Wait. Why do I have to be the boss?!

So many great opportunities have come up lately that are keeping me awake at night. I'm absolutely exhausted trying to figure out what's right for me. I can't believe that I'm sleep deprived because of all the positive things in my life...

I've always been a firm believer that opportunity exists where ever you are and that's it entirely up to you to make it happen. That being said, it also doesn't hurt to have a few signs pointing you in the correct direction. And right about now, I have so many freaking signs pointing me in far too many directions that I've become frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

I recently gained a new client up north as well as a few career possibilities down south. And now I'm just plain tired. I'm tired of making all the hard decisions all alone and having to be the one that has the final say about what's right for me. If I'm being honest, I don't know that I'm always the best judge of what's right for me. Most of the time I'm pretty close to being on target, but the rest of time things don't always end up all happy clappy.

So, dear readers, what have you done in the past that has helped you make those hard decisions for yourself?

The linger.

It was like something out of a movie. Or so said my friend, with a twinkle in his eye, when I told him my latest tale of love and other things...

I visited the possibility last week. The one who sent cupcakes in honor of this year's Black Monday. The one I turned down not that long ago, because he wasn't right for me.

Or was it that I wasn't ready for him?

It was supposed to be a friendly visit. And it was. It was a friendly visit that ended with me lingering. You know...THE linger. The linger that says way more than it should. The linger that invites trouble and possibility.

The linger turned into a quick kiss. The quick kiss was followed by me walking out the door and driving away. And the drive lasted all of two minutes before I turned the car around, marched myself back to his front door and did something I never thought I would do. I was brave. I was gutsy. I was also in the perfect position to be shut down, turned away, told no.

Even thinking about it now...Eek!

I stood in front of his door for a few minutes before I got the nerve up to knock. And then I waited. Nothing. I realized right then that I had the chance to back out. Instead, I pep talked myself into ringing his doorbell. I waited again. And then I saw him. He saw me. There was no backing out at that moment. I knew that if I made up a flimsy excuse that I would hate myself forever. Or at least for the next few weeks. So, I took some old fashioned advice and just told the truth.

I missed him.

The next weekend was full of the usual dating things, and in this case. getting to know each other all over again. It was good. It was sweet. It was so...easy. And for this City Girl, easy isn't something I'm adept at. It's nothing I'm familiar with. Easy has never been in my dating vocabulary.

Sadly, my usual relationships appear to be this difficult.

And speaking of easy, it looks like my plans of moving to Portland have been slightly derailed by a new career possibility back at The Beach. Nothing is official, by any means. Nothing has been decided upon. Nothing has been written in stone or on any legal papers. But let's just say that the signs I thought would be pointing me north by now may not be showing up...

Curiosity killed the cat. And me.

Ever get so curious about the "what if's" and the "what's to come" that you could just burst? That's me. I cannot stand the not knowing. I really can't.

If I've said it once I've said it a million times, I'm a destination girl. I like to pretend on certain days that I enjoy the journey, but if we're being honest here it's time for me to come clean one more time. I hate the suspense.

Even more honest: Maybe it's just me, but the worst part about the time that's in between one part of your life and the next is that it's usually a learning time. A time where something pertinent and profound is taught to you in some form or other. I'm sure there's a Mary Sunshine out there that thinks this season of life is awesome. I'm not her.

In between my deciding to move to Portland and the actual act of that happening, I've stumbled upon a few reasons why I might want to stay near The Bay. Nothing serious. Nothing really big. But they're there. Dangling in front of me. Taunting me. Trying to make me find other reasons to stay put.

Are you kidding me?!?!

This is me. Desperately trying to be patient.

Once again, I find myself forced to remain open to...anything. While it's sort of a relief to not have to commit too seriously to the unknown of a somewhat far away city, the curiosity of what's down the road is literally killing me.

Color me fickle.

Okay. OKAY! I know. I said that was the last post and I meant it. But every time I visit these words, ready to send it to blog heaven, I can't. I miss this little blog. I love my biz blog, but I yearn for this blog. My little corner of the web where I can rant and rave without worry. Where I can type out anything my little heart desires and not fear that I just upset a lurking client.

That's me. Little Miss Fickle.

So, dear readers, I have decided NOT to shut this little bloggy down. I need it too much. 

Having said that, here's my latest blahblahblah: I am about to move to Portland*. A city that I like, but can't help but instantly see pictures of unwashed hippies every time I say its name. A place I said I would never live. Ironically, I'm about to write out the exact same post I wrote about a year ago.

I'm moving.
Again.

This time I'm moving with purpose. Sort of. At least, I know what I want to do when I get there. I have visions of what my life could look like up there and it's not bad. In fact, between the haziness it looks pretty fabulous. I know without a doubt that I am the kind of girl who is about a million times happier when she's within arm's length of a burgeoning city. That said, I have really come to love life here in The Country. It's been a sweet place to come heal, rest and otherwise find myself all over again. A part of me is a little sad to leave. And truth be told, a large part of me has been scared to death lately.

I've always been envious of those people who just pick up and move on without a second thought. Those people who look at life like one big adventure all the time and never seem to have moments of self-doubt or worry.

Who are these people? Are they on drugs?? Can I get some of these drugs?!

Portland will not be the first city I've ever lived in. And It probably won't be my last. I have no idea what has me so fearful. I had to fight my way through this last year and fight I did. It almost took every last bit of me to make it through, but darn it if I didn't make it out of 2010 still in tact! Knowing that I took on the most crazy and convoluted mess that 365 days can throw your way and lived to tell about it, I can probably handle anything 2011 will throw my way.

So. I am making this move. I will probably be scared. And hopefully, in the meantime, get my excited mojo back. In any case, I will survive this too. And I will live to tell about it!


*I really do like Portland. In fact, I love that city. And I am very much looking forward to living there, despite what I wrote. The hippie comment is just a weird stereotype that I've believed for far too long. And anyway, it's not like hippies are zombies...

The winds of change.

The last couple of weeks have been crazy. And by crazy I mean it feels like I've been tossed around inside one of those rickety carnival rides....like the zipper. I hate that ride.

I went up to Portland last week to fully check it out and make a decision about whether or not I wanted to live there. I do. Yippee, right? Yes, yippee indeed. Not only did everything seem to line up perfectly and the city sweetly welcomed me with open arms, but contacts were made and the beginning of a new time in my life seems to be happening. And to mark that beginning I was laid off from a job I've had with an agency back at The Beach for almost 3 years.

Wait. What?!

So, what was supposed to be my means for moving just got yanked out from under me. And rather abruptly, I might add. Although, if I'm supposed to officially be an Oregonian (with their overly colorful-some might say dorky-license plates and all) then maybe it's time I become fully employed by the state that I will call my residence. So, instead of feigning a panic attack for theatrical purposes which will accomplish nothing but an accelerated heart rate, I've decided to reinvent the wheel of my career. The moment I hung up the phone with the CEO of my former company I began to brainstorm wildly about all the things I could do while unemployed and how to put myself heads above the rest in the job hunt. It was crazy-carnival crazy-how I didn't feel that horrible sinking/stomach-dropping-out-of-butt feeling when my British accented boss swung the ax, so to speak. I felt relieved. Almost as if a weight had been lifted. I felt peaceful.