantime, I’ve purchased a tankini (because let’s face it, any bathing suit will show your thighs). And my imaginative brain has been crafting some ways to hide any chub that may rear its ugly head as I’m crammed into a rubber tube. Worst case scenario… I’ll just stay drunk the whole time and then I won’t give a shit as to what anyone thinks!

Why can’t I just have my daily venti, one Sweet & Low, skinny, vanilla latte and three petite vanilla scones, and eat them too? Sheesh!

Something or Nothing?

Relationships are so complicated. No matter how well things are going there will always be a bump in the road now and then. It baffles me when my girlfriends and I talk about our relationships and what affects them both negatively and positively. Some couples get bent out of shape over the weirdest things – who checked the mail, where you left the keys last, etc.

I never once thought that I was in a perfect relationship. I’m not delusional. You can’t put two people together and think that everything will be smooth sailing. Relationships are work because it’s not a solitary venture. Basically you have two worlds colliding and you’re hoping for a peaceful ending. But that’s just not always the case.

To me, being respectful and supportive are two of the most important qualities that make a relationship stable and viable. Without those two, you have nothing. And even if you’re lacking one of those, you can feel your relationship become off kilter – able to falter by just one movement.

I’ve been very lucky with the opportunities that I’ve been given, and I’ve worked hard to make them successful endeavors. When a partner doesn’t support that work it is very defeating. It makes you question what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. Unfortunately, it places you at the crossroads of picking an adventure or a man. And no one wants to be in that position.

Relationships can fail or flourish as a result of physical and emotional changes that accompany success. At what point do you agree to disagree or just move on? Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a quitter. I wouldn’t just up and leave a relationship over one argument. But when that argument is over something that’s extremely important to you, it’s hard to keep your head above water. Running seems tempting.

But in the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “In a moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing to do. The worst thing you can do is nothing.”

It’s Just an Update

I feel horrible… like I’ve let my readers down. Or even worse, let myself down. All this business with my move, the process of scheduling times to tape on TV, and just the general minutia of life have gotten the best of me. I don’t exactly feel very “Nic Lively” at the moment.

The move is going fairly well. It’s never comforting having your belongings in a million different places. And just when I had finally housed everything in one location it was time to move a portion of my items again. The politics of this move have really gotten the best of me. It’s hard to be who you are when people sometimes don’t accept that. I guess it’s just been weighing heavy on my heart lately.

Everything with the CW33 is moving along. It’s been an interesting process. At first it was kind of like a pipe dream and now I’m actually standing in front of a green screen reading my words from a teleprompter. Rebecca Miller is normally about five feet away when I tape – it’s rather surreal. “Novice, meet professional,” I continually repeat to myself.

Watching myself on TV has been fun, although it’s also been taxing. When they say that TV adds 10 pounds, they aren’t kidding. It’s a pretty big hit to my self-esteem. So I keep going to the gym but I have yet to see any results. Why do I continue to pay for a trainer? It’s frustrating for sure!

We’re still in the process of deciding what to do with my website. I was going to have a creative agency morph it into something exciting like fireworks or a Tiffany’s diamond ring, but then the CW33 said they wanted to host it. There are a lot of details that I won’t bore you with – but the details are dragging this blogger down! So for now I have the Paint-header on my website… and yes, I did that cropping/tracing on my own without a mouse. I know. Professional, right?

Feedback on the segment has been interesting. Of course my family and friends send positive kudos my way, but it seems that the message board has another opinion – and not a positive one. One person even said that they didn’t want to take sexual advice from someone who couldn’t get laid in a penal colony. Well, that’s obviously not true, but it was still a pretty harsh comment. And who proclaimed that I was the guru of sexual advice? Not me! I keep telling myself that they are negative nellies who have to beat people down to build themselves up, but I’d be dishonest if I said that it didn’t affect me somehow.

My relationship is going good. We actually surpassed the three-month mark. That makes me smile. We keep learning new things about each other and taking it day by day, and that’s a great blessing. It’s hard to be in a serious relationship and not want to strive for marriage and a family, so I have to keep my long-term desires at bay for now. I never really knew the maternal strain of wanting children until now. I guess it’s when you find the one you want to have a family with that your real desires for life show themselves to you.

So with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t really been able to write the kind of blogs that I want to. I like to write about my feelings or personal things that I encounter on a daily basis, and instead I’ve been polluting my blog with short stories about random topics that may or may not mean anything real to me. That’s not really how I like to operate. I guess I need to cleanse my soul or something philosophical like that. I need to find myself again so that I can represent myself the best way I know how – through my words and my actions.

So I’m sorry for the alteration in content as of late. I promise to do a better job, not only for you, but for myself as well.

But My Name is CoCo!

You know him as the pale, red headed comedian that’s been bringing laughter to your households since 1993. With writing credits for Saturday Night Live, The Simpsons, Late Night with Conan O’Brien and The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien, you’d have to be living under a rock not to at least know his name.

With recent news of Jay Leno taking back the Tonight Show and leaving O’Brien without a home, Conan O’Brien has been a favorite topic of news stations all over the country. But the surprising twist on this story is how successful O’Brien has become from this media frenzy. While Leno may be competing for Nielsen ratings, O’Brien has cornered the market via Twitter, Facebook, college-campus tours and the ingenious Team Coco campaign.

While some may call him an underdog, I call him a genius. If he’s not a true example of turning a bad situation into an empire, I don’t know who is. With word spreading like wildfire of his new late-night TV show on TBS, slated to hit airwaves in November of this year, Conan O’Brien has only hit the tip of the iceberg with his new success.

Personally, I’m motivated by this underdog’s success. It makes me want to try harder and achieve more. If an Irish bloke with helmet hair can become king of his castle, a big-boned Italian definitely has a chance!

My Mask

It’s hard trying to be someone that you’re not. Let’s face it, there are people in my life who I have to act differently around. I can’t be my true self around them. The worst part is that I can’t determine whether I’m doing them a disservice by hiding the true essence of my being or if I’m disrespecting myself by concealing who I really am.

My mom always says that I was born with a spotlight on my head. Whether I was dancing on stage, singing karaoke, playing a part in a musical, or putting on shows for friends and family at home, I’ve always been comfortable being a “star.” There’s something about performing in front of an audience that puts me at ease and makes me feel at home. And although my parents embrace and encourage my outgoing personality, there are people in my life who would prefer that I curb my natural enthusiasm.

Throughout my life I have taken many paths – not all of them wise or planned out. But those fortuitous journeys have made me who I am today. When I look back on my past now, I wouldn’t ask to be labeled a “divorced woman,” or encourage young adults to live with their parents in their mid-20s. But those were decisions that I made. And because of the decisions that I made I have become a better person in life. I have experienced trials and tribulations that have made me the person that I am today.

Sometimes I feel as if I have to wear a mask around certain people. And it clouds my soul that I can’t share with them my vibrant personality or extreme take on topics. I may be outspoken at times, but I am always respectful of others and myself. I am so very blessed to have parents who accept me for who I am, so it’s difficult to adjust to people who don’t support or understand my free-spirited ways.

I’ve been reflecting on my personality a lot lately. Ever since I started my evening segments on the CW33 News at Nine, a few people very close to me have voiced concern that I might be judged based on my opinions – or even worse, that they judge me for what I’m saying. It’s hard to digest their feedback when my parents and my close friends, who are the backbone of my life, have had nothing but positive things to say about this venture in my life.

I guess I find myself at a crossroads these days. I want to be true to myself and take every opportunity that’s given to me, but I don’t want to have to hide my true being in order to make others happy. I wish that closed-minded people would open their eyes and see that I have a voice that people want to hear and a personality that people want to embrace.

I don’t want to wear a mask anymore.