Constantly Searching

Every now and then I get the sudden urge to change my life completely. I start to realize that I have fallen into a routine of some sort and, becoming frustrated, my mind begins to convince me that I'm meant for something else. I've always thought that I was meant for a life of adventure and surprises. I've always known somewhere inside of me that I'm not like everyone else and I don't want to be. I want to tell stories to the world about people and places and food and culture and anything and everything else I can discover in this world. I want to take it all in and help to somehow share it with the world.

I recently met a couple from Germany who was staying at the same Bed and Breakfast in New Jersey as Julio and I. I was so curious and interested in finding out about their lives, what brought them to visit New York and the United States, what food do they enjoy most from home, how they learn to speak English so effortlessly... Something about the interaction with these people sparked something in me and at one point, I made a comment that my husband later brought back to my attention. I said, "There's a bigger world out there than just America." I didn't say it to prove how smart or worldly I thought I was, I just said it because it came to me. And I believe it.

Somehow it seems like people get so involved in their own lives and their own routines and their own selves that they don't open their eyes and see that there are millions of other beings out there in this universe that are chasing after something as well. Or maybe they aren't. Maybe a lot of other people have just settled in to what they have and given into that routine and that life. However, I'd like to think that there are a lot of people out there actively pursuing something--anything. I'd like to believe I'm not the only one who feels destined for adventure and experience. I'd like to believe that the world has been waiting and I need to just seize the day, have at it, and get this show on the road.

Coming Home

I've been thinking a lot about how I don't write anymore. (...or I guess I should say, how I haven't written in so long since I am definitely writing at this very moment.) I have thought about it so much and how much I miss the feeling of finishing a simple blog or article when everything feels like it makes more sense and I can be proud of what I have been able to put into words.

Today I found myself venting to my husband again about how I feel I've lost my creative spark and it occurred to me how ironic my reasoning was. I used to write because I wanted to go to New York and the very thought of that inspired me to put words together. What I told my husband today was that I haven't written because I'm afraid that inspiration is gone and now that we are hoping to get back to New York, I don't know how I will make myself write something when I can't find the inspiration again. (Whatever will I do?) But if what inspired me in the first place was just the prospect of living in New York, would not the actual experience of living there be ten times more powerful as inspiration goes?

I began to think about the short amount of time last year when I was able to go to New York for school and I began to draw out all of those old feelings again. I remember just the way it felt to fly into the city after the sun had gone down and the blackness of the night sky had taken up residence behind the city skyline. It was like arriving in a new world--it was nothing like home and just flying by those sparkling skyscrapers brought tears to my eyes. In many ways, it was just as I had imagined my flight back in would be, but it somehow also overwhelmed me in a way I hadn't expected. I had arrived. I had been writing about this place for two years and I was finally there.

New York is like no other place. One of my favorite things about it is the fact that it has inspired so many people over the years. Say what you will about cold, heartless city life, but I can still remember all the moments I had there that felt so intimate, so extraordinary... and many of them were just between the city and me. I remember how I loved to find the Chrysler Building from wherever I was in the city and how just the fact that I could find it in the skyline made me feel like I hadn't gone too far even if I was neighborhoods away from where I started. I remember walking for blocks with my head tilted upward to experience that sort of vertigo you get from walking while looking up at the tall buildings beside you. I remember taking the train in every morning and out every night and always making sure to get a glimpse of the skyline as it approached or faded away. It is the same feeling I get when I look into my husband's eyes: hope, love, promise, elation, that feeling that everything is right even if it is just for that moment.

The Void (revision)

It’s a room without a ceiling. The walls are made of dark slate-colored tiles and the tops of several partially-constructed skyscrapers are peering out above them. It is dark outside, but lit by the city lights. It’s so incomplete— it’s so beautiful.
Standing in the chasm between ruin and restoration, things around here are still pretty messy. James is waiting a few feet away, but he doesn’t seem to realize the immensity of this moment. This is a place where almost no one from the general public will be allowed to stand and taking it all in, it’s hard to notice he is ready to move on.
This place is called “The Void.” In September it will be full of water and no one will be able to walk through the submarine-like door that led here. It is actually the bottom of a very large fountain—one of two being constructed here in Lower Manhattan. They are to serve as the “footprints” of where the Twin Towers once stood. The symbolism is clear: a fountain to reflect upon the tragedy; a void to remember the loss of human life.
James Glover, Senior Project Manager of the 9/11 Memorial, is now edging back toward the “submarine” door. It has been about an hour since this tour began. There are five levels to the memorial: the plaza (where the public will be able to view the finished fountains), a piping gallery that will organize water flow, a large A/C and heating level, a pumping and filtering level that will clean debris and cycle water, and a memorial museum underground directly below the “footprints.”
About fifteen minutes ago, on the museum—or bedrock—level, Glover pointed and said, “This is the North Tower, and that’s the South Tower.” The statement so simple, so matter of fact that for a moment one almost believes they are still there. You relive a sense of loss to stare at the mess of equipment, materials, and signs and try to make something of it.
“The company I work for, we do construction management. When they had the first bombing in ’93, our company came in and did the whole assessment and rebuild and we kept doing a lot of refurbishment on the Twin Towers. But once the Event happened, we just kind of rolled into play and continued our services,” said Glover. Although he has obviously been working at this location for much longer, he moved here six years ago to begin the 9/11 Memorial project. “When I first got here, we still had a medical examiner sifting through and finding bone fragments.”
Managing a project with so many challenges, Glover seems more than unnerved by the impatience of the public. He reiterates this at least three times during the walk-through. On several occasions, a construction worker would be digging at the site, find something, and have to report it. Work would cease, and the area would be tented off for examination. Glover cringed as he described archeologists invading, armed with what he referred to as their “little brushes.” Not everything found at the site has been small, however. Last summer construction was halted due to the discovery of a ship from the 1700s. “There’s a lot of history here,” Glover remarked as he continued through the 16-acre site.
In fact, the entire site is built on fill. Back when the older buildings were being constructed, extra land that was moved away from those sites was built up on the shore of the Hudson and eventually expanded the island of Manhattan significantly. This has been a major challenge in the construction of the 9/11 Memorial because the soil is very moist and slushy. The site is only about 800 yards from the current shore of the Hudson.
Underground, there is a gigantic slurry wall with row after row of large bolt-like protrusions showing on its face. Evidence of leakage is audible as it drips in from the day’s rain storm while Glover explains what these tiebacks are for. Without these large reinforcements, the wall would basically cave in on the workers because its weight cannot be supported by the soft soil. Each row represents how far the job has come. While workers cleared out debris from the destruction of the Towers, they installed new rows of tiebacks as they dug further and further into the wreckage. It seems impossible not to marvel at the amount of patience these men must have.
Following James back up through all five levels of the site, the journey back begins to feel endless, but at the top there is a pair of makeshift plywood doors with an “Exit” sign stapled to the exposed wood. Above it, someone has scrawled in permanent marker “To Heaven.”
Just push through.

The Void

I feel as if I’m standing in the chasm between ruin and restoration. I’m wearing a faded olive green parka over a baseball tee and comfortable jeans tucked into brand new grey Doc Marten boots. This is the first time I’ve worn Doc Martens so they aren’t even close to being broken in yet. I was told to come in casual clothes and hard-soled shoes; things around here are still pretty messy. A moment ago, my feet were killing me, yet now, I hardly notice it.

I’m in a room without a ceiling. The walls are made of dark slate-colored tiles and I can see the tops of several partially-constructed skyscrapers peering out above them. It is dark outside and I notice the city lights. It’s so incomplete— it’s so beautiful.

James is standing a few feet behind me waiting and I can tell he doesn’t realize how immense this moment feels for me. I’m standing in a place where almost no one from the general public will be allowed to stand and I’m too busy taking it all in to notice that he is ready to move on.

This place is called “The Void.” In a few short months it will be full of water and no one will be able to walk through the submarine-like door that led me here. It is actually the bottom of a very large fountain—one of two being constructed here in Lower Manhattan. They are to serve as the “footprints” of where the Twin Towers once stood. The symbolism is clear: a fountain to reflect upon the tragedy; a void to remember the loss of human life.

James Glover, Senior Project Manager of the 9/11 Memorial, is now edging back toward the “submarine” door. We have been walking the construction site for about an hour. There are five levels to the memorial: the plaza (where the public will be able to view the finished fountains), a piping gallery that will organize water flow, a large A/C and heating level, a pumping and filtering level that will clean debris and cycle water, and a memorial museum underground directly below the “footprints.”

About fifteen minutes ago, we were on the museum—or bedrock—level when Glover pointed and said, “This is the North Tower, and that’s the South Tower.” The statement so simple, so matter of fact that for a moment I almost believed they were still there. I relived a sense of loss as I stared at the mess of equipment, materials, and signs and tried to make more of what I saw.

“The company I work for, we do construction management. When they had the first bombing in ’93, our company came in and did the whole assessment and rebuild and we kept doing a lot of refurbishment on the Twin Towers. But once the Event happened, we just kind of rolled into play and continued our services,” said Glover. Although he has obviously been working at this location for much longer, he moved here six years ago to begin the 9/11 Memorial project. “When I first got here, we still had a medical examiner sifting through and finding bone fragments.”

Managing a project with so many challenges, Glover seems more than unnerved by the impatience of the public. He reiterates this at least three times during our walk-through. On several occasions, a construction worker would be digging at the site, find something, and have to report it. Work would cease, and the area would be tented off for examination. Glover cringed as he described archeologists invading, armed with what he referred to as their “little brushes.” Not everything found at the site has been small, however. Last summer construction was halted due to the discovery of a ship from the 1700s. “There’s a lot of history here,” Glover remarked as we continued through the 16-acre site.

In fact, the entire site is built on fill. Back when the older buildings were being constructed, extra land that was moved away from those sites was built up on the shore of the Hudson and eventually expanded the island of Manhattan significantly. This has been a major challenge in the construction of the 9/11 Memorial because the soil is very moist and slushy. The site is only about 800 yards from the current shore of the Hudson.

Underground, I stared up at a gigantic slurry wall with row after row of large bolt-like protrusions showing on its face. I could hear the leakage dripping in from the day’s rain storm as Glover explained what these tiebacks were for. Without these large reinforcements, the wall would basically cave in on the workers because its weight cannot be supported by the soft soil. Each row represents how far the job has come. While workers cleared out debris from the destruction of the Towers, they installed new rows of tiebacks as they dug further and further into the wreckage. I couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of patience these men must have.

Following my guide back up through all five levels of the site, my feet ached in pain (I wouldn’t dare ask for a break) and just as I thought I had reached my threshold, we came to a pair of makeshift plywood doors with an “Exit” sign stapled to the exposed wood. Above it, someone had scrawled in permanent marker “To Heaven.”

We pushed through.





(This is actually an assignment I just finished for SLC.)

Not So 'Bleecker' After All

[Actual Date: January 16, 2011:]


Even as I’m thousands of feet in the sky, it still doesn’t seem real to me. I didn’t sleep at all last night and at 4:15 in the morning I was wide awake and ready to pack up the car. Two years ago I decided that my future home would be across the country and yet still I can’t believe I’m actually headed there now.


About two months prior to this morning, I was checking my email and discovered something sent by the New Yorker newsletter. The message literally spoke directly to me… “Love to write? Seriously obsessed with NYC?” Um, yes and YES. –And that’s how I discovered what, for me, would not only be the beginning of the actualization of my dream, but also the start of a whole new reality check.


I giggled and bounced around on my bed at first—that is, until I caught a look at the tuition fees. Turns out, although “discounted,” this college’s prestige would be directly proportionate to its price. At first, I was in shock—‘don’t they know this is a recession?!’ I put the thought of ever making this happen behind me and decided I should just focus on saving and finishing my degree in California.


However, a few weeks later, my boyfriend brought up the idea again and asked how the application process had been going. I was forced to admit that I was putting off applying due to what I considered some very obscene tuition costs. –But he wouldn’t have any of my excuses and he made it known how upsetting it would be if I didn’t even try. So, somewhat reluctantly, I filled out my application and turned it in. He was right: I couldn’t just let the opportunity slip by.


A week or so later, I got an email from the dean of the college informing me that I would soon receive an acceptance letter in the mail. I was elated; by that time, I had resigned myself to the fact that sometimes it’s worth putting yourself in debt to pursue your dreams. I bought warm jackets, ear muffs, boots, and scarves to prepare myself for the cold. Later on, I jumped on board completely and bought my nonrefundable plane ticket before I had even taken care of the tuition costs. I just assumed that applying for a loan would be easy and getting the funds would be fast.
Oh, how naive a 21-year-old girl with barely any credit can be. When I finally applied for my loans, lo and behold: I was NOT a desirable candidate! (‘--But if they only knew me!!’) When I was told I needed a cosigner, I felt like all hope was lost. I began to once again put my hopes of moving far away and just assume that this time it wasn’t meant to be.


Little did I know what was in store.


My mom came up to me and, noticing I was feeling pretty low, suggested that we sit down and pray. I wasn’t immediately open to the idea (as many stubborn people often prefer to wallow in their pathos) but after a little encouragement and a long talk, I was ready to face a God that I hadn’t been able to speak to in quite some time.
After we prayed, I felt as if no matter what the outcome, I could finally rest in knowing it would be the right choice either way. Relaxed, yet still a little teary-eyed, I looked at my mom as she hugged me goodnight and assured me everything would be figured out in the morning. How she knew this—I still have no idea.


Yet, sure enough, I woke up the next morning and the first thought on my mind was ‘Thank God I’m at peace today…’ Immediately after this little prayer, I heard a muffled noise coming from under my pillow. Long story short, within two days, God had provided a way to help make my dream come true. I guess all things are possible…

Staying Grounded

There is a little tree just outside my bedroom window. It's still pretty new from when we moved into this house about 7 years ago. During this time, in the dead of winter, it struggles to keep what leaves it has left. The trunk is small, but sturdy at the base and as the tree grows up toward the sky, its branches seem to be reaching out in such random and opposite directions.


Today I'm looking out my window at this tree as the cold winter wind is batting those scrawny little branches back and forth. It kind of reminds me of something from a Tim Burton movie. The wind will hit, and the whole top half of that new little tree begins to toss almost violently--frantically. I'm looking out my window at this tree and I realize we are the same.


I'm moving to New York for a semester of school and this morning all I could think of is how much needed to be done. My branches were reaching out in every direction they could, but they were just letting the wind beat them tired. God kept telling me to sit down and ask for His help, but for the first few hours I was awake, I found myself sending up short little telegram prayers instead of sitting and spending quality time with Him like He wanted.


Finally, I sat down, turned off my music, and began to also work on turning off my anxieties. I asked God what He wanted for me today and He gave me these verses:


"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength." -Isaiah 30:15b


"Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
he rises to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for Him!" -Isaiah 30:18


It seemed pretty clear that God wanted me to be quiet and wait on Him and as I sat alone with my eyes closed and my head lifted to Him, I waited for my directions.


After a few moments, I opened my window and sat on the floor in front of it to watch and wait for a message. Yes, I noticed the colors and the beauty of the nature just outside my house, but the first thing I noticed was the wind. I remembered a time almost ten years ago when I sat outside and asked God to show me He was there. I asked Him to make the wind blow so that I could feel Him. When I opened my eyes that day, the palm trees were being blown so hard they were nearly bent sideways. Ever since, the wind has reminded me that God is always there. I smiled as I realized that God wanted me to know He was there with me today just as He always has been.


That's when I noticed the tree.


Branches blowing, leaves hanging on for dear life, I knew it was important to watch this little tree struggle. The whole top half was being beaten back and forth as I continued to watch. Yet after a few minutes of this, I finally noticed what God wanted me to see. The small trunk of that tree moved less and less the closer it got to the base: God.


My dad has always told me to keep my "foundation" firm and this was such a wonderful example. Although the top of my tree may be beaten back and forth as I reach in all directions, the trunk of my tree is God and it keeps me sturdy. No matter how hard life beats at my branches, my trunk is rooted deep enough to keep me in the ground. So today I rest in His salvation and let the quiet be my strength.

Mending the Brooklyn Bridge

I have been thinking a lot lately about broken bridges and mending fences and I've come to the conclusion that those bridges can be mended, too. I think it is important to live in harmony and invite healing into your life whenever possible. The world is often a lot about hate, so why not try the opposite?


In the past year, I have said and done a few things I'm not necessarily proud of. I broke off budding relationships, as well as ones I had been a part of for a little longer. I used to think of myself as a cold and unattached person--able to let go of almost anyone like it was nothing. However, treating relationships this way (no matter how developed or not) always seems to leave me feeling a little bit off. So what now? If I see that person, I ignore them? It's just so middle school of me.


So maybe I can't take back the things I said or did to nearly ruin a relationship, but I can apologize for them and make an effort to grow into a more mature person who will hopefully handle the next situation with a little more wisdom.


I know that there are times I have let my emotions carry me, but I also know that where there may have been a dark past, there can still be a bright future.


(Dedicated to anyone who may have seen my dark side, but is willing to help me return to the light. :) Attraversiamo... "Let's cross over.")

Return to the NY State of Mind

A funny thing happened today as I drove us back from a lovely sushi lunch--I lost control. My boyfriend sat in the passenger seat as I pulled out into the street to make our way back home. He seemed listless as he uttered, "I miss this place." ('This Place' being the town where he attended college.)


The only thing I could think of was how I miss New York everyday; so I said it out loud.


--And that's what seems to have caused the whole ordeal. I could not stop complaining about SoCal and listing off things I hated about it, to which my boyfriend finally responded (and rightfully so) by asking me to quit complaining. So I became silent and immature as if that would fix my frustration... and then there they came, one at a time, one after another, they fell from my eyes that hid behind a pair of brown sunglasses--they slid down my cheeks stinging with sadness.


It wasn't his fault that I felt this way--it wasn't anyone's fault but my own. The truth is, it had been wearing on me for a while... the spending habits, the "we'll get there when we get there" attitude... I knew in the back of my mind that it was these kinds of thoughtless delusions that would keep me from my dream. I knew that I had been ruining my plans every time I bought new shoes or went out for a coffee for the fourth time in a week.


So I cried because I needed to. I cried mostly because I realized it had been about a year since I had started making these plans and originally I thought I would have moved by now. I cried because I knew I messed up and I cried because I was PMSing and isn't it true that it always feels so natural to make that sad little monkey face and cry because everything hurts worse when its backed by those lethal, loaded hormones?


As I sat in that driver's seat (now parked by my boyfriends car) I let loose of everything that had been holding me back and not only vowed to return to that full speed ahead version of myself, but also promised to always keep this dream in mind and not take for granted how horrible it feels to realize you have put the most important thing to you on the back burner.


Meanwhile, as all of this is dramatically unfolding, my poor boyfriend still sits dumbfounded in the passenger seat--wondering what he did wrong to cause such a theatrical set of tears. Don't worry, I explained how I felt the best way I could and he was perfectly supportive. He assured me that we were still young and we would make it there eventually. He assured me that he could save for our future with his new job and that together we could make it there even faster.


He is so perfect sometimes I can't even believe it. Sometimes the most horrible events can bring about the most delightful realizations.


So today as I let my emotions take over, I also let my ambition defeat my materialism. I watched from inside as my world shifted once again and when I finally quit with the tears, I was able to smile knowing that today had been an important step along my journey.

We Love New York ... in the Movies

My friend sent this to me and I got the chills and started tearing up. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

The Big (Apple) Rant

I can't believe I'm back here again! I feel like everyday my stupid shopping habits and spoiled spending make me step further away from this dream! This dream is everything to me, but how will I ever accomplish what I need to when I'm buying new FlipCams and whatever else?! I don't know what has gotten into me, but I'm at the point where I can't be more frustrated with myself.


So there is only one thing I can do to keep myself from going out and spending: I have to leave the credit cards at home again. That's right--NO MORE! Now, I'm not going to go so far as to give them to my Dad again and have them locked up... no, I will just keep them at home and trust that that will help this terrible habit!


I mean, I watch things about NYC everyday and ache to be there, yet I think it's okay to spend this way? I'm done. That's it! Every CENT I can save I WILL SAVE.


*BREATHES*


Okay, rant over. :)

It's Not Always Cold in NYC

So I realized that I might have become a little hostile toward the weather in California. It's just that I love NYC so much that I want life to be all things NYC. For example, I tend to hate on the heat in California and how it just sticks around until by the end of September you are still feeling beaten to death every time you step out of the AC.


I have sort of been dreading the looming onset of the crazy Cali heatwaves of summer this year. When it had been rainy and chilly, it reminded me of when I visited NYC so it made me feel a little more at home and cozy. When it gets super hot I feel like holing myself up for 5 months and waiting for mercy.


Anyhow, I thought it might be nice and friendly of me to recognize something I DO enjoy about the weather in my home state: those 3-5 days of blissfully perfect temperatures! You know the ones: not cold enough for a jacket, not hot enough to kill me... I think we finally got there. Now, I might be completely jinxing this by saying that because Cali weather is INSANE. We have literally had storms and the next day had sunshine, but I thought it would be nice to recognize how friendly the weather has been--that is, before it turns into the summer of burning hell.


So here's to you, Three Days of Bliss! Because it's not always cold in NYC, so I'm okay with feeling at home for a few days.
Until next time... Ciao!

An Attempt at Blocking Writer's Block

Let's just for a moment pretend that I had writer's block. And maybe this happened for about a month right as I was supposed to be working on four completely different and new stories--stories that are timely, stories that are being PUSHED. And while we are pretending let's just say I spent a whole bunch of money by going shopping instead of writing. So within this scenario, I think someone needs to be slapped. That someone being me.


Now, by saying this, I'm not totally admitting I had writer's block for a month and took it out on my credit card, but yeah, that's what I'm saying. So during this month of h-e-double-hockey-sticks, I experienced more "my-car-likes-to-die-at-the-most-inconvenient-times" dramas--one which happened to end in a speeding ticket I didn't deserve because two blocks earlier my car died and the speedometer went out. So as I'm spending valuable writing time at El Paseo dropping cash and opening new Banana Republic credit cards to get the discount, I'm also paying out the you-know-what for a ticket I don't think I deserve. All the while in the back of my head someone is screaming, "STOP YOURSELF! YOU'RE GOING TO RUIN YOUR LIFE!"


The fact that I lost my mind completely didn't change the desire to move home (My NYC, of course), it just made me keeping putting off what I needed to do to get there. It was like when I had my dad put away my credit card for a month, getting it back made me think I should use it "while I can" (I use the phrase loosely.).


Okay, and I missed one major detail: My editor keeps telling me that one of my stories is the most important of the entire tab for this event and what am I doing? Lusting after shoes?!!


So here's how it went down: I metaphorically slapped myself in the face and sat down to conquer the big one--the article that is soooo important. I got the audio, got the quotes and started to slowly piece that thing together. About a week later, it was finished.


Today it was on to story two--one on the President of the Cherry Festival Association. I met him for breakfast and we talked for about an hour. It was a lovely conversation and I'm starting to feel like I'm getting it back again.... or at least I've had enough coffee to think I've got it back again.


Next will be wrestling down a man notorious for being unbelievably busy. This all has to happen before my trip to Vegas next week.


So a message for myself (after I just spent all this time rambling about life in an effort to feel inspired):
GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR!


The worst thing I could do is let myself get all "slumpy" again. I will not ruin my life! I will not rack up my credit cards! I will not lose New York because I'm sitting behind a smoke-screen of spending and procrastinating!


So as I sit here beside my recorder (which I am nothing without) and in front of my laptop, I have a fat, furry monster purring in my lap and I'm fighting with myself. The logical part of me says "Start--because you won't finish until you begin," and the weird, out-of-sorts writer in me says, "But I have to feel it... convince me that I do..." The trick is getting them to reason with each other.

The Itch That Never Sleeps

This is a topic I have covered many times over in this particular blog; yet isn't it interesting how so many things in life can go right, but I am still not satisfied? I have two jobs getting experience writing, I love working at Theory and getting free clothes, and I have somehow found a way to work things out with Starbucks for a while by working there very rarely. Everything seems to be falling into place, doesn't it? Not to mention my amazing boyfriend and everything I have put him through due to my own selfishness. I don't even have to pay rent because my parents are letting me live at home! I have such a sweet set up, yet I can't stop thinking about my move; for some reason, I just don't feel at home here.


Somehow it just feels like I am on a layover... the longest layover ever. It's like my life is being put on hold so I can wait to go home. I know it sounds pretty dramatic, but I think about the city everyday--every hour--every minute. I think about how my life would be there and no, I'm not so dim to think that once I get there it will be all peaches and pie. I know my life there will be full of long hours, tons of typing (if I'm lucky), and stinky public transportation; but I'm so in love with that place and everything it has to offer. I just can't wait for everything to change and my life to begin. I know I have a lot of steps to take still, but I feel like jumping as far as I can instead.


Even worse than the itch to leave is the itch to--you guessed it--SHOP. I swear, Spring and Fall are the worst times to try and save anything, especially when you work at a clothing store. I have given myself quite a bit of credit before about my abilities to resist a truly gorgeous shirt or dress, but my shield seems to have developed a peep hole which I choose to look through and find Barney's sale items and cheap, yet beautiful shoes from the mall. Now, I know I'll need a pretty solid wardrobe when I get to NYC, but for the love of God what is wrong with me? The more I buy, the more I will have to pack... and the less I can save. I guess sometimes a girl just needs an outlet... a Barney's Outlet, which happens to be conveniently located right around the corner from work. ;)


In other news, I have been given what has proven to so far be a difficult task: my editor sent me some story ideas for our local Cherry Festival and I can't seem to get a bite on anything! Now, I might be kind of busy with school and work and writing the reviews and having a boyfriend, but geez.... there has to be some time hidden in there somewhere. Maybe I'll just have to turn into the Journalist Who Never Sleeps working her but off to reach The City That Doesn't Either. (Don't judge my overuse of proper nouns--it's my creative right. :D That, and the smiley faces.)


So there you have it--my life may be busy, but I seem to be handling it okay. Except maybe those itches that just get harder and harder not to scratch.

My 'City Shell' Begins to Crack

It hurts so much to realize the thing you wanted the most might be gone in an instant. I can't make myself be who I feel I'm expected to be and that seems to get me in trouble--in many areas of my life. Sometimes you can't always be responsible or steadfast. Sometimes you can't always save all of your money and you have to let yourself spend it on something ridiculous. ...And sometimes you can't fool yourself into thinking one day you will be like everyone else.


The conversation I dread everyday of my life actually came up last night... about ten years too early. You see, I struggle everyday with the idea of having a child. I'm not pregnant or anything--I just think about this because the man I love so desperately wants to be a father one day when I don't even like children. Sometimes I think about our life in the future and I'm scared because I see him, so sweet and patient, waiting for me to come around and me not being able to.


I know he knows what a huge responsibility it will be to be a father and I honestly believe that the idea of it excites him to no end, but for me, it terrifies me that I won't be able to give love to someone because I'm too centered in my own world of goals, wants and needs. I've heard that having a baby changes you and maybe there were a lot more people out there like me before, but when they had their child, the world just shifted. I wish I could know how I would react to my baby; I wish I could know if ten years from now the only thing on my mind is having a baby.


I feel like I finally found the right person, but our relationship came along so early that neither of us knows what our future will bring. Oh, we have our ideas: I want to live in the city and become a writer; he seems to want to stay in California and become a teacher and a coach... and a father. It seems all too clear to me that he belongs here: near his family, raising a new one of his own; while I can only see my life in the city without any kids--living by fulfilling my own needs. When I try to see him there, I see the pain welling up in his eyes as he waits everyday for me to change back... back to the girl he met three years ago that was so set on becoming a housewife and doing hair for a living.


I once heard that people who choose to be confused are the ones that just don't like the idea of making a decision. I'm not sure I agree. Am I supposed to wait until one day my life leads me to become a mother? Am I supposed to throw away the best thing I ever had when I don't know what the future holds? Am I so strong-willed and selfish that I can't even begin to accept the idea of caring for another person? WILL I EVER change back?

Chinese Food with Matisyahu and ???

I find it unbelievably ironic that I am doing so much for my career, yet I don’t even have a car right now. That’s right, my car decided to go all Paranormal Activity on me again, so now it is back in the shop where it refuses to talk (it literally erased it’s computer’s memory, so the mechanics can’t figure out what’s wrong) and here I am getting rides everywhere I need to go.

Not only am I working my two jobs still, but I’m also now writing for two sources. Most recently, I have become an Inland SoCal Restaurant Reviewer for InlandSoCal.com and I’m also still writing for The Record Gazette of Banning. So in addition to getting rides to my jobs (located in opposite directions of my house), I also have to get rides to do interviews and reviews, especially if I’m really going to make my way in the writing world. To sum it up, when I say that I am determined to succeed, I MEAN IT.

Somehow wired off iced tea, I sit here in the location of my latest review, Best Wok Chinese Food, listening to Matisyahu on my computer and waiting for a ride from my grandma. I feel like such an oxymoron. From the outside, I look like some sort of successful business woman. I’m dressed in work clothes—black slacks, black button-up blouse, and a grey boyfriend blazer as I quickly type my thoughts onto my trusty, sunshine-yellow Dell. My foot vibrates against the leg of my stool and I can’t help but think about where I am.

I really am a writer, aren’t I? I mean, I write what interests me—what food is delicious—who I think is worth writing about—whatever—and people in the business find it worthy. I feel like this is only a small step toward my dream, but it’s a significant one. …And I’m happy…I’m blessed in my life beyond belief.
I feel like someone is watching me nodding and smiling as I go along in life. I swear sometimes I just get the random urge to dance and I don’t care who sees. Am I lucky as some have said or am I just being taken care of? And if the answer lies in the latter, is this an attempt to catch my attention?

I love Matisyahu—his music is positive and beautiful, yet now I seem to take from it more than I was before. I seem to be paying attention to the spiritual dimension of it more now than I have ever. I guess I want to believe that there is someone—something—taking care of me and making sure I’m smiling. Clearly not everything is going perfectly in my life; if that were so, I wouldn’t be waiting for a ride, but there has to be a reason that I feel so at peace despite the fact that I don’t currently have a car and I’m still living at home.

My inquisitive mind tells me to stay curious and find answers, while my spirit seems content to rest in this unexpected state of bliss. So for now, I have a message to this Being who is watching me in everything I do: Thank you for this… there is no way that it’s just me. Meet me for a chat? I’d like to see more of you.

Coffee Grounds for Opportunity

I never thought I would say this, but at this point in my life, I am in desperate need of a smart phone. I have gotten so busy! You would think that quitting my 40-hour-a-week office job would really free up my time, but you have to remember that that same day I landed a job as a newspaper stringer and a few days later, I was hired as a Barista.


Now, don't get me wrong: I am so in love with my life right now! I would have never imagined how much quitting the best paying job of my life would have changed it for the better. Not only am I writing for my local paper, I am also taking this time to build up my resume. I am definitely going to need these experiences before the big move.


The past few weeks have been such a learning experience in so many ways: not only am I writing more than ever, but I can honestly say I have never been so intrigued by coffee in my life. My interviews have also been very fun and informative, yet lately, I find that I have gotten more comfortable talking with people who are total strangers to me in most cases. At first it seems so awkward to walk into a person's life and expect them to bear all, but now it's just second nature. Stay curious--ask the right questions.


In addition to the features I have been composing for The Record Gazette, this week I will add blog reviews to my resume. Last Thursday, I received an email from one of my Journalism professors suggesting that I contact a woman from The Press Enterprise (a paper that covers the Inland Empire area) about doing some blog reviews on local entertainment and dining. I jumped on the opportunity and today I ended up writing my first review. I can't wait to see it posted--I really liked my approach.


As for the Lawrence Wright talk happening on Thursday night, I was scheduled to work until 9pm, but I'm hoping I will get lucky and be able to leave early although I'm not too keen on asking since this job is still fairly new.


Also, my parents ran into a woman who knows someone who works for Self Magazine in New York. I'm hoping I can get in contact with her and have lunch with her friend on the upcoming visit to the city.


Opportunites are flying in as I stand here wide-eyed and ready; I feel like now is the time I have to start proving myself to the Journalism world... no blinking!

Lawrence Wright!

I hate posting dinky little blogs that look stupid, but I just had to say it: LAWRENCE WRIGHT is going to be giving a speech UCR!!! Oh wait, most of you don't live a world where Lawrence Wright is practically your idol. Lawrence Wright is a VERY successful journalist who writes for The New Yorker! Therefore, it is imperative for me to RSVP to this thing and go so I can talk with him and network and see how he did it! I mean, this is my DREAM JOB and the guy is coming to the I.E.! Geez, this is probably the worst (from a literary point of view) post I have ever written... don't judge me for being an excited English nerd.

Move On and Up

I've learned a lot from life and sometimes just when I think that I've learned it all, life brings me back to reality. I had an experience like this today. I guess you could say that my success in starting out my career in Journalism had gotten to my head. I just couldn't help but be proud of myself. I was published again--accomplished. Someone read my work and thought I was good... in fact, more than one person did.


I had written another article for my new series running in the local paper and I was starting on my third one. The interview was done and all I needed was to put the quotes into a finished piece. It was brought to my attention that I should cover another very interesting story in a timely manner. I saved what I had done on the third article and began to immediately pursue the new subject.


The next morning I got a voicemail from the subject and was excited to jump on the new article. I got home and checked my email only to find an email from my editor explaining that I was not assigned that article; another reporter was.


At first I was upset: I had done the "grunt work" to track down the subject and I thought I would be reaping the benefit of writing a gripping piece. I guess I just had to learn that things don't always work out. Even though I disagreed with the verdict, there was really nothing I could do. I decided to pick my bottom jaw off the ground and go back to finishing the third article.


If there is one thing I can say about this whole experience of life it's that you don't always get what you want or expect. "... but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need!" Thank God for the Stones. At least I'm still gaining experience to reach my dream... and that's just exactly what I need.

A Spark to Light a Dream in the Distance

For once in my life I'm at an absence for the correct words. I have been published for the second time at the age of twenty; nothing can accurately describe how wonderful it feels to me. I guess, in short, I will say this: Nothing makes a writer feel more accomplished than when she pours her soul into her writing and an editor reads it and deems it worthy of publication. I could not feel more honored to have my work in the local paper this week. Hopefully there will be more successes to come.


Until next time, I'll be seeing you--you'll be reading me.

On the Corner of Gumption and Zest

In the short space of a week, I have gone from miserable in a cramped cubicle to out in the world and happy as I've ever been. Instead of discovering yet another source of corruption, I have discovered the delight of sipping the right cup of coffee with the perfect piece of chocolate. Rather than sitting at my desk waiting for my life to begin, I have made it happen. One decision can make all the difference. If I would not have written my resignation letter, I would not have already written my first article for the newspaper and started on the next one. I would not have been hired as a Barista. If that letter was never delivered, I would be waking up at 6 AM tomorrow to make my way through the 7:30 traffic to a place where I didn't belong.


Thankfully, I developed a trait that I have found very handy in the past week: GUMPTION. I was bold enough to quit the highest paying job I have ever had in order to pursue my true passion: writing. I was able to muster enough guts to do it my way and by doing that I caught the attention of two very important people who held the power to give me exactly what I wanted--and did.


The day I quit my job, I went straight to the local newspaper publication to follow up on a call I believed I was getting from opportunity. My heart must have heard correctly because one visit to that paper got me a meeting with the editor and a chance to show the world (or at least the local area) what I'm made of. By that evening I had received my first assignment as the new stringer for the Gazette and I don't think I had ever been so excited. Needless to say, I landed the interview with my subject the next morning and sent my finished article to the editor that night.



I'm now faced with the challenge of doing a series of stories similar to the one I sent in a few nights ago. I have compiled a list of about fifteen ideas, and tonight I did an interview in order to start article two of the series. I know I can handle this, I just can't wait to prove it to the world.


Tomorrow holds quite a few beginnings in this new chapter of my life: I'm being trained as a Barista at my brand new job and I'm finishing article number two (not to mention my homework).


As far as the knowledge I'm gaining, I can't think of much else to say except that it has proven to be limitless.


Yet, the most important lesson of all seems to be to have the gumption to reach for something more--I know I'll never regret it.