For 2011

Write more. Read more, internet less. Try a new dance class. Pitch a story. Get a second tattoo. Buy a bike and actually ride it. More veggies, less sugar. Do something even if it scares the crap out of me. Get back in shape, but be kind to my body this time. Let it go. Let him go.

Acknowledge the anxiety, the panic attacks, the other issues. Acknowledge, but don't be ruled by them. Life is too short, you know this.

Love a little more, laugh a little more, cry a little less.

Embrace the movement, the joy. It's there, you know how to find it.

My kind of winter

When greeted with a sky like this as soon as I wake up on what should be a gloomy January morning, I know it's going to be a good day. Being able to walk outside to take the picture with bare feet, because it's just that warm? Yes please!




Flowers coming up in January. On a morning that was already 55 degrees at 10 a.m.. These little sprouts caught my eye on the way to coffee. Already happy that it was so warm, something about the persistence it takes to break from the ground in a winter month made me smile.

In a place that's so gray and damp much of the year, it seems so much more important that I not take the little things, the quick flashes of sun, the breaks in the rain, for granted.

Spring will be here before we know it, right?

Peace

Flip flops in January, because it's that warm




Outside with my coffee, perched on the stairs, watching the waves crash




Sunshine to the south



Mist on the mountains to the northwest




A pretty mix over downtown


Any winter where I can have a few days in the 50's, a break in the rain, a few hours to be outdoors and enjoy it... I'll take it. So thankful for the little things, and an ever growing sense that this is home now!

Dance on!

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Wondering on a Wednesday

I'm feeling torn in so many places these days. There's that tear around my hip that still aches whenever I attempt to run on it for more than half an hour at a time. There's another hole near my head that makes me squint at my computer screen in frustration. Another small but bothersome rip in my gut that's making me anxious over the fading light and change of season. I'm also realizing that the tear over my heart keeps getting bigger, and I don't know what to do about it. I find myself restless, irritable, short tempered, listless, lonely. You name it, I could probably whine about it.

And that's just not me.

I'm supposed to be bubbly, quick to laugh, slightly snarky, smiling, on the move. This apathetic listless blob staring back at me from the mirror just doesn't feel right. I know she's hiding in there somewhere, but how to coax her back out? How does a person decide who they really want be, anyway? Doesn't that just happen?

I spent a wonderful 3 days in New York City this past week. It marked my second trip there, and I fell in love all over again. I know it's such a cliche, but I really felt at home there. There's something in the energy, the way people move and interact, that really appeals to me. The weather was beautiful and the conversations better. While I did learn that I am not cut out for 24/7 partying like the friends I encountered, I liked who I was there. Not afraid to ask strangers for help, walking with my chin up, chatting comfortably with people I'd met only 10 minutes before. Sometimes I miss the east coast so much it hurts.

On the one hand, I adore my job here. I could use more of a challenge, for sure. But it's a good gig and I'm lucky to have it. I wouldn't want to leave that behind. Yet on the other, well, I feel like I'm not ready to be done yet. Part of me wants to go back to school and stay there, always learning. I want to be better than I am at so many things, but don't know where to start or who to ask. I feel like I've given up and settled, and that's ridiculous.

Sometimes being an adult is so bothersome. If I had no obligations, I think I would pick up and move again. Would I be any more content in NYC? I doubt it. And the unbelievable hassle of moving all of my stuff across country for the second time would be unreasonable at this point. If I didn't have to worry about the debt, I'd apply to Columbia and NYU and harass their journalism departments until they let me in. Wishful thinking.

So for now, will someone please shake me and remind me what is good about this place? I loved early fall in Seattle. The weather was beautiful. Then the rains came back, and I'm homesick again. For the friends I left and can't seem to make here. If my sister and an awesome friend from high school weren't here I'd be going crazy.

Wondering on a Wednesday.....wondering what I really want and how to go about it. If anyone has any answers for me, I'm all ears!

Today for you, tomorrow for me

Work beckons, and while I should be doing something constructive, I'd rather daydream about tomorrow. An ordinary Thursday yes, but what if it wasn't? The most spectacular thing could happen, and not even be a glint in my eye yet.

Sure, I'll get up, trip over cat 1, feed them both, feed myself, check e-mail....you get the gist. I'll head out the door to tap class, sit through a meeting, edit my way from start to finish. But maybe someone new will catch my eye at coffee, maybe I'll find a new favorite song on my commute, maybe we'll concentrate on the good news instead of the bad.

Even if it's just a typical Thursday, the thought that tomorrow could be better is keeping me company here today. Going a little stir crazy, stuck at my desk inside on a beautiful day. It's quiet in here, which always makes me want to be loud. That need to be heard, to not be so fearful of breaking the norm, my inner sense of splash seems to be kicking it's way back out. My tap teacher said something the other day, about how there is nothing introverted about tap. It's noisy, it's out there, it demands to be heard. And that's not something to fear. As she put it: "Even if you think you're wrong, just pick your foot up anyway. See where it takes you. And if it wasn't quite right, just go again. You'll get there."

I love that. Make the noise, make the splash, don't hesitate, don't be afraid to be wrong. You'll get there. And tomorrow? Tomorrow is a perfect ordinary day to take that first noisy step.

Why do we stop playing?

It's 5:00 on a crisp fall afternoon. I find myself wandering through Lincoln Park, walking from log to log. Hopping as far down the beach as I can, and hoping I and my recently replaced crackberry are not going to end up in the drink. I pause for a while on a log made smooth as silk by the waves, driftwood I can't help but run my hands over. Racing to the swing set at the end of the park, trying not to catch my toes in the dirt. My legs are somehow longer than I remember. The snap of the chain as I stretch higher towards the sky. Throwing a tennis ball for a stranger's overweight but enthusiastic chocolate lab.

8:30 on a Thursday night, loving my new knee high boots, on a high from a tap class earlier in the day. Peeking around corners, no one is there. Bouncing down the halls at work, cardigan floating behind me like a cape. Really SITTING on those back falaps. Dancing down the stairs like Ginger Rogers and praying the cleaning lady doesn't catch me.

I love to play. I'm 28, but I would gladly play tag with you if you asked. The other night as I was walking towards my car after a long day at work, the crackle in the air had me craving night games in the worst way. Did you ever play those as a kid? We would gather in someones back yard and play 1 o'clock 2 o'clock (a much more elaborate version of hide and go seek in the dark) or ghost in the graveyard. Bike rides around "the loop" seemed so much more dangerous and thrilling when the entire neighborhood was bathed in the black of night. The headlights of cars out on the "big road" always seemed so much more sinister, like ever driver was out to get us. The cornfield behind the house made for the most epic maze adventures.

Why does this have to stop? Who says we must grow out of the silly adventures of our younger days? I know as adults we have more "grown up" ways to play, but these usually involve more money and gear than I'm willing to invest it. I'd love to get a group together and chase around the neighborhood in the dark. And maybe supplement the night with an adult beverage or two when we're all too tired to run anymore.

I was on the swing at the park not too long ago, and a little girl grabbed the swing next to me. She couldn't have been more than 4 or 5. As I slowed my swing to make sure I wasn't going to run into her, she looked at me and said "Are you a kid too?" I had to laugh. Am I a kid too? Yes sweetie, most days, I definitely am.