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.

A One-Way Ticket to Self-Realization

The other day I was browsing online to check the prices on some airline tickets. I am preparing for my first trip back to New York in nearly six years. I couldn't be more excited about how close I'm getting to that visit. I miss that place everyday and think about how my life would be if I were already there.


As I perused the various discount ticket sites, something occurred to me: In my twenty years alive I have always looked up round-trip airline tickets, yet nearly a year from now I will be searching for my very first one-way ticket. For some reason, just the thought of it got me excited... and a little nervous. I mean, people take vacations for weeks, but they always come back home. It occurred to me that I would be taking the biggest trip of my life--with no intention of returning home.


As exciting as this concept is, I realized that no matter how much I want to go, I'll never be prepared to leave. I don't think I will ever feel completely secure in the idea that I'm branching out alone in the world to make my way in a city that I don't really know the first thing about. I mean, I know the basics: it's expensive, it's competitive, it's ever-changing...but do I really know what the heck I'm about to get myself into?


As I sat back and watched my brain try desperately not to explode, I thought of who I was... or at least who everyone has seen as me. I'm a little Californian blonde who has only lived on my own for about three months before I decided to move back home. I have worked many jobs, but have yet to find one that qualifies as my true passion. I thought to myself about the world's perception of me and who I truly am and it occurred to me that there was a difference.


I may still be young, but now I'm a little girl with big ambitions. I realized that now matter how intimidating things get, I won't let it stop me. This dream has given me such purpose and drive in life; I could never abandon it.


Most people I tell about my goal seem to expect that I don't have a clue what I'm getting into and while some of that statement could be considered true, I still feel grossly underestimated. You see, I'm not going because I think living there is going to turn out like some rom-com movie. I'm going there to work hard and achieve my dream--I am passionate about writing, so what better place would I go to for a career in journalism? Nevertheless it seems that no matter how hard I try to explain what I expect of this city, I still end up backed into a corner with a finger wagging in my face as if to say, "Don't overestimate yourself, little girl."


Why is it that being young automatically qualifies me for the Foolish Olympics? I know that being twenty and "in college" puts me in a certain category, but I also know that I have never in any way fit there. I may have had my stint as a college sorority girl, but I grew up and became who I am now--responsible, determined, and thick-headed. Why should I let the rest of the world tell me who I am when I know damn well they are wrong?


So as I contemplate my looming one-way ticket to a life I can't wait to live, I am stubborn. I will be who I know I am: a writer who is out to live her passion... and the only way to get there is to find just the right time to take that one-ticket to the bank--or you know, the airport.

Monday Morning Blues

When you work where I do during the week, Monday morning can only be described as “extra-sucky.” Not only am I very far from being a morning person in general, but I also don’t particularly enjoy my full time office job. I come to work each day waiting for it to end. I hate how negative this makes me sound, but it really is true. This is what happens when you throw a bubbly little dreamer into an office framed with black clouds.


Yes, I need to be grateful that I have a job right now—but no, I won’t stay here long. I am a firm believer in the principles of a high quality of life. I believe that it is healthy and expected of a person to work—and work hard. I just don’t believe a person should be expected to spend the majority of their life in an office where they are miserable. No one should be miserable because everyone has a choice not to be. It just depends on how hard a person is willing to work.


This principle can easily be applied to my dream of moving to New York City. I have the choice to stay in Southern California and wonder how my life would have turned out or go take the plunge and see how it is. Fortunately, I am just about as driven and passionate as they come, so I have chosen to work hard for the life I want.


Updates on the job situation will come soon…

Happy--with a Chance of Satisfaction?

I was browsing through some more apartments on citi-habitats.com this morning when I came across something nearly indescribable. Yes, I find many of the apartments lovely, but what I came across wasn't really a tangible thing; it was a feeling.


As I clicked through the pictures of tiny, cheap Manhattan studios, I was overcome by a very complicated feeling. To start, I was happy--I was overjoyed to see how cute some of the lower-priced apartments where. I was happy because I knew I would be there someday. However, I was also filled with longing. I sat at my work desk surrounded by files and paperwork and could not think of anywhere I wanted to be less. I was hoping I could fold my arms and wink my way to those apartments; if only we all had I Dream of Genie powers to take us away.


I find it a little perplexing how my moods seem to roll and surge, but at least they make my life interesting. The other day I wrote about happiness--and I'm not saying I have lost that--I just find it interesting how a person can feel happy overall and still be unsatisfied.


Then I had a thought: What if no one is ever satisfied? Are we all doomed to roam the earth searching for our next goal--the next mountain to climb?


What if people could stop talking about living in the moment and just do it? I mean, I will make it to New York because I have to; I won't rest until I do what I have set out to accomplish. However, what if I could just be satisfied to look at those wonderful apartments until I can get there and have one. Why must I feel a rush of dissatisfaction every time I log onto that site?


In keeping with my New Year resolution, I would hope that I could find a place of satisfaction in the moment. I would hope that at some point I can enjoy what I'm doing just for the time that I am doing it.

Climbing Mountains

The year is almost up and I can't help but reflect on how far everything has come. It has been about a year since my best friend moved to the Bay Area; a year has passed since I realized my career passion--journalism--and "re-realized" the passion I have for the man I love. About a year-and-a-half ago I finally rid myself of one of the most literally toxic "relationships" of my life. Since the beginning of last year, my best friend has moved, fallen in love, completed culinary school, and is now about to go on the biggest journey of her life--I could not be more proud of who she is. I have no clue where that person is who taught me so much last year... although I had to learn from my mistakes, I still thank him for somehow aiding in my "life education." About half a year ago, I found a goal and since then I have discovered the true meanings of the words drive and determination.


I can't be more thankful for how lucky I have been in life. I have made a lot of mistakes to get where I am now, but I love the person I have become and where I am in life. I started this blog feeling somewhat negative about my life and I'm proud to say that I can feel that turning around.


It had been a long time since I noticed the beauty of the Southern California mountains out my window each morning. I had driven to work everyday focused on how tired I was and how much I wanted to be somewhere else. As I crawled through the traffic on the 10 freeway, I felt as if I was dragging myself to work each day, waited for my life to begin. It's interesting how one little detail about a place can turn a person's thoughts upside down.


The morning I noticed the mountains again was clear and crisp; I must have been in a good mood because it actually felt like winter outside. One of my favorite radio stations just seemed to play all the right songs in a row and as I come up through the valley to the town where I work, for the first time in forever I saw those purple mountains on the other side. They just looked so beautiful against the tops of the green trees that gathered below them--I couldn't do anything but smile.


I feel happier than I have in a long time. I won't say it is because of the mountains or because of the weather or how my relationship is going, but I can say that the culmination of what is happening in my life today has served to make me realize that I should be grateful. Although I am still striving to reach my goal, I will not sacrifice my current life for one that is yet to come.


My New Years resolution is to make an effort to see the world more clearly--I have to start "noticing the mountains."

Utterly Apalled

In life, we often have to make tough decisions. This weekend, I had to make a decision concerning my finances. Although I do not have to pay rent right now, I still have expenses and lately a lot of unexpected ones have come up. Up to this point, I have been notorious for not knowing how to manage my money well--mostly because I have never had to. I have worked since I was of age to, but somehow my money seems to quickly disappear out of my bank account. To be completely honest, I'm probably wearing half the paychecks I have ever earned... on my feet of course. However, despite evidence to the contrary, because I have had a clear goal (NYC) for the past few months, I have learned to put large chunks of money away into a savings account. I then make it a point to forget that money exists until the appropriate time. I feel like having something to drive me makes me more conscious of how I use my paycheck.


A while back, I discovered an item I thought would be perfect as a wedding gift for my sister. When I decided I should purchase it, I was in much different financial condition than I am now. It was about a month ago, and I had not taken into account that Christmas was coming. I kept putting the expense off because it was a large amount of money and I needed to take care of more important things. My car had been dying on the freeway for months and it was finally in the shop for repairs. I worried that it would require a large amount of money to get it fixed, so I made sure I held onto a chunk of it so that I would not be too far in the hole if that happened. About a week after I got my car back, I found out that my best friend since first grade is going through something that can only be described as life-changing. She lives about seven hours away in Berkeley, CA, so I immediately made the decision to make the flight up to visit her as soon as I could manage it. Meanwhile, Christmas looms ahead and I have yet to buy a single present. It's pretty obvious that something has to give. So I inform the entity holding the item for me that I will probably not be financially able to buy it after all and send my regrets.


Upon hearing this news, this person got completely out of hand and tried chewing me out like it would help the situation. I don't know why I feel the need to write about this, but I'm assuming it has something to do with the fact that the entity never behaved this way towards me in the past month. It feels like despite my efforts to help this person in other ways, I was taken for granted and only seen as a wad of cash.


It is utterly offensive that a person would not be able to understand my situation whether I explain it in detail or not. It just goes to show that the saying I mentioned in an earlier blog is true: In order to reach your goals, you must learn to block out the negative and tune into the positive.


Let this be a lesson: Never expect more out of a person because you will often be disappointed by how human they actually are.

When the Time is Right, I'll Leave this Place Tonight...

You can't always run from the things you don't want to do. In fact, you must often endure the situations you like the least in order to reach the goals you love the most. Goals have to be difficult because if they were easy reaching them would not be a success. Painfully crawling toward a target is what makes it rewarding in the end.


A person who fights to reach a goal can be easily classified as uncharacteristically strong. The world will tell a person that certain goals are out of reach or a waste of time. The key to the achievement of personal goals is to learn to block it out. Block out the negative and only accept the positive. It's impossible to reach a destination without a driving force pushing to get there.


"When the time is right
I'll leave this place tonight
Just leave everything behind
It's time to face my life
We'll trail a path across that gap
Slap back through a crack in time
Is anyone on the other side
Seek and you might find"
-Matisyahu "So Hi So Lo"

Prithee, My Dear, Why Are We Here?

We sat in our tree eating Hostess cupcakes and spying on the boys next door. It was such a big deal if her mom let us venture out of sight around the block. We walked together, content just to talk. We spent so much time together that people thought we were related. They would call us sisters although we looked nothing alike. It might have been the way we read each others minds or how we would throw our heads back and giggle in unison.

We grew up, but I can’t say it was too fast.

In high school, we were so eager to leave—and we did…often. We would sneak out and hop into her clunky old Mazda truck. We would head out of town going as fast as we could on the freeway. (It could barely reach 60mph.) We loved it! We loved how the whole truck shook when it went over 50mph—I guess we didn’t realize we were actually in danger. We would drive through the desert giggling and singing obscure songs no one else knew. We would spend the entire day wandering because our journeys were always much more interesting than our destinations.

Those times are behind us now, but our friendship is not. Although she has gone to follow her dreams, I can still remember her giggling with me up in that tree as we talked about things we knew we could get in trouble for. I still remember putting on those special songs and serenading each other in that shaky truck. We talked about these dreams often, but now for her they are a reality and I could not be more proud of who she has become.

I’m not too far away from reaching my goals either; I look to her for inspiration and support. I know we will both make it where we want to be. No matter how dangerous the road gets, we remember that our journey may well be the most interesting, yet taxing, part.

Washington Heights Apartment

(Picture above is NOT of the outside of the apartment below.)

http://www.citi-habitats.com/viewlisting.php?adID=941159&scroll=1

Love is a very splendid thing.

Love lifts us up where we belong.

All you need is love...

and by that, I mean THIS APARTMENT.

It is BEAUTIFUL!

(Words stolen from one of my favorite movies, Moulin Rouge.)

Check Marks the Spot

My last shred of self-control is barely hanging on for dear life while the rest of me is begging to bust out the scissors. The New Yorker inside of me is telling me it's okay to explode. The smell of coffee wafts through my mind as a reminder of what I want; I won't let up until I get it.


Sometimes it is better to push until things go your way than to sit and wait while you are trampled. I may not be the boss at either of my jobs, but I feel that I deserve respect for the amount of work I contribute to each company. On the weekends, I enjoy working so much that it almost doesn't feel like work at all, but so far at this new job during the week I feel like I am fighting my way through each day. Now, there is nothing wrong with working hard and clawing your way to your goals, but there is no point in putting in that kind of effort when you are not compensated for it in a timely manner.


The first of the month looms near and I am broke. I owe my Dad money for my cell phone and insurance, I owe it to my credit score to pay off that stupid card before it goes into interest, I will most likely owe the mechanic money to fix my car (if they ever figure out what is happening to it), and--most importantly--I owe my savings account a sizable deposit. Not to mention that this month is Christmas and I have not even started my shopping.


At this point, I feel that I have put forth enough effort in rectifying this situation as is reasonable, yet I am not content to sit back as I am screwed at every turn.

Keep My Feet on the Ground and My Head in the Clouds

I'm selfish.


...and I'm okay with that.


Sometimes there is no other choice for me. I am constantly put down for my desires because they are--to my family--a little "out there." They just can't understand why I love my city so much. They won't even give it a chance. It kills me that they actually think all the criticism is helping me--or helping them convince me.


There is no way it ever will.


If anything, they are making me want to push harder and leave sooner. I don't understand the logic that putting me down for going for my dream will accomplish anything but bad feelings. It's like they have no idea who I am anymore... and they don't want to try to find out.


My mom has this fantasy about me that I will marry rich and live in a house with a white picket fence. I will have little girls and drive them around in an SUV. I will constantly wear an apron accompanied by a smile. Except in my version my smile is fake and it's not a fantasy... it's a nightmare.


In my dream, I break that mold-- big-time. In my opinion, some of the most successful people are the ones that break the rules. Sometimes they don't follow the instructions on the package and sometimes their lasagna turns out burnt because of it. Well, I'm willing to eat burnt lasagna every once and a while to make it to my goal.


I know there are still a lot of steps to take and I'm not afraid of the journey. You have to walk before you can run, right?


...well, in my case, you have to crawl before you can walk; you have to walk before you can run...


You have to jump before you learn how to soar...

From Country to City

The bloodhounds creep in from all sides, but the rabbit is not afraid. They slowly and carefully inch in on the rabbit as its head darts back and forth looking for a way out. Once they have overtaken it, they plan to use it for their separate purposes.


One hound will eat the hind legs hoping he too will have the speed and agility that the rabbit once displayed. One hound will eat the rabbit's tall ears hoping to gain the elusive perception that the rabbit once had. Another hound plans to take the rabbit's beautiful fur coat and wear it, hoping to gain the warmth the rabbit once enjoyed. Still another plots to take the rabbit's brain so that he may have as much knowledge as the rabbit did. The last wants to steal the rabbit's soul--perhaps to replace the one that was lost long ago.


All are bearing violent intent just to get what the rabbit has. However, the bloodhounds still lack the speed, perception, warmth, knowledge and spirit that the rabbit will maintain as long as she is still alive.


The rabbit quickly darts between the legs of one of the hounds and escapes the dangerous circle. She spots what appears to be a small hole not far away and jumps inside. Warm inside the hole, she laughs to herself because she knows this is not just a hole--its a tunnel. She burrows through the dirt as the sounds of the howling dogs become more and more distant behind her. As she continues to run--tired and dirty--she begins to question herself just for a moment...


She starts to slow down--only for that moment--until she sees a small beam of light peeking through the other end of her tunnel. She knows in her heart she has almost made it out, so she takes a deep breath and runs as fast as she has ever run. Within moments, she bursts through the dirt and into the light.


She lifts up her sore paws and wipes the remains of the dirt--the reminder of her troubles--out of her eyes. She looks up and smiles realizing the light isn't from one light alone, but from many that burn together.

Vanilla Smoke and Longing

The children had wet, dirty hair. They had been playing in a dirty and particularly unattractive fountain. The fountain has statues of dirty children that are depicted playing in its dirty water. In some respects, I prefer the statues to the human children--they are much less annoying. The children only served to prove once again to me that I am not nearly ready for children. Those children--with their wet, scraggly hair--made me almost loose my appetite.


An old woman sat at the edge of the fountain drinking her smoothie like it was actually a healthy choice. Little did she know, it was full of sugar and sorbet. She watched the children tenderly although they were obviously not her own. Despite her age, she sat swinging her nylon-clothed legs off the edge of that ugly fountain.


There was a middle-aged man further away from the fountain and for some reason he was shading himself under an umbrella while already in the shade. He clearly belonged to a large group of the children; they kept running up to him--wet and loud--and bothering him. If he was left to babysit, he was not doing a very thorough job at it. I watched as the children ran further and further away as he turned his back and entered the chinese restaurant nearby. He was inside as two of the dirty little boys jumped atop a ledge and were running across it in their wet shoes. As the older boy jumped off, the younger one followed. He walked back out and sat down with again with that pointless umbrella.


A couple walked by: a man with tattoos and a woman with piercings in all the wrong places. They both looked foolish in their "rebel-garb."


I was neither interested nor moved by anything I saw. The buildings were contrived--the shopping center common. I did not find the children cute and I did not find the old woman endearing. I definitely formulated that the man was a horrible babysitter and the couple looked ridiculous.


However, nothing moved me. The one thing that moved me this afternoon was the smell of smoke wafting off a woman's cigarette as she walked by--not because I wanted one--but because the smell of a vanilla cigarette made me think of where I wanted to be: New York.

Lost in the Fog of my Thoughts

Although it has previously seemed much easier for me to identify what I want in life, at this moment it seems like it is definitely clear what I don't want. The long hours involved in working two jobs seven days a week have taken their toll and all that is left of me is a shell. At times I feel somewhat sucked of my spirit and drive and wonder if it is really worth the paychecks to push myself so hard. It is very clear to me that I don't want to work at either of these jobs for the rest of my life. I don't want to be stuck doing things that I'm not passionate about. I don't want to put in countless hours and be pushed everyday to do more and more tasks that in no way feasibly fit into one day.


The amount of push might be surprising enough, but what is more surprising to me is the amount of negativity. When I arrived here a few weeks ago, I was easily recognizable as the only ball of sunshine left in the place. I immediately noticed the surplus of raised voices coupled with a feeling of urgency so thick that you could almost see it hanging in the office air. Everyday I walk in at 8am and wonder why I'm here, knowing that I don't belong.


It takes a certain type of person to handle an office job like this and I'm a little unsure I fit the mold. Yes, I'm driven and I get along with many different types of people, but my sense of independence seems to be what is getting in my way. I may take direction and work to complete my large task lists, but I don't do well when I feel someone is disrespecting me or belittling me. Don't get me wrong, I have already made many friends in this office and they are certainly very strong people, but I will never be able to take what they take lying down. My personality obviously gets in the way to the point where something will eventually have to give.


I'm unsure what I should do with these thoughts, but I guess for now I will just internalize them. I can only hope I will make the right decisions and eventually reach my goals.