A Case of The Beginnings.

The beginnings. I get sick with them. 

The beginning of something that could be love, the beginning of something that could become a faded memory of someone I once knew, the beginning of the end, the beginning of a vacation you know will end; all of that I'm unwilling to feel okay with. My auto-response is to opt for a route that might never know the outcome; to opt for a state of suspended disbelief.  

I'm frightened of beginnings. They make me think miles upon miles a minute, frankly, at a rate my brain is not quite adept to function at. 

I need an antigen for my reaction to the beginnings. I want to become okay with beginnings. I want not to have the ups and downs of the beginnings but also know that without them, my feelings would be obsolete; we'd be in a state of closed eyes and motionless hearts and for that, I'm willing to itch, scratch, cough, wheeze and sneeze through the scare of the beginnings. 

The Cons.

Usually, I feel good about my wanderin' ways. I feel confident when I'm traveling. I feel confident in the wonderment of where I'll go next. I'd even go as far to say that I would take pride in my unattached,   carefree, follow-the-sunshine-where-the-weather-fits-my-clothes, frequent flyer attitude towards life.

But now I feel different. I want to be taken seriously. I don't want people to wonder where I will be, if I'll stay or when I'll be leaving. Well, I definitely don't want people to wonder when the hell I'm leaving. Ha! That'd be horrible, huh?

It's the fact that I know there's a correlation between my nervousness to start a relationship and my grasshopper-like lifestyle. If I never let it start, there will always be the wonder of whether it was going to work or not. It's that mystery that I long for, the thing that seems to perpetuate my entire existence. It's that feeling of running and someone reaching out to tag you and you have that one last boost of power in your step and that forward movement of your shoulder that clears you; missing the grip that almost made you stay. 

I can recall, as far back as first grade, when the most sought out boy in Mrs. Buckelew's class was the object of my affection. The one I thought about when I listened to whatever sappy love song you listened to on 96.9 The Dove. Mine happened to be by Amy Grant, Every Heartbeat. It's truly embarrassing; just Google the lyrics really quick and you'll see how my "red blood ran true blue." Esh.

What ended up happening, was that I took it upon myself to write Kenneth a letter that simply asked if he liked me, giving him a yes or no to circle and return to me in a timely fashion. To my surprise, he responded with a resounding, yes! Inclusive of an illustration of he and I and some hearts. Seeing this response made my heart stop and caused me to ignore Kenneth for the remainder of the year. Honestly, I don't really remember talking to him very much throughout school. In fact I did a lot to avoid this kid.

Where does this come from?

Another great example of this display of irrational dating was a brief stint in junior high, with my first boyfriend. I would pretend to have call waiting and put him on hold and then tell him I had to get off the phone because I was nervous about how much we talked. This relationship did in fact end soon after hearing he wanted to come to my cheerleading competition; something I think, on paper, sounds great! He must like me! Unfortunately, that Saturday while he was just a few fields over from where I was cheerleading, at his soccer game, while he sat on the bench and I stood from a distance next to a nearby tree and witnessed my hit man whisper into his ear telling him that he would no longer be my boyfriend. It was very God-Father-esque. 

Before you discredit my actions for just being a youngster, I'll let you know that again in middle school, oops I did it again. Brit was right. There was a boy that I had longly loved from a distance. Noah. He played football, he played soccer and he was just adorable. I wondered why he didn't return my unsaid affections until one day he did. He wasn't in any of my classes until one day, this boy who was a grade older than I came a-waltzin' into my mixed-grade math class. My heart dropped in electric-shock. I started wearing my Grandmother's (who had just passed away) gold watch and bracelets to attract his eye. Sparkly things do that to boys, right?

Noah and I began to talk more. He was friends with my friends and on occasion, we rode the same bus home. One day, Noah proclaimed his affections for me, in which I responded that we were just friends! How could he do this to me? I'll have you know that nightly, most likely up to the day Noah told me how much he liked me, I would pray and talk to my Grandma and tell her to please, from Heaven, just let me marry Noah. "Grandma, I love him and please just let me marry him," wasn't that her responsibility as a newly inducted angel? Well, I don't recall exactly what happened to my relationship with Noah after I told him that I just couldn't date him. Confused by my reaction? I am too; to the point that I believe I am comprised of two individuals. 

These scenarios were duplicated scenes in a painstakingly continuous string of occurrences, which hang from my limbs like the countdown chain links you made during the holidays except its purpose was in reverse. They get caught in doors and fortunately (?) the more people see these extensions, the lesser the occurrence.

How does one remedy this? No, really, I'm asking you. My only solution is telling the truth and sometimes people don't take too kindly to your seemingly unthought out show of expression. I now give men/boys outs in any situation. "Listen, I know, I understand, don't worry! We're friends!" she says as she forces a laugh instead of a yelp after her own punch to the gut. Straighten the back, stretch back, take a deep breath and a sense of calm and hopefulness overcomes her. 

That's how I do, ya'll. 

This is all spurred on, obviously, by my first date, on my first night, in my newly moved to town of Austin, TX. Give me a few days to break the news to you on my recent, possible disastrous sequence of events. 

My midnight bus to Austin!

Remember that late-night bus ride I book for just $6? I wanted to revisit that journey from New Orleans to Austin and tell you how surprisingly well the red-eye bus ride went! 

I arrived near the French Quarter around 11:15pm and found the MegaBus pick-up lot in plain sight. After you've purchased your ticket on MegaBus, you can either print out your reservation or simply show them the email from your phone. 

One of the bonuses of traveling with MegaBus are their agents. Their attitudes are some of the most un-jaded in the travel industry! I’m not sure if they rotate jobs within a week, but the guys and gals who are loading the bus, taking the tickets, driving the bus or are there for coordinating and taking questions, are simply kind-hearted. They seem to really love their job and their willingness to over-explain and answer all questions, even the same one five times in a row is refreshing in a time when even some airline agents put no effort into making your travel experience go both smoothly and enjoyably. 

This overnight bus ride really was the best option. First of all, I didn’t have to rent a car for one person to drive 500 miles for 10 hours. Am I environmentally friendly or what?

Other incentives include complimentary wi-fi; you know, that omnipresent thing that is seemingly everywhere and these days seems almost as necessary as that other complimentary thing we can’t see but need: air. [hello, slight exaggeration!]

And outlets! Did I mention there are power outlets? As a more frequent than not overnight airport dweller, outlets are a hot commodity. Granted, sometimes these outlets work, sometimes they don’t but let’s be honest, it’s a large moving vehicle, not a power plant, ya’ll. 

Although I’m not one for sleeping upright, the bus was cool, clean and the seats did recline a bit! I was in and out of snooziness and soon enough, I was in Houston where I made aquaintances with fellow travelers. We only waited for our “connecting” bus to Austin for about 20 or 30 minutes. Et voila!  

I was in Austin in no time. Not to mention upon arrival I did not feel tired at all. I can’t imagine having wasted a whole day driving and spending all of that money that I could now use on refueling food in Food Truck Capitol! (I might have made that title up.)

Simply put, travel with MegaBus. Take your time on the journey. Enjoy your fellow travelers. Take to the open road. Low budget? No excuse! I'm now in San Francisco and will soon be traveling from The Bay Area to Los Angeles via MegaBus! 

The Search

        After a necessary and wonderful time at home with my parents, this Saturday I begin my search for the next place to call home. Although I'm perfectly content in any place where I have friends or family, I love exploring.

        On the evening that I flew out of my beloved New Orleans, close to 2 months ago, my plans and excitement of moving to New York City seemed to escape me. My former fervor and anxiousness for Brooklyn was not packed among my belongings, though, that's where I had them shipped.

        And so I set forth! With a diminishing lump sum in my bank account and a growing lump of nervousness in my entire body! I'll use travel vouchers, airline miles, Mega Bus, my legs and (hopefully) an income from using Gig Walk (more on this later) throughout the cities I travel through. And of course, I'll start out by going back. Yes. Why? To test my strength and to remind myself that life can change at any given turn; at any moment someone can walk into your life; at any millisecond, your racing mind can render each moment into infinite gladness and these are the exact realizations I found in New Orleans.

        Throughout the next few months, I'll be deciding between these cities: Austin, San Francisco and Nashville. During this time, I'll be working an amazing gig with Outstanding in the Field and will be traveling with them around the Bay Area and then joining them again on the east coast, unless I fall into the great fortune of finding a car with a sign that says, "TAKE ME" on it. Well, maybe not, that seems a bit sketchy. During this time, I share with you all of my travel tips, favorite spots to eat and my favorite rest areas--I'm a fool for rest areas. 

Travel Advice

         I bounce around a lot and I do it on the cheap. I never understood when people said they couldn't afford to travel--now, don't get me wrong--I understand that I don't have as many financial responsibilities as homeowners or parents--but I do live minimally with a fluctuating income. I find ways of traveling on the cheap but obviously I always take into consideration safety and strong efforts to avoid prolonged, utter discomfort!

         I now travel solely with Southwest Airlines. My fickle mind and itinerary can change flight itineraries the day before travel and never have to pay any change fees--I might even find a cheaper flight, thus receiving a voucher towards future travel. It's a priceless luxury when you're on a tight budget. Not to mention you can check in 2 bags for free. I suggest you try to purchase your tickets from Tuesday-Thursday, as you'll find the cheapest fares on these days--and I don't mean just traveling on those days, but literally buying them on those days. My flight from Tampa to New Orleans, leaving on a weekend, was $91.00. 

         I'll be in New Orleans from Saturday evening to Tuesday night. I depart for Austin at 11:59pm. Now, I know I said I try to avoid utter discomfort, and leaving this late hardly seems like anyone's dream travel experience, but I found tickets on MegaBus. My normal route with them is from DC to New York City and vice-versa--costing me around $10 roundtrip. However, their tickets start at just $1 when purchased far enough in advance. The bus that leaves at 11:59 from the French Quarter was a whopping $4! It gets into Houston in the early morning (after I've taken my Melatonin) and take one more bus from Houston to Austin for $1. $1. $1. As you can see, I'm excited about this bit of savings. This bus line is clean, efficient and of course, they have Wi-Fi, a convenient time-passer. 

        Essentially, I am traveling half-way across the country for $96. Planned with or without proper time, you can find a great deal in traveling, you just have to know where to look and how to combine the modes of transportation. Arrivederci! 

         

10/366

As with the start of every new year, we tend to think about the beginnings of most everything else in life. Our sentimentality is pulled from every angle as we resolve to be a better person, do better things and pass our days in an unabashed way. My thoughts on the new year tend to lean more towards my relationships and the tracks they are on, how they'll evolve and my intentions for all of them. Over the past few years, I've seen relationships build and then some crumble. Though in most of these relationships I am but a mere spectator or champion of, I take my role as a serious component in each situation. One of the greatest lessons I could have learned came from my sister's relationship with my, now ex, brother in-law. Without going into any details, I--slowly--realized how habituality can sometimes be paralyzing and controlling in that we build and project expectations on those who are the main players in the things we come to expect in life. There's one thing that I am almost always understanding of and it's that we are such fickle creatures. We can change our minds and lead with our feelings and instincts at a moments notice and in this, it can ignite an intimacy that seems was only capable of starting within that window of opportunity. The decisions of another--and ourselves--are as unexpected as the whirling wind. It makes the interactions with eachother an utter gamble. This is the kind of fear that invigorates my every nerve. This year I hope to be even more free of the expectations I could be casting upon my close relationships and in doing so, respect and truly appreciate the spontaneity of their choices and intentions. And of course, if I fail to do so, I have an extra day this year to get it right! Cheers.

Amid Family

Priorities aside, my first reflections fall upon my Dad's snoring.

However much it has lessened over the years, during this visit home, I found it alive and well. When my brother finally flew in from San Francisco, I gave up my bed and resided to the couch. It's a big couch and I'm in the middle of the action until everyone turns to sleep for the night instead of company. I get to read for however long I want; watch Christmas movies until an ungodly hour; stare at the beautifully decorated Frasier Fir--and then the downfalls include having to get up and unplug the Christmas tree lights--which is inconvenient when nestled in the couch with a book in your hand; I also have to tend to the outdoor lights someone forgot to turn off and lastly, I'm closer to the one who makes the sound of a Cessna plane coming in for a landing, conveniently located in my parents' bedroom. 

I hear my Dad's intermittent snore and I have to laugh in wonderment: Does he dream he's a pilot when he subconsciously hears this noise? And what of my Mom? It must be the reason why she wakes up at night with the most hilarious delusions carrying over from her sleep, causing her to sometimes scream bloody murder at what was just, oh say, a little red-headed elf with suspenders running in place by the door of her bathroom laughing and saying, "Come on! Come on!" 

How she sleeps through the sounds of an engine rumbling next to her boggles my mind. Over 36 years of marriage and more than that of togetherness, I can only guess that she must've become accustomed to the ups and downs of being co-pilot. 

Moving forward, shall we?

There are always certain events and people which lead us to reflect on the recent passing of time--some more than others. 


I've been entangled in a web of thoughts of a recent gentleman I've been interested in. Unluckily for me, he is just months out of a 6-year long relationship. I am a magnet for the more or less, unavailable types. 


It's only been a month since we've met and have been--up until recently-- enjoying the slow-developing bond we were creating. 


Now, before I end up revealing details of a relationship I have no rights to, I'd just like to say that I'm the most incomprehensible advocate of staying together or getting back together. But come on, why would I egg on the reunion of the new guy I'm completely digging? Is this a form of Robin-Hoodism?  


This is my take on the situation and it's exactly what I shared with the beau:


If you feel as though you've made a mistake (in this situation, he's the one who broke it off) then make your amends and do it with all of your genuine intentions intact. In doing this, the other half--usually having known this individual for some time--will have an immediate inward response. This of course doesn't have to be expressed immediately but should be done with a rather quicker than not answer; this always seems to be a noble action. 


If this attempt is not met with ardor or made with it, it's time to move along in the movement of life. We cannot be stagnant creatures. If someone is introduced to the scene and is a rather fixed individual--not the fleeting type--this should be taken into consideration as part of a healing and rebuilding phase. We need relationships to thrive. We are made from the very word. If one combination of individuals doesn't work out then it's okay to try a different one. 


People sometimes have this stigma towards those who find themselves in a relationship soon after their last one ended but we need to let go of our standards for other people. We have just a few moments to live and interact and allow ourselves to love and receive love and it'd be a shame to pass on something solid if we are living our lives holding onto only the comforts of the past. 

Once upon a return...

By nature, I am prone to the aniticipation of leaving a place and finding myself in the midst of transition. I love ports of travel for this very reason--it's like life's purgatory and I am the mayor.

There's something ethereal in the unknown. That very feeling gives me a sense of security, moreso than a day to day plan which can seem to turn into an endless abyss of time.

An artist friend of mine, while describing his timeline in New Orleans, commented that he usually marks his life by years of moving to different cities, but since living in New Orleans--the one place he's stayed the longest--he's seem to have lost the frame of time, all moving into a blur.

So, I move and I move often. This period in my life, however, has found me oddly excited about my return to New Orleans. This is the first time, in fact, that I've spent my birthday--by choice-- in the same place, 2 year anniversary folks!

I believe there are some places that fit with the individual; some places that make every day feel completely different and memorable from the next, even when the mundane chores of life fall heavily upon most days, there's something about the place that makes all of that redeemable.

I don't know what I'm hearing inside, if the foundations of my life are settling into the ground but I know that someday soon I'll find those cracks that ensue upon the walls of an old settled house just as beautiful and ethereal as the unknown in the unsettled life I lead.

Costumes & Cards

I'm all too honest in relational situations. I venture scarily-close to being a sleazy billboard for a strip-club: I bare all, that is to say, in the emotion department. And I suppose this is not as much of a turn on as nudity.

I wear no costume, I've no facade but I've found that I live in a city where there are constantly occasions to become someone or -thing else. Dressing up and masking whatever's at hand is a style completely owned and honed by New Orleans.

The problem is this: I have nothing to wear. Ever. Always scampering around last minute for a costume but find I like none but my own threads and so I throw my hands up and relinquish myself to...myself.

I check the mirror and I think I'm good enough and the fact that I have no costume on is more of a costume than having one on and so this attracts--oh does it! They spend some time (oh, no more than a few days) and then realize, wait, she's not wearing a costume and this is her and that's the norm--insert question mark.

I wasn't a costume-baring lady.

And I'm not just showing the cards in my hand, oh no, as a matter of fact, I am handing them the entire deck, card by card. They get tired of holding these cards--imagine mine are about 3' long and a foot wide. I can't help it--they are the...cards I was dealt. Wow, sorry, I set that up for myself.

So, I can only imagine one of two things have to happen in order for my success to ensue someday: I must find a way to cut down the size of my cards; maybe not take all of them with me everywhere and find a safe hiding place for them or I must find a giant who can handle them and me.

Planes & Trains

A friend and I have been laughing at ourselves a bit too often. The reason? Our fatally low standards of how we've come to define a sweet, kind and decent man. They're embarrassing.

It's easy to use affectionate words for a reaction without backing them up with any real follow-through. The instant satisfaction has been given, the words have been said, thrown up into the air as effortlessly as tossing a balled up piece of paper; whether we catch that paper is up to us. When we walk away from it, it simply becomes garbage.

I've found, more often than not, we are mixed with counterparts who are everything but the very term. The current state of dating has a low blood-pressure. Its lifeline is rapidly flat-lining and just like the passing of the family's matriarch, things fall apart and there's no getting back to where we used to be but can we pin-point an exact hour when we were forced to give into the lackadaisical version of "dating"?

Stay with me, here's where my incurable, romance-infested heart steps up: I'd like to think it all started to change when trains became a nostalgic way of travel and not so much a necessity. On a train, there's a slow start and an assurance you will get to your destination; on a train you're grounded; on a train you can stroll about at anytime, taking in the scenery of the journey; on a train you can find yourself waving to your loved one as they chase you down the platform until all that's left are those you left behind and the empty coffee cups on platform benches. 

Airplanes--the deathly gallows of romanticism--have sped things up so much that If we wait on the tarmac for more than 10 minutes after landing, we turn into an other-worldly beast. How else did we plan on getting from Florida to Oregon in less than 5 hours?

Planes hardly teach us patience and God only knows that has been my villain throughout the greater part of my life. The constant excuse for my lack of and resistance to patience has mostly been the pride I have for my biological makeup: This is the way I was created, surely there are things I must change, but my impetuousness--that's a trait I cannot trade.

So, it's only natural that I blame my steadily declining standard of a decent, kind and sweet man on the cultural decline of train usage. 

How have I come to this resolve? On the broader sense, I don't blame this all on planes, trains or men--women take it and dish it just the same. Plan and simply put: Technology is the genesis. Shake your heads in disapproval or agree with me mightily, the advent of technology and not only that but the quickness of it-especially in our time-has possibly been so rapid that we cannot grasp the rope as fast as the moving belt below us. We're tripping. And we are and are not to blame. How could we have guessed our evolving, creative and earnest minds would result in a, "I want it when I want it and when I don't, I don't" kind of mindset? The plane isn't fast enough anymore and the train is just an archaic means of tourism, just like courting has become in the dating world. 

Somehow there are some who are adapting to this technologically-advanced dating-sphere. With online dating services like Ok Cupid, even Match.com and and even those "gamers", the Darwinian class of modernized daters who use programs like World of Warcraft and Second Life for coupling up, are leaving those of us in the old world, searching for the road in the dust.

But this is what we have. We cannot transport ourselves to a Jane Austen-era and if I'm going to California, I'm undoubtedly, though reluctantly, taking a plane.

We have to work with it and have hope in a minor revolution of a society who can use technology for its basic purpose and not let it evolve our entire societal makeup. While we are figuring out how to do this, we reluctantly, have to take the plane until we find the steady train that's going our way.

When a campaign spurs you on...

Over the past few weeks, the New Orleans basketball team, the Hornets, have had their people out campaigning for the life of the team. Suddenly, homes and business windows have been plastered with their slogan, NOLA HORNETS- I'M IN.

If you're in the dark about local sports, it might not have any hold on you and your passionless interest in the city's basketball team. After hearing a few people complain about the window decal and the lack of knowledge behind the campaign, I thought about the simplicity in its purpose.

I'm in: It's an obvious call for support; for a loyalty; a following; a promise of sorts.

Just within the last few days my dear Aunt had a minor stroke; my younger cousin called out of the blue; I learned that another family member had been battling breast cancer; and lastly, I was offered a high-paying stint that coincides with a family vacation and am just stumped on a conclusion.

After a long conversation with my Mother last night about all sorts of family affairs, I started to realize that that campaign in fact made sense, the simplicity was perfect. There needed to be a call for a family campaign within my own; we needed to find out who would claim, "I'M IN!"

We all need to realize that being in a family takes time; it takes effort but the rewards of a tightly-bonded family are endless.

The tribes we travel with, explore with and bond with only make us realize that we are more connected with the rest of the world--that idea though, is scary and huge. So, we break it down and deal with it in small doses. We start to realize the extent of our localized family and only from there can we start to see the ties that are bonding us to others in such a way that seems rather vast.

What does this mean? The Hornets have a great new campaign slogan? Eh, well, sure! I applaud them. But on a more meaningful level, I challenge you and your family--family of friends or relatives--to not be so lazy in their roles; to communicate; to bond and encourage and carry on the meaning of a family and the responsibility that is bestowed on you as a sister, brother, cousin, son or daughter, niece or nephew, granddaughter or grandson; build up your family stock in shared conversations and share hours.

Are ya in?

New Orleans

I couldn't think of a more descriptive title than the name of the city that I'm living in right now. It feels self-explanatory. The very name exudes a taste only the entire being can experience. 


To my best recollection, this is quite possibly the first time I have felt it unnecessary to think of where I'll move next. Of course I've toyed with the idea, but in all honesty, it's mostly a habit; for when I truly think of leaving this place for good, I know I'm just testing myself. 


Since moving to New Orleans this past September with my best friend, Isabel, I have yet to feel the spontaneity of life leave. This city, for very good reasons, captures its transients-turned-residents and often leaves them to tell the familiar story of, "...well, I came to visit and a week later I moved back."


Like many I've spoken with, I moved with the ever-consuming notion of love. Whether that same love exists now is irrelevant. I've found more individuals (okay, I'll be honest, I'm speaking of men) in this city who are so wonderful and unforgettable than I've met in throughout most of my adult life thus far. This makes it difficult to leave and even more difficult to plunge into the next encounter. 


The city is intricate. The ornate architecture with its seemingly unrepeated rail designs along each balcony mirrors the individuals passing underneath them. The roads--however treacherous for bikers and stumbling pedestrians--still seem to add character and history to the city's allure. It seems to be the one place where unruly juxtapositions exist. 


The completely corrupt meets the romantically inclined somewhere in this place and the uncertainty of its exact location frightens me in the least. 

Shoulda-Woulda's

It's a fault, but I can't help to sometimes revel in the opportunities that should have happened or things that I would have done. I suppose it's human nature to know that there are and always were other options available to us at any given moment. If one thing doesn't happen the way we idealized, then we automatically revert to the options that we could have chosen instead. 


For an instant, we find comfort in discussing the other variables that could have occurred but in the end, we are left with a slight feeling of pouty-lipped, ooph-ness. 


This is my first post of the year? Yes, why not recognize the (not always so good) things we do in order to better the present and future moments? 


My friends and I this year, due to a lack of a task-master, found ourselves in a Subaru Outback stuck in traffic in downtown New Orleans as the clock struck 12 and the new year ensued. The anxiety we put upon ourselves in those last 12 minutes of 2010 was downright absurd!


I'll stop there without telling you of the places we would have gone or the things we should have done instead...yeah, I'll refrain. 


This year, today, this moment, I'll cherish where I am, with the people or person I am with and whatever we are doing. I won't imagine the other opportunities I could have taken, but I will be exuberantly excited about the situation I've chosen (or, have been put in) that has led me to each separate experience. I'll look forward to the things I'll do and the people I'll meet, but I won't wonder what would have happened if I'd only picked another path. 

Find me in my words.

The other day I wondered what I offered people. Is there a quality I have that I can impress upon people instantaneously? I sometimes feel choked up when first meeting people in group settings. When I have to fend for myself, I feel rather confident but in the presence of another person I only absorb the situation. Rarely do I feel compelled--or able, really--to contribute to the conversation at hand.

I start feeling insecure. The other day after reading a chapter of Studs Terkel's book, Talking to Myself, he writes that it could be possible that he becomes more creative and more alive when he presses down the lever of his "mute companion" (his tape recorder). After absorbing his thought, I concluded that it could be possible that I could only truly be known on a deeper level after having read my words instead of having listened to them. Because it's in my writing where I feel truly expressed and where most of my liveliness rises.

I don't believe that I am a good writer--although I understand that I love writing and in loving something you can only one day find yourself "good" at it--but what I do believe is that it's easier for me to convey my opinions and views, feelings and fears after having time to contemplate my reaction and having taken time to have clearly and concisely expelled them onto paper or typed out on a computer that is not mine. I cannot debate--I cannot--there is no room for editing in debate. Oratory skills have no place in my life and running for presidency will never be in my cards.

Find me in my words: For this could indeed be the only way one would truly get to know me. Although I find it rather bittersweet for all of those first impression encounters that have since expired--because having no opinion is hardly attractive--I find peace in the revelation that I can be known by my words.

[NEW] Beginnings & Orleans

[This post was never published for fear of my openness in speaking of the man I was dating at the time. Now it is almost a year later and I feel comfortable with being so vulnerable with my feelings although I am no longer with this man. I feel it's still a writing worthy of sharing.]

It's true that I have not written in a while. I'm taking on the John Steinbeck way, I suppose. Observing first, absorbing it and then later hashing out the meaning--if there is any.

It's been a little over a month since Isabel and I moved to New Orleans. Most days I realize that I am here. I know, that sounds weird-to realize you are somewhere-who doesn't? But what I mean is that feeling when it seems as though you are watching yourself and you see the people around you and the place that you're in and you realize--I am living.

It's not a surprise to myself that I am living in a different place than I was last year. I've taken up impermanent residency in a few locations over the past few years but I've started to realize that in order to find what I am truly seeking on this earth, I have to stay still. I started to realize one day after the thought of San Francisco popped into my head that I might not be able to do this anymore. This rampant lifestyle might not suite what I'm seeking after.

In these newest of beginnings, I've found myself suddenly in something similar to an actual relationship--or rather, the beginning of one.

This man-he is something that nearly aligns with the epitome of an individual I would surely adore. I've only been seeing him for a little over two weeks but I am suddenly struck with fear. When will he stop finding interest in me? Could it be at any hour that he'll meet someone new? Why shouldn't he be completely taken by my best friend instead of me?

These thoughts--although most likely stirring insecurities--are truly present to me today. I think this is the hardest part of beginnings: The unsureness of its ability to grow legs and make it out of the water, where we sit on the shores, mouths covered, bated breaths and off-beat heartbeats until first signs of loyalty bounds from the pulling back tides.

To describe my initial perception of this individual would do less justice to his unseen.

He's a painting and I'm beginning to see some of the shades of colors that make up this person-and what's this? I think the Artist is using some of my favorite colors, ones that I wouldn't imagine leaving out. Whether it's the lighting that is getting brighter, allowing me to slowly see more or if the painting is developing, I can't tell if the colors are going to get deeper or if they'll stay as they are but from what I see, this painting is going to be completely gorgeous and if I was so blessed as to behold it for the remainder of my life, why I'd think myself the richest woman in the world. I'm not sure if I should walk away and come back when the painting is done or if the Artist has been waiting to create this piece of work for me. I'll sit back--though not too far--for this painting is captivating me in every sense.

Symphony

I was on a walk today. Out of nowhere-as thoughts usually seem to be birthed-I realized how I consider every person in my life to be a truly critical point in the creation of the "masterpiece" I hope to evolve into at the end of my life. It's as if every individual is a dot and digit on a paint by number canvas. As small and insignificant those dots might seem without the connections, once the line travels through them, once the color is added, the significance of that dot is instrumental in the creation of the bigger picture. By the end, once the last dot is connected and once the line becomes an unobstructed continuous shape, the beholder and the creator can bare witness to a brilliant masterpiece. The layers of colors, the textures and techniques speak to the sequence of events that add to our minutes, hours, days, etc...

For some reason, my [our] brain [and this goes for any and everyone else, I only speak for myself since I only know what is in my mind] has an ability to take into consideration the depth and the true meaning of the individuals in our lives. As I was walking, I was consumed by this thought.

Many times, I've told my dear friend, Jon, who is in a very accomplished band, about the day I realized how important each instrument was in their band. I had never been able to hear the bass before, which is what he plays, but one day while at a show of theirs, it hit me: These instruments, on their own, could still sound great but had they not been together, and if each instrument was not there, no matter how insignificant the instrument might appear, the sound that we've heard would not be the same.

Now, this to me seems to be an almost daft realization to state out loud because it seems so obvious. But to me, it seems the most obvious things are never stated because--well, they seem too obvious to state--but in reality, if they are never stated, never vocally realized and celebrated, then we might miss the importance and sacredness of a thing. We might never pay attention to the uniqueness, the seemingly unimportant and the everyday. We might never revere the "instruments" that have been creating the symphony we love: Life.

love & loyalty : inexplicable & indispensable.

There will come a day that I realize I am in love with someone but I'll only know that because he'll be in love with me too. I think on that day, we'll have to also take an oath to always remember why we've decided to love each other and realize that there will be days that we might be mad at each other, days where expectations we've kept to ourselves might be broken and days in which we might undermine the oath that we've created with our decision to be loyally in love.

At the same time, I realize that I could have an incredibly naive picture of what love is going to be like, of how being with one person day in and day out is really going to pan out.

I know one thing, is that we have a choice to be in love. Sometimes we cannot help but be in love, and we fall into it but I think we have the choice-when it comes to being "out of love" to come right back into it. I think as a human, we have a natural tendency to love and to create. So, it is always easier for us to love another individual rather than hate them. However we can-unknowingly- repel this feeling with our inflated pride and egos, but if we suppress them, overlook these crippling tendencies of self-afflicting hurt, then we can allow for love that we are organically created to cultivate in each other's lives.

Either fortunate or un-the majority of my being tends to love more than harbor platonic feelings. This in turn sometimes ends up bringing moments of disappointment rather than complete and unending happiness. However, I have to say that allowing those feelings of adoration for another person to become more prominent not only gives me more joy (if only in that present moment) but it allows for me to hopefully make someone else feel cared about, loved & important.

Love is a choice though, yes, I believe it is. I also think it takes courage to take your heart outside of its cage. I think truly courageous people will love many people but when that person of equal courage meets you and stares you square in the eye and challenges you to love them just as much as they could love you, yes, I believe that's when you've met a match. I think that's when you both have to jump into a journey together and commit to be a living definition of the very word: love.

If you can't pledge a loyalty, a life-altering loyalty, the kind that would challenge the depths of the heart of the most loyalest of lions, then you have no right to commit to someone. Sure, you can choose to be with whomever you'd like for however long you'd like but we know, ultimately, it's in hopes of a lasting connection.

I often find myself in great ocean waves of unobstructed love-of lightening bolts striking me at my very core. It has to end at some point, because it's a confined tsunami. It's nature being contained. There's not an outlet for me at the moment. I kind of feel like there's an amazing earthquake coming soon and he'll be knocking down one of the walls. This enormous wave of unending love will have an outlet soon enough.

lsw.♥

June 2008

I stumbled across an entry in a journal I kept while I was in Italy-well, this was a few weeks before I went overseas, I remember writing this around sunset at the beach in my hometown:

I thought to say I saw your face in the clouds today, the sky some brilliant shades of an ending day but as I glanced away only to find the crazy shapes that only you and I could see, you were gone and but a dream again. Just a fleeing memory of days I've seen.

Dreams & jokes

Forewarning for the reader looking for more than fictional entertainment: These dream documentations are merely for my own amusement years from now.

I was walking into some new bar in a neighborhood I lived in and the bartender asked me what I wanted to drink, as usual, I was indecisive about what to get and told him that he should just pick something or I was going to have water. He asked me if I had ever had a penniesidaways and I reply, "Oh, no I've never had one."

He then proceeds to take a penny out of his pocket and lay it flat against my palm and says, "Well, there ya go, a penny sideways. So, what would you like to drink?"

I can't help but feel proud of the humor that occurs in my dream. Or embarrassed?

Washington, DC & beyond

I've yet another amazing opportunity bestowed upon me, thanks to my great friend, Jennifer Jameson. Next week I depart for our nation's capital, making it my 2nd year of being there for the 4th of July, not so much of a secret anymore, but this happens to be one of my favorite holidays.

I'll be working at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival as their Marketplace Volunteer Coordinator. I'm so excited about their programs this year too!

This opportunity and trip is going to give me a lot of sway in my next destination. I'll either head back to Seattle in the beginning of August or I could possibly stay on the east coast.

I'm thinking about joining AmeriCorps in Louisiana or southern Washington (state). After my trip to D.C. I leave for NYC on July 7th, aboard the MEGA BUS where you can pay as little as $1.50 for a one-way bus ticket from D.C. to NYC. In my case I paid $3.50. Equally amazing. You do have to buy these tickets way in advance for these prices, but even if your planes change, you haven't lost too much.

A few places on my list during this trip:

D.C.
New Jersey
New York City
Somewhere on the Hudson River
Montreal, Canada
Portland, ME

Although most of my things are in Seattle, I have this feeling of wanting to explore more places before I settle. I can imagine myself being back in Seattle and I definitely miss it and think I deserve to enjoy its gorgeous summer weather after I endured that winter (okay, not too harsh, but for a Floridian, come on.)

I love the feeling in the unknown. Although it taunts at my every strand, it's a component of my life that I don't know what I'd do without. Plans and set routines sometimes instills more fear in my soul then a schedule that is unreliable and inconsistent, for in the unknown, I feel as though I can give more trust to God--not saying that I do, but I can leave the moments open for a split second decision that has been created by the elements of life that I have no control of.

I'm happily lost in anticipation.