Book - ache

Do you ever get soo emotionally invested in a book you would rather read than be at a party? That you feel like the plot line is actually happening to you? Your gut clenches, you actually cry, you're head hurts and you're just as confused as the characters?  Yeah, me neither.  (That's a lie.)

I just read this book, Stealing Harper, it was on someone's pinterest and I read the synopsis and it was right up my alley, bad boy, good girl, love triangle, tattoos, etc... everything I love in a book.  What I didn't expect is my stomach to be in knots, tears to be flowing down my face and losing sleep over everything, but that's exactly what happened.  Apparently this is a follow up book to the first one, called "Taking Chances."  I had no idea and I probably should've read that first, but I didn't.  So instead, I found myself scouring blogs to find out if there was a sequel to Stealing Harper, if I would ever know what happened.  If they cliff hanger I was left on would ever be resolved.  Well, I finally found out that that was the sequel, that I had read them out of order.  So I downloaded the first one (yes, downloaded, sorry all you true blue paperback lovers) and I skipped through to the part where my book ended, you see, they were told from 2 different points of view.  The one I had read was from the point of view of the Bad Boy, which I loved, and probably why it was soo tormented.  But the first one was from the point of view of the good girl.  And so, it continues past the cliff hanger.

***SPOILER ALERT****

The cliff hanger; you don't know if Chase, the 'bad boy' lives or dies, and  you want him to live because he never seems to catch a break and everything is messed up and you want him to have his chance at a happy ending, even though he thinks he doesn't deserve it, he does.  So, I went back and read Taking Chances, at least the part that would coincide with the crash, and finding out if Chase dies or not.  And he DOES!  He freakin' DIES!!!.  I can't believe it.  I wanted to throw up.  I fell in love with this character and his story soo hard that it physically affected me.  Forget my emotions, those are shot to hell.  I'm heartbroken over fictional characters that don't exist, how sad is that.  But I was invested and I'm soo disappointed.  I'm so mad that Brandon gets the girl after all that.  I'm so mad that Chase dies, I'm reeling.

It's too close to real life, and I think that's probably why it's such a good book.  But also soo terribly heart breaking.  The ending makes me soo soo sad and I think it's because that's what happens in real life, you don't always get that redeeming ending.  You don't always get to explain yourself and you don't know when life will be over, sometimes it happens in a split second and you don't get a chance to take back all your mistakes or unresolved issues and you have to live with that.  And I think it's that combination that makes this book amazing and terribly sad all that same time.

The kindest words ever said to me.

Sometimes I fear I'm not perceived the way I want to be perceived.  I worry what people think. (come on, I'm only human)  And I take what people say to heart far more often than I should.  So when  a co-worker told me I reminded her of Betty Boop it bothered me, it made me think of a character whose petite and girlie (god forbid).  And it rubbed me the wrong way. And then we were discussing cars and I was asked what my first car was and both girls said, "I could see you in a bug."  I was repulsed at the idea, something so dainty and girlie... so not how I see myself.    

So, a couple weeks later I was talking with that same co-worker, still slightly annoyed at her observations, and so I brought it up and she said something that I thought perfectly described me,
"No, you misunderstood.  You're really versatile. You're the type of girl I could see driving a bug, but just as easily driving a jacked up Hummer."
I loved that description.
She went onto say, "And when I said you reminded me of Betty Boop, remember that she's curvy and petite and wears red lipstick and she's girlie, but she also rocks a leather jacket and rides a motorcycle." She smiled.

So, even though I worried unnecessarily (always).  Her clarification of how she saw me really hit home. It made me feel like she really got me, that I wasn't being perceived in a way that bothered me, that my co-workers actually 'got me.'  And it was the best feeling.

Old ladies with jewels

The subway was packed.  I was sitting in a seat by the door.  This man, tatted from head to toe, wearing bagging jeans, and bumping rap in his head phones was propped up against the metal bar that passed for my 'armrest' hanging on to the pole above my head leaning against the door.  The next stop filled the train and he stood up a little straighter, still holding the pole.  This older woman, mid-sixties got on with her husband.  She looked like she was born with her nose in the air. She had jewels around her neck and gaudy rings on her fingers.  And I noticed the rings when she went to grab the pole and ended up grabbing the younger man's hand.  He was bewildered to say the least.  But she didn't move her hand, even when he tried to yank his back.  I tried to stifle my laughter, but wasn't successful.  He looked down at me, and we exchanged a look of solidarity, basically "this woman is crazy."  The woman had heard me practically snort and she looked at me too, but she didn't get it.  Finally the man wrestled his hand away.  And moved it to another part of the pole a safe distance away from hers. The next stop came and the woman got off with her husband and the man and I shared another look basically "phew."  I laughed again.  My stop was next, and as I stepped off I tapped his bicep and he took off his head phones, and I said "I think she just desperately wanted to hold your hand."  He laughed, "Yeah, I guess."  And I responded, "I mean, come on, did you see her husband?"  We both laughed and I stepped off the train and said, "have a good night."

Subway adventures, always a story.

In with the new and out with the old.

A couple weekends ago I was in Santa Barbara for a wedding.  It was truly a blessing to be able to celebrate the union of one of my dear friends.  She truly deserves all the happiness wedded bliss has to offer and I was so excited to be a part of her big day and to work alongside my favorite team again.  I love those ladies and I could not think of a better way to spend a vacation.  All that being said, it was definitely a time of reflection.  It had been 11 mos since I had been back in Santa Barbara.  11mos away from friends that are still there, from my old team and the beauty of it all.  I, of course have been back to California and several of my friends from SB have been out to New York and I have seen them.  However, this trip I was in SB and I felt a little torn.  I was working, but I also had down time.  Time to fit in coffee dates and late night drinks, but also an unpredictable schedule.  Well, as it goes as soon as I announced on social media I was in town I got loads of texts and responses asking when/if I could see these dear people that were still in town.  Of course I became really excited and felt very loved.  That feeling quickly faded as people flaked out, or decided not to respond all together.  But instead of dwelling on those people, I decided to dwell on the people that were making the time, the ones that wanted to hang out, no matter the time, their words, "whenever you can see us, we want to see you."  Those two people and those words gave me such freedom and made me feel so loved. But a little part of me was still hurt by the others who clearly didn't care that much.

As I've stated before, these past few months have been a time for lots of lessons and learning.  This whole time in New York has been a time of molding and shaping who I am going to be in my 20s.   And so I thought a lot about these friendships.  These people that were once such a big part of my life, now fading into the past chapters.  I have a hard time letting go of things.  I have a hard time living in the present because I hang on to tightly to those in my past and try desperately to plan everything in my future.  So this was another lesson for me and one I'm slowly coming to terms with.  In fact, it was a double lesson, one about friends and guys all at the same time.  I learned it  as I was on the plane ride back, but wasn't fully ready to accept it.

Then, a couple days ago I had a skype date with one of my best girl friends.  She asked about the wedding weekend and how it was and I unintentionally explained the lesson I had learned while I was there.  That I was learning which friendships were going to continue on and which ones I was no longer concerned with keeping.  As well, I told her I had a direct comparison of the type of guy I wanted in my life vs. the type of guys that were in my life.

Her response;
"Well its about time you started trimming friends. You have too many."

I laughed and was taken aback when she said that.  I had never thought of having "too many" friends.  She said it like it was a bad thing, it wasn't how she intended.  I responded with, "I guess you're right."
And she said, "Of course I'm right.  It's too hard to try to keep all the friends you have, and when you put all this work into maintaining friendships with people that aren't reciprocating or for that matter aren't in the same city as you, you have no room to make new friends, let alone maintain friendships in your new city.  So, it's best to let go.  Maintain the friendships you really care about and the ones that really care about you. And let the rest go.  If they want to be a part of your life, they will be.  But if they don't, then it's best not to waste your time."

It was exactly what I needed to hear.  And exactly who I needed to hear it from.  Her and I live countries apart from one another and still manage to talk to one another.  We maintain a friendship and I am so thankful for it. We joke about how we'll be each other's back up plan should we never find that "special someone."  This is a lesson I seem to need to be reminded of, repeatedly and always the hard way.  But it was good to hear it again. And I think I am truly learning to let go of friendships/relationships etc that are bad for me, or just aren't reciprocated in some way and learning to move forward.

You are my sunshine

Monday morning, walk down the subway steps and greeted by a man playing "you are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey..." And as I sat down on the bench  and started to sing along I realized the women next to me were singing too.  Happy Monday!

Target runs: Throwback to Turkey Day

So, sometimes when I miss home, I trek out to Target, the one in Queens, so I can feel a little bit of home.  I did this a while back and I took a taxi home.  Now these aren't your typical taxis.  These are more of your self run taxis, but you pay before you even get in, so they don't worry me the same way a gypsy cab does.  So I got in, and I wasn't going to talk to the guy, he was a younger guy and it was pretty intent on just driving.  But the silence got to me.  I'm usually content to sitback and wait things out in social settings, but when its just me and one other person and it's completely silent, it freaks me out a bit.  So I started chatting with him. "So how long have you been driving?"  "Oh.. ummm... A little over a year."  "Oh, cool."  "Yeah, I really came here for school."  "Nice, where do you go?"  "Columbia."  I was shocked, but I tried to play it cool.  "That's wonderful."  "Yeah, so I just do this as a way to pay the rent."  "I hear ya."  He then confirmed my address and said he lived a couple blocks away.  So interesting to me. So we continued to talk and he told me that he was writing the thesis for his master program and applying to get a fellowship for his PhD at Columbia.  He continued to explain how he was studying Psychology.  I told him that's what my brother was studying and he asked what his focus was, I said Family and he said that's what he had started out wanting to study, but then became fascinated by sexual studies and psychology.  I said I thought that would be fascinating.  He said, "Yea, it really is, ya know most people hear that and think I'm some sort of pervert or something and that's not it at all why I wanted to study it."  I affirmed him and said that I'm sure it was very interesting to learn about.  He went on to tell me all about his thesis and how the leading thinkers in that field were at Columbia and that's why he was trying so hard to get in.  I told him what I had studied and then we talked about family.  I told him I was from CA, but had family in FL too.  He said he was from FL.  We continued talking more and more, he told me how his family owned two clubs down there and how I had to make it a point to go down there.  We talked about the upcoming holiday, Thanksgiving.  I told him a friend was visiting and he told me that he had saved the money he would've spent on a plane ticket to spend on a TV that he was getting on Black Friday.  We laughed about how that might be the better investment.  He said he also had a lot to get done for his thesis so it was smarter for him to stay in the city.

After he dropped me off, I just thought about how this city is so diverse.  How your cab driver could be a scholar and you wouldn't even know it, because you didn't bother talking to them.  It's incredible to me everyone's life path and how you can learn about it, just by asking a simple question that opens the door.

Singing... in the subway station

As I walked down the platform.  I hear this loud voice overpowering the volume of my earphones.  I pull them out and realize it's a man's voice singing.  Now, this is not an uncommon occurence on the subway platforms or on the subway cars themselves for that matter, but this was different.  This man had no talent and it was the song he was singing that really caught my attention.  He was belting out, "How will I know if he's thinking of me? ...Falling in love is all bittersweet."  I continue down the platform and come to a section in between where there are a ton of construction workers and find the owner of the voice.  He is on a latter, doing something in the ceiling, belting out the lyrics as they play over a mini stereo.  His fellow construction workers are dying of laughter.  I start laughing as do the people around me.  I keep walking  on the other side of the wall and see all these other construction workers standing there laughing too.  They're telling people, "he takes tips ya know."  It was soo comical, basically the best performance I've seen yet.

Quoted...

"This isn't how I thought my life would go." She said to me.
I responded, "Does life ever go they way we think it should?"
"No, I guess not." she said.

This was one of the most honest conversations I have ever had with my best friend.  We sat over dinner in New York in a bar that George Washington supposedly dined at.  My best friend was in New York, that was an accomplishment in itself.  And I live here. Sometimes that's hard for me to believe, when I get wrapped in the routine of all my daily habits, I forget that that is kind of a big deal.

So we sat there comparing notes.  Going over the last year of our life.  And contemplating how we got there.  It's interesting the stories we tell, the way life has gone for us.  We sat there, and when she said that I felt like our eyes were opened to adulthood.

Bonding.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly you can bond with people in stressful situations.  The subways always seem to be under construction, especially on the weekends.  Thus there's no lack of bonding happening.  I'm pretty sure I made 4 new friends on the subway when I asked, "But we're still stopping at 34th st, right?"  I had posed the question to the woman across from me, because she had seen me pull out my earphones and try to listen to the muffled woman on the intercom, failing miserably to understand what she was saying.  The woman with her son, said, "Yes." with a smile.  Than the woman to my right, chimed in and touched my arm, she was with her daughter, husband, son-in-law and granddaughter and she leaned over to say "yes dear, yes it is, but after that stop it won't be making stops until Brooklyn, so just be careful."  It was very sweet, and slightly funny.  Then the two women to my left decided to tell me it was indeed and the man across from me, reading the very fascinating book, "Darcy and Fitzwilliam" which was contrary to his appearance, as what I would peg his "type" of book to be, decided that this warranted a full explanation of the trains and schedules and went on to explain what was happening with the rail and where exactly the next stops would be.  It was all very helpful, and I always appreciate everyone taking the time to bond together to figure out the rigors of mass transportation.

Re Blog from Little Reminders of Love

I read this this morning and felt it resonate with me on a level I didn't know was possible.  There are a lot of changes happening in my life and a feeling of 'starting over' is something that I'm just beginning to feel comfortable with.  I always feel anxious and ready for the next step, but also apprehensive and scared.  And I think this post was truly inspired and reminded me that I'm not the only one who feels this way.  So I wanted to share this post from the blog I found it on, Little Reminders of Love 

"One thing you need to learn about life."  From the blog "Let Love In." 

You have to get used to square one. When you are recovering from anything, square one sounds like the worst possible option. When you are learning something new, square one sounds so tedious  and you just want to jump to square 53 already, but life doesn’t work that way and love doesn’t work that way and learning doesn’t work that way. And I know most of us wished it did, but because it doesn’t, we have to get used to square one. 

Make a home out of square one. Decorate it with recovery, and paint it with patience. When you realize you have to take a few steps back, to understand someone or something, just go back to this home you’ve made in square one. 

Become so familiar with the different rooms, that when you go, you know exactly which one you need to sit in - understanding, trust, love, hope, and knowledge. But there is one extra room, every house on square one has it - the fear room. Paint it the brightest yellow you know, and vacuum the dust bunnies, and scrape off the popcorn ceiling. Open up the windows, and let the air flow in. Don’t close and lock the door. Drown fear in the bathtub, instead of being afraid of it.  

Become so familiar with square one, that when you have to go back - whether you were in square two or eighty-three - that when you open up the front door, you find yourself kissing the ground and dancing with joy. Let square one be a safe place for you, and not just an awkward, shameful walk home.  

When all you know has been burned to the ground and your home on square 71 is in ashes, don’t be afraid to sprint to square one and crash into the couch that holds so many dried up tears.  

Let square one be a home - beginnings don’t have to be hard - and the start of something doesn’t have to be scary - square one has a welcome mat and the key has always been in your pocket. 

When you hit the negatives - that home you built, is still right there.  

Let yourself sit there for however long you need until things are okay again. 

Then say “see you soon, old friend” 

Become comfortable with square one.

It's a small small world.

I know I didn't write much at all about Spain, besides that I went.  But I have a short story for you. I arrived in Spain, got off the plane, full of confidence, all I needed to do was find the shuttle and I'd be fine.  I found it, approached the man, and realized the extent of my Spanish would not cover what I needed to ask. So I spoke in English, this was the first in many realizations that I found out, I probably wouldn't need to use my Spanish skills (or lack thereof) at all.  I simply stated "I need to get to the place on the front of the bus."  The gorgeous blue eyed, black haired man smiled and me and said, "Of course, get on, pay the driver, and wait to get off until the very last stop."  "Gracias" "De nada y Beinvenue." I got on the bus and immediately realized I wasn't the only American.  Two guys, one military for sure, were getting on, mumbling and already complaining (typical) I noticed the taller one's sweatshirt first, "Rochester University,"  they sat down a few rows behind me.  Then a woman got on and sat directly behind me, with an older man accompanying her.  He soon got off, and I worked up the courage to turn around and ask the two guys behind me about the guys sweatshirt.  He said it was his girlfriend's, I told him my best friend went there.  We started talking, turns out they both had gone to Boston college, but were from San Francisco originally.  One of them was living in Berlin, and the other was still in California. The girl behind me decided to chime in too, turns out she was from San Diego.  It was fun to chat with people from my home state in a city around the world.  It's crazy how small the world becomes the more you travel and meet people.  I got off the bus, and so did the two guys, I had told them I was there to celebrate my little brothers birthday and they said we should go to this club by the water and they pointed me in the direction of Las Ramblas where I told them my hotel was.  I was grateful because my phone was about to die, and that meant the directions with it.  I said goodbye and marveled at what a small world it is.

10's a high number to count to.

As we sat beside the water, next to the boat house at Bethesda Fountain, we were watching all the struggling boat enthusiasts and making up our own little stories to along with each group.  After a little while a little girl walked up with her parents, and like parents do they started asking her questions to get her thinking.  She couldn't have been more than 4 and her dad leaned down and asked, "Sweetie, how many boats are there?" She lifted her pointer finger and started counting, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5,6, 7, 8, 9, 10..." She paused.  "Daddy, I can't count that high."  It was just the cutest thing.  She stated it so matter of factly.

Jokes for $1.00

A few weeks ago, my best friend was in town and we were strolling through Central Park together.  As we were walking passing many vendors and musicians, there was one man in particular who stood out.  He was standing off to the side, with about 15 little munchkins surrounding him.  They were all under the age of 10 if I had to guess and they were giggling and laughing.  He was holding a sign that read "Jokes for $1.00, guaranteed to make you laugh."  From the looks of it, he was making good on his guarantee.  As we passed by, we stopped to hear one of his jokes.  He started, "So, these two fries get married."  and before he could even say the next line there was a resounding "Ewwww......" My best friend and I started laughing and the young man telling the jokes did too.  He looked at all of them, giggling and saying "ew" and said, "Ew, why ew?"   We didn't wait around to hear the munchkin responses, but it was utterly adorable.

oh kids, gotta love 'em

On the way home I was waiting for my train on the platform when all of a sudden what sounded like a stampede descended the staircase on my platform.  I looked up and saw about 15 middle schoolers and 3 adult wranglers.  The train was approaching, and wouldn't you know it, it was their train too.  We got on, I waited for the mass to get through the doors. I was leaning against the door, just watching the kids, moving from seat to seat, giggling and telling each other secrets. Asking their teachers a million questions.  One of the male teachers was a little older than me, he was surrounded by three of the kids, 2 girls and a boy.  They were like master interrogators, throwing questions at him, rapid fire.  One of them asked if he was married, another asked how old  he was and another asked if he had a girlfriend since he wasn't married.  They continued questioning him about his relationship status and he was blushing and laughing answering as vaguely as possible and finally he ended the conversation by stating. "You guys sound like my mother."  I silently added in my own head, welcome to the club.

Those days...

Sometimes there are "those days" the days you wonder why you even bothered to get out of bed. You stand on the platform waiting for your train, and 20 mins and two trains latter that aren't yours your train finally arrives, you get on only to be stopped for another 5mins at the next station and then when you finally arrive at your stop you take the stairs two at a time and run the three blocks to your office in heels, because of course on one of "those days" you thought you had it all together and you could actually manage to wear your heels before you got to work, meanwhile youre hoping that your now cold coffee doesn't end up down the front of your shirt. And then you get to your block, so close to your building when you hear the construction worker behind you say,"you have a damn fine pair of legs." Welcome to one of "those days" in New York.

1 year.

1 Year. As of yesterday I have lived in New York for one year. Its seems crazy.  The above statement is so true.  Life was very different.  I had moved out of Santa Barbara.  I celebrated my brother's 21st birthday and a couple days later I got on a flight, with 3 suitcases and 2 boxes and traveled across the country to my new apartment.  In this year I have learned a lot.  And I would like to think I have grown a lot too. I'm still learning and growing but in a more positive way and with more wisdom than before. This past year has definitely been an adventure. 

I've had 3 jobs. Started as a nanny, while doing part time event planning and then started at a law firm and continued event planning.  I've learned to use the subway system and how to flag down a taxi. I've paid way too much for an apt shared by two other roommates.  I've been on dates with men that are better looking than I've ever seen.  I've gone to happy hour with co-workers.  I've wandered the MET and the MOMA. I've gone to Broadway shows and wandered around Times Square.  I've been to Europe twice in the past year. And traveled up and down the East Coast. It's been an eventful year, to say the least.

And I've grown.

I've learned to live without having friends in the apartment next door.  I've learned to travel alone. I've experienced the loss of friendship and started new friendships. I've learned (read: still learning) how to let go of people that are no longer good for your life.  I've learned to move past old pains and hurts and how to be smarter about those decisions going forward.  I'm figuring out what I want out of life, out of friendships, out of loves, and pursuing it. 

This last year has been a 'molding' year, a year of figuring it all out. And by no means do I have it all figured out, but I'm getting there.

I was in Spain yesterday.

As I sit at my desk this Monday morning, I'm a little more than awestruck.  All I keep thinking is, "I was in Spain yesterday."  I think I'm still processing all that we did.  I met my brother in Barcelona on Thursday.  It was quite the whirlwind, but at the same time extremely relaxing.  There were only a few things on my "Spain To Do" list.  There were none on my brother's, so it worked out well.  We were able to eat, nap, explore without being stuck to a schedule and it was lovely.  It's been a little over three months since I last saw Brenn and it was great to be back together.  He literally makes me die of laughter every time we hang out.  And I think I do the same to him, there was one moment we were walking down Las Ramblas, just chatting, and I can't even recall what exactly we were discussing, but I said something, and he stopped on the sidewalk and doubled over in laughter, I was laughing too, but I kept walking.  It was just really good.  We got by with our passable Spanish and I have to admit, we didn't really need it, but it was nice all the same to be able to use it.  I think Brenn had a wonderful birthday, definitely one that I'll always remember.  (Who travels to Spain for a birthday? Apparently we do, and we are so blessed!!)

Ciao!

Young love

He was waving.  We passed the bus stop and I was walking behind him.  He was waving frantically.  I though he knew some one that was waiting for the bus, but I looked back and there was no one there.  We kept walking and he kept waving.  I followed his gaze, out to the street and thought maybe he was just waving at the cars, but that didn't seem to be the case.  I kept looking and then I saw her, the little four your old brunette in her pink snow coat and pink rain boots.  She was sneaking covert little waves back at this frantically waving little boy.  And she was laughing.  It was the cutest thing to behold.  Young love at age 4.

Morning Dad duty

The hustle and bustle around my apartment is always filled with noise from people of the miniature version, kids.  Every morning I pass more than my fair share of toddlers, and middle schoolers.  Most of the week they are with their moms.  Most moms in power suits, with heels, holding their purse on one arm, pushing a stroller, or wrangling a kid from each hand, while simultaneously talking on the phone and sipping their lattees.  No joke, these women actually exist. 
And then, there are the mornings where it seems to be "Dad's day."  The day where the kids clearly got to pick out their own clothes, where the little girls hair, is in what looks like was supposed to be a braid but didn't quite turn out.  Its so funny to notice the difference, but there is in fact a difference.  I see dads running up and down Columbus avenue.  Some trying to catch the bus, with their kids, like ducks racing after them.  Some walkind down the street with their kids on their shoulders.  Others speeding around the corner with their strollers going on two wheels, while to little ones are racing with their back packs, just trying to keep up.  The air around the kids on these days seems a little more frantic and a little less put together.  Whats even more comical is when these dads pass those moms that I was describing.  The moms wave, because of course the know these men and the shake their head in a sort of pitying way.  It seems to be the unanimous signal for, "Well, at least he tried." 
My hats off to you dads. Keep it up. Your kids and your wives love you anyways.  Even if you forgot to pack their lunch.

Man on the phone

"Ya, but.. what do I do? Just tell her I love her?"

If you have to ask if that's what you should do, you probably don't really mean it.  My own two cents.

Roommate advice on boys.

As we laid in our bunk beds, yes, I'm a 23 year old who sleeps in a bunk bed. We were talking about our day, all the ups and downs it entailed and this week has included far more downs then ups and quite a few glasses of wine, come to think of it. We came to the subject of boys.  I'm sure they would rather be called men, but that night they were just "boys."  So my roommates advice to me went something like this, "Just think of him as a one of those cop shows that didn't get renewed for a second season. Yea, it was interesting for a little bit it held your attention for a couple weeks and you wondered how long it would last. But in the end it just didn't work out, nothing to be too concerned over and the realist side of you knew not to get too attached. So now you can move on."  Basically the best analogy I've heard in a long time.

Family

I was looking through Christmas pictures, and old notes that I had written down during my time in London and as I looked at pictures of my brothers and I, I just remember this quote my grandma said.  She said, "That kind of love will kill you."  I laughed and laughed when she said it and as I looked at pictures I was reminded of it, because what had her saying this was my brothers were in the habit of all hugging me at the same time and repeatedly saying, "but we love you, but we love you."  Because they know how much I detest cuddling and intense closeness.  I hate it.  So of course, being my brothers they know just the right way to annoy me.  And my Grandma said this to me as I ran away from their hugs and was seeking refuge in the bathroom.  Love them and miss them terribly. Doesn't that just figure.

NY Celebs... All the ones I've seen in the city.

I almost ran into him with my stroller when I was nannying.  I turned down a street to get out a snack for the munchkin and then realized no one else was on the block and there were tons and tons of trailers.  I quicklly got the snack out, handed it to the munchkin and started to turn down the block.  As I did so, I almost ran smack dab into Matt Bomer.  I did a double take and said sorry, as he skillfully avoided my stroller.  A girl with a headset was escorting him and she looked back at me and nodded as if to say, "yes, it's really him."

This couple was running in central park together, again, another near disaster with my stroller, we almost crashed into each other as we came around a bend.  The stopped, and said, "oh what a cutie." and then continued on their way.

He was walking with his two daughters, me, again with my stroller, was walking around Times Square and we crossed paths.  I wanted to ask for his autograph, but I figured that was inappropriate.

I've seen him three times.  I think he lives on my block.  I've seen him running and then twice at the Starbucks by my apartment.

He was standing outside of Urban Outfitters talking on his cell phone.

It was ironic when I saw her with my roommate because we were actually talking about spotting famous people in the city and my roommate just stops talking.  I look up to see what/who she is staring at and then I see "Miranda" standing on the sidewalk talking with three other moms in front of a playground. 

I got off the  train on my way home, and I look up in time to see this man pass by me in a hurry. The people in front of me have stopped and are gaping at the man that just passed me.  I did a double take as well and walked right up to them and say, "was that..." "Yeah."  And that was it.  I just laughed and kept walking home.

Oh New York, sometimes you astound me.

Coffee date.

I was on my way to babysit and knew I was going to be early, so I decided to stop for some coffee.  As I waited for them to call out my order I got a text from the mom saying they were running late.  Good thing I stopped.  So I got my coffee and sat down at a table with two chairs and started reading on my ipad.  As I'm sitting there, in walks this brood of two moms and about 6 kids all under the age of 6.  They are a little frazzled and one of the mom heads to the back to find some seats while the other gets in line.  Well, one of the kids didn't get the memo that they were supposed to either stay in line or head to the back.  No, instead she marched right up to my table, pulled out the chair, put her bottle on the table and then climbed up onto the chair.  I stare at her, just smiling, because what else do you do in a moment like that.  People at the tables around us start to look over.  Finally, I say, "Hi there!"  She smiles and says, "hi." Not shy at all, and then picks up her bottle."I've got milk!" She says, really proud of that fact.  I reply, "I see that. Is it strawberry milk?"  I asked, because I notice that it's pink. "yeah, strawberry." She says with a big grin.  People are just watching us chitchat like old friends.  I'm looking at her mom, making sure she isn't frantically looking for her 3 year old daughter.  She isn't, she's worrying over drink orders and assuming whichever children aren't with her have followed the other mom to a table.  Finally, her older brother comes over, he's about 5.  Cute as a button.  He shyly looks up at me and then his sister and whispers, "come on." to her.  She doesn't listen.  So he grabs her bottle from the table and starts to move back towards the rest of the group he came with.  She looks at me and frowns, like she's asking, "aren't you going to do something?"  I look at the little boy and then her and say, "he just took your milk, you should probably go get it."  She smiles at me, like thats a great idea and hops down off the chair and follows her brother.  The guy at the table next to me leans over and says, "apparently you're good company" with a grin.  I laugh and say, "I guess so."  It was such a sweet and innocent interaction.  The family moves back to the front, once one of the moms has collected all the drinks.  The little brother keeps sneaking covert glances at me, and then turning his head when I smile back at him.  The little girl climbs into her stroller and waves at me as they go on their way. 

23.

The only time I've thought about the age 23 was when my Sophomore year roommate told me, she didn't really care about turning 21 but she could not wait to be 23.  I thought it was the strangest thing and so fitting for her.  I love her to pieces and now we are both living out our 23rd year.  She recently text me that she was sad that her birthday was so close because that meant she would no longer be her favorite age.

It's funny, but I've found that 23, so far, is my favorite too.

And the other night, as I purchased wine, my 50ish cashier took in my ID and turned to me and said, "You are the best age.  If I could trade places with you, I would in a heartbeat."  It made me smile. And appreciate my age even more.

Clean up on the Cereal aisle

I got to the grocery store and I already was on the verge of tears.  I wanted to cry just looking at the tiny aisles that seemed to be shrinking and the people that were packed into each one.  Now, I should tell you, I already hate grocery shopping, it's on my top 5 list of least favorite things to do ever.  Right after going to the dentist and getting a shot at the doctor's.  I HATE IT.  It's a weird anxiety I have, a kind of self consciousness I developed.  When I lived in California I would either be on the phone, or take someone with me, making it a social outing rather than a necessity.  Here, in New York, everything about it incites a panic attack.  The fact that grocery stores here are about 1/3 the size of store in CA, but still to try to pack in all the same amount of items.  Not to mention the fact that I am already dreading the trip home, I already know I'm going to have to carry this about 10 blocks and up 66 stairs. I get bumped into, God only knows by how many people.  Its like New Yorkers think the world is a real life version of bumper cars.  I walk down the aisles with my basket, not the kind you push, the kind you hold.  Struggling under its weight.  there's a lady in her fur coat, sunglasses on, (INSIDE) who rudely plows through me, God forbid she say "excuse me."  I walk aisle after aisle, dodging people, moving out of the way of kids and men on their bluetooths.  And I make it to the cereal aisle, and I start to go for something healthy, but with the mood I'm in I go for something familiar and sweet, Reese Puffs!  I start to turn, and realize I'm trapped between someone actually pushing a cart through this maze and 3 people with baskets and one forlorn tear actually escapes.  I hate this even more.  I'm not one of those people who cry, but I wanted to just sit in the aisle and bawl my head off.  I finally make it around the aisle and I fervently look at sign after sign, looking for something, but see nothing.  I go up and down and up and down and in two circles and finally get up the courage to ask the two workers I've already passed about 4 times, another thing on my list of top things I hate, asking people for helm.  But I'm at my wit's end, so I ask, "Where's the coffee?"  One of them frowns and then talks to me in Spanish, I'm not fluent, but I understand and my face lights up I'm sure.  I head in the direction he said and find the coffee. And then I get the heck out of my own personal nightmare, also known as the grocery store.

10 + Oddities about me

Continuing from my last post, stemming off of having too much time to think, there are recently things I've discovered that I want to, in typical me fashion, list out (in no particular order)
1 - I hate washing containers to be recycled, for the most part, I don't.
2 - I hate washing my hands (sounds gross, I know, I do it, don't get me wrong, but I hate it)
      Mainly because it dries them out and I have to use lotion, which I hate even more.
3 - I miss my friends.  ALL of them. I miss them and I love them and I'm happy for what they are doing with their lives, but mostly I miss them.
4 - I'm really bad at remembering anyone's birthday that I learned after middle school
5 - I hate when people tell me I'm too loud.  It makes me feel like I'm 5 all over again.  I can count on one hand the amount of people that have told me "Don't apologize for being loud, it's who you are, never make apologizes for that." And I remember the exact moments those very few individuals said that to me.  As well, loudness reminds me of family or my house because I can't remember a time when I've been with family and we were quiet.
6 - I don't particularly love roommates.  I had a several whom I would share a room with in a heart beat, but in the grand scheme of things, not a fan.  I sometimes feel, again, like I'm 5 years old.
7 - I LOVE tv. And I miss having one.
8 - I like blogging, but sometimes I censor myself, but recently I cleaned out my blogs, the ones I follow and had bookmarked and decided to become more intentional and start only reading those who stand up for what they believe in, and have more to say than just pictures of what they are wearing (no offense to fashion bloggers, your outfits are gorgeous) but if I'm gonna read your blog I want to hear your voice in it and be inspired by it, just like on my blog, I hope to write things that are encouraging and no longer hiding worrying about what people may or may not think.
9 - I miss my car.
10 - I miss real grocery stores and friends who would cook for me. And along with that, I hate cooking and coming up with meal ideas... I'd rather eat cereal.
11 - I miss teachers, people's whose job it was literally to teach you things.  I miss having people like that, that I can solidly count on to turn to.  I think that's part of why I like blogs so much, I love learning from other people.
12 - When it comes to my dishes, if I leave them in the sink, and you happen to do dishes before I get home, please do them, when you leave them, I feel like its a personal attack, a vendetta, because you had to actively think about not doing them.  I will return the favor, I promise, and sometimes I do yours anyways.
13 - I hate stairs and public transportation
14 - I wish I was a morning person (some days) I feel like I would be more productive.

Thankful for unanswered prayers.

Today, my office was really quiet and I had a lot of time alone.  In this city in general I spend a lot of time inside my own head.  It seems weird, in such a city where its known for its hustle and bustle and tons of people all around all the time, but really, you are usually quite alone.  Commuting to work, at your desk, going to lunch.  There are rare opportunities to interact.
I think that may be the reason I reacted so strongly to my co-worker cutting me off at the one time I was able to 'mingle.'  A catering service brought in food and I was relieved to go get something to eat, and it was my actual "lunchbreak hour" so naturally I thought I would be able to take my break and I got so excited.  My two favorite people were in grabbing food at the same time, one of them having recently returned from a trip so I was excited and I went to go and make sure that it was ok for me to take my break to where I was rudely taken aback when the answer was no.  It hurt, more than it should and I can only really pin it to the fact that I am actually physically craving human interaction.  Now, this may be an exaggeration, but at least fairly close to the truth.
Now, for anyone who knows me, knows I'm a terrible liar and I'm even worse at hiding my feelings. So, when said person realized that I wasn't emotionally ok, she asked if I was ok, and I lied.  She didn't press and she let me go, but didn't fix the problem.  I went to lunch, alone, because by the time I was released my two favorite  people had already departed.  I came back, still fuming a bit but was relieved to engage in quite the interesting conversation with one of my other co-workers and maybe that was God's little wake up call to me for the day, because it was actually more of a relief to talk to this co-worker about things that were weighing on my mind than to talk to my two favorite co-workers about things that were of no-consequence.

Nerd alert

My nerd side and my romantic side colliding
http://girls-gone-geek.com/tag/batwondy/

1st Lady

I'm impressed by her on a regular basis.

Curiosity

As we pack inside the train, I notice this man with an Avengers backpack on his lap.  I look over, and see a little three year old boy sitting to his Right  His eyes are full of wonderment and a shy smile graces his too cute little face.  As we go one stop the train capacity does not shift, but we get to a major hub and it seems the whole car transitions. The little boy suddenly wide eyed and weary turns to his dad as he asks, "Daddy, what's happening??!?!"  The genuine curiosity of a simple act seemed so sweet and innocent.

Fun at work

So a couple weeks ago we had an office meeting about health plans, which in all actuality should have been ridiculously boring. However, most people don't work with E (name shortened for privacy).  So we are sitting in the meeting and we're at the end and the woman asks if we have any questions.  E then asks, "So would this cover a trip to the vet?"  And without missing a beat, the office manager of sorts, a beautiful, strict, Russian woman who basically runs the office simply turns to him straight faced and asks in her accent "Are you a cat? (pause - no response) That's what I thought, then no."  I had to walk out of the room, I was dying of laughter.

Good perspective.

"Life is always adjusting accordingly to what it needs us to pay more attention to, learn from, grow from, or it keeps putting us through the same situation because we didn’t “get it” the first time. Or keeps throwing shit our way so we can learn to love ourselves, instead of relying on everyone else to assure us".

- Tristan Prettyman

found on one of my best friend's blogs (sale el sol) 

Today I hate New York

Today... I just want to be home. Where I can drive a car, where it isn't 25 degrees, where a trip to target takes 10mins, not 45. Where you don't have to wrestle your bag out of the subway, where you aren't sitting shoulder to shoulder with woman next to you trying to read your phone screen and where you don't have to walk up 66 stairs.

Pieces of my heart

This morning in my office there was a meeting. And as I sat at my desk I overheard the new comers talking about their kids studying abroad. It made me think of my brother and his trip to Turkey this semester. He text me, "We need to go some where brand new for my birthday." I promised to visit him in Europe for his birthday. We've been throwing around ideas for different countries. Of course I've named the places I've lived as potential destinations "Dublin" "Venice." "Paris". And as I thought about these places and some others I've visited San Francisco, my new home New York City, I reflected on how I've left a little bit of myself in each of those cities I love so much and how I carry a little bit of each city in my heart with me. I love them and in some of them I truly feel whole. So excited to visit him for his birthday, wonder where it'll be?

Talented dad

As the signal changed I started to cross the street. I was checking my email on the way to the train station. I looked up just in time to swerve out of the way of a very dapper looking man, who just happened to be pushing a stroller at the same time that he was holding onto his 4 year old's two wheeler. And all I could think was 'wow, talented.'

On my way home.

We had just finished happy hour, celebrating, congratulating a co-worker on their new job. Celebrating with drinks, with others, in a happy way. I get on the train, and I look across the aisle and there's a man sitting there. He looks like he's half asleep, but he doesn't look homely, and then he takes a paper bag from his side, and he lifts it to his lips, alcohol. Not celebratory, not happy, sad. I saw so much despair in that one glance. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go over and hug him. I don't know what he was going through, I don't know what had happened in his life, but I wanted to cry for him. Instead, I sent up a silent prayer. I prayed that he would find what he was looking for, not in that bottle, or any other bottle, but a real contentment. It was a tough ride, it was hard and I don't know if I handled it right, maybe I should have told him that things were gonna change. That I would pray for him. But I didn't, but I hope next time I'll know what to do. And please send up a quick prayer likewise.

"Thanks for noticing."

Three simple words, but ones that carry so much weight. And resonated with me. Isn't that what everyone was seeking? Just a little bit of notice, just someone who would affirm their ideals, their, fashion sense, their opinion and even teir haircut. It wasn't a big deal to notice, and then to say something, but somehow, in that moment, it seemed to be the most important thing.

The simple joys of highlighter hunting at work

To which she came up to my desk and responded "He would've fired me on the spot had I offered him a pink highlighter."

Ups guy

Is it weird to tell the 60 year old UPS guy he smells nice?

Plotting

Thats what they looked like they were doing on their stools at the coffee shop. He had walked in first, got his black coffee and a sandwich. He sat on one stool and pulled another close, he sipped his coffee and placed the sandwich in front of the other stool. He sat there, sipping and waiting. In a flurry of cold air and an oversized coat, in walked this smaller man, he almost knocked the stool over in his flurry. the other man slowly moved his stuff from the other stool and continued to sip his coffee as the other man grabbed at the sandwich in the bag like a rabid dog. They sat there, whispering, plotting, planning. The man finished the sandwich and the other man finished his coffee and then they both got up in unison and walked out. One man went left and the other right. Something just went down.

Daycare

Sitting on the subway and on walked a family. A mom, a dad and their 3 year old little boy.
I heard the little boy ask, "How come I always have a stuffy nose?"
The mom paused and then said, "Umm.... daycare."
And the little boy was satisfied with this answer.

Happy Holidays

As I got off the plane, I was instantly hit with reality. My vacation was over, I was suffering from jet lag, and I hadn't even gone through customs yet. I got in line and realized I hadn't filled out the appropriate forms. I got back out of line and got the form. Filled it out and got in line. I
made it to the front and headed to the not so friendly customs officer. Did you have a nice holiday? He asked. Which shocked me because his facial expression said he couldn't care less and didn't really want to hear about it. So I returned with a curt, "Yes. And how was your Christmas?" This seem to surprise him, he gave me a look that said "I'm the one asking the quesitons." But then he seemed to change his mind, like it was nice change of pace to have someone to talk to and he started in, "You know it sucked, I was here. Here Christmas Eve, 17 hours, here Christmas Day 15hours." I glanced down at his hand and saw his ring and immediately wondered if he had kids and how sad it would be to have to miss a holiday because of work. I gave him a sympathetic look. And he put his guard back in place,"Yea, well whatch ya gonna do. Oh well." Ever the optimist, "Well what about New Years? Will you get to be home for that?" "No, I'll be here." He said. I groaned a little on his behalf, "Oh, I'm sorry." He looked at me, after he stamped my passport and handed it back to me. I started to walk away and then said, "Well I hope the New year turns out better for you!" "Thanks." He said, with what I could only assume was his attempt at a smile. "Happy New Year to you."