Day 352: Skype Date

Tackling a project to do 365 things I've never done before could not have happened had it not been for the eager support of my friends and family, rooting me on from the start and willing to be a part of challenges.

If you've been reading this blog from the start, you likely know the names of some of these supporters. Their names appear to the right of the screen, in that huge long list of awesomeness where I've "tagged" them each time they participate in my blog, and in my life. The more times they participate, the larger their name gets. But don't be fooled into thinking that only those on that list have participated in this experience. There are plenty more, whose names are smaller or nonexistent, who have cheered me on from afar, commenting on my progress and leaving me messages of encouragement when an entry has touched them. Tagged or not, without my team, my pit crew, there is no way this project would have ever gotten off the ground or sustained 352 days.

One of my friends, who had yet to appear in the blog until this day, is my hometown friend Kelly.

I have known Kelly since middle school. We met in 7th grade at the height of our awkwardness. We spent summers swimming in her pool, going to the mall, and obsessing about boys, and have been friends ever since.

When we were in college, Kelly moved to San Diego to live with her sister. She was only supposed to stay for the summer, but after meeting a wonderful guy and falling in love, she decided to stay. Years later, she and the wonderful guy got married and now they have two gorgeous kids. It's taken years, but I think I've finally accepted that Kelly's probably not moving back to the east coast. Knowing that I will always have a friend in Newport Beach, California with a free place to stay makes that pain hurt a little less.

With two young kids and a busy life in California, flying to Georgia to go sky-diving or polar bear plunging with me for the blog was obviously not in the cards for Kelly, but she is definitely one of my supporters from afar. There was something that I'd wanted to try for the blog, though, and I thought she might be able to help, so I emailed her ahead of Day 352.

"Do you Skype?," I asked her.

"Are you kidding?" she said. "Yes! We Skype all the time!" Kelly's sister has since moved back to the east coast and that's where her parents live too, so web chatting through this service is something that they do often.

We made plans to make Day 352's thing I've never done before to catch up with each other via Skype.

Ahead of my Skype date with Kelly, I talked to others who were frequent Skype users. Some of my co-workers with long-distance boyfriends were big fans of the service, as were those who lived far away from their families. My friend Jackie said Skype has been great for her son because while he's not much for talking on the phone, when he can look at the screen and see the person he's talking to, he's much more likely to become engaged in the conversation. In fact, at one time her son thought her parents (his grandparents) actually lived in their "'puter" (computer).

I looked forward to seeing Kelly's face (and her kids' faces) and for us having a real conversation that included body language and visual responses. There is only so much that a phone call can do.

Everyone that I talked to said Skype is extremely user-friendly, but it would be like me to somehow screw it up or not be able to figure it out. So I asked a ton of questions before logging onto my boss' computer, where he had a webcam installed for Skype. I created an account and then found Kelly's username that she had given me ahead of our date. I clicked on her name, and within seconds, a screen popped up and I could see her! Clearly I'm behind the times when it comes to technology, evident by my television and my cell phone, but I honestly could not believe how easy this was.

I gasped like I was seeing her for the first time in my life.

"KELLY! HIIIIIIIIIIII!" I shouted at the screen. Everyone sitting around me turned and looked annoyed. I apologized for my overzealousness and tried to play it cool. And then I laughed at myself, as I imagined that how I was acting was exactly how my technologically disadvantaged father might act if he was using Skype for the first time.

Kelly smiled and waved, but then frowned and told me she could see me, but couldn't hear what I was saying. "WHAT?! YOU CAN’T?!?! OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Again, I was shouting at the computer.

I started spastically clicking on audio buttons and furiously looking for a microphone hook ups, anything to fix the problem so that she could hear me. I knew my friend Katy uses Skype for her job, so I rushed over to her desk to see if she could help."

Do you have a Skype headset?," she asked me.

I looked at her, puzzled. " I don't know what that is."

She explained that a lot of personal computers have microphones built in, so an external mic isn't necessary, but since we're in a public workspace, a headset with both earphones and a microphone is necessary. I didn't have one. She didn’t either.

Noooooooooooo. My Skype date was about to go up in flames.

Kelly was patiently waiting in front of her computer when I ran back to my desk. Skype has an application that also allows you to Instant Message the person you're talking to, presumably in situations like this. I explained to her what was going on and told her I was in search of a headset and would be right back. She laughed and said, "Ok."

After pleading with several people, my friend Jason finally came to the rescue with a Skype headset. It made me look like a telephone operator, but I didn't care. I plugged it in, and finally I could hear Kelly and she could hear me.

Crisis was averted, and our Skype conversation could commence.

Unfortunately for Kelly, our Skype conversation, at least for the first ten minutes, became a conversation about Skype. I was so enthralled with this technology and the fact that it costs nothing; I could hardly concentrate on the conversation. I was "that girl" who said probably a dozen times, "I can't believe I'm looking at you right now! And you're in California!"

When I finally calmed down long enough about Skype to actually talk to her, we had so much fun catching up. There is a little bit of a delay, which can be frustrating but also humorous. I could hear her laugh sometimes before I could see her react to what I was saying. And because I was looking at her on the screen and not directly into the camera, we never really looked each other in the eye.

I didn't think about it while we were talking, but later I was absolutely hysterical thinking about the first time I ever logged onto the Internet with Kelly and our other friends Lisa and Cindy. We were at my parents' house on their old computer with one of those free trials from AOL. We stayed up for hours online chatting with God knows who, pretending like we were in college and making up fake names for ourselves.

Fifteen years later, there we were, on the computer again, only this time talking about our real lives, not ones we made up. Still hysterically laughing, though.

I felt like I got a glimpse into her life, and she got to see a little of mine too. I was at work, but I wasn't technically working when we spoke, but still there were phones ringing and co-workers stopping by my desk to talk to me. Kelly's kids were waking up from a nap and were running around in the background, demanding to be let out where their dad was. She managed to get them to say hello, but they are active little boys with an agenda of their own. And they even cuter live than they are on their Christmas card. I was soaking it up.

There is absolutely no way that Skype could ever replace the comforting feeling that comes with being the presence of good friends. I so wish that Kelly and I lived closer and saw each other more than once or twice a year. There's nothing quite like giving her a hug, seeing her face in person, and hearing her laugh without a delay. But to have the option of speaking to her face-to-face and see her crazy kids bouncing through her house, all for free, through the wonders of the Internet? Well, that's technology that I can get behind.

Skype, you are amazing. As long as, of course, I remember a headset.

Day 307: Quick! Do Something Young and Awesome!

Day 307 was a Saturday, and the same day as my friend Katy's birthday celebration, so after spending the day at my landlord's pool reading (no TV for me), I planned to make the thing I've never done before another "birthday girl's choice."

Katy said I had to swim in the fountain in front of her house.

"No, I'm not doing that," I said. "I'm wearing a nice shirt."

But I will celebrate your birthday as if it was my own. Because that's what good friends do.

Starting, of course, at the Nook, where I shared my first fish bowl beverage with at least eight other people, six of whom I really didn't know.

One of whom is now my worst enemy. She was blonde and cute and young, three traits I despise in other women. My friend Jeff introduced me to her and said, "This is Awesome Girl! She went to Georgia! She was in your sorority!"

"Oh yeah?," I said.

She was super sweet, and told me that she had just graduated in May. She was adorable. I was happy that she seemed normal and cool; clearly she was representing my Alma mater and my sorority well.

Then she told me she was absolutely "freaking" because she was just about to turn 24. Twenty-freaking-four.

Then I decided that I hated her.

How do I remember college so well when it was so long ago? Was I ever as cute as this girl? Am I still now?

"Quick, Stephanie! Do something that makes you feel young and awesome," I must've told myself later when I remembered my conversation with the younger version of myself.

Katy suggested dancing on a bar.

"Yes!" I said. I've always wanted to do it. I dance everywhere I go. I can't believe I haven't done this yet.

Katy grabbed my arm, and we marched up to the bar. Before I could muster the nerve to crawl up on the bar, Katy was asking the bartender if we could.

The bartender didn't waste anytime with her answer.

"No. Absolutely not."

Katy turned to me, and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said. She really felt badly, but I wasn't really that surprised.

"You can't ask a bartender if you can dance on their bar," I said. "You just have to do it."

Not to be defeated, when we went to Smith's Olde Bar, Katy modified her desire to dance on a bar, and instead climbed up on a booth to dance. I joined her without hesitation. We laughed and danced, but I couldn't help but remember thinking that dancing on a bar always looked like fun. And the people doing it looked young and carefree.

Only I didn't feel young or carefree. I felt like an idiot.

I climbed down and snapped back into reality.

Later, Justin suggested that I play a round of Buck Hunter as Day 307's thing I've never done before. And before long, he shoved a gun into my hands, and I did.

And I played a mean round of Buck Hunter, a game much like Duck Hunt on Nintendo, only with a larger gun and cartoon deer instead of ducks. I wasn't very good, but I had a good time shooting all over the screen. If memory serves, and it was very late that night so it probably doesn't, I don't think I killed a single deer. But I made a mental note to tell my hunter friend John, who had taken me hunting back in December that this was the kind of hunting I could get into. Loud, fast, no loss of life and no blood.

So Katy's birthday party turned into a mini-celebration for me. A celebration that I'm not 24. I can't play video games and I have no business dancing on bars. Sometimes celebrating hurts.

Day 200: Paying Taxes, Paying Compliments

Day 200 was Tax Day. For the first time ever, I paid my taxes on April 15th. Not on purpose, not for the blog, but because I am a slacker.

There were a lot of blog possibilities that were thrown around ahead of the 200 day milestone, some of which included paying for people to mail their tax returns or handing out 200 cookies to tax payers mailing their returns.

All were shot down for various reasons (who would take a cookie from a complete stranger?), and I wasn't really excited about any of them.

I again consulted a random act of kindness website, which I've done numerous times before and was intrigued by one of its suggestions to, "Compliment a Stranger."

Seemed easy enough, but it's definitely not something I've never done before. I had to make it more challenging, so while I, and the rest of the procrastinators in the country were paying our taxes, I was also paying compliments to everyone I spoke to as Day 200's thing I've never done before.

I purposely didn't tell anyone what this day's blog assignment was because I felt like if I did it might cheapen the compliments. If I told someone what I was doing and then told them that their hair looks good or I like the color of their shirt, they'd probably just think that I said it for the blog. True, this experiment likely wouldn't have come along had it not been for the blog, which is a shame, but I planned on making the compliments as sincere as possible.

I considered trying to pay 200 compliments in honor of the number of days I'd been doing this, but again, for the aforementioned reasons, I didn't want to put a number on it. I wanted to be sincere and thoughtful and I didn't want anyone to know that I was doing it. With strangers, this was not a big deal.

Having it not feel awkward when I committed the random compliment, well, that's another story.

On my morning run, I passed a little girl with hair almost the same color as mine and I slowed down to tell her, "You have the prettiest hair."

The little girl seemed oblivious to me, and I could not blame her. I'd try to ignore some weird lady yelling at me while jogging past me and breathing heavily too. But the little girl's mother heard me and instructed the little girl to say, "Thank you."

I laughed that she was the first person that I complimented that day and it had not gone the way I envisioned it on many levels.

She didn't even hear the compliment, and is too young to even care. Plus, there was a part of me that wanted to kneel down and look at the girl in her eyes and say to her, "Listen, little one, I know being a redhead is a drag, especially at your age. People tell you they like your hair only because the color is so shocking to them they don't know what else to say. No one knows this better than me. It's probably going to get worse before it gets better. But your hair is cute. And so are you." That sort of seemed like a backhanded compliment, though, so I refrained.

I picked up my dry-cleaning and was prepared to engage in a conversation with the woman behind the counter for the first time ever. Despite going to her for five years, and having her alter countless articles of clothing for me, we’ve probably only spoken 15 words to each other total. Not because either of us are rude, simply because we don’t speak the same language.

She handed me back my debit card and I looked her in the eye. "Thank you," I said, smiling, "You guys always do such a good job, and I appreciate it." She stared at me.

I stared back, smiling.

Then she nodded, grunted and turned around and walked away. Perhaps she, like me, has a difficult time accepting compliments. More likely, though, she had absolutely no idea what I’d just said.

So far, I was 0 for 2.

When I got to work, the compliments were much easier to give out, because I had more time to look people in the eye and give them. Dropping a compliment into conversation with a colleague, though, was challenging only from a timing perspective.

"Ok, I will call our client and get to work on that. Thanks for what you’ve done so far. Loop me in on any emails moving forward. Oh and by the way, your hair looks good styled like that.”

What?

And over the phone compliments were difficult too. Telling a colleague that I liked the sound of their voice could be both awkward AND creepy. But what else could I say when so many of the people that I deal with at work I do so over the phone?

I did have some success though.

I told Jackie that I loved her blue shirt and that it brought out the color of her eyes. It really did. Jeremy and Justin also were complimented about their shirts that day.

I reminded Mo about how generous he is and told him how much I appreciate that he edits my blog posts for me.

I told Emily that I was thankful for her friendship and support, especially over the last few months.

Amanda was praised, as she often is, for her outstanding outfit, and Jason got a sincere appreciation for always making me feel good about myself.

A woman that I don't know walked by my desk and I told her that I loved her belt. She kept walking, unsure, I think, about whether or not I was talking to her. When she did realize it, she spun around and hastily said, “Thanks.”

Again, I don’t think she was a rude person, I just think dropping compliments on people, especially strangers, catches them off guard.

When compliments weren't possible or seemed forced, I simply made it a point to speak kindly every opportunity I could. "Thank you," "I appreciate it," and, "You're the best” (this one is completely lame and generic, but sometimes it was all I had.)

At the end of the day, I realized this wasn't difficult to do. At. All. And this is coming from someone who hadn't eaten meat in four days.

In fact, I could count this day may have been a bust because I feel like I compliment people a lot. I don’t know that I ever attempted to compliment every single person that I spoke to in a day, so the sheer volume of compliments made this a challenge. But I tend to be a glass half-full kind of girl and when someone does something nice, or looks good, I don't have a problem praising them for it.

I'm not down with handing out empty compliments, but I decided that practicing the old southern adage of, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," is a pretty nice thing to do.

Paying compliments is fun and it’s free, so make someone's day and give one out! Learning how to accept them, well, I still need some work on that.

By the way, Day 300 is July 24th. It's a Saturday and I would love your suggestions for things to do.