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!!

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.

stories about san francisco.

Question: On a scale of 1 to 10... how annoying would it be if I swapped out NYC for San Fran as my city move? 

Haha. I'm not serious about it. But, the thought has definitely crossed my mind the past week.

What a week! Here I am sitting on my own bed in Ventura, feeling rather exhausted, and also, pretty speechless. I feel like I just woke up from a dream. There are not enough high fives I can give myself for making this last minute decision to journey up North for the week. I have loved and been to San Francisco many times, but this last time was by far the best. Whether is was because it was a spontaneous decision or because I had a whole collection of spectacular souls waiting to meet me there, it was just what the doctor ordered for this stressed out lady: a breath of fresh air+some whiskey+the world's finest artisan pastries. Holy whoah. I finally had myself some of those fancy macaroons that errbody be postin' up on pinterest and I didn't think it was possible, but they do in fact, taste even better than they look. Absolutely DELISH.

As for the details of this trip, what can I say and where do I begin? It's always the loveliest of times being beside my best friend. Don't you feel the same way about your best pals? I am fortunate to have many close friends in my life. All of which currently live pretty far away. But Bailey is the best-est of them all, despite the fact she lives the furthest away. We've been keepin' it cheeky and real since the seventh grade where we first met in church youth group, a time we often reflect on with laughter and shame. Ever since then we've been the best of friends, even if we sometimes go months without talking. We just do our individual things and no matter where or when we meet up in our lives, we just pick up wherever we last left off. It's never weird and it's always awesome. And pretty much I just love her to pieces. I mean, what's not to dig about this Courtney Love sort of attitude? You tell me.

We totally had some drinks and got silly. And our beautiful friend Eva (who is also a fellow Ventura native livin' in the San Fransss) joined us which was delightful and sweet. 

As if those girls weren't enough to put a smile on my face, there was also Alexandra and Rebekka who greeted me with warm hugs and hand shakes. I've been reading these girls blogs for awhile now and singing their praises on the double. So naturally, when the opportunity came to meet them in real life, I jumped allll over it! And I'm so glad I did. Both of those ladies are just as amazing and beautiful in person as I imagined them to be, and I continue to feel so grateful for this blogging community that we all belong to. I have been introduced to so many wonderful people here and I can't wait to meet every single one of you someday! (Please if you are EVER in Ventura/LA/Santa Barbara or NYC/New Jersey area starting in August... let me know! I would be tickled to exchange some high fives over coffee with you!)

Sadly, I was too shy to demand a photo or five when we were chillin' with Alexandra and her crew, and was so disappointed about it after the fact, that when Rebekka and I got together for part duex of our meet up, I said, "LET'S TAKE SOME PICS!!!!" So we dids. And then we hung out at Delores Park, which is probably one of my most favorite spots in all of San Francisco. In fact the photo in the last post is one I took of it several years ago. Gorgeous park sitting on top of the city--always filled with colorful characters laying out or picnicing or making music, and dogs! I love all the different dogs that come running through. Sometimes I feel like that park alone is reason enough to want to move to San Francisco. I mentioned this to Rebekka, and she was kind enough to remind me that NY has some pretty amazing parks too. Having just moved to SF from NYC not even a month ago, she would probably know. So that made me THAT much more excited for the move.

In general, this whole time spent in this magical city made me feel much more relaxed and pumped for New York. It definitely confirmed my suspicions of being a city a girl at heart, and I cannot wait to get lost in it all. It's so backwards to what I'm used to--I mean between California and Brazil, I'm used to the laid back, beachy kind of scene. Suburbia to the max. But on water. And I do love the calm of it all,  I love the small town vibe that comes with it, the t-shirt+sandals look, the In and Out Burger, the many collections of palm trees in a row and shoes filled with sand. This is what I've grown up with. And I know that there is a part of me that will miss it. But. It doesn't even begin to compare to the excitement I feel when I'm carrying my feet along a crowded street, even if there is homeless people yelling and/or following me. The excitement that comes with riding public transportation. Haha, I got so excited every time Bailey said that words, "We'll just take BART." I love getting on those trains, maybe because, in part it reminds me of riding the subway trains in NY, or maybe just because it's fun. You experience so many different kinds of faces sitting in those things, and it's just exciting to be getting from one part of the city to another. Even if you are getting completely lost in the process. I actually had to get on a couple of buses all on my own this week, and it was kind of nerve-racking because I wasn't sure if I was going the right way, or if I was for sure on the right bus even. But then when I did get where I was trying to go, it was like, TRIUMPH. I did it! I got to where I was trying to go! You feel so much pride and accomplishment. Just from taking the right bus somewhere.

And the best part of being in the city? The rich mix of different cultures and the on-going celebration of individuality. I have a hard time putting it into words, but there's a very free-ing feeling that greets you on a crowded city sidewalk. You feel like you can just go outside wearing whatever you like and just be yourself, and people don't just accept that of you, they celebrate it. It's an amazing thing, and an amazing feeling. It's a feeling that in 24 years of living in Southern California, I have struggled to match. Even in LA, where I lived for a good year, I didn't completely feel it the way I have in SF and in NY. It's a different kind of energy filling your lungs, one made up of creativity and unconditional love. And I want more of it. All of it.

After all the adventures with friends, there was one more person who unexpectedly made his mark in this random journey. He's someone who may never again be mentioned, but in my heart of secrets, I pray that that is not the case. I swear I am a champion at small and peculiar affairs. I have had many of them in my short lifetime, each one worth writing a play about. And the struggle to understand and appreciate them goes on and on. I could easily go on and on about how so and what I mean by that, but that's for another time perhaps. For now, I will just say that I was introduced to a very dashing and interesting man via Bailey's boyfriend, Will. Of all things he was Russian, which to me was very interesting since I know basically nothing about Russia. Except that they are responsible for those little babushka dolls that are always still very amusing. Anyway, we hit it off surprisingly well my second night in SF and that led to hanging out the third night, and then spending the fourth night together. Yeah, I was suppose to come home Thursday. Instead, I gave my work shift away and came back Friday. All his fault.

But it was worth it. My favorite kind of people are the kinds I can sit around and philosophize with.... and also make out with. You know what I mean? He lived on the other side of the bay, in a little Italian inspired town called, Sausalito. What was suppose to just be a quick lunch before I hit the road, turned into an entire day spent lounging, walking around his town, exchanging lists of our favorite authors and musicians, films that we both wanted each other to watch. He even took me out to a nice sushi dinner. And I knew he was definitely my kind of guy when the bill came and he asked me if he should tip more than ten dollars on a forty-four dollar bill. God, I love a generous tipper. I would have had sex with him right there.

Don't worry. I didn't. Not there at the restaurant anyway.

And in all of this, I know what you are thinking "uh, so much for your platonic pledge, Jen" and you are right. But sometimes, in the moment of things, something feels right, and damn me if I don't act on those feelings. So I acted on them, and I feel no shame. Maybe a little confusion now, as I try to understand fate and all of its mysterious ways of working. Six days ago, I had no business with any kind of romance, and now there is a Russian in the world who is being missed. I don't know what to make up of what occurred. All I can say is that it was something very nice and special that happened, and I didn't take a moment of it for granted as it was happening.

I think the overall lesson learned this week is just that: To live in the moment and take every ounce of it in. Even if the future has you going somewhere far away. You can't depend or even consider the future all the time in everything you do. Because really, all you have is right now. Five days ago, all I had was a couple hundred dollars and a longing desire to get away for a few days. I was reluctant because it didn't seem like the wisest or the most practical of decisions, but I said, "fuck it" and I went for it anyway.

And in a nutshell, that's how I came to experience my best time in San Francisco to date.

How has your week been? Have you guys ever been to San Francisco? Ever had a short term romantic affair? 

P.S. I'm a thousand years behind on e-mails! I'm working this whole weekend, but will be back in reply action this week! love you alls.

reccess.

Hey friends, just want to say thank you for the love this morning. As per many of your suggestions, I'm going to hit pause on the 'ol blog and social media world for a few days.

Although my post this very early morning was real, it also felt as though I was coming across as a nagging monster. So I deleted it. Because that's not what this is place if for. This place is for positivity, and showcasing my writing, and yes being real and letting you know that I'm not just some random girl who is super courageous and on top of everything all the time, but my intention is to do so tastefully and not in a 3am/whinny/I'm a tired-hot-mess as I type sort of way. If you guys are interested in reading all about how I'm not a perfect cookie, I welcome you to do so formally here. (<----if I had known there was going to be a "things I'm afraid to tell you" assembly at any point, I probably would have saved that specific post for it. ha. That was truly one of the most difficult things I have ever put out into the world for anyone to read. Difficult and ultimately freeing.)

Additionally, I've been getting more of the common questions about my move, which I was planning on personally responding to.. but I think these posts here and here say it all much better than my present self could.

Thank you all for being understanding as I work through this pre-move anxiety & search for pennies under the couch (that part of the movement still remains intact). I'll be brb soon: I promise.

P

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.

And Then the Cake Was Gone. And it Was Time for an Update.

Ah, life is happening so fast right now and there is so much goin' on, people!!! Which means MUCH to blog about! I want to apologize in advance if this post ends up being a cluster fudge of many THINGS.

I have to, have to, have to, start off first with a big YAY. Like truly, the biggest YAY ever.. be-cause, my incredible blog friend Sheri has chosen my blog to feature in her rad blog series titled, "BLOVE". Personally, I have been obsessed with the series ever since I learned about it, let alone obsessed with Sheri and her blog, ever since I learned about her. Sheri's vibe is incredibly warm and down to earth, and she also happens to be pretty flippin' cool. Yeah, that's right--homegirl's got swag. For real. And she's been one of my strongest supporters ever since I entered the blog world in January. It is a blessing and it is an honor. Thank you, Sheri, for such an amazing feature. You encourage me through and through to keep on writing! I love you!

The past few weeks my blog life has taken a bit of a toll as I've attended several social gatherings revolving around potlucks, Disneyland passes, Mother's Day and my sis' 21st bday last night (yes, I am reporting live from a place of hang overs and a colorful  buffet of pain killers at the moment). Not to mention, lots of working at the job, and just taking in every free opportunity I have to spend time with my friends and family.

For those who may just be checking in with me and my space here for the first time, (Hi!) I am preparing to do an epic relocation from Ventura, California to NYC this summer. It will be my first time living super far away from home, and I am moving simply for the desire to live in the city. Not for school, not for work, not for a dude. For me. For my own some-day New York Times Bestseller autobiography. (Ha, here's to trying to make my life as exciting and interesting as possible.)

After the completion of college in Orange County, a series of restaurant jobs, a year long adventure in LA, and a seven-year journey through some bizarre and messy relationships, it's time to embark on a new chapter in my life, and I'm excited to share all of it with you! Yes, things are certainly going to get interesting when I start blogging about all my dating experiences (when I start dating again), and hopefully not my starving experiences. (I'm taking off with a very small amount of money in my pocket....and probably a prayer bible in my suitcase.)

Just to clarify some of the questions I've been getting: 

Yes, I have been to New York before :) At the moment, I have a whole school of college peers out that way, including a few new friends I'm made through blogging. How great! If you'd like to read more about my previous trips to New York and how I've come to decide I'm destined to live there, you can do so here.

To start off, I will be staying with my cousin Marni in Old Tappan, New Jersey while I look for a job and housing in the city. I have stayed with her in her house before and not only is it a beautiful home, in a very charming city, but it's only a twenty minute train ride into Manhattan. Not bad at all. My cousin also has a set of twins, Jaiden and Mateo, who are probably about seven now? They are adorable and I cannot wait for all of you to meet them thru mass photos and instagrams. Just wait.

I'm looking to find housing in Brooklyn. It's my first choice of location, but if not then maybe Harlem or Astoria. I've never been to Astoria before, but I hear it's nice and affordable? And I stayed in Harlem several years ago and thought it was pretty safe and nifty (apparently it's cleaned up quite a bit the past decade.) If any of you have lived in the city or are familiar with all the neighborhoods, I would love to hear any recommendations/opinions you may have as to where is a good place to live. Honestly, I haven't done much research. I've just gone based off my own experiences and the experiences of my friends. Haha. I should probably be doing a lot more of the "figuring things out exactly", but eh. This is where my tale gets it's EDGE.

As far as a job goes, I will be looking for either a serving or bartending job to begin with to support myself, but ultimately, I want to be writing plays... and getting them produced (that part is crucial). In addition to seeing where all of this blogging-ness can take me. I really just want to be writing one way or another. It's going to be a struggle, no doubt, being a "penny-less writer", but this is what I want to do. And I'm going to do it. Call me naive, and maybe you are right. But maybe you haven't met me and my determination. I work hard for the things I want, and making a career out of writing is what I really want. With that being said, wish me luck.

I leave July 26th... two days after my 25th birthday and a week before the epic Blogher conference which I will be attending in hopes of meeting somebody fantastic who maybe wants to offer me a job. Oh yeah, and a bunch of really awesome bloggers! If you are going, say WHAT UP. This marks my first conference of any kind ever, and I am a bright cocktail of scared and excited.

Thanks to my cool little counter there on the right, I know that I am 70 days away from the big move. And guess what. Make that an even BIGGER cocktail of scared and excited. Honestly, I'm scared shitless. Don't tell my family that, but the closer it gets until I leave, the more I am freaking out. And really, it's not the part where I'm moving far away from my family and my town that scares, (tho it does make parts of me very sad, as the move approaches).. it's more the financial part of it all. I really am going out there with very little money to get by. I mean yeah, I have a place to stay right away, and that helps a lot, but it's not in the city and I don't want to reach a point where I'm overstaying my welcome or becoming imposing on anyone, even if it is my own cousin or friends after. I like to fend for myself completely in most cases, and it's hard for me to accept help from others. I take it where it is needed, and I'm incredibly thankful for it, but I don't like doing it. It's definitely a pride thing.

70 days left to gather up a decent wad of money to take off with, and it's scary. I've progressed by leaps and bounds in my finances since the new year, having paid off almost all my debt at this point, but my savings situation is still a joke. I have a little time left to hustle, yes, but it's not much. And it's going by FAST.

Needles to say, it's Go Time.

I'm going to try and keep up with the blogging as best as I can, but for the next two months my main focus will be preparing for my move. It's time to start saying my goodbyes, and taking advantage of every last minute I have here in California. In addition to robbing a couple of banks.

Bear with me as my posts may be less frequent and/or less eloquent. I'm still here and I'm still pretty much always on Twitter 24/7, so don't be a stranger, my friends!

Before I Seacrest out on this one... here's a few snapshots of my sisters before the bday dinner last night. They are so darn pretty. I can't help but to take their pictures like every five minutes and upload them everywhere. They've definitely got the "photogenic" down. Heh, unlike me. Despite what any of you might think, it takes a good 28374 pictures of me to weed through before I find a decent keeper. Then comes all the filters. Ay yi yi.

You can't have it all! At least I can write ok. That's what they're saying anyway.... :)

Happy day/life.

top: Shannon (or as we call her in Portuguese, Shaninha. She turned 21 yesterday! weee!)

bottom: Michelle (or Misch.. she's the middle sis!)

I'm going to miss laughing with these girls on a daily basis. 

I SMELL BIRTHDAY CAKE.

Happy Tuesday to you, friends! I have lots of goodness coming this week including a film club review post (it is coming, i swear!), an update on my NY move, and a guest post for Ms. Aubry of Practically Perfect in Every Way. Eeee! Can't wait to share all of it with you! But for now, I smell birthday cake.

Prolly because it's somebody's birthday. Somebody like this cute little fish right hurrr. 

Her name is Shannon. If you don't know it already, she's my youngest sis. And my best friend. 

Today she is 21. 21!!!! The exclamation points aren't even necessary because if you're a human being then YOU KNOW what a big deal this is. Not just for her, but for ME. I can now force the babe sis to hit up dive bars with me before I go make dumb choices (purchases) at Target. Or stalk celebrities in popular Hollywood bars and night clubs. (I don't really do this.) (Mmmkay.. I do.) Or get some good old Mimosas the morning after a long night of Mimosas. (It happens every now and then...with me.) Basically, I legally have a new wing lady. And it's my super duper awesome sister. YAY!

AND FOR THE LOVE OF CAKE! YAY for birthdays in general. Here's a little snap shot of heaven for the evening:

I die. 

In short:

You're beautiful. And I am so happy to celebrate this special day with you! 21 is going to be a great year for you. I. just. know. it.

Let's drink.

We'll be having ourselves some play time and din din in LA tonight. We're thinking Brazilian food @ Fogo De Chao. If you baby cakes are on Instagram, give my sis a follow and wish her a happy bday! @shansobel 

:)

Enjoy Now.

{source}

I'm an incredibly reflective human being.

Haha. Have you noticed?

Not just reflective, but deeply impassioned.

I spend a lot of time alone. In my head. Thinking. Remembering. Holding on. Even after, I've "let go". Because everything that has ever touched my path holds great meaning, not just to the planets, but to me. How or when I traded in for such an old soul, I couldn't tell you, but man this soul has a serious license to hoard memories and connect the dots. To make sense and make sight. It's crazy and constantly emotional. And sometimes, I wonder if I should just become a philosopher. Except then I am reminded by how much I love money. And so, I say scratch that even though there's no law that says a rich philosopher named Punky can't exist and be incredibly successful and well-recieved and named the modern day Plato (with money). But it seems far-fetched, kind of like wanting to be a professional blogger and all, so I stick with the nay, while simultaneously continuing to reflect and celebrate every sweet and sour moment that collectively makes up what I know as: my life.

I have a love/hate relationship with time. I'm still working on trying to explain that relationship and how it has a direct influence on my re-occuring depression. And not just my re-occuring depression, but my re-occuring bouts of joy as well. Like I said, love/hate.

In the corner of love, I am learning this: Every moment is completely perfect. And we are damned if we should not miss them after they are gone, but rather, miss them as they are happening. 

I don't like the shitty moments in life either, who does? But how many times have you looked back on what you once thought to be a shitty moment and in your present moment thought, "that wasn't so bad." "in fact, I miss it." or "if only I knew what was to come."

Isn't it so beautiful sometimes to just look back on those moments when you were so desperate and lost and then see the redemption that followed after? To see where you were then, and where you are now? Or better yet, to realize how beautiful every moment in life has been, whether good or bad. Even if it's after the fact, doesn't it make you want to approach RIGHT NOW differently?

I did some digging earlier this evening and I came across this little collection of words. Circa 2009 when I was having the toughest of times in college... I had recently been dumped and was feeling lame and insignificant, but still eager to make it out alive. If not with a degree, at least with a few remaining crumbs of self-worth. 

October 15th.

Starting my day off right with some no sugar added chocolate pudding @ 10:40. I missed class this morning. Whoops. So did Chris. Champs.

I have a midterm tomorrow for bio and I kinda want to cry about it.. but I won’t. I will, however, cry over the fact that I’ll be actually studying and not tumbling. Ha. Why am I so codependent on tumbler lately. Likes bees to honey.

I miss Ventura. I miss G & P and Kam even though the time with those people are well over. Well, mostly just with G and P. I think they both have girlfriends now. Thank God, men over 30 shouldn’t be single and partying it up every weekend like they’re 21. I’m happy for them. Funny people. G especially. I miss that dude a lot. Everytime I hear “Satellite” by Guster, I think of him. As well as “Reckoner” by Radiohead. Good song. Kam and I must have had it on repeat for a month. It’s amazing how certain songs will really throw you back to specific times in your life. Like John West. Everytime I play that free demo I got at his show, it immediately takes me back to late nights driving home from Kate’s back to downtown LA. Despite the fact that Michelle and I were getting screwed up the ass with rent and all the bullshit that came with that damn (but beautiful) downtown apartment, that was truly an exciting and eventually zen time in my life. I wish I could stop fantasizing over my past and embrace my present. Maybe today I’ll try a little harder.

I have less than a year left here in this town and at this school. I don’t need to make plays. I don’t need everyone to like me. I don’t need to feel included in everything that’s happening around me. I don’t need a boyfriend. I don’t want to feel worthless. I’m a good person and I have a few people around who recognize this and are here for me. What more do I need than that? I have less than a year left here in this town and at this school and I’m going to finish. I have so many bigger things waiting for me, and I know it.

So no more sadness. I’m gunna get through this just fine.

And I did.

I got out just fine. 

And I look back at those words, and my heart goes out to that girl. That girl who was holding on for dear life. And to think...that was only the beginning of much more heartbreak and struggles to come in those years of college and living in the OC. Ha. Oh boy, only the beginning. But I got through it ALL just fine. Here I am nearly four years later and I'VE LIVED TO TELL!  Praise God and you know what. I miss that time. I do. It was hard. And it was shitty, and at the time, all I could see was the hard and shitty-all around me. And reminisce about times before it. But what I didn't realize was all the other factors associated to that time, factors that I no longer have in my life. People. Places. Neighbors. Friends (I had more than a few... ! I was just hatin' on myself at the time). College Libraries. College Shuttles. Improv shows. Drama Parties. Hot Grad Students. Campus Strolls. Late Night Adventures. The Arc Gym. Textbooks. Bio Tutors. Tumbling in class. Sleeping in class. Ditching class. Performing in class. Backstage Shennanigans. Bar hopping in Costa Mesa. Serving jobs. South Coast Plaza. Field Trips to Newport, Laguna, LA. Weekends "at home" in Ventura.

COLLEGE.

It wasn't the most ideal college experience, but it was MY experience no less. And it's an experience I will never have in my life again. Those moments, those people, that time... they're gone. I mean, they live in my head, but I will never live them again. Just like I will never again live the time in LA that preceded it, or the time in Orange County that followed it. 

It's certainly what we call bittersweet.

And now I'm back in Ventura and I'm getting ready to relocate to the other side of the country. And as anxious and excited as I am, I have to remember to slow down and enjoy this moment now. Because this in-between stage... this is a special time too. I will never have this spring at home before I moved to New York again. This current fear of moving far far away from my family for the first time. This bed room set up. These daily beach runs with my sister. These daily FRO-YO runs with my sister. This awkward job at a random beachside steakhouse that's actually quickly becoming one of the most charming jobs I've ever had. This time with my Dad, who is only getting older day by day. This time when I used blogging as a means to get over a break up, and discovered my love/obsession for it. And for writing. And faith in myself. And strength to do whatever it is I want to do. And go wherever it is I want to go.

Everything about this moment right now, is completely unique and perfect. And I refuse to miss a single second of it. 

So hats off.....ladies and gentlemen. I'm off to Disneyland today!!! I'm gunna make one last use of my season pass with an old high school friend. And a couple of college friends too :) 

And yes, I am going to enjoy every moment of this young, vibrant, and blessed day. I hope you do as well.  

i got my mom tipsy @ a potluck. (& other weekend tales of truth)

It's been a colorful entrance into May. 

I hit it off with not just one, but two potlucks in a row...where I may or may not have put my last blog post to complete shame. We won't confirm or elaborate on that, as I think the attendance of any pot luck speaks for itself. 

( I'm not sorry. Those mini bundt cakes were delicious. )

In addition to being pot lucky over the weekend, I had myself some strange and I had myself some awesome. Strange because I did a lot of drinking over the weekend, which is not usually my style. Awesome because I got my mom to rage with me, which is NEVER her style. I'm still new to the ventures of mommy-daughter drinking, but I have to say--it's quite fun!!!

You know what wasn't fun: uhhhhh, the $68 parking ticket I got in LA the morning before potluck number two. F, man. Total buzz kill motivator. Obviously, I ate and drank my feelings that much more passionately later that afternoon. And you know what--if it wasn't for the ticket, it was bound to happen anyway. I had to make up for loss time from the first potluck, where I managed to play it "cool", and you know, not stuff my face and/or lend suspicion to the fact that I only showed up FOR THE FOOD.

I actually didn't just show up for the food. That first potluck was my first blogger meet up EVER. I knew NO ONE to begin with. And it was a little daunting and intimidating at first. And when they started asking me questions, I felt my voice shake cause I was really super nervous, but then I didn't have any alcohol just yet and I didn't run away to the food table just yet, and it was all OK because everyone was loving and accepting and kind and funny and interesting and just like that, I was further reassured as to why I'm kind of digging this whole blogging thing in a ginormous way. 

And then I attacked those mini bundt cakes. And I'm still not sorry.

Fast forward to pot luck #2. It was my boss' 82nd birthday party and in this case as well, I didn't just show up for the food. I showed up because it was my boss' birthday. And she invited me to attend. And when your boss invites you to her birthday party, you should probably show up. ESPECIALLY if it's potluck. Helloooo.

(Ok. Maybe the food did play a significant role in this one after all.)

I thought it would be nice to bring my mother with me. And what I mean by that, is I thought it would be nice to have a friend to chat with when my fairly new co-workers maybe didn't have anything to say to me. Or vice versa. Truth be told, I'm not very good in social settings where I'm not particularly close with everyone around me. And actually, I thought it would be nice to bring my mother with me anyway. Because we don't hang out nearly as often as we should. And it's something I'm working on.

Ironically, my mom faired quite well at the event, despite the fact that she knew everyone there much less than I did. She even abandoned me completely at one point and for more than a hot second (thanks Mom). It was kind of awkward at first... sitting there with that bowl of chips, but then I managed to weasel my way into a conversation that I found myself very thankful for. 

It started with overhearing this woman at an adjacent couch discussing concerns over her daughter's "older boyfriend." 

See now, those are two words I'm pretty tight with. Any close friend of mine knows my tendencies to fancy the older kinds, and any person in my life knows I've had many of the boyfriends. I overheard "She's 21 and he's 36," and it was a sure invitation to raise my hand and say, "I can give you insight there." And then I did. 

Because when I was 20 I met a man that was 37 and we dated for over a year. I'm sure you can do math, but that's almost twice my age, and yeah--- sometimes I look back on it and I judge myself too. But most of the time, I don't. Because it was a real learning experience and that man is actually still a good friend of mine today. It's a little bit tricky and quirky in ways, but he's that interesting character in my life that remains and I'm OK with it. His name is Steve. And that's not really his name. But that's what I call him. And he calls me Ned. And if that makes any sense to you then cheers because you know what's up, and yes, that is in fact where my obsession of Wes Anderson began. 

And since I'm honest like all the time, I will say it was indeed very strange that I should end up having such a conversation with this woman about my experience of dating older men (specifically Steve) because guess who I hung out with between potluck #1 and potluck #2. 

Yup, you guessed it---Steve. I could write a whole separate post on that in-between affair, but that's for later maybe. 

For now, I wanna stick to the awesome exchange I shared with this woman. Because you never imagine how much you can relate with any given stranger, and then when you do it's special. 

My opportunity arrived when this un-named woman of her 50s sitting at an adjacent couch on a Monday afternoon potluck in April graciously welcomed me into a conversation with much intrigue and no platters of judgement. It was almost as if she was desperate to hear my story, and I was happy to share it with her. 

Her pickle: She's worried because her daughter, Anne (character name) is dating a man almost twice her age who just came out of a seven year marriage, and not only is she moving in with him, but she's named him her "soul mate" and "hopes that he will marry her."

To which I nodded, "HA."

Though my past self would have loved to of been able to say Steve and I were moving in together at any point in the past, that was not ever the case. BUT, the "soul mate" and the "marry" bits. Um yeah. I know where daughter Anne is coming from.

And then mother of Anna spoke, "I just worry that what she thinks she knows and wants right now, is not what she will know and want later." 

To which I sang, "YUP."

Though my past self would have never given such a statement any consideration in the slightest, I can now say, I know exactly where Mother of Anne is coming from.

Because here's the thing. Us young folks, in our twenty-something year old skins, we're constantly growing. Constantly changing. And in that---constantly susceptible to believe in just about anything that seems remarkably good. We're dreamers and we put our whole hearts into everything. And it's dangerous and it's risky and it's foolish-no doubt. But this is what being young is all about. It's our time to fuck up---our grand and embarrassing episode of trial and error. Our unintentional landings into the mush pit, that sometimes eats us up like quick sand and leaves us begging for a light that we didn't before acknowledge. This is that crucial time in our lives where we begin to carve out what's important to us. What we need to survive, and what we can do without. WHO is important to us, and WHO we can do without. It's a time where we confuse soul mates with soulful moments. And we mix up loving a person with loving ideas or things about a person. We play with our hearts, and not our minds and we work off feelings, rather than practicality. 

We rush into things.

And who can tell us to stop that we will listen to? 

We're stubborn.

And we think we know it all.

And we don't most of the time.

Chances are, what we want right now, is not what we will want later. 

For some it is-- I guess I can't speak on behalf of every twenty-something year old--- but for Me, myself, I can definitely say, my ideas and my thoughts and my wants and my needs, they are changing constantly. I'm only half-way thru this dark and neon tunnel of what they call your "trying twenties" and I can already tell you I've changed my mind about a kazillion things. But it took EXPERIENCE to acquire all those neverminds, those second guesses, those revelations, those new conclusions, those universally calculated chips at my own developing statue of a woman. 

So what can I say to this mother of Anne other than, YOU SHOULD BE CONCERNED and your daughter is probably making some really stupid choices, but who knows? Maybe she's not. And if she is, she's going to grow so much from it.  And so either way, you must let it be. And have faith that things will fall a part in whatever way they need to in order for things to eventually fall together. When and how and if they will fall a part at all, only the Good Lord knows, but that's where you can most definitely come in and save the day with tissues and chocolate and hugs. Because she might just come running home with shame and embarrassment. Or as I've come to understand--learning and maturing.  Do be there, Mother of Anne to love that child of yours unconditionally. To give her the support she'll need when she's fallen. To give her the encouragement to get back up. Nothing you say beforehand will stop her will. And everything you say after will soothe her soul. 

Except "I told you so." That one, I prolly don't recommend.

-----------

This was only a fraction of the beautiful conversation I had with this woman. Turns out we had another past situation in common, not me and the daughter of this woman, but me and the woman herself. It's an experience in my lifetime that I will eventually work up the courage to offer here. But on the couch that recent evening, it was quite the joy to connect with this woman in ways I haven't been able to connect with another being on such novel experiences. Like I said, thankful my mom peace'd out into the kitchen for her fourth glass of wine. Cause it pushed me to reach out and converse. And relate. And then when it was over, my mom returned and she topped my fourth glass of wine off and then together, we giggled the remainder of that little potluck away. 

On the same album, different song: How gorgeous is the second potlucks' hosts' garden/land?? We were all in complete awe and envy. 

Speaking of mothers and daughters, I snagged this shot of my co-worker and her daughter. I love it.

Oh yeah and one more thing. The hosts of this particular potluck (number two) are not just regulars at our restaurant.. but uhhh they are Academy Award Winners!!! No joke. Here's the evidence to prove it. I nearly pee'd my pants from excitement/too much wine when I looked over and thought out loud, "Holy shit, those are Oscar trophies!"

LEGIT.

Ok, Time to Get Ripped.

Hi. I do not get dressed up for the gym. I look like a haggard mess and then I sweat a crap ton, adding to the haggard-ness even more. And guess what. I don't care! What's up with all these other chicks dressing up like they're going to a MISSED CONNECTION? Are they joking me??

Ok, time to get RIPPED.

I'm serious this time. Just like I was all the other times. But this time. Really, I am. How do we know I'm serious: because I'm blogging about it.

I'm coming to realize how accountable one becomes of themselves when they put things down in writing. Especially in a public domain. It kind of adds a new layer of pressure and expectation on oneself (wow, I sound so formal this morning-sometimes I forget I'm not writing a college paper....[ever again]). For a gal who is often severly discipline-challenged, this is a bright and promising approach. AND SO, in spirit of all the "healthly/lets get fit/lets feel good" posts I've been reading lately (love it), I'm composing my own. BOOM.

Let me start off by saying this. Honestly? I'm pretty comfortable with my body image. At 135lbs / 5'7 / Size 6 jeans (size 4 at the GAP #reasonsilovethegap) I sit comfortably. Does this mean I don't have a collection of physical insecurities? HECK NO, mamas! Of course I do. I'm human. And those magazines and those televisions sure like to flash images at us constantly that make ALL of us feel like much less than we are. It's annoying, I agree with you. But, I've managed to not let those things get to me. I don't stress over my flaws, I don't demand the lights be turned off when I'm getting intimate with someone, I don't "stay-in" because I feeling like I'm "too fat" to go out (seriously ladies--don't be hatin' on yourself like that-it's ridiculous. GO OUT and have a fun time. No one is seriously going to be looking over at you at any point of the night and think, "wow, she's not thin enough to be outside her home enjoying this fine Friday evening." Are you kidding me? NO. That DOESN'T happen. If you're feeling a little less hot than usual, just put on something that flatters your figure. Put on some black. Put on some lipstick (easiest boost of confidence right there). And maybe have a a glass of wine or two before your GFs pick you up. But whatever you do, don't let your insecurities rob you of your Friday evening. You're robbing yourself in the process.) And most of all, I certainly don't say no to cupcakes when I really want one. To enjoy life means to enjoy cupcakes. It's ok. All is OK in moderation. 

To go back to the bit about having the light turned off during moments of intimacy (sorry, not my most organized post here. Now I remember, I'm not writing a college paper.) I wanna share a quick little piece of reassurance that was delivered to me once by a dude friend of mine. I don't even know how the conversation started, but somehow I think I mentioned the fear/insecurity of taking your clothes off in front of a guy for the first time, and how you worry about what they may think. To which, this friend of mine, quickly responded with, "Jen. We're guys. What girls need to understand about guys, is that when a girl is taking her clothes off in front of us, the last thing we are thinking about is how her physical appearance is disappointing us in anyway. We're not even thinking about that at all. The only thing we're thinking is, 'she's taking her clothes off!!!' We're excited about it. Especially, if it's a girl we're really interested in." Pretty straightforward outlook from a dude person, no doubt. But there is depth there in what he said, and it has stuck with me ever since. I don't demand the lights to be turned off. I never have. But while I have thought about it in the past and almost wished it at times out of fear of judgement, I don't anymore. 

I'm content with the way I look. I'm freckly and curvy like my Brazilian mama, and I've got assets I should stop taking for granted so often. BUT, there is always room for improvement, right kids?

Right. So I wanna tone up. I've managed to maintain the same weight (give or take a few pounds) since high school and that, in itself, is something to be proud of given all the stress that I've juggled since June 2005. But there's been areas of FLAB all along that I have been meaning to tackle. At times, I have, but then it's back to one toooo many jelly beans and BOOM, it's back. Well. This time around I don't just wanna FIGHT THE FLAB! but I want to KILL IT. For good. Do you see the serious-ness and ferocity in my all caps there? Yeah, this is for real.

Cause not only do I want to look good better for New York/the summer of my 25th birthday, but there is no doubt that being active and taking care of your body as best you can, makes you feel good. Even if you can't physically see the changes right away, your mentality shifts immediately for the better. It really does. You have more energy and you have more confidence. Facts.

I've been running long distance on and off since I was 14. (Ran Cross Country in both HS and junior college) and I want the discipline and intensity of all of that back. I wanna seriously be like one of those crazy frequent marathon runners and/or Jillian Michaels. Well, maybe not that ripped, no offense, Jilly, but I just wanna be able to comfortably wear dresses like this awesome new one, with out fear that people are judging my back fat. Cause sometimes, even with the lipstick on and the glass of wine or two you still irrationally freak out that people are having entire conversations about the visible flaws your sporting. #thatslife #thatsbeinghuman #thatsbeingagirlinthisdayandage #america. 

(I like to hashtag my life away. Have you noticed?)

DRESS:

HOW cute?? My sister Michelle GAVE it to me. Sometimes she likes to scream at me for wearing a shirt of hers that surely I didn't think she cared about anymore because I found it in a garbage bag titled "GOOD WILL". Other times she is handing me dresses by Free People for FREE. And I'm a lot confused, but I don't ask questions. I just say yes and immediately try it on and then ask her to take pictures of me so I can instagram it. And then hug her. And then finally, hug the idea that I want to look the very darn best I can in said dresses. 

So here we go. Time to get ripped. I'm doing three days on//one day off with special focus on my core and my arms. And just trying to get more seasoned on the distance running again. I'm definitely not running the six and seven miles a day that I used to. I want those days back. And also, I just want some balance around here. I've been getting pretty lost in all of this blogging lately, and it's great, but I need fresh air, and I need some physical movement up in hurrrr. 

I'll leave you with some tips from my very own gal/hero. The REAL slim shady.

your turn:

- Where do you stand with your body image? Are you guilty of always saying no to cupcakes even though deep down you are crying for one? Demanding to have the lights off? Obsessing over calories? Stay in because you feel fat?

- Do you have any advice you can add in terms of body image and boosting confidence on those nights when you are feeling less spectacular than usual?
- Wanna get tone with me?? Let's e-mail and talk accoutability!!!

Body image can sometimes be a tough one to talk about, because everyone is usually on different paths with it-though I'm sure many of us share the same insecurities, no matter what size we are. I really just welcome you to share any thoughts you may have here. Even if it's just, "GO PUNKY!" because, hey, encouragement is awesome ! And you know how much I love itttt :)

P.S. In other topics, have you guys thought about putting together a post of your favorite instagrammers?? No? Well,  you should!!! My first round of Punky's Picks is up and it's lonely. It needs some friends--would love it if you took the time to share your favorites and linked-up. Link up is open for an entire month! gogogogo.

HAPPY WEEKEND FRIENDS!

100 Days.

100 days from now I'll be moving to my most favorite place in the world. It's called New York City. You may have heard of it.

Without further ado, I wanna say thanks to everyone for all the warm wishes and the congrats.  It means a lot and I'm excited to share this whole journey with you (as I've said 100x already). I hope in all of this, I can inspire you to go and do whatever it is you truly want. Don't let fear or inconvenience get in the way. I truly believe that making whatever changes you need to make in your life, however difficult and uncomfortable it may be, is well worth it, if it's all in the name of chasing your dreams. You only live once, my friends. Don't just embrace opportunities that come your way---create opportunities for yourself. Be a go-getter. 

I have been dreaming of New York my whole life. I don't know how or when it started, but at some point while I was very young, I had a collection of images and ideas about NYC and it just seemed like such a cool place. I had to go there.
(photo cred)

My first trip was when I was nine years old. Right before my dad's company went bankrupt due to his factory falling to the ground (Thanks for that, Northridge earthquake of '94, that was real sweet of you) My dad used the very last of his fortune to take my sisters and I on a little roadtrip across the country to New York. We took nine weeks to do it (talk about a vacay, right?). We saw all kinds of incredible things including the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone National Park, Mt. Rushmore, Washington D.C., Elvis Presley's childhood home in Mississippi (thank God for that Mississippi tune they taught us in grade school-I still hesitate every time I try to spell it, the same way I hesitate with basic arithmetic and the order of the alphabet letters. #thankyousongs &fingers). We spent a week in South Florida, went to an Amish farm in Pennsylvania, and our final stop was of course Vegas (my dad plays poker professionally as a second part-time gig). It was really truly an amazing trip in this lifetime of mine. One dad, three little gals, and a Toytoa Corolla. I'll never forget it and I'll never forget how darn cool my Dad is for taking us on such a huge adventure.

It goes without saying, my favorite part of that whole trip was the two weeks we spent in New York/ Jersey. My dad is originally from Queens and we have family in Old Tappan.. so of course it was in my fate to love New York-I got roots there! We did all the typical touristy-like things that first trip, including the Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building. Here's a photo that my almost fifth grade hands took from the top:

It's nothing special really--just looks like every other photo taken from the top of the Empire State Building, except definitely lamer. And quality is not so grand (I used Instagram to try and enhance it :) But still, to me, it's a special photo. It's a reminder of that time when I got to stand where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan finally met for the first time on Sleepless and Seattle, and also a reminder of how magical that moment felt. What a city. What a view! That day I knew I was destined to come back to that place, many, many times, if not someday, for good. Here's a couple of other photos of this first trip:

Me and the sisters. Yes, that's a Winnie the Pooh T-shirt I'm rocking, and a big fat scrunchie I've got there around my wrist. Let's not talk about my sexy fashion choices at the age of nine, ok. If I wasn't as cool as I am now, rest assured, I would never post such a thing on the internet for all to see. Or come out and admit that I probably watched Barney until the third grade. You know you did too. Come on! (Or maybe I'm just weird and dorky. This could very well be the case.) PS. Does your heart not sink a little bit every time you see those Towers in old photos? wow.

My cousin Marni mid-speech and my Dad, with his video camera in hand, as always. This was while we were waiting for the ferry to take us to the Statue of Liberty.

The second time I visited New York was by accident. Yes, I am pretty good at accidents that turn out to be awesome. I was on a plane to Brazil with my Mom and our connection flight was at JFK. Well, because American Airlines is so spectacular and never experiences any technical difficulties or departure delays, we missed our connection flight. And the next flight wasn't until the next day at 9 P.M. Um yeah.

In the moment of learning this, I remember thinking, "9 PM??? Tomorrow?? What are we suppose to do until then?" Three seconds later: "OMG, we're in New York. Mom. We have to go into the city. WE HAVE TO." She was reluctant to agree at first... she was scared we'd get lost and miss our flight again... but after much desperate convincing she said YES! (Because my mom is super cool too.) And we went into the city for the day and got lunch in Central Park, did a little shopping and a little sight seeing. We stopped into St. Patrick's Cathedral, which was absolutely breathtaking... I want to get married in there someday? Here's some photos.

Here's mama bear looking pretty happy with our decision to take a day trip into the city.

The third time I went to New York was that same year, for New Years. I went with a big group of friends and it was a blast! We stayed in a little flat just north of Harlem and even though we were  bummed that it didn't even snow the entire time we were there, it was still incredible to experience the city during the Holidays. Magic on an entirely different level.

Subway chillin' with homies.

The fourth and last time I went to New York was for spring break two years ago. My college room mate was suppose to come with me, but he ditched out, and I decided I was still gunna go. Yup, all on my own. I stayed with my cousin Marni for a couple days in Jersey, and then I stayed with my friend Mary in Brooklyn. She works as a fashion design for Express. Pretty gangster. It was a bummer that I didn't get to hang out with her that much while I was there. She was working a lot, but I didn't mind exploring the city on my own. I'm a little bit of a loner by nature anyway and love being able to explore things on my own agenda. And still, while I was there I got to meet up with a bunch of my college friends who were all there for a musical theater program, which was super neat.

Here's me and all my college gal pals, at some Mexican Restaurant where we maybe had a little bit too much to drink. And also at some point starting asking ourselves why were in a Mexican restaurant in NYC to begin with--cause you know, the East Coast doesn't quite compare to the quality of Mexican Food that the West Coast has to offer. This is a fact.

This is me sitting in the airport on my way home. I'm sad because I'm leaving. And also because I missed my flight. Which is a whole separate post to be written. It was quite tragic.

And now, I prepare for my fifth trip! And it's kind of the biggest deal, because, well, it's not a trip. It's a relocation. A pretty epic one. The more I think about it, the more I actually really do get a little scared. And it's not the fear of being somewhere that is the polar opposite of sunny laid-back Southern California (I know exactly what I'm getting myself into). It's the fear of being far away from my Mom and Dad and my sisters and brother. I'll have to think twice when filling out paperwork and putting down an emergency contact number, because my lifetime heros won't be so local anymore. They won't be there on the days that are tough and what I need more than anything is a hug. They won't be there when I need help moving or I'm sick and need assistance/some TLC. They won't be there on holidays when I probably won't be able to afford a plane flight home. They won't be there when I need to come running home in the middle of the night because some douche bag cheated on me and broke my heart.  Above all, I fear the time lost that I could spend near them, with them, together. I am really close with my family. We're as dysfunctional as the next family doesn't like to admit, but we love each other. We may fight, we may yell, and we certainly take each other for granted often, but we're here for one another no matter what occurs. The more I think about it, the more daunting it is to know I'm moving way far away from that. 

After I told my dad I purchased my plane ticket, he left me this little present on my fbook wall.

A little part of my heart broke when I saw this because I just know I'm going to miss my family so much, and I don't want them to be sad that I'm leaving. Or scared. Or envious. Or skeptical. Or indifferent. Or against. I want them to be happy, and excited for me. And I know that most of them are. I know my Dad especially is. But man, I am going to miss all of them so very much. 

And still, I can't let these sad thoughts get the best of me. I know that this decision I've made for myself is the right one. Moving to New York is my dream. I have no purpose of going there besides the purpose of wanting to LIVE there. In 100 days, I will making way with literally two bags, no job, no apartment locked down, a very small savings, and a very large pocket of hope. I've sacrificed and been through a lot to get to this point, including getting through and finishing college, being offered the opportunity to move back to LA, giving up an establishing career in restaurant management in Orange County, a very special dude I was seeing, a whole collection of friends. I've literally dropped everything, in order to chase this dream, and however difficult I swear to you, it absolutely has been, this is the single most exciting thing I've ever prepared for myself. And I just know that the adventures of all adventures await me. I can't wait to learn and grow and to share all of it with you.

100 days and counting. And then it's Showtime.

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I'm curious--if you could go and/or do anything you wanted to in your life right now... what would it be? Where would you relocate?

As if, New York isn't enough already, I have dreams of living in Brazil with my family for an extended amount of time and also of living in Europe. Italy or Spain would be nice. Maybe Greece too.