Finding your mantra

Is it possible to be scared and fearless simultaneously? There are so many scary moves to make in life, but is it a possibility that you can be fearless at the same time? Maybe even fierce?

Be fierce.

That's been my mantra this year. A little reminder to myself that I don't need to approach every opportunity in total timidity. I found myself holding back out of fear one too many times, when out of nowhere I heard a small voice tell me to "Be Fierce!" Words that I took to mean this: to be myself to the full extent. Hearing those two little words, I almost swerved off the road. Would've been safer to hear that phrase flash across my conscience while walking down the street, but c'est la vie!

Do you ever catch yourself holding back when maybe you should be letting go? You're afraid that if you put your whole self out there someone will think you're weird, totally nuts, certifiable? I'm pretty sure everyone has those moments.

Yeah...pretty sure...

Anyway, I was just curious: if you had to narrow down your life to a single mantra (for now, for all of eternity, for whatever season you happen to be in) what would it be?

Little Projects...

I hate to spoil a surprise, but I've been working on some gifts lately and I just want to show them off! So, if you're preggo or just had a little bundle of joy you can expect to see one of these arriving in your mailbox!

Oh. And did I mention how this was entirely The Country's doing? I don't know if it's all the fresh air or what, but instead of my usual gift card I had an overwhelming urge to sew. Go figure!

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Three.

Lesson 3: The art of being alone.

It seems I got a little sidetracked in my Lessons in Learning How to Rest. This year went from epic meltdown to abrupt stop to putting my life back into hyperspeed mode, but with a hint of appreciation for the little things. And things were at least moving forward, but not at the highest quality of life. In other words, there was always somebody to check in with, talk to, be around, hold hands with, snuggle up next to, kiss. There was never a time without a boy. And while there isn't anything necessarily wrong with that, it maybe hasn't been the best thing for this city girl since most of these relationships have ended in heartbreak one way or the other.


So, now, having cut ties with all men, I am learning the art of being alone. Truthfully, it sucks. Optimistically, it's going to be really good for me since I can barely remember the last time that I was the only one who had say in what I do or where I go. In reality, I have no idea how to master this. I've finally come across a challenge that I have no idea how to tackle. However, in an effort to take a stab at it, I've been pushing myself to find or rediscover the things that I like to do no matter how girly or country bumpkinish, which include (but are not limited to): sewing, baking, cooking, watching endless episodes of Gilmore Girls, shopping, getting massages, painting my nails, writing/journaling, reading, lots of library visits, hiking, running, spur of the moment trips with the SB girls...

In theory, this all sounds great, right? Doing stuff that you like to do without having to consult anyone. But I got used to having someone else have an opinion that would sway whether I turned left or right and I miss it. I miss it more than I thought I would. The uber-independent girl who never liked being told what to do now finds herself lost and lonely without a dictating boyfriend. Oh the irony.

Hair Evolution

This year has been a big one for changes. Seems to be the common thread throughout all my days of 2010. I witnessed life being brought into this world, a handful of deaths of people who were family to me during my growing up years (as if those were actually over...), gallivanted around this country like I was on tour, made new friends, broke up relationships, dated various boys in various cities, learned things about myself (some things I liked, some I did not) and changed my hairstyle more times than Hillary Clinton.

The starting point.

I realized something the other day as I posted an album on facebook about my hair evolution: My hair has been my one thing I could control this year. The only thing, really. In a time when nothing is as it seems and everything around me changes in the blink of an eye, I've had nothing to hold onto. Every last thing I thought was predictable or under my control performed a circus act before my very eyes and contorted into something unrecognizable, unfamiliar.

New hair cut, take one.

So, what's a girl to do when her life has been glued to the ceiling and nothing is grounded? Well, this girl cut her hair. That's it. That was my big "I'll show you!" move. I cut my hair. And then dyed it. And then chemically straightened it. And then cut it again. There was some rhyme and reason to the first cutting. (I donated about 8 inches of my hair to Locks of Love in honor of one of the lives lost this year.) But after that, there was no semblance of common sense or thought put into the other actions. I only knew that I was determined–determined to do whatever the hell I wanted with what little bit of belongings I had with me at all times.

New hair cut, take two.

My hair currently looks like the edgier version of Julia Styles' haircut in the first Bourne movie. I'm happy with it. For now, anyway. And I like how with each new haircut I've either learned something or taken back a piece of myself that I didn't know was missing. This year has been a strange one, to say the least, and it's not over yet! There's still a solid 6 inches of my hair left. So, stay tuned.

Fighting for Fall

It's technically autumn in these parts. It rained the other day. The very first sprinkle of the season. (Eeeee!) And then the little red dot in my thermostat jumped right back up into the 80's. I only got to wear my new tights for two days.

Only two days!

I've refused to believe that summer is underhandedly trying to weasel its way back into my life. I've been ordering my lattes and sporting scarves in the early morning in protest of the current temperature hoping I will sway the affects of Mother Nature. That is until last Monday when I woke up with a typical fall cold, but not the proper weather to accompany it. And so, I've been working from home the last couple of days, no thanks to the cold that came up from behind me and ambushed my immune system like a ninja, with all the windows open until I can no longer stand the heat and am forced to close the windows and pump in what I like to call "fake air"; translated as air conditioning to rest of the free world.

Working from the house is never my ideal, but I'm enjoying the endless episodes of Gilmore Girls, the lack of pressure to buy another coffee to secure my table, the quiet and having the option to lay down whenever I feel like it. And every day I've had the same view from the kitchen table of a little maple tree at the end of the block that is turning red. All the other trees in my current neighborhood seem to be painfully unaware of the fact that they too should be fighting for fall and protesting the heat. Just the lone maple tree screams out with hues of amber and fire engine red. Unfortunately, it was planted in entirely the wrong location near the mountains and buried by track houses and is not ideally across the street from the lake. Traffic and onlookers have no idea what they're missing.

It's sad, really. The rest of this month will probably whip by without a moment's notice and the weather will finally turn cold in November if we're lucky. And that tree, looking beautifully out of place, will no longer have any leaves to its name or its appendages will begin their final descent turning an ugly hue of burgundy while all the other trees reflect shades of gold.

Such a waste of a perfectly good tree...

Stickin' it to the man...

Today I have a bit of an issue. An issue I wouldn't normally bring up so publicly, but I'm at a complete and total loss. All and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. And before your opinions get too far formed, you should be warned that this is relationship stuff. The kind of stuff that is sticky, awkward and where feelings are involved.

Here's the scenario:
It started with a whirlwind romance (in a city that will go unidentified). I felt like I was out of control. I don't usually jump all in with someone quite so fast, but this time I did. We talked and talked and found each other to be crazyamazingwonderful. Fast forward to the part where (for reasons I'm not sharing on a very public blog) we didn't work out. Although, dearest readers, you can feel free to point the finger of blame in any direction but mine.

Initially, remaining friends was in the talks, but I knew that could never happen. So, slowly I began to let him down and told him that would be a bad idea for me. Since then I've heard from him every day. And I do mean every day. We're talking twice a day, every day, for the last week or maybe longer. I honestly don't know how long this has been going on. I've lost all sense of time.

That part I attribute to sleeping on planes, blow-up mattresses, floors, couches, etc. 

Wait. Where am I?

Anyway, my dilemma has been in the let down. How do I get rid of this Stage Five Clinger? The idea of sticking it to him, all direct, blunt and no-holds barred has crossed my mind, but there's a good chance that that sort of approach is entirely lost on him. Ignoring him has clearly not been effective. I'm at a loss. Aside from the reason we're not together, he's a decent guy. And at some point down the road, maybe (and it's a pretty big maybe) we could be friends. But right now ain't the time.

Smitten. Not Head Over Heels.

In the trenches of a serious conversation with a recent flame the words "smitten" and "head over heels" was thrown into our mix of sentences. And it went something like this: smitten is not head over heels. And while he ended up proving my point for me, it was better said coming out of his mouth. And he was right. Smitten isn't head over heels. In fact, smitten is nothing more than being infatuated. Head over heels, however, is something to write home about. Scream from mountain tops. Soak up every second of and make a fuss about.

I have recently become smitten by (with the possibility of being head over heels for) a new city. I was smitten by The Second City, no doubt. However, since my latest road trip I think I'm about to be head over heels for a new city. A new city that could quite possibly become my new home by the spring. It was fun, kitschy, had amazing public transportation, beautiful and full of possibility. Essentially, it had everything I look for when I have city love in mind. And this time I may have found what I've been looking for.

Stay tuned...