A few years ago I had some roommates that claimed things would be great in '08. And they were right! After having a crappy go-around with 2007, the roommates decided to take the outcome for '08 by the horns and staked their claim that things would turn around. And wouldn't you know it, these feisty girls were right! Life took a turn for the better in 2008. And so we continued with this habit of rhyming an upbeat word with the following year. And as predicted, things were indeed fine in '09.
Since then we all went our separate ways. One by one we all moved out of the Big Yellow House we shared together for years. Some went on to other cities in this fine state while others went to cities in other countries. (And we all know what happened to me!) Talking to my old roomies in the past few months, we have the same thing to say: We're all trying to find the zen in '10.
Or Oh '10, as I like to call it. Ha!
As the world seems to be diminishing around everyone these days, people are striving to make something out of nothing. Life has given us lemons and everyone is doing their darnedest to make some stinkin' lemonade! In fact, I had a little chat with my mom about this very thing this morning. And the question she spit out in an exasperated tone was, "Man, everything is falling apart. When are things going to be fun again?!" To which I thought to myself, "Well, sometimes things are just going to suck. For awhile. But it's all going to be OK." I don't know how I came to this conclusion. I certainly have no hard evidence for this, but I have been making a point lately to take stock of the good things that have happened this year and am looking forward with hope that life will be good again for everyone.
So, my question for you, faithful readers (and lurkers), is how are you finding a little zen in Oh Ten?
There's nothing quite like family. They might be the only people you'll ever know who will be there for you when you need them. And they will for sure be some of the few people in your life that you'll ever truly be honest with, vulnerable to, mean to, happy with, sad with, joyous with, grievous with, loving to, and otherwise crazy all around. I forgot all of this in the past few years.
The last five years I've managed to squeeze in a few trips home. A couple of trips here or there. But typically no more than 3 per year. This is not enough. In my mind it was the perfect amount. And all the trips were long enough to catch up, but not have to get too close or overly personal. I have shared many a moment with a roommate or good friend that could have (and sometimes probably should have) been shared with family.
Moving back up here amidst the crazy and dramatic that is my family, I realized today that I've needed them all along. Maybe I didn't want to be this close and maybe I didn't want to have to share my seemingly perfect and wonderful world with them, but deep down I always knew I needed them. I needed them close by. And as it turns out, they've needed me.
Today I was determined to find fun things to do at The Lake. So far, I'm still a little stumped. I did find fun things to do for a few girls nights out.
Fondue anyone?
And I did find a couple of cool tours that involve kayaks and wine tastings. I'm sure there's probably some clause about these two things being separate.
Some people just don't know how to have a good time!
But other than that, I've found nothing that's an every week/weekend sort of thing. So, now I'm revisiting an idea I had awhile ago: join the local co-ed softball team.
Little known fact about me: I love sports. In fact, there was a phase in my life where all I would watch was Sports Center and Sex and The City. I know. It's practically a split personality. And for anyone who really knows me and is reading this, you probably feel like I just threw you a real curve ball! (No pun intended.)
My days in SB weren't always spent shopping, going to parties and sleeping in. (Well, maybe the sleeping in part.) There were 3 to 4 solid years spent chasing waves with my surfboard, boogie board or anything that could float and let me ride on the crest of curled salt water. Then there were the years spent doing yoga. Although, I can't remember a time when I haven't kept that practice up. And then there were the last couple of years where I was the captain of an adult kickball team. That's right. I said kickball.
When I'm not on the road, I've spent almost every single day at the gym. It's not my first place to go to for fun, but it's been something to do. And now it's taken me 30 days to become completely restless to the point of going out on a field and hoping someone throws a piece of sports equipment at me. There's just something about running around outside and yelling and screaming in an umpire's face that just makes a girl feel alive!
Brace yourselves. My inner sports nut just might emerge once again.
I recently found a bunch of old stuff. The kind of stuff you don't realize you still have until you move. Now for the people who move their futon and toothbrush to a new place every few months, they probably have no idea what I'm talking about. But for the rest of the free world that only moves when they absolutely have to (because they understand the total hassle of packing up and resettling) this stuff has probably surfaced for them at some point, too.
My stuff consisted of a letter I wrote to myself about ten years ago (which turned out to not be as interesting as it sounds), a few scrapbooks and the belongings of an old boyfriend. When it comes to old boyfriends I tend to throw out everything and anything that reminds me of them the day we call it quits. But this guy was a different story. He was my high school sweetheart. He asked me to marry him when we were just kids. (I consider most 20 year olds to be kids. Babies, really.) I told him I wasn't ready and with that we slowly drifted apart. Mostly I pushed us apart, because where else can you go from that point? But anyway, I found a box of his stuff when I moved. I couldn't believe I still had all those love letters and things from almost ten years ago. I also couldn't remember why I had kept them with me when I had first moved away from home. But c'est la vie!
Since we called it quits there were only a couple times that I heard from him through email and letters, but I still wasn't ready to be his friend again. So, I just let it lie. Essentially, I ignored him until he left me alone. So, it's no surprise to me that when I emailed him and asked if he'd like some of his stuff back I didn't hear back from him...except we're adults now. He's about to turn 30 this year, we're friends on FB, he just got a new girlfriend and I figured that he would have the politeness to just give me a yes or no. Apparently, I was wrong. I half want to be upset, but my other half understands. And it's not like I'm trying to send him a bunch of mix tapes. I have legitimate stuff! Things he earned! AWARDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
All this to say, this move didn't just force me to take a look at myself, but all the things that come with being me. Old me. New me. The me I'm working on today.
Moving is a messier undertaking than I had originally thought...
I've had a few thoughts circling my brain lately. None of them are connected, but still circling around up there nonetheless. I figured if I got them out of my head and on this blog I might get some new ones. So, here goes:
My parents' house burned down a little over two years ago. The original plan was fairly extravagant and changed into something half it's original size by the time they had finished. All the walls were up, the roof was on and all that was left to be done was the staircase when it mysteriously went up in flames. With all the new wood, fresh paint and coats of sealer it burned to the ground in about an hour, despite the fact that it was snowing that night. To put it simply, it was sad, but no one was really heartbroken. It sucked that they were only 2 weeks away from moving into it, but other than that it was just an empty shell and something that caused headaches for the last 2 to 3 years. It was just a plan that didn't work out.
Six months later they started to rebuild. And the task of rebuilding turned out to be a joy. An unexpected blessing of sorts. They were able to build an even bigger house for almost half the cost. And now they are once again talking about how excited they are to move into this house–an even better house, a house that they love not loathe–and make it a home. And I can't help but notice how something that seemed horrific and overwhelming has turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to them. Their plans were squashed, but remolded into something more beautiful. Thinking about this gives me hope.
I've always been fascinated with the Italian lifestyle. How great would it be to live life like an Italian? I've started reading Eat, Pray, Love for the second time. I loved it the first time around. And am falling in love with this book all over again. Maybe it's because I, too, am in transition and so I can relate to almost every word on those pages. Either way, my favorite part of the book has always been the first few chapters where Elizabeth Gilbert spends four months in Rome. And it's there that she learns how to live life like it was meant to be lived–a goal I've always had, but never truly reached. My attempts at living in the here and now and enjoying life's pleasures is still an on-going process, but I can't help but wonder if I could get a better handle on this if I were living in Italy...
Slowing down, but losing patience. I've slowed down. A lot. I'm wondering when the shock and anomaly of this will be over. And in the meantime, I'm losing patience with how slow my life seems to be going. Sure, I'm still traveling around the globe (or at least the state for now) like a wild woman hoping that all this recent change will finally make its point. And as of late, my time seems to be used up, but I feel like I have almost nothing to show for it. I've always made a point before to never say this, because I think it sounds like whining. And whining is something that I have little tolerance for. But I'm breaking my rule today: I hate waiting.
If whining could be summed up in one quick movement I think it would look like this. So ridiculous.
Ever get the feeling that God is working just as hard and just as fast behind the scenes? Like He's the wizard behind the curtain, spinning wheels and pushing buttons? And that someday in the not-to-distant future the question of why all this waiting and being in limbo will be answered?
Which leads me to my last and most current thought: To travel or not to travel? I'm kind of tired of living out of my car. The suitcase part is ok, but the car.....I think it's just as sick of me as I am of it! I'm finding myself adjusting the seat every time I get in it. It's become uncomfortable. Every time I start the engine and put the car in drive I just want to pull over and go on a 3 mile run. It's the same thought I have when a movie finishes and the lights go on: my knees ache and my legs hurt from sitting this long.
I've been pretty good about passing up traveling offers from other people and just sticking to my own plans. But a good friend of mine just sent me an email yesterday begging me to do a girls trip, just the two of us. Part of me wants nothing more than to hit the road with this chick! Every time I think about traveling with her I picture us in a convertible with our hands in the air, screaming down a long stretch of open road. The other part of me wants to tell her that I'll do it with her another time. Although, I know that at this point in the game "another time" is so far away that we'd likely be road tripping for someone's 50th birthday. And while I sort of cringed when I hit the road for SB last week it was a good trip. There was so much good that came out of my discomfort that I can't help but wonder if a trip with her would be just as great.
I love this movie, but I'm willing to forgo committing murder, a police chase and driving off a cliff.
Ever have one of those weeks that's so crazy, so inconceivable that if you were to tell someone about it they would just think you're nuts? That you're off your rocker? You made it all up.
This has been my week.
As I told a friend a couple days ago, everything keeps changing. I wish it would stop, but I know it won't. Change is so unpredictable. So unwieldy. And so it was for that girl who's car spun around and tipped over in front of mine.
On a completely different note, when I'm away I really do miss my friends, but all I could think about this week was how much longer I had to be in SB before I could go home. In my version of the immortalized words of Frank, I left my heart at The Lake.
Sing on, Ol' Blue Eyes!
Aside from feeling like a fish out of water, my time down here has been good. It seems like everywhere I go and everyone I talk to has purpose in the meeting. I still don't know what possessed me to come down here for the week just to hang out when it was only a month ago that I moved away, but I can say without a doubt that this has not been a wasted trip. In fact, had I been looking for signs to tell me that where I'm going and what I'm doing is right I wouldn't have had to look very far. They've been all around me.
I've only been gone for a couple days now. This trip was supposed to be fun, maybe relaxing, and just a quick little get-away with maybe one or two funny stories to tell. Honestly, I don't know why I think things will go exactly as I see them in my head, because they almost never do. In fact, my life has started to resemble a weird movie that you keep watching, because you want there to be an ending that makes sense of the whole mess.
Remember this messy little treat?
The minute I got in the car to drive down to SB I had this thought: "What am I doing? Didn't I just get settled here? WHY am I leaving....again?!" I drove to the Wine Country and picked up a friend who rode the rest of the 8 hour trip with me and the first thing she said was this: "I know we live here now, but I just keep thinking, 'What am I doing?'" It was so nice to hear those four little words from someone other than my internal monologue. Many conversations about life and a few hours later, I dropped off my friend in a little town outside of SB and proceeded to drive the rest of the way by myself.
And I made it almost to the city when the truck in front of me slammed on his brakes, causing me to slam on my brakes which had coincidentally just started to sound funny in the last couple of miles. Unfortunately, my brakes didn't grab the road as well as they have before and therefore didn't stop the rest of my 2,000 pound Volvo in time. So, I quickly steered the car, that was now starting to feel more like steering a herd of cattle, around the truck....landing myself in the other lane....of oncoming traffic. Not my favorite spot to be, but the choices were oncoming traffic or driving over the edge of the cliff.
I let out a couple of exasperated choice words loud enough to hear through rolled up windows and then immediately noticed the clouds of dust in the air. My first thought was that there were rocks falling down into the road, but then I noticed the underside of the Volkswagen that had just flipped over, staring both me and the truck driver in the face.
Awesome start to the trip, right?!
There's more, but I have a lunch to get to...so stay tuned!
I did what I said I would never do: temporarily moved to the country and then back to the beach. Everything that happened before, after and during those decisions has been posted here.
