So I'm Basically An Adult Now, Right?

HA. As my favorite 90s diva says, AS IF.

Though I do generally feel pretty far from adulthood, things have been feeling more grown up lately.

Let's start with my work holiday party last week.

You'd think after growing up going to church every week I'd be immune to a man in a suit.

As my favorite Glee star says, hell to the no.

See below for context.

Our Christmas cocktail soiree was held last Thursday on the top floor terrace of the St. Regis in downtown San Francisco. I was dressed to the nines in a peach-turned-salmon colored tapered flowy number with the gold toga shoes of a Greek goddess and party hair Blake Lively would kill for.

I was feeling pretty great.

Little did I know, my male cohorts (though few and far between in a female-dominated industry) were set to out-do even the best and brightest belles of the ball.

Most of them in tuxes, these twenty and early thirty-somethings were killin' a girl in their penguin suits, (I won't even mention their mad skills on the dance floor). Who knew these princes in hiding met their fairy godfathers in the bathrooms at work post press release?

Not I.

I took a few moments in between compliments to the boys and club sodas to take in the breathtaking view of the San Francisco skyline. My heart beat a little faster as I stared at all the lights on the buildings of my own concrete jungle.

Have you ever driven over the Bay Bridge? Similar to my experience at the top of the St. Regis, whenever I come out of the tunnel and onto into the four or five lanes that span the Pacific, I am always in awe of the vast chicness that is the city by the bay.

Whenever I am sailing along at 65 MPH (not speeding, Mom) I always take a few seconds to scan the buildings, Coit Tower, Alcatraz and, on a clear day, The Golden Gate.

As I stared into the night sky last Thursday, I thought, how did I get so lucky?

How did the stars all align and I am standing here, surrounded by wonderful, talented, smart, fun, kind coworkers who love each other (for better and for worse let me tell you)?

The same feeling comes over me when I cross the bridge. A feeling of pure adrenalin mixed with sheer joy and a little teensy bit of gut wrenching panic because there are days when it seems to good to be true.

Well, mostly. I mean, I have my ups and downs.

Some days feel like the work simply cannot get done fast enough or well enough. But, in my quest into adulthood, I take the good with the bad and, as Andy Grammar says, keep my head up.

Other parts of being an adult include knowing when you've perhaps dropped the ball, that being said, sorry it's been so long since I've written.

Getting my job at Access and moving down here was such a huge experience things got dicey for a while. But, I hit my 3 month anniversary there last week and have gotten into an incredible groove, so I believe it is time to resume our regularly scheduled programming.

I have decided to take up reading again. When I was younger, I simply devoured books. As I got to college, my reading skills were reserved mostly for textbooks (and for those of you who knew me in college know my study time left something to be desired).

I, of course, read the Twilight books in a matter of days, and the Emily Giffin Something Borrowed and Something Blue books at the gym during my summers on the eliptical. Right now, I am reading Mindy Kaling's (of The Office) new auto biography, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? It is HILARIOUS.

Other things I am doing: anxiously awaiting the return of Grey's and Private Practice, keeping up with Glee, working out, attempting to eat healthy and drop a few before summer, whitenening my teeth and keeping up my blog.

Check and check.

TV is the Mirror of our Lives

I feel more and more like Rory Gilmore every day.

Let me explain.

I have always been a TV and movie fanatic. I like to think that from an early age, I knew a life of media and pop culture was to be my destiny.

Take for example, the early days of T.G.I.F. I used to live for that line-up of Boy Meets World, Step-By-Step, Full House, Dinosaurs (talk about a blast from the past!), Perfect Strangers and, in the later years, Sabrina, The Teenage Witch.

The best part about the half-hour sitcoms is that they were often mini time capsules of our life and times during that decade. One will never forget that late eighties Farrah Fawcett hair DJ Tanner used to rock, or those crop-tops Dana from Step-By-Step used to sport.

One of my all times favorite shows from the 90s is of course, Boy Meets World. In those days, there was a moral lesson to be learned every show, and Mr.Feeny never gave up on the budding young starlets. In fact, my love for the show was re-affirmed when I read a fabulous post on USA Today college entitled, "Everything I need to know in life I learned from Boy Meets World."

Now that I am older, I am hooked on Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, Drop Dead Diva, The Office and of course, Glee. I find myself often relating to various aspects of each of my favorite characters.

I like to think I have Merideth's patience, Christina's stubbornness, Addison's strength, Jane's poise, style and confidence, Rachel's heart and Kelly Kappor's love for all things girly.

The point is, I can always see some of myself in many of these characters, and I often think, if they can do it, so can I.

It may seem odd to draw strength from actors playing people who don't really exist, but as Sean so fatefully said during an episode of BMW, "TV is the mirror of our lives."

**Please note that my own house style negates the need to add quotes to TV shows as AP Style would suggest in an instance where there are so many shows listed.

The Princess Diaries: Why I Love Wills and Kate

It’s no secret that I am obsessed with this dynamic duo.

I’ve been talking about Wills and Kate ever since their engagement was formally announced last November, and more so in the past four months as their wedding has been planned, performed and now, passed.

So, why the fascination-like, what’s the deal?

Well, there are several factors at play here.

First and foremost, I have always been an anglophile. Not to be confused with an anglophone -though I am one of those too by virtue of my US birth-but a person who has a fetish for the Brits.

I went overseas for the first time in my life when I was 15, and it was a trip with mumsy to jolly old England.

The minute we landed at Heaththrow and met my Aunt (who by the way was a total trooper driving in her wrong-side-of-the-road Volvo), I knew it would change me forever.

Those two weeks were the start of something new. Since my Aunt and Uncle were amidst their tour with the Air Force, we had the fabulous opportunity to stay in a charming English cottage in the most darling London suburb.

We spent our days riding the train into London, jumping on the tube, visiting the British museum and of course, found ourselves at Harrod’s far more than was appropriate.

As dramatic as it sounds, those two weeks were a turning point for me. I knew I needed more than an entire life spent in the States. I felt like I was destined to be an ex-pat; maybe not forever, but for spurts of time.

Back to the Duke and Dutchess.

When mother and I were across the pond, Harry and William were everywhere. On postcards, in the media and on my boy-crazy teenage girl mind.

Turns out that year was Will’s first year at St. Andrews, and Harry was only two years ahead of me in school. Most people bade me farewell with a “try and woo a prince,” or “if you see Wills, get a picture.”

Even here in the States, we have always kept an eye on those real-life princes. They are the fairly tale of my generation.

More importantly, let’s talk about my admiration for Kate Middleton.

Not only did she have the patience to wait just shy of a decade for her charming prince, she did it with style, class and the perfect stilettos.

Humble and unassuming, Kate has been all smiles ever since the pair announced their engagement and she began her stride into the life of a full-fledged royal.

You can always count on her pearly whites to flash during any and all official palace engagements; plus, she and Wills manage to be practically giddy when they sneak in a sweet smirk (or smooch!) during their everyday not-so-private life.

At the risk of sounding like the side of Starbucks cup, the way I see it is this: Kate is in love with William despite, and not because of, his status as the future King of England.

By all counts, she appears to be hardworking, humble, devoted, tenacious, smart, sweet and willing to go the extra mile for her hubby-which I think is an excellent relationship quality whether or not your husband is royalty.

If you haven’t noticed, the press seems to be unnaturally obsessed with how Kate does all of their grocery shopping-and I think this is why. The fact that Great Britain still has a King and Queen is, in and of itself, a little old-world (read: ridiculous).

Not to mention the fact that they employ hundreds (probably thousands) of servants, ladies-in-waiting, housekeepers, nannies and various other waitstaff for the upkeep of their homes and families.

This wouldn’t be a big deal or seem out of the ordinary, until you hear the story of how Prince Charles never put the toothpaste on his own toothbrush.

Yeah, that’s real.

Wills and Kate are determined to be different, and I love it. Kate does all their cooking, Wills has a career in the Royal Air Force (remember, they postponed their honeymoon because he had to be back at work on Monday?) and famously, instead of wedding gifts, they asked for money to be donated to their charities.

Basically, I could go on and on. Speaking as a former British colonist, I can say I whole-heartedly approve (and obsess over) this match.

May their rein as Wills and Kate be long and fabulous... and may Kate continue to single-handedly bring back the nude pump.

How Diet Coke can make you a better person.

Americans are afraid to be alone.

I’m serious.

When was the last time you went to a coffee shop BY YOURSELF and stayed to drink your caramel macchiato?

Never, that’s when. I’m sure of it.

On Monday, I was driving home from work and couldn’t bring myself to just go home. I wanted more than just three hours of Gilmore Girls, an hour on the treadmill and then bed.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Lorelei and Rory more than LIFE, but, as my fellow intern Lauren said today, “after so many episodes on Bravo, you start to hate yourself just a little bit.”

So true.

Cue Monday evening, when I decided to get adventurous and take the exit to downtown Davis. I knew where Chipotle was and figured I pick it up and take a book in to read while I ate--the ultimate shield for someone eating alone.

As I walked to the register, I found my self saying “to go please.”

I chickened out.

I had forgotten my book and wasn’t ready to eat sans something to read. But as I went to the soda fountain, I was like, I just paid $2 for this soda and if I leave I can’t get a refill.

Damnit, I’m staying!

I took a seat at the counter and began to munch on my burrito bowl. As I looked out the window, I reflected on how awkward I felt about being alone. Was that my personality, or something more?

I think it’s a little of both. We live in a culture that seems to think being in a cafe or restaurant alone is somehow a reflection on who we are--or who we’re not.

One thing I learned to cope with daily in Europe was being alone. Yes, I had Sarah and Nikki, but sometimes, I didn’t. More often than not, people sat alone in cafe’s and restaurants and people-watched.

Granted, staring is a cultural norm in France, Spain and Italy...so the people watching is far less creepy and much more accepted across the pond.

About halfway through my meal, I began to feel more comfortable with my loner-self and reflected on what the day had taught me. I thought about the spreadsheets, the clients, the billing codes and what my life is like now that I am in the field.

Before I knew it, Steven was calling me. I happily answered his call and we chatted about my fairly hilarious circumstances--being all alone in a town where I know no one.

Truth is, experiences like that help us grow. If we are never alone with ourselves, how do we ever get to know who we are outside of school and work and relationships. I think one of the most important relationships is life we can foster is the one we have with the person we see in the mirror ever day.

So here’s to eating alone--try it, I dare you. Even if it is only for the Diet Coke refills.

First week, plus grad ketchup.

Wow, life is good.

I always totally judged those people on Facebook that were like “I’m not lucky, I’m blessed,” and “I love my crazy beautiful life.”

It’s like, :eyeroll: puh-LEASE people, get it together( read: no one cares ). PLUS Facebook isn’t the place for that. In the words of one of my favorite fellow TGC alums, Megan Pouliot, get a diary (or a blog! hehe) .

But, here I am. Telling you. That things are going pretty dang well. Lucky for you, if you are reading this, it’s likely you like me enough to be curious about what’s going on...I’m not some random on your newsfeed.

I’m done with my first week at FH. After I found out I got the internship, I was telling people that it “couldn’t have worked out better,” and that “if I 100% had my choice of things to do after graduation this would be it,” and after this week, I mean it more than ever.

Best company. Best co-workers. Best clients.

I am learning so much every day, and get to be a part of a really wonderful thing.

Sacramento is great.

Living in Davis is a nice summer gig, but I am definitely already planning my exodus to midtown in August. The commute is some good thinking time, but I’d really like to live in the city.

So, that’s the present. Let’s rewind.

The last few weeks of school were a blur. Saying goodbye to the study abroad crew was totally tragic, but felt really right because everyone is moving in such a good direction. Big things are happening.

Got my grades, passed all my classes...so win on that. I for real graduated.

Graduation was a marathon of a day--heck, a marathon of a weekend. Lucky for me, I had wonderful friends to throw me a party, (royal wedding themed), hang with me endlessly and take me to an unforgettable brunch (i’m going to be a doctor!) and plan foreign excursions for this summer, next summer and summers after that.

HUGE thank you to the following: Sarah Best, Meghan Mattingly, Sarah Mann, Steven Carroll, Dan Hurst, Chris & Denis Carroll (next time your at the house i’ll fix your transmission!), and OF COURSE my wonderful family...whom I love so much.

Stay tuned for more fun internship posts! Be sure to check out my posts for FH on www.sacfoodies.com.

The post-grad PR persuasion

So, where did I leave off? Oh yes, the internship.

Lucky for me, I got the big envelope this time. What a relief, for both me and my parents.

I start May 31, just 10 days after I walk across the stage.

Landing a job post-graduation is something I have been losing sleep over for many, many moons. Now, however, I drift off before those sheep can even think about trotting into my subconscious pasture.

Change is good.

I have, in the past month, encountered a new phenomenon surrounding my post-grad plans...how to explain to people what exactly my new job IS.

Conversations go a little like this:

Well-meaning friend, acquaintance, co-worker or family member: So, Cait, what are your plans after May 21?

Me: I got a great summer internship, I’m totally excited. It’s with a public relations agency in Sacramento, and they work with mostly food and wine clients. It’s going to be a blast.

Right after the words “public relations” leave my lips, my co-conversationalist’s eyes glaze over.

Well-meaning friend, acquaintance, co-worker or family member: Oh...that’s nice.

<---------------------long pause---------------------------->

Well-meaning friend, acquaintance, co-worker or family member: What exactly does that mean?

Fact #1 of life as a public relations practitioner: the general public has little to know idea about what we do, aside from the “whole Charlie Sheen thing”.

The ironic thing about this profession that works so hard to make its clients transparent is that PR itself has an image problem.

Often, the general public views the gatekeepers of reputation management as purely damage control. The superhero’s that rush in when Lindsey gets arrested (again) or Britney drives-thru with her kid on her lap, sans seatbelt.

First of all, aforementioned people are publicists, which represent a teeny, tiny portion of those in our profession. The general graduates of PR programs across the country will never defend Paris Hilton’s honor or manage Zach Efron’s Twitter account.

Most of us will lead quiet lives of media outreach on behalf of our clients. The majority of the class of 2011 will spend our days meeting with our clients, doing everything we can to get the positive things they are doing covered in the media.

Public relations professionals are very much storytellers. We package our clients so the general public can see what they are all about. We build media lists so we can pitch stories to local papers, news stations and these days, bloggers.

Basically, we get people not on our client’s payroll to vouch for our clients--tell the community who they are and what they do. We aren’t advertisers. We are the liaisons between our clients and the public they serve.

At least, this is all what my education and internship with Tehama Group (see below) has lead me to believe my chosen career will entail.

A week from today, I’ll find out if it’s true. I'll keep you posted.

Lessons Learned

Everything I know about the real world I learned from Tehama Group

You’ve seen those shirts, right?

“Everything I need to know about life I learned from my cat...” Stuff like that.

Well, I’m here to say that after the culmination of six years, two schools, two study abroad programs and countless classes, the real thing that prepared me for life post graduation, was Tehama Group.

Here’s my top four:

1. How to work with a team. Like, for real.

I know, I know, everyone loves a Chico grad because we are so social. But working on a group project for a teacher is a totally different ball game from working with a team that truly wants to be there, is qualified for the job and is working for a paying client. Sure, you sill have to deal with missed deadlines and over-scheduled consultants, but the work is quality and you can rest assured the whole project won’t fall on you.

2. How to manage time.

And with that goes how to not manage your time. Taking on too much is something I am classically known for, and this semester has been no exception. Learning to say no is a talent I have yet to master, but it’s something I know is applicable in the work place. For this semester I can successfully say: lesson learned.

3. How to be a better communicator.

I am professional communicator, so how could I need help? Trust me, I did...and I still do. I have always been the group leader and so learning to work on a team where I was simply a consultant was part relief, part balancing act. I had to learn how to “communicate up,” which basically means keeping my account lead informed on all my movements concerning our account. Since I was used to being the one who was communicated to, this was a lesson in learning to keep my team leader updated.

4.How to be a creative problem solver.

When you are in class, your future is up to you, so far as your grade is concerned. You can always turn to your teacher for guidance and ask if something is right or wrong. However, being plopped in front of clients and being expected to produce something that is worth their time and money is a different ball game. Knowing how to quickly field questions and think on your feet requires preparation, knowledge and a general ability to perform under pressure.

So there you have it folks. My life lessons, learned in the four walls of Tehama 310.

How getting the small envelope can change your life, too.

In an instant, everything can change.

April 11 started out just like any other Monday. I had my 8 a.m. job hunting class, followed by my Monday morning Tehama Group staff meeting. I had nothing in particular to look forward to as I headed to the Study Abroad Office to work my usual 10-5 shift.

I breezed into the office, sat and talked with Jenn for a few minutes, then headed to my desk. Shelby was sitting in the back, which is unusual this semester, and so we chatted about the weekend, this coming week, and as always, graduation and life after school.

I got up to go to the kitchen to make oatmeal, and glanced at my phone as I came back to my desk. In the minute and a half I had been cutting my apple, soaking my oats and popping a bowl in to the microwave, everything had changed.

I had a missed call and voicemail from a 916 area code.

Sacramento.

I picked up my phone, and my heart started beating a little faster. I looked at Shelby and breathless said, “I have a missed call and voicemail from a 916 number. What if it’s Fleishman?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she confidently replied.

I held my breath the entire time I listened to the voicemail. It was like in high school when Ms. Jackson announced the cheerleading squad. I’m surprised I didn’t faint; both then, and now.

The call was from the intern coordinator at Fleishman-Hillard, and she wanted to talk about the internship. Fear and doubt gripped me as I considered the possibilities.

Was it so close she was calling everyone, regardless of whether they got the internship or not?

...was she calling to offer it to me? Did I dare let that thought enter my mind?

“It’s them,” I said.

“What are you waiting for?! See what they want.”

I headed out to the hallway on the fourth floor of the Student Services Center. This sacred, carpeted, hallway is a place I’ve paced many times, staring out the glass windows at the quad below, watching the students pass in and out.

I hit the call button, and waited as the phone began to ring.

As I listened to the first ring, my mind began to wander to how I got to this point.

Oddly enough, I didn’t picture my successes.

No where in my vision was the day in senior English I found out I got into BYUI, or the night in Rexburg my dad called to say I got a letter from Chico State, and it was the big envelope.

My mind did not replay the warm spring day I was accepted to the IP program in Aix-en-Provence, or the birthday in Paris when I got an email from the study abroad coordinator writing to invite me to work in the office.

The phone rang a second time.

I flashed back, instead, to my senior year of high school when I got rejected from BYU, and then two years later, wait-listed for their study abroad program in Paris.

The pain of getting cut from the cheerleading squad sophomore year flowed freely. I even went as far back in my pensive as sixth grade, when I got cut from the basketball team.

All of these setbacks devastated me equally.

At the time, they seemed like the end of the world. I will never forget the way my heart sunk and tears stung each time my name was not called, or I got the small envelope saying, “close, but no cigar.”

“Good morning, Fleishman-Hillard,” the receptionist answered.

What I didn’t realize then, but came to realize as I waited to be connected to the intern coordinator, was that each of these failures opened the door for me to pick something else.

My rejections weren’t so much failures as opportunities to find something better, something more me. I am learning that it's not really about what you want, it's about the plan for you.

As it turns out, all the other things I was forced to choose led me to this very moment: 23 years old, standing on the fourth floor of the Student Services Center, pink iPhone in hand, holding my breath.

New York City: Concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

Virgin America has on-board wifi. How fab is that?

At a comfortable cruising altitude of 35,000 feet I caught up on this week’s Glee and Private Practice. I checked my email, updated my Facebook status and retweeted my work Bible, the AP Stylebook.

This is just the latest in the luxuries afforded by the quirky new carrier. The also offer free music, satellite television and endless Diet Coke. Win.

Why am I telling you this, you ask.

Last week was my final spring break as an undergrad, so I decided to spend it networking, researching and deciding what to do with my life. Yikes.

Up until a few days ago, I thought moving to New York for a (dream) job was a possibility. I went to the city that never sleeps to see if that dream was reality.

I was lucky enough to jet set to the Big Apple with the other consultants of Tehama Group Communications, the student-managed PR agency for which I am social media director.

Monday morning, 10 PR pros in training met in the lobby of the Hotel Edison on 47th St. and Broadway. I’m sure we were a sight to see: a gaggle of California gals giddy with excitement at the prospect of traipsing around midtown Manhattan for the day.

On our agenda was three informational interviews with TGC alumni at Tiffany & Co., Hearst Publications and ABCNews.com.

Before five o’clock, we had covered 15 city blocks, taken pages and pages of notes on how to land a job in entry level PR and make invaluable connections that can and will serve as great resources through the years.

Tuesday was filled in much the same fashion. We had interviews at Edelman, Access Communications and W Hotels.

All through the interviews I kept thinking how proud I was of what these women have accomplished. All of them have been in my shoes: attending Chico State, landing a position in TGC and then making their way in the world.

It was truly inspiring to hear their stories of uncertainty, adjustment, hard work, tenacity and finally, success.

Exhausted and aching from two intense days, we fell into bed Tuesday night looking forward to two days of freedom in one of America’s favorite cities.

Wednesday morning dawned cold and rainy. We strapped on our rain gear and headed to the subway to start the day in Greenwich Village, at the apartment of fictional columnist and famous New York City diva, Carrie Bradshaw.

A few blocks down from 66 Perry Street is another famous New York landmark, the Friends’ building, which resides at the corner of Grove and Bedford...which of course we marched up to and discussed whether or not it looked the same as it does in the show (it does).

We spent hours and hours pounding the pavement of New York City. We took countless subways uptown, downtown and everywhere in between. Our money was spent inside vintage shops like Shareen Vintage, restaurants like Boyd Thai and Peanut Butter & Co., and purchasing souvenir’s at the NYU bookstore.

As I sat on the plane Friday morning, watching The Warblers perform Maroon 5’s “Misery” and replying to internship emails, I could barely contain my excitement to be getting back to the west coast.

Little did I know I was coming back to west coast and the worst weather ever. I might as well have stayed in New York City.

Sam is the new Finn

I've got the fever.

If you were born before about 1997, you may be thinking: well if her temperature is up, she should go to health center, that's nothing to fool around with.

I'm not talking about anything above a 98.6.

I'm talking about 16 year old heart throb Justin Bieber, who's fans have been known to fall ill with the ailment, "Bieber fever."

Catchy, eh?

Sarah and I were seeing a movie a few days ago, and a trailer for Justin's new movie, Never Say Never was in the lineup. The opening scene is a little boy drumming on a kitchen chair and singing. He looks and the camera and says, " hi, I'm Justin."

I leaned over to my roommate and whispered,"oh, a movie about Justin Timberlake! Finally."

I've never felt quite as aged as I did at that moment.

Well, the next moment really, when I realized this was NOT about the 'NSYNC star of the late 90's.

It was a about a barely-gone-through-puberty feather haired child who sings about his first love when he was 13.

That was TEN years ago. TEN!

Naturally, I have to see the movie.

Even more so now that Glee has highlighted the not-yet-legal Bieber this week, with Sam performing his far more than famous single, Baby.

Speaking of Sam and bringing the heat, man can he make a girl swoon.

I used to be 110 percent team Finn. I loved his tall-ness, his innocent eyes, and the way I felt when I was around him....uh, er, I mean, when he was on screen.

Yeah, uh-huh.

I used to tell people I loved that Finn was perfectly imperfect. He made mistakes -like when said the F word to Kurt, RUDE- but in the end, he has a heart of gold and an absolutely wonderful sense of right and wrong.

As I got to know Finn -I might as well give in to the delusion-, I really related to the giant Canadian for one solid reason: his judgement was consistency flawed, but he had the best of intentions, always.

So is mine, and so do I. Thinking you have a good head on your shoulders and actually making accurate and appropriate choices in all the right places are two different things.

BUT lately, Finn has been a total letdown. He insists on telling Rachael how wonderful, talented and beautiful she is, but always keeps himself just beyond her reach. Wasn't I just mentioning delusions?

Totally. Unacceptable.

Plus he's clearly encouraging Quinn to cheat on Sam, which he knows is wrong and only leads to pain and suffering for EVERYONE.

Also, Quinn is borderline worthless, so it's almost like, really Finn, you want to bark up that tree again? Just for some lame-o fireworks?*

It's like, how could you do something if you know it will hurt someone?

Isn't it hard enough already to keep everyone happy?

But Sam. Oh, with that smooth blonde mop and those huge kissable lips.

Sure he doesn't seem to be the brightest crayon in the box, but I'd take kindness over brains any day...then again, I'm not Quinn Fabray.

*This comment in now way reflects Rachael's performance of Katy Perry's Firework, or Katy's version. Those were boss.

Bién- Être

Translated from French, meaning to be well.

Most of my life I have been described as high strung, chatty, wound up and bubbly. I have a lot of energy, to say the least.

This information was never news to my parents during parent-teacher conferences in elementary school. I can’t tell you how many times my parents heard the words, “Caitlin is a bright girl, but we can’t get her to be quiet.”

As I have moved into my adult life, not much has changed.

Luckily, my constant need for communication has turned into a career, only now instead of passing notes, I send e-mails and instead of disturbing others during class, I tweet to my co-workers, update my Facebook status and blog about my life.

To be honest, you would be hard-pressed to find PR pros that haven’t spent their lives being told they talk too much, their term papers are too lengthy and they can’t turn off their BlackBerry.

Life as a professional communicator is fabulously rewarding, but there is a danger in being a social butterfly on high speed: burn out and over-stimulation.

It can happen to any guy or gal who has ever slept next to an AP Stylebook in the hopes that the capitalization rules fly into his or her brain, and it can creep up on any account executive who has more than five sub-folders in an inbox.

Is there hope for the busy bees of the business world?

Oui, bién sûr.

Ironically enough, I discovered the joys of de-stressing while I was studying abroad in southern France last year. You would think traipsing around the French Riviera would be a year full of long nights at cafes, lazy days on the beach and baguettes three meals a day. In reality, it was nine months of language acquisition, hectic travel and cultural adjustment.

While poking around Provence, I stumbled upon an English bookstore and a book by an English author, Isabel Losada, titled, “The Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment.”

The cover depicts a seated blond woman, legs crossed Indian style, with her arms out in a classic meditation pose, complete with touching pointer fingers and thumbs.

That’s exactly what I needed at the time, and most days, it’s exactly what I need living the hectic agency life back in the States.

Losada took me through her 14 phases of enlightenment, which were enriching activities that broadened her mind, expanded her horizons, cleansed her soul, and at one point, her colon.

At the end of the book, her basic premise was this: Take time for your well-being, and become the most enlightened version of yourself.

We cannot be at our best if we do not fully commit to taking care of what we have so carefully and diligently invested in: ourselves. It is too difficult to give our time and talent if we are constantly over-scheduled.

I spend most of my days with my iPhone buzzing several times an hour, my to-do list growing longer by the minute and my business casual wardrobe becoming threadbare with use, and truly, I love that lifestyle.

But like any constant communicator, I need a break from my hyper-organized Google calendar to indulge in a chai tea latte while reading “Eat, Pray, Love” and rejuvenating my soul.

Pad Thai: adventures in southeast Asia

I don't eat weird food. I never have.

While I was abroad, I stuck to a safe staple: margherita pizza.

It didn't matter if we were traveling to Paris or Prague, Florence or Amsterdam, if there was a pie with mozzarella, tomato and basil, it made it's way into my mouth.

Sarah, being younger but wiser, always ordered the boeuf bourguignon in Nice, fish and chips in London, gnocchi in Venice and schnitzel in Germany...all while I was wasting my time not culturing my pallet and certainly not broadening anyone's horizons...so much for stepping outside a girls' comfort zone.

Insert fret and regret here.

BUT, instead of torturing myself with the terrorizing trifecta coulda', shoulda' woulda', I decided to right my wrongs and get on a path.

A small footpath, mind you. But be sure, it's headed somewhere.

The first stop on my road to recovery was to try Indian food.

Um, what? Isn't that little intense, you ask. I was wary. Luckily, I work around a group of truly well traveled individuals and I have access to the best advice and first hand knowledge about where to get the right food in this town.

Enter Kevin, peer advisor to southeast Asia. As an alumni of our USAC program in Bangalore, India, he suggested the staff head out to the Indian food buffet at Cafe Culture, a small restaurant located within walking distance of our office.

Best.Idea.Ever.

However, this post is not about Indian food, it's about Thai food.

Second on my list of must haves was Thai food.

Not because I was particularly interested in yet another Asian invasion, but because it was Frank's birthday, and we decided that it was only appropriate to take him to to dinner at his favorite Thai place in town, Sophia's.

Generally, I shy away from places I've never been, as far as eating goes. This is especially true when they have an address that includes Nord Avenue after the street number.

As I pulled into what appeared to be the driveway - I use driveway loosely, it was more of an alley-my eyes fell on the two other cars in the parking lot - and by parking lot I clearly mean slightly bigger alley where cars park.

Here's what I was expecting to walk in to: a tiny, probably smelly, maybe musty, likely chintzy room with spicy, hostile noodles, chicken feet soup and perhaps a precious fish dish of some kind.

Sophia's was definitely not any of those things.

Walking in was like being transported back to my time in Europe, which is weird since it was a Thai place. The thing is, our time overseas was spent finding hidden gems down back alleys, in corridors and around shadowed corners to find the most authentic food, and of course, my pizza.

I had no idea what to get. Everything sounded like it would burn my mouth off, which wasn't as enticing as it sounds. I was worried that my lips would be on fire and my nose would be running just looking at the curry dishes. Cute.

I decided on the Pad Thai, which is s a dish of stir-fried rice noodles with eggs, fish sauce, tamarind juice, red chilli pepper, plus any combination of bean sprouts, shrimp, chicken, or tofu, garnished with crushed peanuts, corianderand lime, the juice of which can be added along with Thai condiments.

It was uh.maiz.ing. It came as a heaping pile of beige-brown noodles covered in red sauce with red peppers, crushed peanuts and a myriad of new flavors for my delicate taste buds.

Pad Thai had me at hello, in a proverbial sense.

It was a picture perfect blend of firey spices, peanut saltiness, saucy noodles and red-hot chili peppers, which all hit my tongue like a ton of bricks as soon as my fork passed my lips.

Not only was Sophia's a great experience to expand my palate pleasures, it was a lesson in friendship, and the importance of f(r)amily.

F(r)amily is a term I found deep in the pages of Cosmo. I coined it with my BFF's and made it a part of the words I use every day, to describe the friends I love and lean on whilst away at college.

The importance of a college network full of f(r)amily members has become more and more important as I have gotten older.

There comes a point in your life when you no longer list your mom as your emergency contact, and when you need to change your tire, you don't call your dad. You list your roommate who has been on a 16 hour train ride to Prague with you as your emergency contact, and you call your boyfriend to change your tire.

As we all sat there around the table, with our mouths on fire, eyes watering and food being passed around like a family at Thanksgiving, I realized how these great friends have truly become my family.