There's no place like home.

I drove myself back to The Beach yesterday. I've been staying with good friends since I got here and waiting for "the feeling" to hit me. The feeling that tells me I'm home. The feeling that makes everything all right, perfect. It hasn't yet. If anything, driving around this place kind of feels like visiting my old high school haunts...or something along those lines. Every street corner is so familiar and crowded with memories, but clearly feels like a place from my past.

After 6 or so hours of driving yesterday I did something I never do. I turned off the radio and drove the last hour in silence. It was beautiful. A perfect hour of peace that surrounded me and filled up all the spaces of my car. I had had ideas pass through my mind all day, or rather day dreams, but in that last hour I thought clear, concise thoughts. Thoughts that mattered. Thoughts that meant something to me then and even now, today.

I realized before I even reached The Beach that no matter where I land next it won't feel like home. At least not right away. The road has become my home. The airport is my living room and hallway. Random couches and hotels have become my bedroom. My life fits best into a 22" x 14" piece of luggage. Wanderlust has become my lifestyle.

Why, you say? I say why not!

The question for me these days that's on everyone's tongue is: Why? Why am I moving back to The Beach?

I wish I had a good answer for this. I wish I could say something that sounds grown-up, mature, responsible. I wish I had some sort of dream job that was leading me back there; something that makes sense of the last year of my hopping from city to city. But the truth is I don't. I usually just stammer through some weak answer that sounds like this: "Um...well...I mean, I guess Portland just didn't seem to line up. And um...I end up back at The Beach every couple of months anyway. So...yeah...looks like all the signs keep pointing me south. I guess."

In person I'm a regular Poet Laureate.

I was thinking today about a friend of mine who is known for moving from city to city, country to country while simultaneously fulfilling her career and adventure desires, but without any set plans. Things always just seem to line up for her as she goes. Years ago when we all lived seemingly happy lives at The Beach, I and everyone else would always ask her why she felt the need to constantly live in different places and her response was always: "Why not?!" As if everyone else was crazy for wanting to stay settled in one place for years and years. I was so confused by her free spirited outlook on life. Now, however, I'm simpatico. I get it! The very idea of having a wonderful life in various exotic or exciting new cities sounds absolutely incredible. Why wait until you're old and grey to travel to new places when you can be living in them your whole life and really enjoying the food, the people, the sights?

Just in the last week, the upcoming move was beginning to look daunting to me. It was becoming a dark cloud looming in the distance. I was starting to get an icky feeling. Am I about to make a huge mistake? Am I going backwards? Ohdeargod, will this be as long-term as the last time?!

I was starting to get tunnel vision that this move was not only a step backwards, but that it could be forever. As if I would slip into a past version of myself and be signing my life away, like I would no longer be in control of my own decisions.

Yeah...that'll be the day!

So, when a friend called today to get the scoop on the rumor that's been floating amongst our friends of my impending return, I still didn't have the all-American, mature answer. I only thought of my free-spirited friend and said, with a sparkle in my eye and a knowing smile on my face, "Why not?!"

This picture has nothing to do with the current post. I just thought it was ridiculously cute! Another "why not?!" ;)

Stolen moments.

Last week someone called me a gypsy. I'm more of a high maintenance gypsy, but definitely a free spirited floater, nonetheless.

Today I ran in my third race; my first all-running type race. I debated, hemmed and hawed, and otherwise procrastinated signing up for this, because I knew in the back of my mind that the minute I signed up for it something would come up that would take me out of town and that I might be inclined to bail. In short, I was nervous to commit to any one place for too long.

Story of my new life.

Anyway, I signed myself and a friend up for our first 5K and was so glad I did. I was proud of myself just for signing up, let alone running it! The run was a little rough at the end and the sun had really started to rise, shine and heat up during the last mile, but I just kept going, all the while thinking about the last 365 days of my life. My mind was racing with how much I had already overcome in my first 29 years, times when I succeeded in spite of circumstances and how I could now survive any new adventures. Panting and beaming, I crossed the finish line with my mom and dad waiting for me at the end with proud parent faces and the camera ready.

It was the first time my parents have attended one of my races and they were awesome! They met me at the starting line, cheered me on mid-way with cups of water and bananas and were at the finish line to tell me how proud they were of my running efforts. And that's when it hit me. Today was a stolen moment. It's not about getting to the next adventure. It's about enjoying the one I'm experiencing today.

Apparently, I'm a giant goof when I'm out running. Sheesh.

I can't believe I almost bailed on this race. I almost said, "Fuhgetta bout it!" and hit the road on yet another wild trip to new cities, but something told me it wasn't time to leave yet. Something whispered to me, "Stay a little while longer." I'm so glad I listened.

Work hard, play hard.

I recently had an appointment with a new chiropractor and had to list off all of my past ailments including any incident that would send one to the emergency room. I was somewhat embarrassed to admit that I've had more than my far share of ER visits in the past.

As I listed off my tangled web of concussions and broken bones to this new doctor I noticed that his note taking could barely keep up with my lengthy speech. I stopped mid-sentence and blushed at his furious scribbling. I started to say how I was probably the first girl that he'd ever had in his office with such a sordid history when he stopped me and said, "If someone doesn't have a long list like yours, they haven't played hard enough." This, of course, made me smile and blush even harder.

I later felt like I had walked out of his office with a gold star. I was almost beaming at the thought that somebody would view my history of accidents as a memorable memoir. My failed attempts didn't mark me a failure, but rather an avid liver of life!

Every time I've taken a fall in the past the following questions race through my mind:

1. Did I just break another bone?
2. Oh crap, is that blood? 
3. Exactly how many people just saw me do that?

A concept I've been slowly grasping during my "life sabbatical" this last year is that it doesn't matter what others think. Don't let the opinionsthoughtsfeelings of others dictate what you do and who you become.

Of course this concept would finally resonate with me in yet another doctor's office. Ha!

I have by no means perfected this mindset, but I do feel that I am armed to the teeth with a new outlook on life. So, as I begin to look for a new place to live at The Beach I am not letting outside influences have an effect on my decisions. I will just continue to work hard, play hard and live out my sometimes clumsy life.

Friends with words

Everybody has words they like to hear and say. I have a list of words I love; words that make me giggle or light up. There are certain words that are enjoyable to roll around the tongue. And then there are words that bothersome and you can't quite say why, they just are. I have a list of those words, too.

Words I like*:
Chockablock
Flabbergasted
Fabulous
Fantastic
Delegate

Words I don't like*:
Embarrassing
Jazzed
Handy
Delicious

Oddly enough, I have found myself saying the word "delicious" repeatedly the past couple of weeks. Everytime that word pops out of my mouth I sort of stutter and choke on the words that come after it. I'm taken aback. I always think to myself, "Why did I just say that? I hate that word, delicious." I've racked my brain trying to come up with a synonym. I'm stumped. I can't seem to come up with a word that I feel would be a fitting replacement. And now it's sort of growing on me.

Could it be that the word "delicious" is, in fact, delicious?

*These are incomplete lists, but you get the idea.