Life is Now

Life is now, not tomorrow or the next day.

Do you know how difficult this concept is for me to grasp? It's like trying to hold water in my hands. (I suppose a smart person who does live in the present would say, "That's crazy. It's not a concept. It just is," like you either did the homework or you didn't.)

I don't know why but I've never (other than when I was small and didn't know any better) lived in the moment, always the past or the future, constantly worrying, wondering, dreaming.

I suppose my mulling this over in my head is close to living in the moment. It's a self-actualization moment. Or something.

Really, I was trying to fall asleep and these thoughts popped into my head, and some rang true and poetic so I had to turn the bedside lamp back on and drag out my pen and paper from the nightstand (because what self-respecting writer doesn't always have pen and paper on hand? or a smart phone; that works too.), and scribble it all down.

I don't know why writing my novel can't be as simple as spilling all my thoughts out on paper.

Well, I do know: I think too much. Dreaming can be a good thing; one must always have goals and plans and things to look forward to, but, as JK Rowling (via Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone) says, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." (you know, that might actually be from the movie, but whatever.)

When did I forget to live?

It must have been some time in elementary when I realized people harbored opinions of me, and I decided to fear those opinions, like walking through a minefield. That dreaded mis-step and poof!

It's absurd, I know. But the first step to recovery is acceptance, when you've past that stage of crippling denial and you want to change your circumstances.

So why am I laying here, my eyes burning, my hand already tired of writing out my random stream of thought? Perhaps I'm hoping I'll talk/think/write my way into an epiphany and everything, all this muck I've been stuck in, will become clear, everything will make sense.

And maybe I'm hoping that when I share these random thoughts on this little, insignificant blip of a blog, somewhere someone will read them someday and say, "Yes!" *lightbulb*

There I go again, grasping for the unknown future.

Oh, lord help the idealist who cannot save herself, for she knows there is no knight in shining armor coming to save her.




P.S. I'm still working on my design boards, in case anyone was wondering. I'm having a difficult time deciding what room to do next (and a difficult time with time), but it will most likely be the kitchen, dining room, or powder bathroom.

Never Forget

31 Things I've Learned

Today being the day I celebrate having spent 31 years on this planet, I thought I'd share some things I've learned in that time. Some of these little nuggets of wisdom are my opinion and may not apply to you, but most, I think, are worth sharing.

1. Your friends are the family you choose.
2. Relieving stress is all about the exhale.
3. People don't change. You can only evolve.
4. Not everyone will like you (and, God only knows, you won't like everyone you meet), and that's okay.
5. Generosity is the key to loving relationships (and I mean all of them, not just your other half).
6. Honesty really is the best policy. (Not always the best solution, though.)
7. You don't have to be besties with your co-workers. In fact, don't even go there.
8. For me personally, yoga is the best workout I've found so far.
9. We already have everything we need within us, we just have to remember.
10. Asking the universe for what you want really does work. It's like magic.
11. Vegas totally is as awesome as everyone says it is.
12. I love Disney more and more the older I get.
13. Inspiration is EVERWHERE!
14. Putting your feelings on paper is like therapy.
15. There is nothing more theraputic for a woman than time spent with her girlfriends.
16. Massages are essential.
17. Book stores are my church, stories my religion, and music my soul.
18. Sleep is the key to good health.
19. Most things you hated as a kid: baths, naps, early bedtimes, you love more the older you get.
20. You will never, ever find the same kind of meaningful relationship as the one you have with your sibling(s).
21. Our dreams and beliefs are like the stepping stones that get us through life. Don't ever sacrifice them for someone else.
22. Worry is poison.
23. Fear is essential. You can't have courage without fear.
24. There is nothing wrong with crying. Crying is to your soul what sweat is to your body.
25. Everyone has a dark side. There can't be light without the dark.
26. Find the things in life you are passionate about. Without passion your soul withers like a flower.
27. Life is not about being right. It's about what you can give to others.
28. When it comes to opinions, no one is ever right or wrong. They are simply different opinions.
29. If you didn't grow up with traditions, then start your own. They make life more memorable, and give you something to look forward to.
30. Words are so powerful they really can hurt.
31. The grass is never, ever greener. Don't waste your time comparing yourself or your life to someone else.

Boring

I’ve been feeling introspective lately. I think I used to feel that way all the time and now I don’t even keep a journal. I tried to do those 5-year journals to keep a record of my life, but I always get bored because nothing ever happens.

Someone that I thought was my friend recently called me boring and I had to fight back the irrational desire to burst into tears. I know it shouldn’t have hurt me. I have a feeling boring was not the adjective this person was searching for (I am not a tiresome, uninteresting person, thank you very much), but it’s still one of the meanest things anyone has said to me in a long time.  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either. Is my life boring? Am I boring? I know the use of the word boring automatically indicates opinion. There isn’t anything clinical or exact about referring to something or someone as boring. It is completely subjective. But I’m letting it get to me; one stupid word spoken by someone too selfish and emotionally immature to think before they speak. In this particular situation, the real issue came down to the question of how does one explain to an extrovert what it’s like to be an introvert?

For the first four months of this year I threw myself into finishing my novel. It’s the first part to a trilogy that I have been re-writing and re-writing for the past five years. I still have a ton of editing to do, but I feel that it is really done this time. And I feel remarkably empty inside like a piece of me has died. Everyone kept asking me this past week what I was going to do to celebrate and I honestly don’t have it in me to do such a thing. How do I “go out” and “do something fun” when I’ve become so accustomed to shutting myself off from the world all these years to write?

Perhaps I am boring.

Or, at least, my life has become so.

The truth is I get depressed when I don’t write. But I get depressed when I’ve been cut off from people for too long. And then I get overly touchy and moody when I’ve been around too many people for too long. This is the hardest part of being introverted. I know life is all about balance, and finding that balance is everyone’s greatest and most important journey. If we can’t find that balance then we’re never really living, we’re just treading water, hoping to stay afloat long enough for the tide to carry us to shore.

If this is how we are living, just barely surviving, waiting for life to come along and save us, I don’t think we’re going to be very happy with what is waiting on that shore.

I’m going off on a weird tangent, but basically this is how I’ve been living.

It’s getting old.

I’m ready for change.

Change that I make instead of letting life happen to me. We are all creators. We create our own happiness, or sadness, or anger, or worry. I want to start creating my own happy ending instead of waiting for it to magically stumble into my path. I suppose I could start with incorporating activities into my life that I find fun, not that someone else finds fun. I suppose I've lost sight of what I actually like to do besides sit at home on my weekends and write. I know it's going to take me a while, but it's a good place to start.

What if you forgot the last decade of your life?

I've been slightly obsessed with memory- specifically amnesia- lately as though someone or something has high jacked my brain. (Actually, this really hasn't been just lately. I've been writing a story for years in which one of my main characters has amnesia, but it's just been pushed up a notch in the last few weeks.) I was trying to fall asleep one night a few weeks ago when I thought of what it would be like to wake up and not remember years of your life. More specifically, what would it be like if I woke up and I was married to a man I didn't know, my book was published, I owned a house, and I could write full time? This, of course, evolved into a story idea.

Then, the next day I heard about this novel called What Alice Forgot about a woman who forgets the last ten years of her life, in which she has three kids and is in the middle of a divorce. I read it in two days. I couldn't put it down. I'm still thinking about it. The whole story just felt so real. It felt like I was living this person's life, feeling their turmoil and pain, and tons of confusion. Really great characters, really well done; a reviewer would call it "poignant."

And now I'm left thinking, "what would my younger self think of me now?" I was in college 10 years ago, just transferring from one in Long Beach to the Art Institute in Santa Monica. I had new roommates, new classes, a new apartment in a new city; everything was overwhelmingly, alienatingly new. And I was just about to turn 20.

A decade is a long time. So much can happen in that time that's it's almost like one can become a completely different person. Where were you ten years ago? What would your younger self think of your ten-year-older self? I think at first, I would be proud. "Oh, look at you! You have a job in interior design, you finished college! So what you don't have your own place yet, you have this awesome career!" I think I would be shocked I'm not married yet, though. And I think at that point I still thought I wanted a kid.

The more I think about it, the more I realize it's actually really tough to pin down how I used to think, which is the point. You're not really meant to. You're supposed to change, to evolve, to learn hard lessons and become a wiser, stronger person for it. That's what you take with you, not your old ways of thinking. But at the same time, one of the big messages of the book was not forgetting that innocence of our younger years. To learn balance and remember the good times as well as the bad. I suppose when you get down to it, the point of the story (and memory, for that matter) is that our experiences make us who we are, and that's what life is all about.

Relationship with me

In one month's time I will be turning 30. I'm actually super excited about it. And I'm never excited about my birthday. (This could have something to do with the trip to Vegas I've already planned.)

this is where I get to stay for my 30th birthday :)

Seeing as I'm almost 30 and not currently in a relationship, I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be in a relationship with myself. I posted a while back about discovering this fascinating idea and I think it translates to not just the things you do for another person in a relationship, but the kind of person you are. Are you supportive, are you honest, are you giving?

I would say I'm all of these things, but sometimes the honesty part is a problem. I'm a girl some people might refer to as someone with "daddy issues." Honesty with men has always been an issue for me, especially when it comes to asking for what I want and what I need. The last time I was actually in a relationship I genuinely didn't know what those things were for me yet.

And that brings me to being in a relationship with me. It's about figuring those things out: what I want and what I need. Learning that I'm allowed to want and need things makes it easier to ask for them, and I think I'm coming to a more mature, realistic place about this in my life right now.

In the meantime, I've started making a list of the things I do for my other half when I'm in a relationship, and I'm trying to think of how I can do those things for myself. And I'm not just talking about buying myself flowers, and letting myself off the hook when I eat too much junk food over the weekend. Here are some of the major things I've thought of so far:

1. Believing in myself. Why in the world is it so easy to believe in others, but not ourselves? I always believe the best in people, but never myself. I think it's best to start out small with this one. I'm trying to simply do away with even thinking the words "that will never happen" or "that's not possible" or "I can't do that."

2. Being supportive. This kind of goes with the one above, but support and faith are two different things (though they definitely go hand in hand). The actual definition of support (for our purposes here) is to give aid or courage to, to give approval to, to give strength to; maintain. 

3. Being unconditional. Loving someone unconditionally means loving them for who they are, good or bad. You love them even when they make mistakes, and then you love them even more when they do the right thing. I think I've become a master at beating myself up whenever I'm not my own definition of "perfect." No one is perfect. And life is messy. That's where all the beauty comes from. (I mean, come on. Do you really think a painter walks away from a masterpiece without getting one speck of paint anywhere but the canvas?)

4. Small acts of love. Here's where I bring you back to the flowers. It's in the small things. And not just material things, but also hugs and kisses and compliments. I obviously can't give myself hugs, but I can ask for them when I need them, which could also mean doing something for someone else at the same time. You give a friend a hug and so you get a hug in return. Have you ever noticed how uplifting it feels to give someone a compliment? Doing something good for someone else means opening yourself up to receiving something good back. (So don't ever think that looking in the mirror and telling yourself you look fabulous is a bad idea.)

5. Trust. I suppose this is an extension of number 1, but it had to be said. Trust can take time, but we learn it from experience. To be able to trust in yourself, to know exactly what your capable of is a monumentous thing. To no longer fear that anything or anyone could ever keep you from being the person you are meant to be; no one can take that from you. That, I think in essence, is what I'm striving for in this life, in this relationship with myself: trust. No fear of living a messy, fulfilling life.

6. And last, but not least, Honesty. All I have to say is, if you can't be honest with yourself, how can you be honest with anyone else?

Vulnerable

I've been taking yoga classes for about eight months now, and I honestly don't know what I was doing before, how I was living without yoga. I started out slow, and then a friend convinced me I could handle an advanced class that I'm now addicted to. Over time, I've learned to do some positions I was sure I'd never be able to do, though I still can't do a handstand. I'm finding that even the idea of being upside down is terrifying to me.

Last night, in said advanced class, I was able for the first time to get into forearm-stand, which is exactly like it sounds, against a wall with the help of my friend. (It's going to take more time before I can do that one on my own, but that's one of the awesome things about yoga, you learn patience.)

Seeing as I really want to learn to do a handstand, I should have been ecstatic to have managed this personal accomplishment. Instead it left me feeling exposed and self-conscious; and vulnerable. My mind only seemed capable of focusing on the fact that the act of coming down from the position left my hair askew, and on how sweaty I was, and please tell me I didn't smell terrible!

It was like, in the moment, the only way my mind could deal with the unusual feeling of being upside down was to focus on what I could control, like my hair. Of course, in that moment, I hadn't processed any of this and couldn't understand why my ego was suddenly and viciously tearing me to shreds when normally I don't care about what my hair looks like, and I enjoy sweating that much. The whole way home, when I'm usually in a blissful state of relaxation, I seemed hell bent on trying to fix my hair before I realized what I was doing and came to this conclusion.

For the most part, I think the only time I'm capable of being vulnerable is in the company of the right person/people who makes me feel safe enough to create a space in which I don't have to be perfect. I am a perfectionist. I can't help it. Most of the time, I'm putting a lot of thought into how I looks: my hair, my makeup, what I'm wearing, how I sit, how I walk, how I talk, how I write. It's a struggle for me to let any of that go, to teach myself to focus my energy elsewhere, on what's really important, like handstands.

What makes you vulnerable?



Love

On the flip side of this post from two weeks ago about the power of words, mostly that of hate, I thought I'd talk about love, which follows the theme of my last post. (A side note: I don't consider hate to be love's opposite, that would be apathy. The opposite of hate, I'm not so sure about. Thoughts?)

Love is even more powerful than hate, but I've noticed it doesn't have the same weight when it's thrown around in a flippant way. We say things like, "I love that food," or "I love that movie," or even "I love that idea." We don't really love these things. We are excited by these things, we enjoy these things, we are inspired, but for some reason we are using love as a shortcut. Why is that?

Love is at it's most powerful in it's truest forms. The love you have for your family, your best friend, your other half. I would say this kind of love can even be extended into how we feel about what we do best, whether it's a career or something that's just a hobby.

I fear using something so powerful--the only thing in this world with true meaning--and making it mundane and powerless is just as dangerous as throwing around the word hate. How can we expect to understand real love when we finally see it if we've made it something so meaningless? I think this is the root of failed marriages and relationships. The reason so many of us feel unworthy of love on a daily basis. It's like eating caviar every day. You'd enjoy it for a while, a week maybe, then it's taste would lose it's potency, it's true value.

And if we can't have love for ourselves, what do we have to give to others? Our lives are like bank accounts. You have to save up that good stuff, that love, those positive affirmations until you're life is so abundant the world gives it back you two-fold. Then there's no more saving, just giving.

I tried this love and prayer idea for something that was really bothering me this weekend and I feel like I failed at it miserably. Am I really that void of love, that desensitized that I can't even send out a small wish of love to another living being? I'm always so focused on finding my husband, on finding love for myself that I'm blind to the love I already have around me. And the energy I'm wasting worrying I'll never find him, that should be spent toward love for myself. Loving myself, so that I have love for others.

My question is, why does it feel like love is so much harder than hate? Why does that negative catch from a small spark and spread like wildfire, but love is a slower, different kind of fire? Is this just my perception? My thought is that love's slower building fire is everlasting, whereas hate's burns out quickly. I do like that idea.

I keep telling myself I need to have more love for me as a person because how will any man love me if I don't love myself? But I can't seem to wrap my head around the how. How do I love myself? Now I'm thinking it's a relationship. With myself. Something that builds and builds until you have this amazing thing that lasts and continues to build for the rest of your life. I think I like myself enough that I could grow to love myself for the rest of my life.

That is, after all, what we're here for, isn't it?

Once Upon a Time

I just have to put it out there: I am so obsessed with, inspired, and over-the-moon excited by this show. The twists on the fairy tales are so genius, I mean, the storytelling. The storytelling. And the actors are as amazing as the characters they play. My favorite is Rumplestiltskin. (Come on, isn't he just the best villain that you can't help but root for?)

And all the love stories.

There are so many. The obvious love stories like Snow and Charming, and the ones between families, which I think are more of the foundation of the show as well as the fairy tales. I think that's the point the writers are trying to make. It's not really about the love stories between princes and princesses, but about the stories of love that made them who they are, that got them to where they needed to be to find their prince or princess. That's what everyone watching can relate to. How you can be angry at a parent, but can't help your love for them. How some of us just want to believe in the good we see in people, no matter how many times those people may choose the other side.

So, back to the storytelling (I feel like I'm all over the place with this show). I really like that it's told the same way Lost was, focusing on one character per episode. If you never watched Lost (really?! Come on! Get on that bandwagon!), every episode was told in the present and then flashed back to the past about one particular character. You are told in each episode exactly what you need to know about the past in order for what's going on in the present to make sense. Like I said, genius storytelling. They always drop just enough on you in each episode to bring out the exclamations of surprise, on top of which I'm usually crying and laughing too. Because, ultimately, you become attached to the characters, you feel for them. The root of a good story is well-developed characters. The characters are the story.

All of these aspects put together and what do you get? A story you just can't stop thinking about.

Hate

Something I've realized lately is how often I use the word "hate" in my everyday language. As simple as agreeing with someone in their story of being stuck in traffic: "I hate it when that happens!"

The truth is, there are few things I actually hate. Hate is very powerful, and I fear that too many of us have become blasé in our speech, too complacent with not giving any thought to the words we use.

The danger is words have weight.

Even when we aren't using the word in the context we really mean it, it still has weight, it still has an impact. The more you use one word, the more weight it has, the more power you give it. And when it's a negative, well, it's just as powerful as a positive. And that goes for words spoken in your mind, the things you say to yourself. They create ideas that we live by over time. It's no wonder that Christopher Nolan used the notion in Inception of a tiny idea and how it can change the course of someone's entire life.

Have you ever noticed how a single negative thought or word will usually ripple into more negative thoughts, like dominoes? And before you know it, the weight is too much and you are powerless to stop the onslaught. But you are feeding the thoughts, the words. You give them power.

So why not give that power to positive? Instead of feeding someone's (or your own) negativity, why not say what you really mean: "I agree with you" or "I know what you mean." People, first and foremost, want to be heard. Let them know you hear them, that they're not alone. Then give them something positive in return, whether it's through spoken words, or a gesture (never underestimate the power of a hug), or even just a thought.

I recently read an article via A Cup of Jo by Akhil Sharma who prays for others when he's feeling bad. It could be so simple as thinking the words "I love you." It's such a beautiful idea, one that I feel compelled to try. I know I'd rather have less hate in my life and more love.

Balance

I'm feeling like my life consists only of my job, writing, reading a lot of words, yoga, movies (or, watching people I don't know pretend to be people they are not), music, and sometimes creating jewelry and this blog. That's essentially my week. And then start it all over again on a never-ending loop.


If I had it my way, I'd live secluded in a house on a beach. I'd write. And read. And make jewelry. And watch whatever I felt like watching. I'd do pretty much what I do now, except without the people in it (and less computer time). But the truth is that I need the people.


Most days it's hard for me; I take on people's energy. I try to never take it, and there is a difference. A big one that most wouldn't recognize. But there are too many people who take other people's energy, mostly along the lines of even just thinking, "I'm better at this than that person, so I'm better than they are." I think to some degree, as human beings, we can't help it. It's survival of the fittest. But this is energy that suits no one. It is the enemy of refinement, of peace, of happiness. It is everything that's wrong with our culture.


But taking on other people's energy is more like crying because someone else is crying because you understand their pain. It's a burden. And I'm learning to only observe and wish people well, but to not take on. That is the beauty of constantly being surrounded by people: they help me learn about myself. I would never learn these things on my own.


The majority of the time I'm content with the simplicity of my life. I don't find a lot of enjoyment in doing new things all the time. New makes me anxious, because new usually means I'm by myself with people I don't know. It's exhausting. And there's a lot of joy for me in the known. Knowing that I get to write when I get home, knowing when my next yoga class is, knowing I get paid every-other Tuesday (thank the Lord for a steady paycheck and an awesome job I know I'm so lucky to have :). The only unknowns I like are the big ones that haven't happened yet, but I can imagine: what my husband is like, what our house will look like, the places we'll go together, how amazing my book will be when it's done...


This is not a rant. At all. This is simply an observation. My life is not fulfilled. I am not fulfilled. I do not have a metaphoric clock that is running out, but I do miss a life I haven't had yet. In reality, that list of unknowns is far too much longer than the knowns. Don't get me wrong, I know as that list of unknowns starts to shrink, life will suddenly be overwhelming to the point of feeling the need to retract all previous complaints of simplicity. Because I like simplicity. Just with more doses of the non-simplistic. If that makes any sense.


I suppose we all just need our own balance.

2014

via

 

I'm not big on resolutions. I am big on goals, and I love lists. This same time last year I made two lists: 12 memories of 2012 and 13 goals for 2013. I think I'm making it a tradition. Here are my lists for 2013 and 2014.

 

13 Memories of 2013

 

1 Joined Match (and so did my boss)

2 Fell in love with Stephen King

3 Moved to a better apartment

4 Joined Yogaworks

5 Won 3 competitions at work-and I never win anything (one involved wrecking a book)

6 Started a 5-year journal

7 My little brother graduated from High School

8 49ers went to their first Super Bowl in 18 years (they lost, but still)

9 Witnessed the 50th anniversary of JFK's assassination

10 Started a short story exclusively on my blog

11 JK Rowling published a novel under a pseudonym

12 Justin Timberlake came back to music after a 6-year hiatus

13 Started using Invisalign (and I have plans for veneers!!! I'm so excited!!)

 

14 Goals for 2014

 

1 Go skydiving (really, I'm serious)

2 Start learning French

3 Finish my novel

4 Find an agent for said novel

5 Plan a trip to Florida to see World of Harry Potter

6 Pay off medical debt (damn teeth)

7 Finish my blog short story

8 Build my own jewelry collection

9 Finish Invisalign in time for my 30th birthday (no more gap!!)

10 Read more classics

11 Continue my Design Binder

12 Learn more self-love

13 Continue working with my neuroreflexologist (This guy is awesome!)

14 Meet my husband (I know. But I thought I'd put it out there in the universe.)

What goals do you have for this new year? I think the biggest two on this list are finishing my novel and learning French. I want to do those things so badly, my own slow progress and procrastination drive my crazy. Loving myself is a big one too. How will I ever meet my husband if I don't love myself? Oh, and I'll be turning 30 this year. I figure I should do something big, but no plans yet.

Happy Friday everyone!

P.S. Happy Birthday J.R.R. Tolkien! (He would've been older than Bilbo in LOTR today.)



 

11/22/63

JFK and Jackie in Texas 50 years ago

 

Ever since I read 11/22/63 by Stephen King (the website for the book is awesome, by the way) I feel like I've become more interested in the lives of JFK and Jackie Kennedy Onassis. I actually started reading Mrs. Kennedy and Me when I was a member of a book club and found that she and I share the same birthday. I'm always fascinated by that kind of thing.

 

Where the assassination of JFK is concerned, there is an unusual fascination in this country that easily surpasses obsession. I'm not sure I've met one person who is satisfied with the idea that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. There are numerous conspiracy theories, but this article from CNN gives a good idea of which ones are the most popular, as well as one that might actually be plausible.

 

There have also been numerous books, movies, documentaries, and TV specials on the subject, the most famous being Oliver Stone's JFK, which had me convinced that Oswald was not the only person involved in Kennedy's assassination. I'm also interested in watching the National Geographic movie, Killing Kennedy, which will be showing tonight at 6pm pacific, 9pm eastern.

 

As far as ceremonies go, Dallas will not be the only city remembering JFK's death today. USA Today lists seven other cities that will be hosting an event for the 50th anniversary.

2013 Goals

Back in January, I made this list:

13 goals for 2013:
1 Read all the books I own (instead of buying so many new ones)
2 Finish a final draft of my novel
3 Start writing book two
4 Start learning French
5 Continue practicing yoga on a regular basis
6 Pay off debt
7 Go to see the world of Harry Potter in Florida
8 Start a 10-year journal
9 Celebrate life, instead of trying to fix it
10 Put myself out there (and I'm referring to dating)
11 Move closer to my job
12 Put together a design binder for my dream house
13 Get back into creating art regularly

I thought I'd revisit this to see how many of my goal's I've actually accomplished this year. I have bought more books, but I keep winning competitions at work in which the prizes are Barnes & Noble gift cards. Poor me. I just can't help it. But I have read quite a few of the ones I own. I have not finished a final draft of my novel, so of course, #3 is out of the question. I finally bought Rosetta Stone in French about a month ago, and I told myself I'd start over the weekend. It didn't happen. I'm starting to think I have an unconcscious fear of being terrible at French; or maybe it's not so unconscious.

#5 is the first winner! It took me until last month to make yoga a regular part of my life, but I'm doing it and I'm not stopping. That's something.

I did pay off quite a bit of debt, and now I've added a bunch more with all the tests on my heart I had a few months ago when I had the worst neighbors ever. And now I'm doing work on my teeth. Looks like I already have a goal for 2014. Oh, and I did move closer to work. Twice. I made plans with a friend to go see the World of Harry Potter in the spring of next year, so I'm not counting this one. And I couldn't get a 10-year journal, but I got a 5-year journal instead, which I have been using. Most of the time. 12 and 13 are ongoing things. I haven't been doing any art, unless you count making jewelry.

Numbers 9 and 10 are a little hard to categorize as something I've done or not done, especially celebrating life. I'm not sure how adept I am at that yet. I tend to focus on the little annoying things, which carry me right into the big annoying things, and it becomes a negative fest. I think yoga is helping with this though. I've noticed my breathing more. You can't be calm and in the moment unless you're breathing. (Now you're going to start noticing how you hold your breath when you're stressed. Watch.)

Last, but not least, putting myself out there. I think I was running out of ideas for 13 goals. I did go on match and I'll never do that again. I'm just one of those weird people who likes to meet men in person, I guess. I keep thinking that I'm ready for a relationship and then something like match comes along and lets me know how wrong I am. Life is funny like that. Just when you least expect it, life will tell you when you're ready.

Lately

Lately my life has consisted of cleansing and packing and organizing. First off, I told you a little while ago about my terrible neighbors and the anxiety they were causing me. I was at my wits end and I didn't know if there was a solution.

Then, in August, we found a new place, a much better place which just happened to be located down the street. We moved on the 14th and it is blissfully quiet. So far, the only night with any noise was last Friday and it was from the neighbors below us. I know there are always going to be people who make unnecessary amounts of noise, but I have to say, it's a world of difference when it's coming from below instead of above, like the world is crashing over your head and there's nothing you can do about it.

The move was intense because we went from a bottom floor to a third floor unit, but thankfully we don't have a lot of crap. My mom and I have been purging, and it feels so liberating to just get rid of stuff you've been dragging along with you for years.

I stupidly didn't take photos of the new apartment before we moved in, but I'm sure I can get some from another unit. Until then, here are some photos.

the old place. I hated those ceramic floors.

 

 new place. it's a work in progress.

 



my room. I didn't even bother taking pictures of my little shoebox of a room in the last place. I'm just glad I have a normal-sized room this time and that I get to use my curtains I've had forever.

 

More pictures to come once everything's been organized and put together. I'm actually enjoying unpacking everything. I just got a new little bookcase from Target that fits in my closet so I can have accress to books that have been stored in boxes for years. One day I'll have an actual library in my house.

 

 

 



To my mother

To my mother, who is the best mom anyone could ever ask for; who is my best friend and is always there for me no matter what.

I love you.
Amanda


P.S. On a side note, today is the 4th anniversary of my blog!

9/11

By some twist of fate, I had Olympus Has Fallen at the top of my queue on Netflix so that it was delivered to me yesterday. My mom and I watched a movie about the White House being taken hostage by terrorists the night before 9/11. Hopefully, it's not some sort of morbid sign. I'm pretty convinced it was just a coincidence. That has to be it because there's no way I could live with ever seeing the symbol of our country turned into a war zone.

The movie itself was extremely intense and Gerard Butler, as always, was awesome. I was fully invested in the story until the very end when the terrorists get information that the President swore he would never give, and it's never explained how they managed to retrieve it. The special effects were pretty amazing though. Even knowing that the photo above is simply effects and doesn't really exist, it still makes me uncomfortable to look at it. (I even debated not posting any photos from the movie given how many include burning flags and images of the White House burning; not a very good symbol for a day like today.) I prefer to see the White House looking majestic, as it should.

It's been twelve years, but I hope you're all still remembering, and keeping those lives that were lost in your hearts.

The day that changed everything

Day 6: Describe a distinct moment when your life took a turn.

This is one of those extreme life-changing events; one that rearranges everything you've ever known and worked for, and leaves you questioning whether you had your life as figured out as you thought you did.



Three and a half years ago (I'm shocked at how long it's been already) I was living in my own studio apartment in Santa Monica, five minutes from where I worked for an interior designer. I'd had my job for almost two years at this point and I thought I was getting pretty good at it (though my boss was actually very creatively stifling. Everything was always the way he wanted it; he never tried to nurture what my strengths were.) It was my first job out of school in high-end residential design, a field which takes more than just two years to learn the ins and outs of.

It was the last Friday of January in 2010, and I was planning on painting my apartment that weekend, which I excitedly told my boss. My boss called me in at 4:30p to meet with him about the projects I was working on, as was our custom. I told him about the projects and then he fired me. Apparently, he'd been diappointed with my work for some time, much to my surprise. (It is my understanding that superiors at work are supposed to give warning when an employee's work is not up to par; something like, if this doesn't improve, we'll have to let you go. No such warning for me.) Such was my surprise that I, of course, started crying. How in the hell was I going to pay my rent?

The worst part was that I didn't have the time to put together a portfolio for future interviews. After firing me, my boss proceeded to follow me to my desk and stand there while I gathered my things like I was a fucking criminal.

It took me a while in my haze of humiliation and rage to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't keep my apartment. It was like everything I'd ever worked for was crumbling to pieces and there was nothing I could do to stop it. In 2010 the design industry was in the middle of an economic recession, much like every other industry. I knew I wouldn't find another job in time to pay my rent, and whether I really wanted to stay in design was the question of the moment. My boss and his snobby clients hadn't done much to booster my opinion of the residential design industry.

I immediately signed up for unemployment, moved back to Oxnard to live with my mom, and spent the next few months in a daze, trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

It turns out that a break was what I really needed. I was on unemployment for over two years and this is what I learned: (1) I really hated residential design and never wanted a job there again (I'll only get into that industry again to design my own house), (2) that I really lost my job because my boss is bad at teaching (that would be putting it nicely), (3) that working a nine-to-five job does not suit me because (4) all I really want to do is write novels.

That one day turned my life upside down and nothing has ever been the same. Much of this is a good thing. I should thank my ex-boss for firing me and taking the pressure off. I did tons of work on a series of novels over those two years on unemployment, but didn't finish it. Until the day comes when I can somehow support myself solely on my writing, I have a great job as a designer in a niche of interior design I never would have even thought to consider, and, go figure, I'm actually pretty damn good at it.

Jung test

I took this test a while back and when I took it again today I got the same result above. That's pretty reassuring in my book. I've had the idea for a long time that I must be introverted, but I have times where I'm extroverted (which is completely normal). That threw me for a loop for years, until just recently, I've come to the conclusion that I really am an introvert and I'm completely satisfied with that. I'm getting to know myself pretty well in my old age.

This test is really amazing. It's crazy to think that answering yes or no to a list of ridiculous questions could somehow summarize your personality so accurately. But it does. Here's a little bit about me and my fellow ISFJs.

ISFJs are characterized above all by their desire to serve others, their "need to be needed." In extreme cases, this need is so strong that standard give-and-take relationships are deeply unsatisfying to them

they are notoriously bad at delegating ("If you want it done right, do it yourself"). And although they're hurt by being treated like doormats, they are often unwilling to toot their own horns about their accomplishments because they feel that although they deserve more credit than they're getting, it's somehow wrong to want any sort of reward for doing work (which is supposed to be a virtue in itself).

In the workplace, ISFJs are methodical and accurate workers, often with very good memories and unexpected analytic abilities; they are also good with people in small-group or one-on-one situations because of their patient and genuinely sympathetic approach to dealing with others.

Like most Is, ISFJs have a few, close friends. They are extremely loyal to these, and are ready to provide emotional and practical support at a moment's notice. (However, like most Fs they hate confrontation; if you get into a fight, don't expect them to jump in after you. You can count on them, however, run and get the nearest authority figure.) Unlike with EPs, the older the friendship is, the more an ISFJ will value it. One ISFJ trait that is easily misunderstood by those who haven't known them long is that they are often unable to either hide or articulate any distress they may be feeling.

Fascinating stuff.

 

 

Update: October 24, 2013

Just under two months later and this is the outcome of my test, which I feel is truer to me:

 

 

It would be fascinating to take this test again in a year to see if anything changes drastically.



Getting older

What is it about age that gets people so worked up? I've noticed it's not just about aging and getting older, it is simply age: those numbers have a way of getting under our skin.

I'm turning 29 on Sunday. I'm not afraid of this number; on the contrary, I completely agree with Susan Sarandon's quote above. It seems the longer we're on this planet, the less it begins to matter what the number is. Because really, it is just a number, but I will admit I find myself giving the numbers too much attention.

I liked the idea of In Time, you know that movie with Justin Timberlake where everyone stops aging after a specific age so that their age doesn't matter, it's the time they have left. This was a rather mind-blowing concept to me. If you knew how much time you had left on this planet with the people you loved most, what would you do with that time? I'm assuming complaining about the wrinkles around your eyes would not be something you'd be wasting that time with.

Watching celebrities age the last few decades makes one realize the vastness of not just what lengths people will go to look young, but how many advancements there have been in technology and medicine that focus on aging. It seems with all that technology there would be more focus on finding cures for things like world hunger or the health of our planet (not to say that there aren't people out there giving focus to such meaningful endeavors, but still the obsession with aging is ridiculous. I mean really, do your lips actually need to be bigger, or do you just have nothing better to do with your money?). I'm telling you right now, it's not going to matter how young you look when our planet no longer sustains human life.

Yes, perhaps I'm exaggerating, and yes, this is something most of us have zero control over. I'm usually the one preaching about how little good it does you to complain and worry about things you can't control (not to mention, that gives you more wrinkles).

But looking at age in a healthy way is something you can control. Appreciating what you have instead of wishing for things you don't have is part of growing up. "Aging gracefully" is a mindset I'm trying to embrace. Quite frankly, doing anything gracefully can come with age, it just takes practice. Learning to trust the knowledge I have as wisdom instead of just happenstance. And more often than not, letting that optimistic, almost child-like part of myself win over the pessimistic and critical part. The last thing I want is to turn cynical, and there have been times lately where I've felt myself on the edge of that. I get fed up, frustrated with hearing and seeing the same crap over and over. I find myself doing what I despise hearing from other people: I start complaining.

Honesty is the best cure. It's so much easier than the lies and half-truths we tell ourselves. In the coming decades, I'd like to be able to say that I'm done with wasting my time with the little things like my age and all those numbers, and I only spend what time I have living.