Oh Adele, how I love thee... She speaks to my heart more than any artist has before.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The tragedy of first position
Sometimes, I feel like this little girl...awkward, lanky, out of place : ) All for a good laugh though!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Home...
Home. What makes a home? What is your definition of home? Is it the house you live in? The city in which you dwell? The place you go to most often?
I'm not sure I've ever really had physical home. I live in eight different homes growing up in New Jersey and Richmond, then lived in three different places while in college. After college, the pattern continued and I lived in another four different places in five years. And now...I live in what could be described more liken to a cubicle than a "home". On top of all this, my parents now dwell in two completely different states, switching between NC and Florida on a whim. My mom travels the country during the week and my dad drives up to Richmond. Oh, and my brother commutes back and forth to Chicago. Besides the fact that a psychologist would have a field day with this family movement, I almost feel destined to keep on the move...never really establishing that "home".
Sometimes I envy those who have grown up in the same house, never moving neighborhoods, cities or states, Other times I think how boring and montonous that would be. Change is exciting, thrilling, invigorating. But...with change comes disruption, seperation and movement.
Over the past few days I've thought a lot about the idea of home and how with all the change that has constantly happened throughout my life, I don't really have a home I can go to. Sure, I can visit Atlanta, but I don't say I'm heading home. The closest thing to home for me is my parents beach house in North Carolina, but now they might even sell that property. No, to me, the idea of home is in the feeling I get when I'm around those certain people that make you feel as if you are comfortable enough to be home. To me, home literally is where my heart is. It's in Atlanta, it's in Florida, North Carolina, Richmond, Austin, Chicago, Colorado.
My heart, my home it seems, is everywhere except New York City.
This past weekend was spent with family and very close friends. The past two days have been spent alone, longing for that place and sense of home. I worry that I will forever be on the move, changing from one thing to the next, one day to the next, one place to the next. I worry that I will never find my home where I actually am. The changes that have been made have been exciting, thrilling, exhilirating...but at the end of the day, I return to something that is not filled with love and hugs and smiles. I return to an apartment that is cozy and cute but also cramped and cold at the same time. It's missing something. My "home" in NYC is missing something. I have a feeling I know what it is...but what am I to do? Turn around and leave the reason I came here? Turn around and run back to the familiar? All I can do is push forward, move ahead and keep making the changes that will eventually bring me to my home here, there, wherever it is that I might end up. And until then, I will keep my heart and my home with those I love the most.
I'm not sure I've ever really had physical home. I live in eight different homes growing up in New Jersey and Richmond, then lived in three different places while in college. After college, the pattern continued and I lived in another four different places in five years. And now...I live in what could be described more liken to a cubicle than a "home". On top of all this, my parents now dwell in two completely different states, switching between NC and Florida on a whim. My mom travels the country during the week and my dad drives up to Richmond. Oh, and my brother commutes back and forth to Chicago. Besides the fact that a psychologist would have a field day with this family movement, I almost feel destined to keep on the move...never really establishing that "home".
Sometimes I envy those who have grown up in the same house, never moving neighborhoods, cities or states, Other times I think how boring and montonous that would be. Change is exciting, thrilling, invigorating. But...with change comes disruption, seperation and movement.
Over the past few days I've thought a lot about the idea of home and how with all the change that has constantly happened throughout my life, I don't really have a home I can go to. Sure, I can visit Atlanta, but I don't say I'm heading home. The closest thing to home for me is my parents beach house in North Carolina, but now they might even sell that property. No, to me, the idea of home is in the feeling I get when I'm around those certain people that make you feel as if you are comfortable enough to be home. To me, home literally is where my heart is. It's in Atlanta, it's in Florida, North Carolina, Richmond, Austin, Chicago, Colorado.
My heart, my home it seems, is everywhere except New York City.
This past weekend was spent with family and very close friends. The past two days have been spent alone, longing for that place and sense of home. I worry that I will forever be on the move, changing from one thing to the next, one day to the next, one place to the next. I worry that I will never find my home where I actually am. The changes that have been made have been exciting, thrilling, exhilirating...but at the end of the day, I return to something that is not filled with love and hugs and smiles. I return to an apartment that is cozy and cute but also cramped and cold at the same time. It's missing something. My "home" in NYC is missing something. I have a feeling I know what it is...but what am I to do? Turn around and leave the reason I came here? Turn around and run back to the familiar? All I can do is push forward, move ahead and keep making the changes that will eventually bring me to my home here, there, wherever it is that I might end up. And until then, I will keep my heart and my home with those I love the most.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
The Long Way Around...
It used to give me a lot of solace to live under the guise that "everything happens for a reason." That school you didn't get into? Reason for that. That guy you never made it more than a few dates with? Reason for that. Moving to a certain city? Reason for that. A sickness or death in the family? Reason for that. Didn't get that job? Reason for that. Thinking this way allowed to me to push emotions out the door, turn around and walk the other way, to the next thing that would happen...for a reason of course. The problem was...I never found out what all those "reasons" were.
At the wise, old age of 27 I've come to believe that while things may happen for a reason...the reasons just aren't clear right away. You don't miss the bus and wait 10 more minutes and then know instantly that if you had made that bus, this or that would or would not have happened. Life doesn't work that way. It's not easily and simply mapped out for us. Things don't just happen, we make them happen. We make the choices, we make the moves, we make the plans and then life happens...exactly when we are not looking.
When I look back at the past 10 years, there are so many events that I could say happened for a certain reason, but then I'd drive myself crazy thinking of what those reasons were. Why did I go to University of Georgia, 8 hours away from home? Why didn't I pledge that sorority? Why did I choose the friends I did? Why didn't I go to Law School? Why did I move to Atlanta? Why did I work for Sports Illustrated? Why did I leave that job? Why did I date those guys? Why did I move to New York? Why didn't I move out West?
I could have made things simple for myself. I could have chosen to go to school in Virginia, close to home. I could have moved back to Richmond where all was familiar and comfortable. I could have taken a job that doesn't challenge me or that is secure and stress-free. I could have gotten marriend and settled down. I could have moved in down the street from family and close friends. I could have done a lot of things differently...and things would have happened differently...and maybe it would have been easier.
I could have...but I didn't. Forsome reason many reasons I made things happen differently. I went to school far away and I struggled with who I was and who I wanted to be. I moved to Atlanta and always knew there was something else out there in store for me, there was more I needed to make happen. I moved to New York. New York is hard. It's by far the hardest place I've ever lived, I think it's the hardest place many people have lived. They say that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. After 5 months, I know it's true. Everyday is a mix of fight and failure, success and triumph, elation and isolation. But I love it here. If I didn't struggle in this city, I wouldn't know it's victories that lie around every street corner. If I didn't feel alone, I wouldn't have realized how important and irreplaceable friends are in my life. If I didn't mess up, I wouldn't do it better next time. If I didn't step up, I'd always be looking down. If I hadn't moved, I never would have known how much I was missing.
That could be reason enough right now - to find out all that was missing and all that still could be. Sure, I could have made it easy on myself...I could have strayed away from every conflict or heartbreak. But it's those challenges that have brought me to the place I am today. It's a place, a state of mind that knows, no matter what, no matter the reason, things happen. Sometimes they happen because we make them happen and sometimes they happen whether or not we want them to but, in the end, life always turns out like it's supposed to and that, is a great comfort
At the wise, old age of 27 I've come to believe that while things may happen for a reason...the reasons just aren't clear right away. You don't miss the bus and wait 10 more minutes and then know instantly that if you had made that bus, this or that would or would not have happened. Life doesn't work that way. It's not easily and simply mapped out for us. Things don't just happen, we make them happen. We make the choices, we make the moves, we make the plans and then life happens...exactly when we are not looking.
When I look back at the past 10 years, there are so many events that I could say happened for a certain reason, but then I'd drive myself crazy thinking of what those reasons were. Why did I go to University of Georgia, 8 hours away from home? Why didn't I pledge that sorority? Why did I choose the friends I did? Why didn't I go to Law School? Why did I move to Atlanta? Why did I work for Sports Illustrated? Why did I leave that job? Why did I date those guys? Why did I move to New York? Why didn't I move out West?
I could have made things simple for myself. I could have chosen to go to school in Virginia, close to home. I could have moved back to Richmond where all was familiar and comfortable. I could have taken a job that doesn't challenge me or that is secure and stress-free. I could have gotten marriend and settled down. I could have moved in down the street from family and close friends. I could have done a lot of things differently...and things would have happened differently...and maybe it would have been easier.
I could have...but I didn't. For
That could be reason enough right now - to find out all that was missing and all that still could be. Sure, I could have made it easy on myself...I could have strayed away from every conflict or heartbreak. But it's those challenges that have brought me to the place I am today. It's a place, a state of mind that knows, no matter what, no matter the reason, things happen. Sometimes they happen because we make them happen and sometimes they happen whether or not we want them to but, in the end, life always turns out like it's supposed to and that, is a great comfort
Friday, March 11, 2011
What Are We All So Worried About?
There was a time in my life when I didn't "feel right" if I wasn't worried about something. Whether it was if my mom was going to be okay on her cross-country flight, if my car would make it the three hour drive to see a friend at VA Tech, if I was being a good enough person to those around me, if I was doing all I could in school...I'd be worried. And if I wasn't worried, clearly there had to be something wrong and I'd find out what it was.
What a way to live life huh? After a few good kicks in the ass with some serious life stuff, I found out there really wasn't any need to worry about all the small stuff, the things you can't control or the way people percieve you.
I'd like to say that I never worry about anything, but I'd be straight up lying. I still worry about things I can't control (like an airplane flight or a client's reaction to my pitch) but it's not a consistent, deep-seeded worry anymore. I've been able to live life almost worry free and I gotta say, it's a whole lot better that way.
And who am I anyways to worry that I've got the shoes on my feet when there are kids in Africa without shoes at all??? Ok...maybe that was a little dramatic, but it's true. I woke up this morning feeling sorry for myself because I was sick, couldn't make it into work for a busy day and an important presentation, and my apartment was a disaster area. Then I turned on the news to find out that overnight Japan had experienced one of the largest earthquakes in history off their shores resulting in a tsunami that killed over 1,000 people in less than a few hours. Moreover, it was threatening the coast of California and Hawaii. A good friend of mine is in Hawaii this weekend spreading her own mother's ashes and now she has to WORRY about a tsunami? That, is a real cause for worry and a shock to the system. You stop, pray for those affected by this and then...
How quickly we move on with our lives and begin to contemplate our own worries yet again. After checking in with my friend (who is safe thank God), I resumed my own set of worries - still sick I felt horrible for not being "there" for my clients today...for taking a day to feel better instead of helping them make their work lives easier. Um...certainly not tsunami-level worry.
Why do we revert back so easily to our own little worlds and our own little lives? Living in New York has the ability to both make you feel as though you are right in the middle of everything and at the same time make you feel as though you live in a huge, crowded, taxi-full bubble. Work becomes the utmost important thing..deadlines loom and emails fling out left and right. You become absorbed with where to dine at and what new shop or museum to check out on the weekend...all the while worrying about making maybe the wrong choice. Lord forbid I head downtown instead of to the Upper West Side for brunch...
Sure, worries change from day to day, month to month, year to year. But I'd like to really stop worrying about all that stuff that doesn't really matter. I'm not sure when it started...but I'm ready for it to end. Worry as a word is even just annoying, I'm annoyed typing it over and over again in this post and so from here on out...refuse to use it or think of it!
Instead, I will leave you with images of the past few weeks in New York...images that remind me that at the end of the day...there really are more things in life to love hard and listen to and see clearly than to worry about (just one last time)...
What a way to live life huh? After a few good kicks in the ass with some serious life stuff, I found out there really wasn't any need to worry about all the small stuff, the things you can't control or the way people percieve you.
I'd like to say that I never worry about anything, but I'd be straight up lying. I still worry about things I can't control (like an airplane flight or a client's reaction to my pitch) but it's not a consistent, deep-seeded worry anymore. I've been able to live life almost worry free and I gotta say, it's a whole lot better that way.
And who am I anyways to worry that I've got the shoes on my feet when there are kids in Africa without shoes at all??? Ok...maybe that was a little dramatic, but it's true. I woke up this morning feeling sorry for myself because I was sick, couldn't make it into work for a busy day and an important presentation, and my apartment was a disaster area. Then I turned on the news to find out that overnight Japan had experienced one of the largest earthquakes in history off their shores resulting in a tsunami that killed over 1,000 people in less than a few hours. Moreover, it was threatening the coast of California and Hawaii. A good friend of mine is in Hawaii this weekend spreading her own mother's ashes and now she has to WORRY about a tsunami? That, is a real cause for worry and a shock to the system. You stop, pray for those affected by this and then...
How quickly we move on with our lives and begin to contemplate our own worries yet again. After checking in with my friend (who is safe thank God), I resumed my own set of worries - still sick I felt horrible for not being "there" for my clients today...for taking a day to feel better instead of helping them make their work lives easier. Um...certainly not tsunami-level worry.
Why do we revert back so easily to our own little worlds and our own little lives? Living in New York has the ability to both make you feel as though you are right in the middle of everything and at the same time make you feel as though you live in a huge, crowded, taxi-full bubble. Work becomes the utmost important thing..deadlines loom and emails fling out left and right. You become absorbed with where to dine at and what new shop or museum to check out on the weekend...all the while worrying about making maybe the wrong choice. Lord forbid I head downtown instead of to the Upper West Side for brunch...
Sure, worries change from day to day, month to month, year to year. But I'd like to really stop worrying about all that stuff that doesn't really matter. I'm not sure when it started...but I'm ready for it to end. Worry as a word is even just annoying, I'm annoyed typing it over and over again in this post and so from here on out...refuse to use it or think of it!
Instead, I will leave you with images of the past few weeks in New York...images that remind me that at the end of the day...there really are more things in life to love hard and listen to and see clearly than to worry about (just one last time)...
Friday, February 25, 2011
On a Lighther, or should I say, HEAVIER, note...
My post earlier this week was, well, kinda sad huh? But...it was honest and that's what counts, that's what this blog is for.
That being said, I wanted to make today's post a little more fun and give you a glimpse into a huge part of my life here in NYC - FOOD. Anyone that knows me well will tell you one of my most favorite things to do is go out to eat...breakfast, lunch, dinner - whatever the meal, whatever the time...I'm up for it. Discovering new restaurants and ordering the perfect dish are two of my most coveted personal talents. When living in Atlanta I had every neighborhood covered with a suggestion for any occassion. Admitedly, however, New York City isa little a whole hell of a lot bigger (duh) and the food/restaurant options are ENDLESS. Endless meaning new restaurants are always opening, new reviews are always coming out. There is a constant supply of "buzz" surrounding the food scene here and I'm a huge sucker for it all. Hot Chocolate month at City Bakery? A restaurant that serves ONLY mac&cheese? A burger called the "juicy lucy"? Or donuts made of potatoes? or specializes in the art of the meatball? Cereal milk, compost cookies and crack pie?? Yes, seriously...crack pie.
Eating out in New York is what you do. Actually, you don't even have to go out...they deliver EVERYTHING here...everything. Even ice cream, cookies, beer. That alone makes me happy. And if you still don't quite "get it"...look at any one of the hundreds of blogs, newspaper articles or magazine pieces dedicated to the food of New York. Serious Eats is a new favorite of mine with tons of options in the East Village and Blonde and Brownie, the adventure of two girls loving food in this city.
Relationships usually begin over food. That first meal shared can result in love, passion and fascination with someone else. For me, the only relationship I've found so far over food in New York is my own personal relationship with the food itself. Food in New York - it's a love, it's a passion, it's a fascination...and I'm totally obsessed with my new crush.
My FAVORITE place in the city - Eataly...you can enjoy this plate of delish with a few glasses of wine and people watch for hours
That being said, I wanted to make today's post a little more fun and give you a glimpse into a huge part of my life here in NYC - FOOD. Anyone that knows me well will tell you one of my most favorite things to do is go out to eat...breakfast, lunch, dinner - whatever the meal, whatever the time...I'm up for it. Discovering new restaurants and ordering the perfect dish are two of my most coveted personal talents. When living in Atlanta I had every neighborhood covered with a suggestion for any occassion. Admitedly, however, New York City is
Eating out in New York is what you do. Actually, you don't even have to go out...they deliver EVERYTHING here...everything. Even ice cream, cookies, beer. That alone makes me happy. And if you still don't quite "get it"...look at any one of the hundreds of blogs, newspaper articles or magazine pieces dedicated to the food of New York. Serious Eats is a new favorite of mine with tons of options in the East Village and Blonde and Brownie, the adventure of two girls loving food in this city.
Relationships usually begin over food. That first meal shared can result in love, passion and fascination with someone else. For me, the only relationship I've found so far over food in New York is my own personal relationship with the food itself. Food in New York - it's a love, it's a passion, it's a fascination...and I'm totally obsessed with my new crush.
Bagels...my first foray into what is fabulous about the food here...goodbye Thomas' frozen forever!
Whole Wheat or Whole Wheat Everything??
The beautiful burger at Westville, the cute little shop around the corner from my apt...last week I had one of these babies and a chocolate chip cookie (after an awkward first date)
My Sunday hangout - Ost Cafe...the art of the latte
I don't even LIKE eclairs, bu tthis one from Chickalicious in my neighborhood gives them a whole new meaning...
My FAVORITE place in the city - Eataly...you can enjoy this plate of delish with a few glasses of wine and people watch for hoursOr you can have this "slice" of heaven
and finish it up with "une caffe!!" espresso was my life in Italy
and so was gelato. Grom actually came here from Florence!
Last weekend, a friend and I ventured out for ice cream sandwiches. These CLEARLY were not the ice cream sandwiches of our youth...
Momofuku Milk Bar - specializing in Cereal Milk ice cream
Saturday mornings are spent here - MUD Spot coffee. Literally, the best coffee anywhere
Work lunch hours are spent here...Chop't. They do everything...you don't even have to cut the thing!
A client introduced me to BLT Prime - can we say Popover galore?
Italian Sandwiches at Torrissi in SoHo
Nanoosh - ummm, they have hummus. Enough said...
Peels Restaurant - making every Southerner happy
Birthday dinner at Po in the West Village
The Meatball Shop - they do meatballs. and they do them very well!
Mud Truck...this looked a little like my morning today...rainy, long line, still waiting for coffee...
Oh yeah...and that crack pie...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
I Definitely Do NOT Have It All Together....
I feel like I have a lot to say right now. Way more than I have time, space or my reader's attention for. Today has been tough. I'm exhausted, I didn't get to the gym, I dropped my blackberry underwater, I hurt someone very close to me, my head aches and I have an endless amount of laundry waiting for me at home. Funny that just 36 hours ago, I found myself utterly content, at peace with myself and the world around me. This blog post was supposed to be about that peace I had found walking through Central Park, a peace that I had yet to find here in this city full of honking horns, blaring sirens, chatty people, long work hours, loud cab drivers and incessant commotion. While I have come to love all of this "noise," I also knew that it's necessary to be able to escape it all, to find a silence that allows you to reflect on the countless hours you've spent turning wheels, talking, walking, watching and making plans.
I'm a big planner. Anyone that knows me well knows that I make plans days before an actual event...I even like to make plans to make plans...unfortunately, I am more planner than I am spontaneous being. I even made a plan to go and find this peace. Armed with my camera and an unusually sunny day, I headed up 45 blocks from the East Village to Central Park. This jaunt started out as expected, smiling at the other hundreds of New Yorkers who found there way to the one green solace in this city. As I got deeper into the park, the quieter it became, the less people surrounded me, and the more I was able to escape into a world that seemed so far away from the hustle and bustle of an everyday life in New York City. The Resevoir of Central Park might possibly be my most favorite place in this city. Not only because it's gorgeous and profound and speaks of the romance that this city affords, but also because it's solace is remarkable. It's so silent there you can hear the runner coming up behind you, breathing heavily and stomping away at the gravel path. It's so silent that you are practically forced to look around and think a million different soul-searching thoughts...
I'm a big planner. Anyone that knows me well knows that I make plans days before an actual event...I even like to make plans to make plans...unfortunately, I am more planner than I am spontaneous being. I even made a plan to go and find this peace. Armed with my camera and an unusually sunny day, I headed up 45 blocks from the East Village to Central Park. This jaunt started out as expected, smiling at the other hundreds of New Yorkers who found there way to the one green solace in this city. As I got deeper into the park, the quieter it became, the less people surrounded me, and the more I was able to escape into a world that seemed so far away from the hustle and bustle of an everyday life in New York City. The Resevoir of Central Park might possibly be my most favorite place in this city. Not only because it's gorgeous and profound and speaks of the romance that this city affords, but also because it's solace is remarkable. It's so silent there you can hear the runner coming up behind you, breathing heavily and stomping away at the gravel path. It's so silent that you are practically forced to look around and think a million different soul-searching thoughts...
this City is as amazing as everyone says it is...
how far I have come from where I have been....
how much I still have to learn...
remorse for the girl I once was...
excitement for whom I know I will be in the future...
thank you God...
thank you again God...
i wish I had someone here to see this with me...
i need this time alone...
do I enjoy being alone too much...
the ice melting reminds me of my own oldself melting away....
even the birds came out today to enjoy...
how long will I live here...
I feel as though I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be...
thank God...
I feel completely at peace in this silence...
how can i put these feelings into words...
how long will this peace last....
thank God....
So there it was...a circling, thrilling, worrying, flood of emotions brought on simply by complete silence. At the depth of all of this, I felt true happiness, true completeness...for a brief and fleeting moment, all the world was good, every step had lined up...whatever track I was on seemed to be the right one.
and then....today came...
Do you ever know when you wake up that you just don't think it's going to be a great day? Sure you had enough sleep and your hair seems to be having a good day...but there is just a tinge of something that feels looming, you didn't check something you should have, you didn't think about consequences, you didn't think far enough ahead, you just didn't plan. I hadn't planned on today being like a stick in the mud, but it was. In the past, days like this happened a whole lot more often than they do now...but you know what? They happen. They happen for all the reason I listed above. They happen because, well, I just don't have my shit together. I make mistakes and more often than not, I find myself thinking I could have done it better...I will do it better next time. Inevitablely, however, there will come another day like this and I'll probably find myself thinking the same things. But you know what? another day like this past Sunday will come as well. A day where I will step out of this messy, crazy city and into the calming, tranquil resevoir and I'll find that peace. That peace that makes me think, all is good, all is right, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
A smart person reminded me this weekend of a great quote - "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." Well, way too often, as I said, I plan. I plan out my life and what I want it to be and what I want it to look like. I plan out blog posts only to be slapped with a not so peaceful feeling. There is no way we can plan out our lives because they are messy. We mess up, we make mistakes, we fall down, we disappoint. But you know, I read once that it is the "slogging through the messy struggle of life (that) can yield moments of pure happiness." Without struggle, how do we know bliss? Without mess, how do we know clean and orderly?
So I write this to you all, anyone who has ever felt the need for forgiveness for the mess that their day may have made. This is also to me, to know that for every mess, there I will be, strong enough to pick up my crazy heart and give it one more try.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)