birth of a blog.

Hey remember one of those last few times I spent up in your loft with you? I was an ugly mess. To say the least.  

It was a tough thing for me to say no to something I wanted so badly. It was tough because it wasn't just the idea I was chasing--it was you. It was totally and completely you. And everything you were in that moment, and everything you could or would or wouldn't become. I wanted you and that's the truth.

But it was coupled with a harder truth, wasn't it. Cause somehow, that night, that moment in your loft I had to admit that I wasn't going to get what I wanted in return. Not at all this time. 

Sometimes it's something as small as your would-be love getting upset at you for touching their face after you've been digging into a bowl of buttery popcorn... to realize it can't-be love. 

And maybe I'm wrong. But really, when I switch it around, buttered popcorn on my face wouldn't have been any valid concern of mine. Ever. 

You didn't love me back. And who knew if you ever would.

I remember that night in your loft, not just because it was the beginning of the end for us, but because it was the beginning of something entirely new for me. A new chapter. It was one that I was writing for myself, on my own terms and I knew I couldn't carry you into it with me. It was a huge moment for me to call the shots like that, but just as certain as I was about it all, I was equally confused. I think that's just how it goes when you're making life-changing decisions. You go with your gut, but the ghosts of what-if still follow you to your pillow. 

I remember that night in your loft, because I put a stamp on it as I like to do at various dark lit and pivotal stages in my life. At some point that evening, I wiped the stress and fear away, I barely laughed, and I said to you, or rather to myself, "It's ok. It'll all be alright." Do you remember this? I said, "Soon enough, I will look back at this moment-this moment where I'm sitting in this damn loft of yours, beside you, having this emotional exchange about life and love and choices and all the relentless confusion, and I'll smile in my future self, knowing that I am, in fact, OK."

It's surprising to me that I'm still having conversations about what exactly it is I blog about, or why. Or how it all even started. Especially as I've abandoned the blogging completely the last few months. Sorry  friends. And really, sorry me. 

But, when I look back at that first heart-wrenching post I wrote just a little over a year ago, I think it says it all. However, emotional and giant of a rant it was, it was a necessary one that helped provide a lot of clarity and the best road map EVER to some much needed healing.

The truth is, you inspired this blog. I mean, yeah, New York did too. Of course. But you're a big part of the prompt. You+all those lousy feelings of unrequited love.... it created this space for me to be open and honest. And to let go... not just of you, but everything in my life so far that has made me feel anything less than a winner.

And with that, I only have left to say.... thanks.

--------

Naturally, I'm a little late, but I wanted to say Happy Birthday to this blog. Goes without saying, mama hasn't been around much lately, but I assure you that is changing. I have much to tell. And if I don't put it down here, I will write us all a book and send it to publish.

I've grown more in the last fifteen months than I have my whole life... Alexandra you were right! 

It's been tough as ever, but the good news: I'm OK... I'm alright :)

Thank you readers and friends for your on-going love. I am humbled and blessed every day to know that my most honest feelings are sought after and appreciated. I'm sorry if you've reached out to me in the last few months and I haven't provided you with a response. I quit my job so I could return to THIS!   Stay tuned... xxx!!

when i don't have to go to work.

I sometimes make plans to walk the Brooklyn Bridge with my new city friend, S. It's a done deal until we step foot into a stationary store and/or locate a happy hour somewhere with four dollar margaritas. To shake things up a bit, I'll do something crazy like give the bartender my phone number or blow $100 on a steak dinner afterwards cause that always seems like a good idea when you're trying to teach yourself a thing or two about saving money.

But mostly on my days off, I have breakfast twice and I study my Facebook feed like I'm still in college and I have a very important paper due the next morning. I tell myself I should get up and be productive, but then I cave into something as horrific as watching The City on Netflix, and it makes me feel terrible inside, so I only watch four more episodes and then I look around me and realize that if I were to suddenly die from some random freak accident, I would probably die again knowing people saw what a state I've been living my day in. So I get up and tidy the room. Pick up the the one or two raisins that fell from my midnight swoop of trail mix the night before, make the bed, maybe do some laundry. You know. Get my shit together. And in the process start considering what few hours are now left of the day and how I've limited my oyster.

I start thinking about the few friends I've made thus far and what they might have on the books for the evening. Chances are there's a drag show. I've gone to a handful at this point and they are the most fun. But the idea hardly amuses me in the moment, kind of as if someone is trying to get me to watch some classic b&w film. Feels like a chore, but is always a treat, once you actually get into it. "Go to The Ritz" I tell myself, but I just can't get amped on the idea. I'm tired of drinking. I don't even like it. At all. And though it would be nice to find myself surrounded with people, I don't particularly feel like talking to any of them.

So instead I make plans to fly solo to Barnes. The bookstore is always a great idea. I don't think anything quite fulfills me so simply as holding a hot beverage while taking inventory of all the interesting titles I wish I had the jail time to soak from cover to cover. I met someone once who said the same kind of thing. I remember getting goosebumps from the excitement in sharing such a hobbie with somebody. We used to go to Barnes together a lot. And let me tell ya- there was something very endearing about the way we'd sit there and get lost in our own random selections. At moments he'd slightly break my escape, by rubbing my back or running his fingers through my hair. Neither one of us would stop reading though, I'd just tilt my head slightly to let him know I was still there with him in that space between fiction and reality. Sometimes, I recall those times and I miss them. Really though, I just miss having someone to hold my latte while I go pee.

It's dark out now. I've made a purchase and the only logical option I have is to begin the trek back home to Astoria. But I'm out now and there's foundation on my face and long lasting mascara on my lashes and I've read a thing or two that's got me feeling all inspired. Suddenly, returning to my dismal four by four living space, however tidy and slightly warmer it is at that point, seems incredibly lame. I live in New York City now. It's not even ten and surely there's something going on in this town. But I don't know where to even begin looking, so I just start walking. I walk for blocks and blocks. I walk and walk and at moments slow down as I pass a crowded bar. I consider the possibilities of just walking in and having a drink. But I've never felt comfortable just walking into a bar and sitting by myself. The only thing that ever comes out of that is texting the very same people whose plans I had already figured out and decided I wasn't interested in, liking everyone's recent instagrams, and finally paying for a drink that I didn't even really want to begin with. So I don't go in. I just keep walking. Some live music or something would be nice, but I don't find any good vibrating beats beneath my feet before I end up just hoping on the nearest N train. For a hard moment I'm disappointed. Maybe I should have just gone out with my friends to the gay club.

It's midnight when I return home. I take my coat off and I toss it onto the bedroom floor. It's an old coat that I don't care about and I've decided that now the room's too clean. I swoop up what's left of the trail mix, dropping a single raisin to cuddle up against my coat and I check Facebook one last time for the day. Someone else just posted their marriage photos. Cute.

My sister is online. I say hi and we chat for a little bit. I tell her how much I miss her and I tell her for the 29837th time that I can't wait for her to come out and visit me. She's doing really good. She just got some great notes from a casting agent and made a bunch of money bartending this past weekend.

I think about how far we've both come. From LA to Orange County to back home to now.

I get a text message from Steve.

"Hi."

Some characters in life, they follow you, for better or for worse, no matter where you go.

I find myself lost in a blog post, the menu on Netflix, some old e-mail accounts I thought would be interesting to go digging through before I finally respond with a "Hello."

"Do u wanna live in Costa Rica for a month or two?"

I've been quite the Yes Man lately, but it breaks there. Seventeen years my senior, it was always a struggle for that one to love me, if it wasn't behind a closed door.  I was nineteen when we first met, so, yea, I forgave it, but not without so much heartache in between. Oh, to be an old soul, a soul mate, but just "too young" to actually date. (Fucking is cool though.) (Yea, fucking for a straight year and some change is totally fine.) (LOL.) Somehow, we have managed to stay good friends, but if he were ever ready to really commit to me, I've already long moved on from the ever possibility. He's just my friend now and that's it. Costa Rica does sound nice though..... On second thought, a foreign country just sounds like a fancier closed door.

Some characters in life, they follow you, for better or for worse, no matter where you go. Sometimes, you'll try to make something of that, but I'm a little older now and realizing that some of those characters, they never change. It'll always be the same show, just different tricks.

It's almost two now and I'm sleepy. Somehow I manage to convince myself to get up and brush my teeth. I think about the whole day I had off from work and I'm glad I didn't go to The Ritz. But I definitely should have squeezed the gym in, or gone to the High Line, dang it, that's what I should have done. I keep meaning to do that. Well, next time. Next time, Brooklyn Bridge and High Line it is. I'll bring S with me.

I write something short and far from eloquent in my journal and then turn out the light.

ok. time to get ripped. part two.

I had some legit canoli the other day in Little Italy. S and I were wandering about as we do on our days off together when I proposed we invite some gelato before dinner into our evening. And because there was a sign at the gelato shop that said "Best Canoli in Town" we thought, fine. Give us one of those as well.

It's too easy to say yes to food in this city. My conscious eating habits have gone completely idle and never have I ever seen this sweet tooth of mine prosper so shamelessly. It's been nice. Really nice. You bring me much joy, macaroons for breakfast, but alas, these fresh off the fork love handles=not cute.

I'm up 15 pounds now since I arrived in NY, and no, it's not the end of the world or anything. But girls will be girls. 

So basically I'm losing my shit a tiny bit, as I struggle to zip up my jeans and convince myself that oversized sweaters are the new sexy.

It's time for some serious Jennifer Lopez in the Enough to go down and I'm committed to making this my number one goal in the coming months. I've let too many emotions and expectations from various things get the best of me lately and I'm done with it all. It's time to toughen up, get moving and figure out how I can integrate my former workout routine here in the city. And yeah-- not eat nearly as many bagels as I have been. 

I wanna sign up for a half marathon and get back to running--would love some partners in crime if anyone in the city wants to train together. I think an accountability partner or two would do me some good. So if you're down, let me know, my dears! I'm game, in addition to hearing any suggestions, resources, tips you might have on how to stay fit in the city. Thanksss!

unofficial essay titled 'the truth about moving to a new city.'

I've been plotting to write a new essay titled "The Truth About Moving to a New City".

As you can see, I've decided to sit my ass down finally do the damn thing. However, if my honesty may have shotgun as usual, I'll go right on to admit that now wouldn't be the most fair of times to give a wholesome packet of insight. Nope, nope, nope. Certainly not as I lay pathetically in the Boston Cream center of what many have dubbed, "the homesick phase" in this little big city move of mine. 

I haven't moved very much from my bed the last few weeks. No, I'm not dying. And yes there was just like this huge Hurricane (which by the way really deserves the entire spotlight in any post at the moment. Praise God, I'm safe and ok. Also Happy Halloween.), but Sandy can only be held responsible for the last few bedridden days. As for the weeks preceding the storm: I've been in a monstrous funk.

Perhaps my on-again/off-again mild depression is to blame for this. Or exhaustion. Though I don't really think it can be that anymore, as I've certainly gotten myself caught up on sleep. I think it's just straight up home-sickness. Mixed in with what I like to call the mid 20s blues. You know, the whole... I'm 25-that's-five-years-away-from-thirty-and-I'm-completely-single-and-still-waiting-tables-with-like-not-very-much-money-in-my-checking-account-STILL-and-living-on-the-other-side-of-the-country-miles-and-miles-away-from-home-WHY-no-but-really-WTF-am-I-doing-in-New-York-City.

Eh, maybe that's just my own bullshit I'm spitting.

All I'm trying to say here is, the last few weeks have been very hard. Though I can feel proud and relieved to say my pockets are more financially stable, my mental and emotional state are having some problems. Lord knows I know it, but I've been escaping it all by hiding in bed with my Netflix and candy.

*ahem* Walking Dead and Hart of Dixie. Can I just say: I freaking love Rachel Bilson. 

As a result of this, I've gained a whopping ten pounds and have been dealing with said facts by doing nothing more than...eating more. Damn you, Maxim Cover, I don't think we'll be hanging out anytime soon. 

Needless to say:

I miss California. 

I miss freeways and driving in my car.

I miss driving my car especially after work when all I want is a little peace and quiet and direct control of how quickly I'd like to get home. In other words, not getting out of work at nearly 2 a.m. and having to walk blocks to the train station and then wait half an hour for my train to arrive only to get onto the one car where some homeless man threw up all over himself. Or the other car that is crowded with drunk hooligans migrating to their next Friday night event, screaming in my ear as if that's the sort of treat I'd like to follow my long evening of playing the patience game with the diners of New York City.

I miss not worrying about having to carry an umbrella all the time or buying ANOTHER one because I forgot mine again, or because the one I did remember to bring got STOLEN at DSW while I was trying on shoes. (Yeah that happened.)

I miss 70 degrees, all day every day. It's not even cold yet, and I'm freezing.

I miss the comfort of having a space that is mine. Not someone else's. Mine. With my things, my books, my DVDs, my pillows, and no calendar to remind me that I have ten days or less to pack up and find a new space to momentarily crash. 

I miss my friends. All of them. My OC friends. My LA friends. My hometown friends. And you guys-my blog friends. Truly, it's been so sad to have lost my rhythm with this blog and to have not been able to connect with all of you as much as I was able to before I came out here. I've just been up and down and everywhere in between with everything lately, it's been hard to keep up with all of this. Thanks for  sticking around despite my absence and for checking in. It really means more to me than any of you could ever know. Seriously, cause I have this huge fear of people forgetting about me. Which is a conflict of interests when my nature is to move around a lot, and away from people I've grown close to.

Mostly I miss my family. 

My sisters. Those biatches are my best friends, and it sucks to not be able to get fro-yo with them whenever the day calls for a good large cup of Yogurtland. 

I miss hugging my parents. 

I miss my little brother.

I miss Kevin at the gym.

I miss the fact that I was getting really freaking RIPPED there for a minute, like seriously- I WAS IN THAT GYM almost every day. 

Now I'm paying $90/month for a gym out here that I never go to because it's just a downright hassle getting to and from ANYWHERE in this city, and for the first time I'm really struggling-like really struggling- to adapt. 

Yes, that's an awful lot of bitching right there, I know, but my overall point was to simply state the following.

The truth about moving to a new city is that... it ain't easy. 

Any mama or papa could have let you in on that little secret already, but I'm here to confirm- it's ain't. Especially a coast to coast move. I'm the furthest away I've ever been from everything I know and everyone I love.

And ya know what. Lately, I've been feeling just downright foolish for it. Foolish for coming out here simply to live-not for school or for corporate America, but for me. Because I wanted to do something crazy and different. And while I do celebrate my triumphs, I feel guilty and sad when this choice has come with missing out on other things. Like my good friend's wedding and the holidays at home, and my mom's 50th birthday which is approaching in December. I'm missing these important things in life.. things that aren't going to happen twice. And for what? I start to second guess my decisions to come out here and in those moments I feel stuck and helpless. Suddenly, looking up and tapping my feet at the tall buildings isn't enough. I miss home. And I feel lost all over again.

But then I try to remember that I'm suppose to be feeling all of these things. That I can't be everywhere at once. That holidays do in fact come around every year. That my friends do forgive me for being miles away, (I hope). That my mission was in fact to challenge myself. That coming out here simply "to live" was not something to feel foolish about, but rather proud of. Because how many young folks really get up and move across the country just on the desire to go somewhere new, even when they were perfectly fine where they already were. 

And the great thing to remember: That I can go back any time I want. Next week if I wanted to.

But I won't. Because I've worked really hard to get here, and I owe to myself to at least stick around a little longer and see what comes of this city. To really take some deep breaths, get out of bed, enjoy what this city has to offer (which is A LOT) and then come home and practice my discipline, rain or shine, to sit down and blog about it. Because even in my absence here, you guys continue to write to me and reach out to me and show interest in what I have to say and how I'm doing. And I want to share as much of this journey with you as I possibly can.There's been so much I've left out. A lot of which is much happier and cheerful than everything I've presented here this evening. As promised: A shoutout to S, who has absolutely been my best friend in this city-- I can't wait for you all to meet/read about my Bronx buddy who's been so wonderful and fun :)

It's a new month, and almost a new year soon. 

Consider this a head start to writing a new normal. And eventually an official essay titled "The Truth About Moving to a New City." Along with a new series of frequent posts. Seriously. Bring on the bloggy. I'VE MISSED YOU GUYS!

P.S. The aftermath of this storm is quite devastating for many. Lots of homes have been lost and damaged, many are without power still. I'm kind of a dick to even be complaining about anything right now-I suppose Sandy has helped me realized in ways that I need to stop feeling sad and sorry for myself, go outside and make the best of a situation that yes, is challenging, but far from terrible. I apologize for any insensitivity this post brings to everything going on outside of my own personal bubble. 

OH HELLO.

Sorry guys.

That was kind of a dick move to hit publish for the first time in oh, what two weeks? And for it to be for some hombre who followed me onto my 1 train.

Nevermind my man crazy ways for a sec. (I'm ridiculous, I know.)

HI. I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU.

I want to start with thanks.

THANK YOU, all of you, for checking in as often as you do and for not holding my lack of postings against me. I really cannot tell you how simply wonderful and fantastic it is to have an entire clan of awesomes cheering me on in this journey. You make me smile and dance and feel important+strong+bad ass. So thanks for that.

The good news is this: I found a job.

TWO JOBS, in fact.

(Si, many of these: !!!!!!!!!!)

Ha, there I was for a second mad stressing that I wouldn't be able to find even one job, and then at one point I had three jobs all at the same time, and basically had to choose which job to keep. (Not the worst problem I've ever had.) Then once I picked that job, I came up with a set schedule and went out looking for a day job to generate some extra pocket money.

Alas, I am now serving nightly at a Brazilian restaurant in the Gramercy and working in a cupcake shop in the mornings in the Fashion District.

Both great jobs with great companies. And it feels so good to now have an income. I.did.it.you.guys.

As far as housing goes, I did a little bouncing around in Astoria with friends of friends as I described before, and when that ended, I was thisclose to heading back to Jersey for a few nights until I found a new spot to crash. Definitely was not looking forward to such an event. But then. By the grace of God, I found a one month sublet in upper Manhattan with some actors for super cheap and moved my ass in immediately. It couldn't have been anymore perfect how it all happened. Literally, the night before my last Astoria deal ended, I posted on Janelle's list and that night I got a response. Next day, checked the place out, signed a check, and moved in that night! So now I'm covered with a roof until October 5th. And the new 20 day challenge is this: find a more long-term living situation.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull off signing a lease come October, but it's a good goal to keep in mind. I think I can do it!

And if not, then I just do another short-term deal. No problem. At this point, my stress levels have diminished a great amount. Ha, it must be my California vibe kicking in (finally.)

I bought headphones yesterday which were much needed. Jams on the train are much, much better than no jams on the train. With that being said, I need some new jams. Will you help me friends? Tell me three songs you are currently obsessed with at the moment! 

Things are still a bit hectic as I'm still trying to get finances/budgeting/housing in order. And am working A LOT in the meantime. However, once things do settle a bit more, I have a school of things I want to do with this blog and I really cannot wait. Really, thank you from the bottomsss of my heart for all of your love and support.

It really is such a trip to be here. What a long way this foolish lady has come in nine months, huh.

Leaps of faith, my dear friends. Take 'em.

final west coast holiday.

Holidays are very nostalgic. At least for me they are. I always seem to make it a point to either discuss or make a personal mental note to myself of what exactly it was I was doing the year before on whatever holiday it is I'm celebrating. Where I was. What I was wearing. How I was feeling. Who I was with. Who I wasn't with. The reflections are often tender, as for me, I've found myself in places quite different from one year to the next.

Last year, for example, I was hiking in the Laguna Canyon with my friend Kendal. We ended up walking a good five miles post hike to get to what I thought was the nearby beach (ha, my sense of distance can be so terrible.) I remember I took a long nap after that, and then just hung out at home by myself for the evening. Sounds sad, but it was actually quite nice. A gentle calm before the storm to come in the months after. At the time, I was getting ready to move out of my beloved college Irvine apartment into a home in Dana Point to be closer to my restaurant job where I had been recently promoted to management. It was a month filled with stress, fear, and excitement. My college era was over, and I was starting a new chapter in my Orange County adventures: The one where I was a full-time working CAREER WOMAN! I had high hopes. And at the time, I thought it was exactly what I wanted for my 24 year old.

Until I realized it wasn't.

It took a few months for that realization to show up, and then a couple more months to act on it. But ultimately it got me here. Back in Ventura. And basically, it's just crazy how much can happen and change in one year.

I have no idea what next year's Fourth of July will look like. (Or all the days leading.)

But this year's was great. My last real holiday on the West Coast and I spent it with my sister and her friends. We drank and we laughed and we ate candy. And we hopped a barbed wired fence to climb a mountain, for what was definitely the best spot to catch the fireworks show. (total rebels, I know.)

I missed my own friends in LA & OC, but hugging Ventura+my family as tightly as I am in these final hours.. well, it only seems right. I'm going to miss this little home town of mine.

And I couldn't be more proud of myself for the brave distances traveled from the last fourth to now.

I hope you all had a nice holiday as well! See you tomorrow at Blog Brunch? Say yes.

living in the in between stage. with no make up & an old pair of P.E. shorts

Lately, I've been leaving my house in sweats, no make up, and greasy hair from the gym last night. It's a hot look for me, and I love how sweet fate is to have me running into people I haven't seen in years at Peet's Coffee to catch just how hot that look really is.

And then just when I think I've managed to side swipe the embarrassing small talk that usually goes like this: "yeah, I've gotten WAY hot since the last time you saw me circa 2005, I know... I mean check out these pajama bottoms.. and oh yeah, this is an old P.E. shirt... I'm still rocking the 'ol high school pride, how about you?" "And yeah, I'm just in Ventura temporarily as I plan my move to NYC this summer." "Yeah, no. I'm not going for a job or school or anything." "I'm just going for fun. To live." "Ok. It was good seeing you too."

Except in my head I'm thinking... It was annoying to see you. I look like a hung over monster and I wasn't even drinking last night.. this is just how I look cause I woke up five minutes ago (at one in the afternoon/so what) and didn't feel like putting normal clothes on... or my face. 

Eh. At least I brushed my teeth.


And oh shit, I didn't even ask what you've been up to. What a jack ass. I mean. Do I really care? No. But I should at least remember to be polite and act as if I do. Lord help me. I'm a terrible person. With no make up on. 

Just when I think I've managed to side swipe all of that, I don't. It really goes down. And apparently I love it. I love it so much I allow for it to keep happening. Like three times a week or so.  

Welcome to the current life of Punky, returned home to Ventura temporarily as she gets ready to move to NYC, to her current status of caring less and less about her appearance in public, her social life, and making an impression on once upon a time high school peers. To her new trend of talking in third person.

Which she will end now.

I'm back in Ventura and it is strange. After being away for a good five years frolicking in other parts of Southern California, it's strange to be back now and living in this place again. Not that anything feels unfamiliar.. in fact, everything feels remarkably familiar. Almost like I never left. And so the strange-ness lays in the feeling distant and far removed from the last five years of my life, where I was living and breathing an entirely different life elsewhere. It's like those times in LA and Orange County didn't even happen, even though they were the most recent phases in my life. Kinda like two major life chapter relationships that I broke up with recently and blocked on Facebook, to forget forever. But I don't want to forget them, and the intention was never to block them at all. I just left and as hard as it's been to kind of let those places and those times go, I have. I have because I'm preparing for the next big thing. And it's bittersweet. It's bittersweet to be saying goodbye to one chapter in my life and hello to the next. I feel incredibly excited for all the new, brilliant and wonderful people I will meet, and sad for all the brilliant and wonderful people I will miss.

 I miss so many of them already.

I'm back in Ventura and it's been more than strange. It's been hard.

It's been hard trying to plan a move as big as this and not being near my closest friends who I have really come to know the past five years. I just want to spend as much time with them as I can before I leave. But most of them, if not all of them, live two hours away from where I sit now. And taking multiple day trips to the OC is just not practical or in my financial budget at the moment. And quite frankly, I've over that ugly and taxing drive. Six words when I leave California: Peace the F out 405 Freeway.

Cannot tell you how excited I am to be living in a city where I don't have to drive or have a car to get around.

Since I've moved back in December, I've been spending a lot of time alone. My closest and only friends have been my sisters (no complaints there), along with one high school friend I've managed to reconnect with and am so happy about (Hi Sami, we should hang out a few more time before I leave please!) Other than that, my friends have been you guys, my readers. And it's been really nice. It's been really nice to wake up every morning and feel connected to others just through a simple tweet or comment, and well, I don't want to go into the whole being really thankful for blogging thing again, but too late. I'm really thankful for this whole blogging thing, and how much it has saved me since I've moved back home. Cause as liberating as it has been to spend this much needed time with myself, reflecting and planning, and going to bed without another body beside me, it's also been at times, a bit lonely. And you guys have helped remind me that I do exist, I am cared for, and most of all, that I'm not alone.

And well, I don't know where I was even really going with this post to begin with, but I guess I just wanted to say thank you for thats.

And that maybe, I should care more about how I look when I go outside my home. But for the first time in my life I don't. Which in itself, is a liberating feeling too. I mean, yeah I hate myself for it when I gamble the odds of running into people I got rejected by to the Backwards Dance in high school and lose, but you know what? Whatever.

I'm moving to New York in less than 50 days, bitches!

With all that being said, let us dance! (In our PJs.)


p.s. small talk with anyone can bite me. I hate it.

some words on patience.

image found here

I wanna talk about patience. 

Why? Because it's something I lack. Quite often.

Not so much with others as I do with myself. 

But I am getting better at it: the being patient with myself and I wanna share the how so with you.

During my lowest of low times in college, I sought out a professor who I strongly admired and somehow felt could offer me up some light/encouragement. It was one of the few times in my life, when I felt so lost and desperate that I actually willingly asked for help (something I'm usually reluctant to do.) Anyway, I sat in his office and cried and cried and asked for words of enlightenment and he not only graciously and lovingly provided me with a whole lot of that, but he also gave me a book that he said he believed I would greatly benefit from. 

Here is said book:

Now, to be completely honest, at first glance, I didn't think much of this book. I mean it just looked like too many words for a front cover in a very generic font. And "The Life Series 101" ? Mmmkays. Even the claim from Oprah at the top wasn't enough to really capture my intrigue. While I was thankful for the gift and kindness of my professor, I definitely tossed this one aside when I got home and stayed rejuvenated off what my professor had to say, rather than anything this book could possibly have to offer.

It wasn't until the beginning of this year, in the grueling process of moving back in with my parents that I picked this book up and said, "alright, Peter McWilliams. What chu got for me?"

Turns out, he's got a lot. More than I ever imagined. I read every word of this book and was completely blown away by all the fantastic and logical insights this brilliant man had to offer. And in such simple terms too. I think you can guess that one of the most valuable of his chapters to me was the one on patience. Here's some words from Mr. McWilliams that really hit home:

"Patience is our compassion for the distance between what we are now and what we know we can be."

"Because we have such fertile imaginations, we can envision ourselves scaling mountains one moment and swimming oceans the next. To get from the mountaintop to the beach, however, takes a certain amount of time. If we're on the mountain and want to go to the ocean, that's fine. But if we strike against ourselves for not being at the ocean right now, we're being impatient."

"The journey from here to there will never be completed. Such is life. Have compassion for the distance  between where you are now and where you're going next. (Where you are now, remember, is the goal of a former moment in time.)"

Wow, right? At least for me this was. And especially in the moment. It was almost as if God or some spirit lead me to pick up this book and read these words that I so desperately needed to read at that time. That stressful and lonely time when I quit my full-time job, dropped my whole life in Orange County which included the majority of my friends and the dude I was seeing at the time, and came back home to Ventura. It was time when I came to accept a lot of things about myself that I didn't like and I knew I needed to work on. And I wanted to work on them. And not only did I want to work on them, I wanted them to be fixed right away. I wanted the huge transitions I was making in my life to go more smoothly and to be way less awkward. I wanted things to just be more easy and more clear. I wanted things to feel right, instead of confusing. I wanted all the second-guessing to be gone, and the certainty to be present. And in all of these wants, I found myself to be the captain of impatience. Which only caused me more stress than I was already experiencing. This book proved to be some very strong medicine and it helped me work through a lot. And in good time.

This was only several months ago. Which is shocking in some ways, because it only goes to prove how faith, patience, diligence, and the right attitude can make you soar, and much quicker than you would think. It's not an overnight journey, not by any means. But if you can take things one day at a time and set your goals loud and clear before you, well, you're setting yourself up for success and improvements, at a very like-able and generous pace.

Some time right before I picked up this book, I somehow knew it in my mind that I needed to get my goals down on paper. I needed some sort of hard copy reminder of why exactly I dropped everything in my life and switched lanes completely. As if transitioning wasn't hard enough, I was heartbroken, and had also just gotten into car accident that was my fault and broken my macbook--all around the same time. I also came home with no room or place to put all of my furniture, since my room at the parents had inevitably become a place to store things. All of which didn't even include a bed. So for the first two weeks of moving back home, I not only had to crash on the couch, but had no place to put any of my belongings. No car to drive. No macbook to turn to. No job to go to. Things were just messy, no doubt, I felt empty and all I wanted was the comfort from the man I had broken up with and my friends who were all now so far away. I even just missed the Trader Joes I went to on a regular basis and my gym in Irvine. Everything I had come to know in a span of three and half years was now gone. You can bet your bottom dollars there was an immediate party of regret, second-guessing, and "oh no, what have I dones." I needed a hard copy reminder of why exactly I dropped everything in my life and switched lanes completely. So I went to Barnes and Noble and I bought a pretty notebook. One of the cheaper ones, mind you, because at that moment I was unemployed with maybe twenty bucks to my name total. (With no sight of a future paycheck anytime soon. It was a scary time, indeed.)

Here is said notebook:

And on the very first page, on December 8, 2011, I wrote out my goals.

Some of those goals obviously have changed, hence the crossed out status. (I'm a little ashamed that the volunteer in elementary school classroom got booted.. but there is much time yet in this lifetime for such things.)

And still, I can't help but to do a little happy dance that may or may not include a secret tear or two. Because I have accomplished so much in both body and mind since that ever so difficult time in Dec/January. I have to be proud of myself for hanging in there and not only giving myself the gift of patience, but the clear path of where I want to go. Since the time I jotted those goals down, I have not only fixed my car, my macbook, my heart, and my ridiculously high college loan payments, I've gotten myself a job, paid off almost all of my debt, gotten this blog going, gotten my room back, and above all---gotten the confidence back that the choices made several months ago were the RIGHT ONES.

I mean, here I sit, single and happy, with a blog, a very small, but growing readership, an entire circle of new friends, a strengthening of relationships with my family, a renewed appreciation for Ventura, and the intent to buy my plane ticket to New York this week for July. (It has been officially set for July ! :)

Life is good, and I'm just so glad that I've stayed patient and strong up to this point. And I hope I can continue to do so, as I know that there is much transitioning yet to come. I mean, I am moving across the country for crying out loud. Haha, I think the toughest awaits me still!

But I have faith. And I run towards the things that scare me, rather than away from them. I choose the uncomfortable rather than comfortable. Because that's how I choose to live my life. Because that's what I believe to be living.

And what about you? How do you and patience get along? If this post has encouraged you to go out to Barnes and Noble and start your own diary of goals and self-compassion, will you say so? It has proven to be one of the most important things I have ever done for myself, and if you're in a place of "I don't know what the heck is going on" or "I don't know why I've gone in this direction or that", I encourage you to do this. Give yourself a clear purpose. If you don't know what that purpose is yet, think about what you love. Think about the places you want to go. Think about the things you want to be. Start with those things, and see where it takes you. And while you're at Barnes, pick up Peter McWilliams book! It will fuel your heart and your mind, this I promise. (By the way---there is no shame in browsing the self-help section at the bookstore. In my opinion, that should be the busiest section! What a worthy cause, to seek self-improvement. I applaud every individual I encounter in that section.)

As always, I am delighted to hear from all of you whether it be in the form of comments or e-mails. I'm not only here to share, I'm here to help. To connect, and to give support.

There is only love.

And patience :) Don't just give it to others---give it to yourself. 

Preparation is a Great Idea. (So is Not Impulsively Spending Money at IKEA)

<<< My old spacious living space, displaying some really cool furniture I impulsively purchased at IKEA not too long ago, but really didn't need. And now don't even have a place for. 

Ok. Before I delve into this post, I just want to openly share with all of you that I have not shaved my legs in three weeks. While this, at moments, kinda grosses me out (like when I'm dressing into my pjs or undressing to bathe), it also kinda gives me another reason to embrace the luxury of being single.

I think after the gym tonight, however, I will promptly go home and shave. It is actually gross. But being able to get away with not shaving my legs this long, is kind of neat.

Alright. Now that I've sent that bit of TMI out into cyber space, let us embark on the treats I have prepared for today's blogging fete.

So, I wasn't happy with my situation three months ago. And by "happy", I mean, I wasn't feeling entirely fulfilled with my job, my environment, my financial planning, my relationship, and just with myself. So I split. I said so long, knowing that there were bigger and better things waiting for me elsewhere. While, I do feel confident I made the right move (however difficult it has been to trust that I did), I do wish I had not been so impulsive in the way I went about making these huge changes in my life. It was as if somebody said to me, "You don't like it, change it." And I said, "You know what, you're right. I don't like it. Therefore, I resign. IMMEDIATELY. Right now. See you later, bye." Although, I do have to give myself credit for being so self-aware and fearless of welcoming change, my patience and wise planning really need some help.

For starters, I don't advise ever quitting your job unless you've for sure got something (anything) lined up instantly after. Especially in this yucky economy, and especially if your bank account currently reads zero dollars. Moving back in with your parents doesn't mean Starbucks, gas, cell phone bill, and car payment comes with the package deal of "no rent" (notice how the first thing on that list is Starbucks. I obviously have my priorities 100% straight). This is not what it's like in my household, anyway (...and thank God. However jealous I am at times of how easy other kids have it with all the Mommy and Daddy financial help, I feel grateful that my parents  have raised me to take intense financial responsibility on my own). With all of that being said, my parents are actually helping me out quite a bit right now. Ha. I can't sit here and type otherwise, they are totally giving me a pretty gracious break. And I'm totally thankful, but its super crummy not being able to entirely pay my own bills right now, and it is scary not having a full-time job locked down with insurance that I have a steady amount of money coming in to pay back my parents and start saving for the things I'm hoping to accomplish this year. In summary, don't assume any job you worked at for a long, long time once (and left on perfectly stupendous terms) is going to be willing to hire you back instantly at any moment that you should happen to stroll back in (especially if it's a restaurant job in the middle of January). If you're gunna quit your job, cool. But maybe think about having something else officially lined up before you go folding your cards completely.

Also, this is slightly out of context, but definitely in the category of "silly impulsive behavior". If you're ever thinking about spending a lofty amount of money on IKEA furniture, maybe don't do it when your on a month to month lease in a living situation you don't see being long-term. The last of the money I had floating around post job resignation, definitely went into paying a stupid amount for a U-HAUL only to discover that my room at my Mom's isn't even big enough to house half of my furniture, which has resulted in placing some of my furniture in our family storage unit... and some in one of my sisters' room. (Yeah, you're welcome Shannon, for the fucking awesome dresser and cute little coffee table.) So cheers to impulsively spending $1000 on IKEA furniture, and another $300 more on moving it, only to find you no longer have space for half of it, and are going to abandon the rest when you go moving across the country in soon time. Point made, I make dumb, impulsive choices/purchases. But for the record, I would like to say that I am an incredible furniture assembler. Yes, I take direction well from picture cartoons, and I can handle a hammer (and a screw driver). Does that turn you on? If you happen to be a male reading this, it should.

I think above all, it's important to prepare yourself mentally for major life changes. The journey from point a (where you may be comfortable, but not entirely content) to point b (the place you'd like to be), is never an easy one. And any transitions between the two are usually not going to be comfortable or convenient. This has to be considered before you go forward and make any moves. I mean, it doesn't have to, but I can only imagine it makes for a hell of an easier time, if you take the time to mentally prepare yourself and just line up the right attitude and endurance. Kind of like when your training for a race---Except I don't like using "races" as metaphors for my life, since I'm learning that I seem to approach everything in my life like I am "racing" against some super fast ticking time bomb. Which, on an entirely separate topic, is super unhealthy---I just wanted to provide a good example for what I mean by preparing yourself mentally for big changes. And yeah, it's like training for a race. In a 5k, it's usually the second mile that's the hardest part of the entire race. Knowing this to be the case, in advance, you are better prepared to truck thru that mile 2 when you are in it, rather than not know it and discover it for the first time in the midst of... making it far more challenging (and likely to surrender to exhaustion or defeat. Luckily, I haven't fallen victim to exhaustion or defeat in my surprise discoveries of just how hard transitions can be, but... I have come pretty close at moments.)

I don't know why I thought that moving back into my Mom's was going to be this super easy transition. I didn't even think twice about it, I just did it. And then it wasn't until I was here, that I realized, Oh wow, I've been gone for five years, there's actually a huge disconnect from this town now, and I'm really far away now from the people and neighborhoods I have grown close and comfortable with the past several years. I don't know anyone here anymore.. except my family. Ok, I know a few people here, but... kindaaa awkward reaching out to them now, and being like, "Hey, sorry I've done a real shitty job staying in touch the last five years. But I'm back now, wanna be friends again...? PLEASE?"(Dear Mom and Dad, thanks for producing more children after me. I love you, sisters. Thanks for hanging out with me...every day.)

Without further ado: Welcoming change in your life is excellent, but in that movement, practicing patience and preparation is a great idea.

I'm kind of learning this the hard way, but I feel myself coming through both gracious and strong. I'm learning that, in anything new or different, the first steps are always the hardest. And you can't get from point a to point b overnight. All I can do is take things one day at a time, and like I just was telling a friend, relish in the fact that I'm learning so much about myself in this process of change and transition.

Ok. Time for gym. And shaving of the legs. Bye.

The Plansies.

Hello.

Welcome to my very first post [ exclamation point(s) ]

I have to be honest by saying, constructing first posts (along with a lot of "first" things in life) is no mission short of intimidating.

Given the fact that creating a blog in which I hope and pray brings me lots of readers and lots of money is not my objective at all here, there shouldn't be nearly as much pressure as I'm feeling right now to highly stimulate your reading palates with these first collections of thoughts...but strangely, there is. Hmm.

On second thought, Yes. I quite like the idea of developing a hip club of kindred spirits via my own virtual babbles. And well, if I should at some point happen to be bribed with some benjis to babble on further, I think I quite like that idea too....(although, the world is highly susceptible to my babbling/ramblings one way or another/with or without incentives).

Really, I'm just here, sitting in front of a really nice expensive macbook that's not my own, in a bad ass little apartment in West Hollywood (that's also not mine), typing with fingers that are mine, because I wanna get into this whole blogging thing for real REALs. And here's why!

One) I'm tired of people telling me my life should be documented in a number of ways. Because it's apparently that cray.

Fuck it, not "apparently", it is. My life has been pretty crazy thus far. And yeah, I will write books. Later, when all my chapters are gathered. Since at 24 years old, my life is only just beginning... so They (who are older and wiser) say. And ain't that a converse duo of resassuring and daunting as hell. Yippeee!

Two) A new chapter IS here and I'm about to embark on some EPIC SHIT and would like to have this cute little internet cubbie in order to:
ay. hold myself creatively accountable for the fabulous plans and goals I've made for myself.

&

bee. Keep attainable records of all my experiences, reflections, and all the unshackled opinions along the way. 

It's been six years now since I merrily walked the line across a football field to retrieve my high school diploma, and in those six years there have been both wonderful times and wonderfully difficult times endured. I do wish I had links to all those blogs to get us all caught up here, but unfortunately, writing discipline has never been a close friend of mine. Again, here's my attempt at changing that. 

I'm a recent college grad living in Southern California. The year is 2011, very soon to be 2012. In the last two months I have quit my full-time job, moved back home with my parents, broken my $1400 macbook, crashed my car, and broken up with someone I was crazy about because I couldn't confirm he was crazy about me.

 Lots of dramatic life changes...and lots of awful luck...all at the same time. Cool, right?

The aftermath: clouds of stress, frustration, confusion, heartbreak, feelings of inadequacy, and fear. And a whole lot of lashing out at various innocent bystanders. Sorries, everyone :(

Can I say it's been the hardest time of my life? No. It really hasn't. 

Is it the most suck ass transition I've ever found myself in? Yes. No doubt. 

Do I feel as though, my decisions, although rash, were the right ones? I think so. I really just went with my gut feeling. 

Is it hard to accept that my gut feelings were possibly right? Yes, very much so.

Welcome to my inner dialogue.

Needless to say, it's been a battle of emotions lately. But the good news is, progress has been made. And the better news is, a plan has been established.

In order to better assist my plan of attack, I've assembled a series of guidelines to keep in mind as I move forward. They are as follows!

1. Stop second-guessing decisions I made. I made them for a reason, and I am courageous for making them. Now be courageous in trusting them.

2. Don't let anyone, including myself, judge me or make me feel like less of a person because I am in a period of transition in my life. I am in my early 20s. I just graduated college and I'm getting ready to move on to the next chapter in my life. It's ok. Everyone goes through transitions, at all different stages of their lives, and especially in their 20s (I mean why else do they call it the "trying twenties"?) 

3. Embrace my sadness and continue to cry whenever I feel the urge to. This is ok too. Fuck, I am only human. And I have a vagina. Yes, I will cry and be emotional. I let someone very special (and HOT) in my life go, who I opened my heart to (dang it), and with any loss, it is important to mourn. My heart will surely heal (quickly, I pray), but there is no skipping the feelings of loss and sadness, no matter how many times you've been let down/disappointed/broken hearted. There just isn't. Especially when you actually liked the fucker. And this time I really did. So, yeah, this is a bit of challenge right now, lettin' this one go. Especially in the midst of everything else that is going on. But I will let go. And I'm not gunna let yet another failed relationship discourage me from keeping my heart open always and remaining in tact with the fact that I am a great fucking catch and someday my Ryan Gosling will come. 

4. Cry, but also laugh. Laugh at all the bullshit. And Keep breathing. Continue to remind myself, that no matter what, life goes on. No one stays stuck in the same place forever feeling the same way. Unless they're on drugs. Thankfully, drugs are no hobbie of mine. While I have, at times, been shamefully intrigued by the idea of turning to drugs/alcohol to escape the bitches of life, I have always quickly and confidently settled for jelly beans. Those damn little things are just so tasty, and much more affordable/accesible than whatever  it is they're cooking in Breaking Bad. Not to mentions, jelly beans make me happy. They really do.  Even though I essentially have them to blame for my broken macbook. No, I wasn't a complete careless idiot trying to climb a ladder up to a loft while trying to simultaneously carry my macbook and a handful of jelly beans up with me. Absolutely not. Which brings me to my next point.

5. Shit happens. Whether I'm at fault or not. Take things one day at time. Fix the damage made....and maybe next time don't be a moron and climb ladders with my hands full... or drive in traffic on the 405 freeway when I'm a complete emotional disaster. Bottom line, life is full of headaches. And you just gatta deal.

(Thank you to all the wonderful, wonderful friends and family in my life who have helped me make these valid and valuable discoveries. I am forever indebted to your love, your support, and your ever-generous wisdom. And to the makers of Jelly Bellies. My feelings have never tasted so good.)

Now, with all of that being said. Here's the line up!

1. Get my ass a job immediately. Any job. I just need some means of income right now. I can upgrade to something better, if need be, but for right now, just get work. 

2. Get my finances in order. Pay off my debt. Start making payments on my school Loans. Fix my macbook. Fix my car. SAVE FIVE GRAND. And then......

Move to New York.

Yup. That's The Plansies (or as some would still say, plan).  And the inspiration behind creating this blog, the driving force behind my born-again determination, and my next great adventure.

There's been a few things in this short life of mine that I have been absolutely certain of. One of them is that George Clooney doesn't get any less sexy with age slash there will always be a photo of him hanging in any shower of mine. The other is my undoubtable desire to live in New York. I have visited a handful of times, and there's just no words to describe the way that place makes me feel.

I want to wake up every morning to bagels and taxi horns in my cup. And go on runs in Central Park. And subtlely stare (if that's even possible) at people on the subway and try to imagine their stories...where they're going, where they're coming from, what they had for breakfast, who they bank with, when was the last time they got laid... was it good, etc. And meet some nice Jewish boys. Maybe an Italian one--withlotsofmoneyI MEAN-- a family deli. I wanna ride the Circle Line... whatever that is...my new yorker mechanic won't stop talking about it. And go to Broadway shows whenever my little musical theater heart pleases. I wanna continue my role as a true American and max out all my credit cards (again) in Soho. And sit in chic cafes with my non-fiction reading material, that hopefully only good looking men in their mid to late 30s will ask me about, as I sip on my non fat latte. I wanna find out who exactly I gatta screw to get into the Blue Note....and screw them. I mean yeah, if that's what it takes. I wanna hear some live jazz in the Blue Note...what. And finally find myself in the company of people who walk fast, so I don't have to hustle my way around them and their strollers. Speaking of strollers, I wanna meet a "Manny". And eat way too much pizza, obviously. And freeze to death in the winter, I KNOW, but who cares. I will be in NEW YORK! Wrapped in coats and scarves and buzzed off city lights and boisterous chaos!

I couldn't think of a better time, then now to do it. With school finished, and no real investments made in my career yet, no boyfriend, no apartment leases... now is the time.

I'm already at a practical and social advantage, in that many of my fellow graduated college classmates are currently living in New York, and my wonderful cousin has agreed to house me for the first month or so while I seek out housing and work (Thanks, M!). Having spent the last seven years working in restaurants, it shouldn't be to difficult for me to find a serving or even managing job. Aside from writing books, plays, movies, and starring in all of them, I'd really love to open my own restaurant someday. What better city than New York to further gain experience in the restaurant business, right?  Really, it's just a matter of saving a little money, buying my one way ticket and going. 

And I'm going to do it.

I'm moving to New York. 3 bucks, 2 bags, 1 me. (And my Wes Anderson DVD collection).

Life is short. I don't want to be swinging on a porch (or chilling on an assisted living bench) someday thinking, "Oh, the things I didn't do, but wish I did." Who knows what will happen. Maybe I won't even last longer than six months in New York, but it's not really about what works out and what doesn't work out, is it. It's about the experience. And what you learn from it. And what you can cross off your bucket list and say, "Did it." "I wanted to do it, and for better or for worse, I did it. I don't have to look back and wonder about it."

This blog is about tracking my journey to New York. But even more so, this blog is about tracking my own personal growth this year as a young female adult, who has a heavy heart, and yes, often times, a very heavy mind. I am both a dreamer and a realist. A warrior and a worrier. Wise, but often naive. Ambitious..and lazy. Optimistic and cynical. Incredibly compassionate, but also very impatient. I trust easy and I always see the good in everyone. Because of this, I'm pretty much always extremely vulnerable to heartbreak and disappointment. Somedays I wake up and fantasize about the husband, the kids, and the white picket fence. Other days I wake up, and confidently shout, "Fuck conventional living. Career? Marriage? No, fuck that. I'm going on adventures." Most days I wake up and just feel very blessed to be alive, and very blessed to be who I am, even though I waste so much energy stressing over just that, "Who am I?" "What am I doing here?" "Why don't I feel super awesome, when I know that I AM, damn it." Mostly, I am happy. I recognize that life is good, and I have a hunger for it that is strong, no matter how confusing or rough it gets at times.

I don't know exactly what it is I should or shouldn't be doing. But with that being said, why not just do what I want to do.. and go from there.

So here's to it. Here's to 2012. And new beginnings. To this moment right now in this cold & somber place, filled with tears and deep breaths. To life and to growing. And blogging. And extremely long posts (get into it.)

Cheers.