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.