Scaredy Cat, No More.

"Men [as opposed to boys] know what they want and they don't let you in on their inner monologue, and that is scary." -Mindy Kaling

Or for this Girl, used to be scary.

I found myself saying to a friend the other day that I just wished that So and So could have seen the old me; the scared, non-committal, skiddish me. (I wanted 'Ol So and So, who had wrongfully judged my intentions, to be fully aware that the new me is still very new.) My friend responded by rolling her eyes and said, "Yeah, you've come a long way! You used to be scared to commit to a parking space for fear of being blocked in at a party where we both knew you would end up sleeping on the couch."

It was an embarrassingly true statement. I used to be scared. Of everything, including (but not limited to) parking spaces, lunch decisions and commitment to relationships of any kind. When I got my first (and only) tattoo my friends who accompanied me to the parlor, probably to make sure I didn't back out, kept chattering on about their first tattoos and how they couldn't wait to be under the needle again. All I could think about was how many hours I would have to work before I could afford laser tattoo removal. I don't think I had that one-inch by one-inch tattoo longer than 10 minutes before I started inwardly panicking about its permanence.

Today, however, I am a different girl. One might say I've graduated from girl to woman. Although, I hate that word "woman". It sounds like I should be wearing pantyhose and a dress suit everyday. I blame commercials from the 80's. They really warped my little brain into thinking that all grown, confident women must wear suit jackets, shoulder pads and own an abundance of hosiery while having developed a very mature palette for diet soda and low-fat yogurt. I don't drink soda and I usually hate the taste of any food labeled low-fat.

Anyway, lately I've felt confused by my most recent relationship that appeared to be with a man, who at times acted like he was an old man, but was in fact with a boy. I've been remembering conversations we had that, in retrospect, were orange flags. (I would say red flags, but they weren't deal breaker conversations like him saying he wanted to ultimately live on a commune someday. Just things that should have signaled to me that he was not ready to take the next step.) And today I finally made sense of all those things that were said. Today I realized why that last guy wasn't going to work out, at least not yet. I want a man and apparently have wanted one for some time. I thought I had accidentally stumbled into a dating relationship with a man only to find out that he was just a boy parading around in a grown man's life, wearing all the right clothes, saying almost all the right things and acting like he was ready for retirement. And that's ok. He will get there someday.

But I'm not talking about possibilities in the next 3 years. I'm talking about today. I want someone who knows what he wants, doesn't feel the need to constantly fill me in on his every waking move so that he can hear himself say it to make sure it sounds right, and who isn't afriad to go after all those things he truly knows he wants to have in his life.

That idea would have sent the old me running scared in the opposite direction, but it doesn't scare the new me. Not one bit.

Trying Out For The Lead Role

"Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend."  
-Arthur Abbott

I've been rather enlightened lately by TV shows and movies which means only one thing: I'm either spending way too much time on the couch or I've been gaining wisdom from the most unlikely sources. For the sake of keeping a positive momentum let's just say that God works in mysterious ways...via my television.

I was enjoying a few much needed hours of down time the other day, sacked out on the couch, convalescing my sick throat while watching Christmas movies. As I drifted in and out of my sore throat haze that afternoon, my brain was just about to check out when I heard Arthur, from The Holiday, challenge Iris to start behaving as the leading lady in her decision-making. She had been acting as if someone else was in the driver's seat for all of the choices she made for herself. She had let some guy take command of her feelings for far too long and it was time for her to take the reigns again or forever be playing the role of the sidekick.

There they were again: words of wisdom. From my television, no less! And they prompted a string of questions that hit me in that part of the gut that tells you you had better start paying attention or you'll soon lose the game. Had I been playing the best friend role in my own life; the one who is at the mercy of someone else's control? Or had I been behaving as the leading lady; the one who moves forward without trepidation and accomplishes what she sets out to do?

Have I been moving forward in certain areas of my life as I should or have I been sitting on the side lines scared and unmoving?

Without saying too much, I know that there are areas of my life where I've been holding back or holding out....waiting to see what will happen. When, the truth is, I should be the one playing the game, not watching it.

So, dear readers, with some shaky steps on an unmarked path, I will be bravely moving forward knowing that the risk of failing will not be greater than the risk of regret. And if all of my friends' advice is right, it will all work out for the best in the end. If I can just keep moving.

It's A Wonderful Life

I would normally save a post like this for the new year, but when a major revelation dawns via the wisdom of a television show you just gotta say, "To hell with the time of year! I'm writin' this down!"

I was recently watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother, a beloved TV show that I keep watching in hopes that Ted, the main character, will finally meet the woman who later becomes his wife. I assume by the title that the protagonist will, in fact, meet the mother of the children his future self is telling all the stories to, but after 8 seasons it does make one wonder. Aaaanyway, I was rewatching an old episode and listening to Ted tell his future kids how "that" year was the year he lost his job, broke up with the love of his life, and essentially lost his dog, fishing boat, and any other item listed in a country music song and I found myself nodding along in commiseration awaiting the crescendo of a spectacular mope. I was waiting to hear him wrap up his monologue with words similar to, "I couldn't wait for that year to be over." Or, "But next year was THE year for me." But he didn't. Much to my self-loathing dismay, his exact words were, "And it was the best year of my life."

The thoughts that immediately ran through my mind in a matter of 10 seconds or less: It was the best year of that guy's life?! He lost everything! His life was in shambles! Everything he knew to be right and good was turned on its side and any ounce of comfort and dignity he had left was ripped away from him! Are you effing kidding me?! Who's writing this show, anyway?

And then a small voice inside my head whispered: Was this year really all that bad for you?

It wasn't.

This year really wasn't all that bad. Parts of it weren't great, but it didn't outright kill me either. No one died. I didn't get diagnosed with a life threatening disease. And, lo and behold, the world didn't implode. I've been so consumed by the idea that this year was so hard that I neglected to see that hard does not necessarily mean horrible.

Difficulty does not equal disastrous. And life being easy does not equate to a wonderful life.

This was the year of making new friends that I really like, a new home in a fabulous location, learning how to love someone for better or worse, and new business endeavors that are actually working out quite well. This year may not have been the easiest year, but darn it if it wasn't full of twists and turns that got me that much closer to becoming the amazingly gracious old lady that I want to be someday.

And this year isn't even over yet!

I may not be able to smile and say just how delightful the past 365 days have been, but someday I will look back at THIS year and say to my future children how this year was ultimately one of the best year's of my life. Someday this year will truly make sense and won't that day be wonderful.

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving

During my drive home tonight on the long stretch of highway to my place at The Beach I began thinking about all the things I wanted to list out for each Day Of Thanksgiving. Starting last year, I try to write down at least one "something" per day that I am thankful for during the turkey month. The end of the year can become so tiresome, especially as I always feel like it's another deadline to be met and I can't help but take stock of what did or did not get accomplished in the last 11 months. But tonight all I could think of was how I could probably come up with hundreds of "somethings" to be thankful for; enough to last me a whole year!

Today my day consisted of choosing whether or not to work (for the most part, I chose not to), followed by leisurely taking phone calls and emails while catching up on my favorite TV shows; then later a facial and an early dinner with friends. And while not every day looks that way, I do work in trade with friend of mine who gives the most delicious massages, which I try to schedule in every week. Every sunset and sunrise I go to sleep and wake to the sound of the ocean crashing its way on shore. A noise that most people pay hoards of money to hear for only a few days during their vacation. And if I feel like taking a lunch break, I sometimes walk across the street, organic food in hand, to enjoy a half hour of seaside rest while soaking in the sunshine and warmth that hangs over this fair city almost every day.

This is my life.

And I know there is much more to come, but for right now what more could this City Girl want?

Lessons in Learning How To Rest, Part Thirteen.

Lesson Thirteen: Choose Joy. And peace, while you're at it!

I woke up this morning and immediately dove head first into reading. Not my usual choice. I'm more of a news watcher while curled up in a ball on the couch with a cup of something hot in my hands kind of morning person. I can only assume I had been wrestling with my own thoughts in my sleep, because when I woke this morning I didn't have much recollection of my dreams or a to-do list on my mind. Today I had only questions plaguing me from the moment my eyes fluttered open. After plowing through multiple study books, I realized that I have become "comfortable" in this season of restoration. (Yes, those quotations are meant to be there.) I've become as comfortable as one can be when shoved between a jagged rock and a brick wall covered in barbed wire.

I don't exactly remember choosing joy in this season, though. I remember decidedly muscling through a difficult and painful time. I can also recall choosing to laugh every now and then in the face of adverse situations. But choosing joy....well, that wasn't too high on the list this year. In fact, I very distinctly remember choosing to be cross with this particular phrase. My inner scrolling ticker of thoughts has been more prone to notions like this, "You choose joy, jerk. I'll choose cutting phrases and undermining wit!"

Bitter and Cynical, party of one!

And then I read something this morning about petitions in a higher place being made on behalf of us mere mortals when we aren't able to make them for ourselves. And I suddenly realized why I was able to find a resting spot in this heavy-laden and wearisome time. I didn't find it. It was a gift. And for the girl who isn't normally a fan of having decisions made for her didn't really care all that much this time. When it has felt for an extended amount of time that all hope is lost or that the proverbial shit has hit the fan, it's so nice to wake up with a slight grin on your face, hope in your heart and total peace about what's to come.

So, instead of looking this gift horse in the mouth, this City Girl is choosing the joy that has been decided for her. And she's gonna grab that peace that defies all logic while she can!

I Don't Want No Scrub

Remember Stage 5 Clinger? Well,this City Girl does. All too well. And as of this week, am reminded of that guy while constructing a well thought out text message to somehow detach myself from my recent self-imposed "birthday present."

I'm not great at being the breaker upper....especially when it needs to happen after only two dates. TWO DATES!!! Honestly, I don't know where these guys come from! Who needs to send a break-up text after two dates?!

Just for the sake of having a somewhat interesting blog post, let's outline the second (and what I'm sure will be the last) date in list form, noting that this second date was preceded by multiple unanswered phone calls and several half-answered text messages. The letters "L" and "O" have never been so exhausted.

 How was your day, beautiful girl?.....It's raining out. I'm going to take a cab downtown! lol.....I think my cat just winked at me. lol.......I really miss you.....I hope you're sleeping well! lol

1. He invited me to a soccer game and later called asking if I could pick him up on the way. Let's just say the song No Scrubs by TLC came to mind.
2. I arrived at the game a few minutes after he did and learned that soccer games are the international melting pot of our fair city. (Spoiler Alert: This was the only enjoyable part.) If I hadn't been so busy trying to avoid his effort to smother snuggle me I would've leaned back, closed my eyes and pretended I was in the hub of Heathrow Airport. However, having someone constantly try to inch closer to you and hold your....everything, keeps one from being able to close their eyes except for the occasional blink to lubricate the eye sockets.
3. Mr. No Boundaries, now practically sitting in my lap, finally asked if he could hold my hand. In an attempt to give him the friend vibe I hid my hand in the end of my sleeve and handed him my jersey knit stump, claiming that there was a chill in the muggy summer air.
4. Attempt thwarted. He caressed my stump while staring at the side of my face.
5. The game finally ended and he asked if I would drive him home. Oh and did I mention that I had to tell him about FIVE HUNDRED TIMES that I had to wake up early the next day, so going out for a drink was out of the question? Yeah. It's super fun to talk like a broken record.
6. He attempted to kiss me at the car, but being swifter than he, I managed to dive headfirst into the driver's seat before Birthday Eve was repeated.
7. I pulled the car up to his house, put it in park and he sang to me. And not like "Oh cute. He's singing with the radio." We're talking about the kind of singing that was memorized and rehearsed for a one-time performance. For yours truly.
   Will the awkward moments never end?!
8. I followed up his solo with a nice generic comment like "Well, thanks again!" and flashed my now desert-like dry eyes toward the door, hoping he would take the hint. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally vacated the car and probably felt the whoosh of wind as I sped away like Mario Andretti.
9. I pulled up to my own house a few minutes later only to discover that he had left his sweater in my car.

So, dear readers, I leave the ending up to you: Burn it or do a Ding Dong Ditch and hope he doesn't answer the door in time?

A Birthday Present To Myself

Happy Birthday to me!

What did I get myself this year? Oh nothing much....just a small catastrophe that I will lay out for you in list form:

1.  In an attempt to start moving on since the fast/intense relationship with The Light In My Eyes, I have decided to start dating again.
2. I got asked on a date Friday night that sort of fell apart (partly my fault).
3. I found said date on a social media site so that I could apologize for somewhat disappearing.
4. Impulsively asked him (who just so happens to look A LOT like this guy) if he'd be my date to a friend's wedding today.
5. This is the part where things take an unexpected turn: He is crazy about me. As in, has been watching me from afar for months, pining away, over the moon, cuh-razy. (Oh. No.)
6. Was kissed long and good (thank you, Sandlot) and should have said no before it started, but darn it if the compliments weren't so flattering that got me into that position.
7. Had every intention of turning this guy down flat when we parted ways and instead agreed to go on a second date with him later this week.

So, happy birthday to me. I was hoping for a pair of cowboy boots and have instead landed in what looks to be another stupid but awesome but stupid relationship.

Lifestyles of the Not So Rich & Not Quite Famous

This. Week. Is. Killing. Me.*

Lately, a list, which is becoming quite lengthy, has been compiled of all the things in this particular city that are irritatingly true and unavoidable. And this week is the perfect time to unleash the top three irritants on the 'ol blog. Why, you ask? Well, anytime one of these pet peeves rears its ugly little head this City Girl inevitably ends up growling inwardly or sometimes shouts to no one in particular, while wearing a hands-free headset so as not to look crazy, about the inanity of "it all" while driving around with the windows rolled up.

On second thought, that probably still looks a little unhinged. *ahem*

Irritant No. 1: If all drivers arrive at the intersection at the same time, let she who drives the nicer vehicle proceed through the intersection first.
There are Classists afoot in this very city! Be warned, all you locals who think that the rules of the road apply to those from the affluent parts of town. They do not. You may have been sitting at that stop sign for the last 3 minutes, being ever so cautious and ready to pull into the intersection, but if the opposing driver on the road is behind the wheel a vehicle that costs twice as much as yours then be prepared to reschedule the rest of your day while you sit at said intersection and wait for some poor sucker in an 1992 Nissan to pull up to the stop sign opposite you so you can get on with your day. That's right! You can bet your sweet Benz that that turkey will not only trump your right of way, he will more than likely ignore all stop signs and other government enforced postings. He is, after all, driving a Bentley.  

Step aside, lowly Volvo drivers!

Irritant No. 2: Beautiful people are not an anomaly here. They're what we call "locals".
Let's just say, hypothetically, you're having an "off" week. You just had a good cry in your car while sitting in the parking lot of Starbucks, nursing your hormones back to a relatively stable level with some sort of chocolate coffee drink. As you pull yourself together you glance in your mirror and notice that although you feel as though you could go through the rest of your day without another break down you have, unfortunately, cried off all your makeup and that blemish that was once perfectly disguised around the lower area of your chin has now made its way up to the middle of your forehead and is beaming red like a beacon in the night.

In any other town, this City Girl would say, "Go on, girl! Finish that day!" But not in this town. I will never say that in this town. Because the minute you drive away and pull up to your next stop you will notice that every single person in this Stepford-like city is stunningly beautiful in a way that makes one question, "Just what is in the water here?!" And we're not talking about inner beauty. We're talking about the kind of beauty that makes you painfully aware of any minute line that may appear anywhere on your body, practically demands that you pay more in gym membership fees than rent, and gives you the overwhelming feeling that lighting your wardrobe on fire and starting anew really is a good idea. Should your level of sanity be on the fritz in The Land of Perfection and Youth do yourself a giant favor and drive straight home. Do not pass Go. Do not pay $100. (I'd say "collect", but anyone in this town knows you're more likely to pay than collect.) Just throw on those designer sweat pants, open up that $50 bottle of Bordeaux you've been saving and switch on your 90" flat screen TV while you sink back into your custom leather sofa in hopes that you can get yourself rested and camera-ready for the next day!

Those amenities are not standard in this Girl's household, but darn it they should be!

Irritant No. 3: When driving in the rain it's best to be cautious. Better slow down to 35mph on the freeway. You know, just to be safe!
There's a running joke in this town that any time a visitor asks what the weather forecast will be any given day in our fair city a local will always chuckle and say, "It should be a sunny 70 degrees!" To say that rainy days are a rarity here is an understatement. So when the slightest hint of moisture can be felt in the air every local driver on the freeway will inevitably slow to an agonizing 35mph.

 I only wish I was kidding about this.

One can't be sure if it's the fear of getting even the tiniest of scratches on their brand new Porsches that has the townfolk so nervous or the fact that most families can be birthed, raised and sent off to college before another rainy season starts that has everyone completely baffled at this onset of water falling from the sky. Either way, be aware of the fact that any kind of seasonal change in the lower parts of this state will result in a traffic setback of at least 30 minutes or more.

God be with you if this seasonal change instantly occurs while you're on the freeway. I'm not even sure they sell insurance for days like that.

* WARNING: This post will only truly be enjoyed by any female who has ever experienced an epic week of Paralyzing My Sanity Syndrome. So, to all you male readers, of which I'm guessing there may only be one or two, consider this a cautionary tale. Never EVER approach a woman who's makeup is slightly askew or buttons are buttoned incorrectly or looks to be on the verge of tears, but is really "yawning", for any reason. Whatever it is you have to say can wait. Just walk away. Do it for your health's sake. 

Lessons in Learning How To Rest, Part Twelve.

Lesson Twelve: If you're happy and you know it, be content.

Let's set the scene, shall we? 

Saturday morning: Exhausted, over-heated and barely awake, this City Girl dragged herself downtown for a late breakfast with a new friend. It was one of those meet-ups where you wish you could conjure up the stamina to make eye contact and carry on a conversation, but know that if you do you will end up staring at your counterpart wide-eyed while drooling into your latte with nary a word leaving your mouth that sort of looks as though it just suffered a small stroke. But this City Girl was so happy to meet up with said friend that wading through crowds of sweaty tourists to reach the café, while only having use of one eye at a time, barely swayed the happy feeling that morning. This was someone who has only begun to scratch the surface of this new friendship, but who went out of her way to become a new friend. This can only be equated to happiness, in spite of the fact that there are more friends around than can ever be counted. Being sought out never hurt anyone, amIright?

Now let's get to the point!

Fast forward to the part where the conversation gets raw. In the words of R. Kelly, it was Real Talk. We had compared life notes, talked about lifelovework and just about everything under the sun when she took a turn mid-sentence and brought up the one word that everyone (and I do mean everyone) will choke on from time to time. Content. As in, I am happy. Period. Not "I'm happy that I get to do this". Not "I'm happy that I have this boyfriend" or "I'm so rocking that job". Just happy. In all things. In all places. At all times. In all areas of life, whether they be good or bad.

Content. 

I had to ask myself....wait. Scratch that. I didn't have to ask myself. I already knew.

It's the one thing that plagues most people, whether they are aware of it or not. The one concept that keeps people awake at night. It's a word that can change everything or nothing. It's often overlooked. It's almost never considered. And it can be the toughest pill to swallow once you become aware of its true meaning.

Am I content?

And so I let that question rattle around my brain this week. Every part of me wanted to scream "YES!", because I knew it was the "right" answer. Or at least the answer that sounds the best. But when it comes down to brass tax, can I truly say that I am happy in all areas of my life? Well, as of yesterday the answer was a resounding yes, but today, as I fight feelings of frustration and sadness over being unable to make certain things in my life different, I'm teetering on the edge. My heart is toying with the thought of being unsatisfied, because my life doesn't always look the way I think it should or because things just aren't happening fast enough. And let's be honest here, dear readers, isn't that how it always goes? One day you're hot, the next you're cold. You're yes then you're no. You're up then you're down...

Thank you, Katy Perry. *ahem* Cue hope. Aaand...ACTION!

The inconvenient truth? It's a choice first and an action second. Does this require work? Oh, you betcha! Is this going to take every ounce of this City Girl's hope to keep that content feeling in place on all those cold days? Oh, most definitely. Can this truly be done? Well, this Girl's gonna try!

Giant Baby Steps

So many times in the past couple months I've clicked over to this blog fully intending to write some revolutionary post about being kick ass only to sit in front of the computer screen, sigh, and then close the window. I would read my latest post and realize I had nothing to report. Nothing noteworthy to shout about to The Interweb. Life was....well, exactly that. Life was.

And then somewhere, in the daily struggle to remain on my feet, to breathe in and out all day long while arguing with The Light In My Eyes to either become the man he should be or go away all together, a seed of hope was planted. Through the emotional haze, and the fog that surrounds the act of "going all in", a glimmer of hope twinkled bright enough to catch my heart's eye. A twinkle just bright enough to help this City Girl regain her balance and catch her breath.

Every day and every night I've been hearing sweet, soft words that say, "Stay here a little longer and just keep with these baby steps."There are distractions galore that I could glom onto, but this City Girl is too busy chasing the twinkle. Too enamored with the possibility of it reflecting off of something greater than itself. And too in awe of the fact that when I turn back and try to mentally relive select moments from the past my eyes can only see that those steps that seem baby-sized are really the footsteps of a giant.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Eleven.

Lesson Eleven: Going All In

This City Girl's inner monologue often sounds like Zach Braff's character from Scrubs and usually leads into a far-fetched daydream that ends with a choir singing out the days thoughts. (Oh, how I wish I was kidding.) However, earlier this week there was a plain and simple conversation in this Girl's head that looked a lot like this:

Lesson Nine*...know your season. Hmph. I'm clearly still in the same process I was when I posted that lesson back in January. JANUARY!!!...I guess I can see it's definitely been a process. I feel like a totally different person from the girl who wrote that post months ago and I know I'm definitely NOT still at the starting line, but seriously....when is this time going to be over?? This feels like waterboarding. (insert whiny noises and groaning) There's gotta be a way to make this go faster...Can I truly say that I've been in this, like, really in this? Hmm....why do I get the feeling there's more I could be doing here? (insert additional groans)

So, Lesson Eleven readers, I say this with as much bravery as I can muster: This City Girl has decided to push all her chips to the middle. Into the innermost depths of a difficult time. Into the very hardest of all situations, bearing down and leaning in. All in hopes that it will make this time, this season of learning, somehow go faster. This City Girl will let the lungs of her heart take in as much of the ethereal water as they can hold in hopes that she will come out on the other side of this season a better Girl. A stronger Girl. A Girl with answers. A Girl with greater hope.

Today I am going all in.

* The answer is yes. My thought process does include url links. (wink)

Auto-Pilot

It's been 2 weeks and 4 days since my temporary move to The Country. Which means that there are only 15 more days to go. (Yes. There is a countdown.) Since moving myself into exile, as a friend called it the other day, I have made lists, I've involved myself in just about every activity, project and/or house guest I could get my hands on. I've stayed busy. I've made dinners. I've hiked....once, but I hiked! I've thrown myself into the very depths of my business and worked from sun up to sun down. I've made sure that not a moment of my day wasn't filled with some sort of....something.

And last night the exhaustion of it all, the forcing of my heart to be on auto-pilot, the ignored feelings came crashing down on this sad City Girl like a building demolition.

Life is still moving forward. My heart still pumps blood all day long, I still breath in and out. I have more friends rushing to my aid than a Facebook junkie. My business is actually functioning better than ever. But...

The unfortunate truth is this sad City Girl can't stay on auto-pilot forever. So, today I'm just sitting here. Waiting. Wishing I knew when the sad will be over.

The Trifecta

I had this exact thing happen one other time. It was years and years ago. I showed up to a class in college, spotted someone I hadn't seen in months - almost a year - and the trifecta was complete. I was having a week that I aptly titled and referred to for weeks afterward as Return of the Ex-Boyfriends. It was more than a happening. It was an event. It was noteworthy. It was weird.

This weekend was no different.

The thing about using the word trifecta* is it's only an accurate description if things shows up in the proper order: first, second, third. Well, for this City Girl the last few days have been the trifecta of perfection. Not only did the ex-boyfriends return, but they showed their faces in the exact order in which they were dated. First. Second. And the heart-wrenching third.

The Possibility sent a text message after several months of silence. And let me just say, I have never been a fan of reaching out to anyone via text message for anything of importance and I still stand by that principle. Text messages are for last minute directions and afterthoughts for someone who just ran to the grocery store for you. Not to mention, if we're not friends online anymore we're not friends.

Yeah...sorry...that text "didn't come through."

Bachelor Number Two showed his face tonight which didn't exactly sway me since we seem to run into each other more often than not. At which point I leaned over to my friend and told her that I seemed to be having a Return of the Ex-Boyfriends weekend. Then, lo and behold, The Light In My Eyes entered the room and stole Bachelor Number Two's seat. Which turned out to be funny to watch as they both know that the only thing they have in common is this City Girl and probably aren't each other's biggest fan. And then one of them noticed me across the room. I smiled. He looked around awkwardly and quickly found a new seat. I giggled to myself. And....scene.

Was it a haunting? Fate? Coincidence?

Who knows. Maybe tomorrow I'll run into my first kiss...

*Disclaimer: All boyfriends previous to the last three were waaaay back in my early twenties, were stupid and young and therefore are no longer important enough to include in the list. So, I will now only refer to these previous three. Possibly for the rest of my life.

Community. The show and the real thing.

Life on The Ranch. Not glamorous. Not exciting. Not fast-paced, by any means. Secluded. Dusty....Different. So, different, in fact, that it feels as if I've been living in another time. I must have slipped through some portal in the universe and ended up in some other version of my life. Or maybe it's that I have taken over Dr. Sam Beckett's job and nobody remembered to tell me.

In any case, this not so glamorous life could have some serious holes in it if it weren't for Community. And I mean that in every sense of the word: the TV show and the real thing. While I've just about exhausted myself with watching the repeated jokes of the TV show to fill up the few lonesome nights, I've also been in awe of just how awesome Community can be from just about every person I've ever come in contact with. The dinner invites, the house guests, the planned excursions...it brings this City Girl to tears just about every time. The encouragement and love has been overwhelming and has made this shift in my universe possible to withstand.

I don't know what I would do without Community.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Ten.

Lesson Ten: Seize the Day OR 30 Days = 30 Chances
I recently said yes to a job that I normally would have said no to. Maybe it was because this City Girl has been missing life on The Ranch. Or maybe it was because recent changes have proved to weigh a little heavier on this heart than was anticipated. In any event, for the next 30 days I will be living just far enough away from The Beach that my city life will be taking a backseat to dusty roads, pie making and hauling hay.

Day One I started to think that maybe I had made a huge mistake. Life at The Beach wasn't exactly booming, but it wasn't all that bad was it? And while I did want a break from the monotony of overcast days and the white noise of rolling waves, did I really want to live 30 miles out of town with three horses and two dogs that feel like the equivalent of five foster children? I started to wonder what I had done. Just what had I signed on for?

Day Two looked a little better since a dinner with other humans was scheduled and I managed to finagle a wifi setup, but the nagging feeling of being in way over my head was still plaguing me. Today is Day Three and the feeling was still here. I had been trying to get a routine down and plugging away at some greatly neglected work to fill the time. But busyness does not cure heartache or change or even the occasional loneliness. So I stopped being busy and just sat and listened and thought to myself.

For the next 30 days I will have 30 chances to do...anything! I have 30 chances to get better at yoga, hike and see the sights, make new friends, dream up new business ideas, learn something new, grow spiritually, or just be present. I have 30 days that could change my life or I have 30 days that I can let make my life a misery.

So, once again, this City Girl is taking a leap. This time into undiscovered waters of unknown depth.

Us

"I don't know if you need someone better, maybe just different." Part of a conversation I had a couple months ago with The Light In My Eyes after confronting him with the obvious truth: our relationship was starting to unravel right in front of Us. Now it's a leftover clue that still echoes in my head that will probably be the key answer to some future question. A little remnant that still has yet to be sorted out.

It's always sad when you know a relationship is coming to its end; like watching someone die. You can actually see the light fade away.

It was a mutual decision prompted by a lot of talking that sounded sad and was wishfully hoping that one of Us could magically make all things right again, because the bottom line was (and still is) that we loved each other. And it may take months before this City Girl can truly makes sense of all the details of Us. The Us that made both people better in the end. The Us that loved. The Us that grew up together for a time. The Us that is leaving the future open-ended.

And while the Great Sadness has come and gone and still comes around now and then for short visits, this little City Girl's heart is still open. It's still strong. And it's still ready and waiting.

Love is...

Love should look like this: patient, kind, not envious or seeking its own. It should also believe all things, bear all things and it should never fail. To which I would like to add an addendum here: love should be the correct choice you make every moment of every day. And this City Girl is finding out that if you really love someone the decision is an easy one to make.

I’ve found in the past that loving certain people, be they friends or lovers, was sometimes a difficult one. Truth be told, at times it was agonizing. But since meeting The Light In My Eyes, even though there are tears amid the times that call for patience or kindness, the correct way to handle any situation has been so easy. The choice to be patient has not been a difficult one. The choice to be kind has come so naturally. And the decision to bear all things has just felt like the right thing to do.

While it may be uncomfortable at times, it is so sweet to be finding out what love truly is...

Doing Life Together

Last week I went on what turned out to be a crazy, intense road trip to my boyfriend's sister's wedding. The trip started on Tuesday night and didn't end until Sunday night, where we both felt that we were clawing our way to the finish line.

Now, this road trip was intense for a number of reasons: family getting married, surprise visits from old friends, meeting every single one of his relatives, celebrating the last birthday of his twenties, very little sleep, concentrated time together in the same house for days on end, me trying to make a good impression on his family for days on end, and the fact that it was DAYS ON END with zero down time....

Heh.

The overused phrase of the weekend in all the speeches, chit chat and toasts was "doing life together." As in, "We are so happy to get to do life with them." Or, "We just love doing life together." This phrase, which later became a little joke between this City Girl and The Light In Her Eyes, really does sum up rather well what we're all doing as a whole. Every single one of my friends and family members and I are doing life together.

Doing life together. I couldn't stop hearing those three words echo in my head all last week and even now. 

Since returning from the land of all things love and marriage related, the boyfriend and I had a long processing conversation about IT ALL. There was a lot to think about, a lot to be said. Still, all I can hear in my head is one question: who have I been doing life with? Who should I be doing life with? Have I chosen quality people that I want by my side to go through this journey with me?

I haven't made any rash decisions. I haven't cut people out or added any new people in. It's just a question that has been circling my brain ever since that crazy, intense road trip...

Bringing out the best

I wanted to post this on Valentine's Day, but I got swept away on an adventure that day and since then time has simply gotten away from me. Cé la vie! And on that note, let's talk about love.

I had a conversation with my dad over Christmas that brought me to tears in a matter of seconds. We had said maybe three sentences to each other and with that my eyes were overflowing and my heart crumbled to pieces. Now, I've had a great many memorable conversations with my dad, but this one will probably be burned into my memory forever as it has changed the way I look at love. Possibly for the rest of my life.

In case you hadn't noticed, my recent view of love has been somewhat skewed. Okay...heavily skewed. I never did like the label "pessimist". I always preferred "realist". And when it came to love, I had taken a rather frank view on the situation. I left most of my feelings locked up and was decidedly resigned to the fact that most relationships I had endured had only brought out the worst in me. Therefore, all my future relationships would probably look the same way, bringing all my insecurities to the surface for all to see. Feeling extremely justified in this thought process due to all my past "research", I made my opinion known to my dad mid-conversation with a flippant wave of my hand, as if I were the pro in this arena. In fact, I think the words I chose went something like this:

"Well, if I've said it before I'll say it again, if you want to see the worst parts of yourself come out get in a relationship ASAP."
 
(Charming, no?)

And I would have held to this theory had my dad not followed up my comment with a few thoughts of his own:

"Relationships should bring out the best in you, too."

That's all it took. My mouth hung open. My heart slowed to a turtle's pace. And my eyes filled with tears. I was speechless. My emotions came rushing to the surface so fast I had no choice but to change the subject immediately, fake a yawn and pour myself another cup of coffee so I could turn around in the kitchen and quickly wipe away the tears that had started to roll down my cheeks.

Now my dad's accumulated wisdom in numbers can be boiled down to this:
A husband of over 30 years
A trooper of life for 1,642 months
A dad to me for the past 10,950 days

So, how could anyone with that kind of successful life experience under his belt possibly be wrong? How could I argue with someone who still looks at my mom, his life partner, best friend and soul mate, like she is still the light in his eyes? The answer was simple. I couldn't.

The shock of being so totally wrong eventually wore off. And with that, I allowed my theory to be obsolete, disproved and all together incorrect. I started to live with the idea that love could, in fact, bring out the best in people. Maybe even me.

Fast forward a few months and you'll find this City Girl not only living out her dad's theory to its fullest, but happily proved wrong every time she finds herself changing for the better all thanks to The Light In Her Eyes.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Nine.

Lesson Nine: Know your seasons.

I moved to The Beach a couple weeks ago. And I know I always say that I live at The Beach. But this time I moved, quite literally, to the ocean's doorstep. As in, I walk outside, cross the street, and I'm there. Toes in the sand. Salt air in my face. Sunshine and fog all around.

A few months before this fabulous decision to move, I had a sad break-up. A break-up that I saw coming down the pike that wasn't so sad because of the person about to leave, but because I knew the next season of self-growth that I had been skillfully avoiding was knocking at my door. And I didn't like the haunting feeling that I was about to hurt in yet another way. Felt like Scrooge anticipating the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. But I knew that it was time to leave my season of heartbreak and bravely submit myself to a season of healing.

It took the entire four months, one-third of 2011, for my little heart to heal. A time for all those shattered pieces to be gently gathered up, connected together, and for my heart to feel like it could truly beat on its own. And while four months doesn't sound like a long time, it was tough for this City Girl to be all alone. In fact, it was the first time I was decidedly alone in about 2 years. I had turned down dates, set-ups, any prospective males of any kind in hopes that my time alone would reveal some great truth about life or love. Instead, those four months were used to get me back on my feet and able to stand up tall against the corrupt winds of charm, possessed by the everyday douche bag, that seem to whisk toward me on a weekly basis. Those four months were an emotional bootcamp, of sorts, that prepared me to raise my bar when it comes to all things love related.

And now I live at The Beach. Which to anyone else may not mean a whole lot. But to this City Girl it means a new season. Being a solid 15 minutes outside of The City, this part of The Beach is sleepy, quiet and completely unassuming. This place is peaceful. And I can now say, without doubt in my mind, this new season will be one of restoration.

Stay tuned...

2011...What A Ride!

Every first day of January I sit down and write out what I want to see happen in my life for the new year. Some of my ideas are small while others are lofty dreams. Then at the start of the following year I like to look back at the previous list and journal entries to see what I managed to accomplish and how my life changed. And this year I am proud to say that almost every single thing on the list was crossed off!

In years past, I would maybe try to push myself harder or feel a little sad that only half the list got tackled. But this year, before I even peered into the past, I reminded myself that all that I saw and all that I did in the last 12 months could not have happened any other way. The past isn't changeable. It's the story that explains who I am today. So, while it would have been awesome to live in Italy for a month like I had wanted, the reward of sticking around my new home has been equally as great if not better. The dream I had for 2011 came true and even exceeded my wildest expectations in some cases.

What an amazing and life transforming year 2011 has been! I learned. I grew. I overcame. And I wouldn't trade any of it for the world...