Saturday, December 19, 2015

You Learn To Live A Life

We make decisions every day in our lives. For the most part they're innocuous and mundane, but what if they're not. What if going to the drive-through Starbucks instead of the sit-down alters the course of you life? I mean, it probably wouldn't but WHAT IF?!  Then there are those decisions that you can put a pin in a singular moment of you life and say, "THAT'S it, that's the moment that changed my life." The visible sharp turn in the path of your life. Everyone has their own idea of destiny, fate, and/or the lack thereof. I'm a firm believer that "what is meant for ye shall not pass ye by" (said in an Irish accent) as told to me by the sweetest little old lady who was once a patient of mine. And if something's meant to be, it'll be. Even if you take a round-about way to get there.

Sometimes it's interesting to wonder what if. And think that in some parallel universe there's a me that went to med school that time I considered it and is an emergency physician in some metropolitan trauma center.  Living in a high-rise condo. In another universe there's a me that got married in college and has babies. In another universe there's a me who stayed in Seattle instead of moving to New York. In another universe there's a me who stayed in New York instead of going back to Seattle. All of the me's in these universes I'm sure are just as happy as the me in this realm. And in all the ways that matter, I'm convinced we'll all end up in the same place. Ultimately, the fallout from every decision you make is yours. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Overall, it's a pretty glorious picture, no? I wouldn't trade a single second of heartache and pain I've been through if it meant having to give up the a single good thing that came from each decision. I've learned to live a life. It hasn't been pretty, it hasn't been easy, it hasn't looked like I thought it would, and I wouldn't change a single second of it. Some days growing up is pretty darn awesome. Most days adulthood is really all it's cracked up to be. And the days that it's not I still wouldn't trade at the expense of those days. If you ever get the change to see this play, GO. In the meantime, I'll leave these lyrics here.

I didn't go to Vassar,
But to Smith, or Yale, or Brown
I ended up in Boston,
Or some small Alaska town
To practice law, or neuter cats,
Or fish the Bering Sea
Those lives are lived somewhere
By some other me

Some other me
Is homeless
Some other me
Is queen
Some other me has seen things that no other me has seen
If I met her I would ask her that one question we both fear:
Some other me
How’d we end up here?

Look down each road left untaken
Trace ev’ry turn and twist
The lives that we just let go by
The dreams we might have missed
Now we’re old enough to know that
One road ends where one begins
The moment where the “what might bes”
Turn into “might have beens”


I bought a couch two days after the last post. Lolz. Buutttt it was only $450 on a black friday extended special, so I really couldn't pass it up... And all other goals still on track :)

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

On Goals & Air Mattresses

Today has been an interesting one. I've been having a hard time readjusting to working night shift. Or nightshift-ish since I work from 4pm-4:30am ...ya know what? Never mind, that's a night shift. I forgot how truly crappy you feel. I had become so used to feeling like a normal person that I honestly forgot what it was like. And the days that you work are fine, because you're in a routine. And when you work 12.5 hours a day plus a 30 minute commute each way that only leaves 9.5 hours for sleeping, eating, showering, and getting ready for each day. Plus social media, because priorities.

As I was saying, I forgot how crummy you feel on your days off when you want to do things during daylight hours and maybe even see some sunshine. Because if you were to keep your same schedule you kept for working days you wouldn't see the sun for more than 2 hours. And that's not enough time for human beings. Especially for human beings who have happily adjusted to life in LA where it's sunny 345 days of the year. So I try to switch back to a slightly more normal schedule without screwing myself over when it comes time to go back to work.

Today it was a big accomplishment that I was able to get myself out of bed, ready for the day and out the door to enjoy the sunshine by 1pm. I explored the Beverly Center and went for a walk up and around Melrose. Because I'm powerless to just walk by a Sephora without going in, and I'm powerless to go in without purchasing something, I came out with $250 worth of stuff I hadn't planned on getting; stuff that I now needed. Then because I have no food at my house, nor any desire to go to the store to purchase some, I got to-go food from Craig's. Because, treat yourself. It's my day off.

Then I came home and decided that I should look into getting actual furniture for my apartment. Yes, that's right I don't have any furniture. Besides a bed. Because, priorities. Seriously. I have an air mattress in my otherwise bare living room. So I started looking at Ikea online, found a couch, chaise, chair, and rug that I liked and that were reasonably priced. Then I took a quick check of the credit card balance I've been working on paying off. And almost got sick. Because I forgot about the car tune-up I had put on there. And the afore mentioned bed. A piece of advice for adulthood? Never settle for the cheap bed.

So I logged off the Ikea website and thought, "Ya know what, I don't need a couch." And I don't. Is that weird? I feel like adults should need couches. But why? I don't honestly miss having one. My air mattress works perfectly fine for sitting. I was going to get one because I felt like that's something an apartment owner (renter) should have. Because, reasons. For some people, it might be something they need, and that's ok too. For me, it simply isn't. Because I'd rather pay off my credit card than have a couch. I'd rather get my hair done at the nice salon than have a couch. I'd rather shop at Sephora and get takeout than have a couch (or grocery shop). For me, my house is a home without a couch. And maybe when I get a couple more things done from my goal list I'll get a couch from craigslist. Maybe.

I spent the rest of the evening talking online to a friend who lives in Toronto. Talking about people who motivate us and goals that we want to accomplish, places we want to see, things we want to do. And it was a nice reminder for me. I've been doing well with paying off my debt and on spending my money on experiences instead of things. I could do better. I've slacked a bit recently. So I vowed to myself to write my goals down. Bring back the vision board. Make my goals visible again. Write them on the bathroom mirror, tack them to the wall by the door so I see them every time I leave.

No one accomplishes anything of note without working their ass off. That's just the way it works. And if you work hard and go hard and push through the parts when it's easier to quit, greatness happens. Everyone has their different goals. Everyone is different. So decide what it is that you'd rather do. What are you willing to forego to get what you want. What do you want most? For me right now? Number one goal: paying off my debts. So that I can accomplish goal number two, the only one that ultimately matters: see the world. Goal one is a necessary means to accomplishing the end-goal of number two. I'll admit that sometimes Sephora and feeding giraffes and Disneyland get in the temporary way of goal number one. There's a fine line between keeping your sanity and going overboard. A girl can't live on free walks to see palm trees alone. Every once in a while treats are ok. I just need to be better at choosing ones that I want enough to make it worth my time. Re-buckle down, re-focus, re-group. Put your game face on, put your head down, and charge ahead full steam with your goals. What are you waiting for. (If you say January 1st our friendship is in jeopardy. My loathing for and refusal to believe in New Year's resolutions is another post entirely.)

Monday, November 23, 2015

Hello, It's Me

Hello, can you hear me? I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be....

So, does anyone read these things anymore? Rhetorical question. I've been getting the writing bug again lately. Bad. So I thought maybe I'd check back in here, fluff out some feeling-feathers and see what happens. Much has changed since we last met. And I have much to say about how finding the right hair dresser changes your life, about doing more and needing less, about stolen property and shedding extra weight. About life and love and, well, mostly love. And life. And palm trees. First, something I've been thinking about and wanting to tell you here for --well-- years, really. The word 'but' and how I loathe it. Have I told you about this before? I don't even remember to be honest, I feel like I may have mentioned it in a post some time ago? I'm too lazy to read through and check... So... When I was finishing my bachelor's degree in nursing we watched a TEDtalk video on replacing the word but with and. Was it a video? I might not remember... it might have been in a Fierce Conversations book we read for a leadership class. I'll research and get back to you. Lol, no I won't, because let's be honest, ...I just won't.

The thing is, the word 'but' has no place in our lives. All too frequently we use the word 'but' to soften the blow of something honest we're too afraid to say outright. And all too frequently we think that things are mutually exclusive when they're simply not. The world isn't black and white folks. They worlds a delicious swirl of hues of gray. Let's look at a simple common use of the word. A friend wants you to come out for a night of fun, but you're already bra-less, in sweats with your hair up and netflix cued. "I love you," you say, "But, I'm not coming." Why not 'I love you and I'm not coming.' They're both true statements aren't they? The fact that you're not going out doesn't mean that you love your friend less. Nor does the fact that you love your friend mean that you are obligated to go out. The message that you're actually giving is that you love your friend, but not enough to put on pants. When that isn't the case at all. You just don't want to go out. Do you see how "I love you AND I'm not coming out" is a much stronger sentence? Either both phrases are true and can stand on their own or one of them isn't. And if one isn't, don't sugar coat shit, just call it like it is. No disclaimer or qualifying statement required. Be honest. Be bold. Be authentic. Be real.

"Your hair looks great, but I'm not a fan of the dress." No. "Your hair looks great, AND I'm not a fan of the dress." Don't let the fact that you're not a fan of the dress detract from the truth of the hair statement. And if the hair statement isn't true, for the love of God, don't say it. A simple, "I'm not a fan of the dress" will suffice. "It's been great visiting, but I've got to go." Nope. "It's been great visiting and I've got to go now." Do you get it? I literally go bananas when I hear the word 'but' now. It makes me completely bonkers. Don't do it. Let yourself be real. Let yourself be bold and fierce. This is not the same as being unkind or harsh. Theres a difference between being harsh and being honest from a place of love.

That's all for a minute... Maybe I'll be back soon? Maybe in ten more months? Idk.

This can be a place informal enough for twitter-speak occasionally, no?

The more I think about it, this was from a chapter in our Fierce Conversations book. Which was a FANTASTIC read, and I recommend it to everyone. It's a great life-coach book for being your best self. Maybe we also watched a video of a talk the author gave once? Idk again. I'd say I'd look it up but I think that book got stolen with the rest of my stuff? I'm not entirely sure on that either tbh. If it was stolen, it's one I'd like to have again some day and I should look into replacing it. That's how good it was. See more info here:

Assistant, add that to the list of things to investigate when home for the holidays. Assistant? Hello? Dammit...

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

State of the Union --Vulnerability Hangover Pending

LaFou, I'm afraid I've been thinking... A dangerous pastime-- I KNOW

I think I'm a better long distance friend than I am in person. There are very few exceptions to this rule. Very few people that I've allowed to see me vulnerable in person. That I've been completely myself around.  That I can tell the things that you don't tell other people to --the happiest thoughts and greatest fears and depressing thoughts. Tell them, like verbally, in person. I can count them on one hand. One literal hand. On the other metaphorical hand however, there are countless people that I keep in touch better with over long distance. Social media. Text message. That I can be more myself through written and digital communication only. And it's not them, it's me. At least mostly, I think. Maybe it's just another expression of my preference to compartmentalize my life?


I had a full on chest-tightness, palpitations, and tachypnea panic attack the other day in the middle of Wicked at The Pantages Theater in Hollywood. Why? Because I don't have a house and what if I don't have my house paid off by the time I retire --by the time my mom was my age she and my dad had owned a home for twelve years... and what if I don't have enough money saved for retirement and I really should be more... No, Stop. It's fine... Besides, it's not like I need to have money saved to put children through college, so there's that...


Running hasn't been enough lately. For the past few days I've woken up on the queen bitch side of the bed. None of my usual tricks work to snap me out of it. The other day I had met my four-letter word quota for the day before I had even opened my eyes thanks to the obnoxious tropical birds outside my window (first world problems) (and have you ever seen Failure To Launch?)

Anyways, I stomped out of bed, caught up on the important goings-on of the world while I was sleeping (checked in with twitter and instagram) and grumpily decided to go for a run. It wasn't enough. My legs protested, my lungs burned, my stomach threatened to overturn itself and I was still mad at some unknown entity. So I kept going. I got to the end and still didn't feel any better, which just made me more mad --where were my endorphins dammit?! I threw my hands in the air and cried. Yep. Cried. Walking from the running path to the beach --tears streaming from underneath my sunglasses. And as if from nowhere I said to myself ...or maybe as a prayer of sorts... "I can't do this anymore! I can't do life by myself anymore, I need people!" Life is just hard sometimes, ya know? I kept walking, and kept crying, waiting for the sun-drenched sand to work it's magic. Then because God is funny, the next song on my Pandora was "Big Girls Don't Cry." Which actually did make me laugh... and the tears did stop. I appreciate humor. Then I made it to the beach and saw the most beautiful low tide, and I was ok.  I am ok, and I will be ok. Why is it so hard to need people?  Maybe I need to read THIS article again...

Monday, February 16, 2015

Hello Old Friend

New York. What is it about you?!  I'm having the most glorious day off today. I worked my hind end off at work all weekend, so I didn't feel too guilty about sleeping for ten (or twelve) hours last night. Then I woke up, brewed myself some english breakfast tea in my Keurig (best Christmas gift ever) Added some fresh organic locally grown lemon to my authentic Top Pot (from Seattle) mug, and sat down to watch part of the SNL 40 special from last night while I finished waking up. And then I cried. Because there was a montage about the greatness of New York City set to the tune of Alicia Keys. And it floored me. Because I miss it so much. And I kind of don't understand. I mean, I get it because it really is the greatest city in the world. I just wonder when the pull will loose it's strength. When the compulsion to go will weaken. It's still as strong as it was the very first time I set foot in the city --a bright-eyed and oh so naive early twenty-something year old. Or rather, the first time I got home from the week I spent there. It was literally like part of my soul was missing. I clung with tears to every clip shown of the city on every minuscule commercial, the yearning was almost overwhelming. I had to go back. And go back I did. And I lived there. And I vacationed there. And I lived there. And it was HARD. And I hated it. And I've never loved anything more. And it was over for a while. Or so I thought. I thought I was done with this obsession. Not that I didn't love it, I just thought I had played it out, ya know? But it's not so. There is something that just calls to me. Still. It's deep  and it's real. Maybe it's time to go back? I don't know.  But I do know that I will never be done with New York. I can't imagine ever visiting and saying, "Ok. I've done this, I don't need to come back." I can't imagine ever bidding farewell and saying thanks for the good times, never to return. I. Just. Can't. Say. Goodbye. I don't want to. I've been a lot of places and seen a lot of amazing things. And for the most part I dislike going on vacation to somewhere I've already been. Each place I go, I like to do it so well that I'm done. I can cross it off my list. On to the next new adventure. Greece was that way. It was the trip of a lifetime, but now it's done. I've been there. I don't need to go back. New York is the singular exception to this rule. I. Will. Never. Be. Done. With. You. Any of it. I will never be done with the smell and the garbage and the rats and the dirty underbelly. I will never be done with the way the sunlight filters down through the skyscrapers of possibility, and the endless hope and possibility that glitters through the ambition and drive and pulse of the buildings and the powerhouses within them. I will never be done with the rush of the subway and the strength of the people passing by. I will never be done with balconies overlooking the Hudson at sunset and the horizon across the rooftop at dawn. I will never be done with the raw realism, the superfluous shredding of all things facade, and the hard as stone truth that lies beneath. I will never be done with you New York. And I don't know why. No thing worth having comes easy. No transformation for the better is not in-part painful. And I wouldn't trade it for anything. I don't even try to shake the continual drive to go back. For a week at a time, or for a year at a time. Who knows. You crawled inside me so long ago and I can no longer tell which parts of me aren't you. So even as I leave these ramblings of my mind to go for my sunset jog on the warm sun-drenched beaches of LA, you are with me. I love my life here too, don't mistake my love for New York as a dislike of the beauty that is my west coast life too... A friend once told me, "For the love of God! Just pick a coast!" Haha! But... just... what is it about you?!