The Shaken Faith in Humanity

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photo credit: businessweek.com

photo credit: businessweek.com

After training for two years for the NYC Marathon 2012, I was devastated when the aftermath of Superstorm Sandy cancelled the annual race a mere 36 hours before it was supposed to be held. Although I agreed 100% with the decision, I felt the race should have been cancelled in a more timely matter. So many runners traveled cross country and even more internationally, and my heart broke with them as we walked around Marathon Sunday with our t-shirts on.

Runners have a bond. We put our bodies through crazy hours of physical endurance training, and live to tell it. I can’t tell you the countless times I have run through Central Park, and either chatted with a runner or someone started to chat with me.  We know what we’re doing is crazy, but we still love it. That kind of commitment creates a comraderey, or fraternity like bond.

The race being cancelled was heartbreaking in itself, but the NY Road Runner’s dragged out decision made many (including myself) bitter.  While we waited for the decision, NYC had become split. One side wanted the race to go on, to instill NYC pride after the devastation of Superstorm Sandy, and to show that life does go on. The other side was angry. They were angry that we couldn’t control nature, that people had lost everything (including lives), and that people were going to run a “silly race” while those resources used in the race could be supplied to those who needed it more.

Threats started to come out that runners would be hurt if the race were to proceed. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt the runners. Here we were, harmlessly dedicating hours of our day to fulfill a physical goal.  The anger was misdirected and frustrating. I took some of the public’s misguided angry comments to heart, as NY Road Runners kept everyone in the fog. I get it, it was a hard decision for them. But at the end of the day, how hard really was the decision? Is risking anyone’s life worth the millions of dollars?

cnn4

In the end, the race was cancelled due to the safety of the runners, and NYC beat on. With the recent Boston Bombings, my heart went out to the runners, families, volunteers, and all participants. I didn’t quite know how to capture my feelings about the bombings. As a runner, I sympathized for all those who trained and waited for the day, but could not finish. A recent CNN article captured the feeling I think many of us felt although we were not there.

As an American, I was confused and disheartened by the actions of others. As a human, my heart broke.

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photo credit: cnn.com

In the last year, our world has proven that we are not safe. We can no longer go to a movie theater, take our children to elementary school, or now fulfill a bucket list goal without wondering if that moment is our last. Everything we hold sacred and “off limits” has had its innocence stripped.  For god only knows what reason, human beings out there are hurting one another to prove a point. It’s a scary world out there.  I think to myself, would I want to be raise a child in this world? Would my parents have decided to have me if they knew what their children would witness in this day and age?

photo credit: cnn.com

photo credit: cnn.com

As we start to wonder what our world has come to, others have reflected on the beauty of a tragedy.  While some chose to harm others, others ran towards the blasts and towards the victims. While some threatened to harm runners at the NYC Marathon, disappointed runners rushed to the aid of those in Staten Island and Red Hook. These selfless acts are what keep our humanity alive and brings us hope.  Our lives are precious, and our relationships are timeless. We must look on towards the future with a hopeful heart, but learn. People will always hurt people. It’s a sad truth to swallow. It’s those that surround themselves with love and keep hope that prevents them from winning. We must endure. We will succeed.

The Tyranny of the Queen Bee

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annehathaway

About a month back I had read a Wall Street Journal article  titled “The Tyranny of the Queen Bee” by Peggy Drexler.  Ms. Drexler had described those to be “queen bees” as “female bosses who have zero interest in fostering the careers of women who aim to follow, and might even actively attempt to cut them off at the pass” . At the time, I myself was dealing with a “queen bee”, and found the article enlightening, but also comforting. As unfortunate as it is, I was not alone with my current situation.
After starting a new project with a company, I had discovered no amount of work, kissing ass, or kindness would change a supervisor’s opinion. Every day I felt like I was going to war, and every day I felt my creativity slowly slip more so into a deep black hole of bitter thoughts. I was becoming that jaded fashion buyer in New York City, and I wasn’t liking it. Something had to change before I in return became my worst fear.
To top off the month, a fashion editor recently interrogated me about my writing and working in the fashion industry. The interview went for an hour and a half, and the aggressiveness made me feel compared to that of a war criminal, rather than being interviewed for something a little more glamorous than an unpaid blog. By the end of the conversation, I had felt attacked and upset.
Don’t get me wrong, dealing with those employed by fashion and writing has given me tough skin. I knew I would have to “Wow” her with my skills and let her get to know me. However, I already had a good report with the owner herself, and had already written for the same  publication for well over a year until deciding to part ways. I mentally prepared myself to ignore those little annoyances, and
allowed the “politically correct me” to entertain her for that hour and a half. I think I would have found the interview to be a bit more credible if she had asked about my skills or personality, rather than spending a majority of the time having me describe what a buyer in the fashion industry does…to a fashion editor. She can mark her territory all over her Fashion page on that website, but this “queen bee” left a sour taste with the overall package. Don’t worry hunny, I don’t want your job.

So in the end, the women in society will ultimately have to choose. Do we continue to badger, knock down, and flex our ego to avoid being crushed by future generations, or do we acknowledge Ms. Drexler’s opinion that our “professional sisterhood” has gone amiss, and learn to correct it? I find it interesting that while women stood together 60 years ago to promote growth and equal rights, we have turned on each other to stay afloat. We could acknowledge that it is indeed Darwinism and “survival of the fittest”, but I wonder what our past sister generations would think at knowing what their efforts have changed to.

I’ve learned a lot living in NYC, and during that conversation (amongst others in my other job), I realized no amount of money would be worth making me feel that way. Like Anne Hathaway in “The Devil Wears Prada”, I was realizing that my dreams of becoming the next “Anna Wintour” was slowly disappearing from my goals. Whether it was due to becoming disheartened by a series of “queen bees” or rediscovering my personal priorities, I no longer had interest for selling my soul for a few dollars. Life is what you make of it, and I don’t need to feel like a cheap prostitute for the flashy title and business card.

The Unexpected Thawing of the Ice Queen

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January—-

After returning from my month-long journey of travels, holidays, celebrations, and life decisions, I was ready for some solidarity in my life. In a beautiful moment between my best friend/roommate and myself over dumplings, we made the pact that 2013 would be the year to be selfish and happy. And a “veg pledge”, which led to discovering many creative ways to make veggies pretend to be meat for 30 days.
As two Capricorns with big hearts and good intentions, we had the similar issue of going along with situations to avoid a conflict. Scared of confrontations, we did things sometimes not in our own best interest, but because it is the right thing to do. As best friend, roommate, and one of my soul mates in life, he understood what I was going through. He could read me like a book, and told me when I was off kilter or having a “bat shit crazy” moment. With starting a new job in the new year, he joined me in my self promises to do the right thing and be happy.
But what if the right thing and the wrong thing are the same? What if you make a decision that makes someone else comfortable, but you incredibly unhappy? When do you put an end to chivalry and say “fuck it, I’m doing what I want”?
When does society’s wants take last place?

For the first time in my life, I am driving home for an inevitable breakup of a non-relationship/relationship. After hot chocolate and a pretzel croissant from my favorite treat factory City Bakery for the soul, and two gal pals to listen to my pros and cons, I was armed and ready to do my typical “Ice Queen” move. Why? Because the adult thing to face your fears. My fear for the longest time was never hearing from him. Now, I realized I would hear from him. Our lives, then and now are forever entwined. Whether on a friendship or more status, we saw the pretty and uncomfortable sides of each other. We had brought out the worst and the best and dealt with it. Although timing with him was not on my side, and hadn’t been for the past year, distance and unparalleled priorities were keeping us apart. He now has a small piece of me that I gladly give way, while still keeping my heart almost intact.
For the first time, I was okay. Yes, i may be teary eyed currently writing on the bus, but I was still the same girl with the inner strength of steel and ever-present optimism. He had helped close the open wounds from my past, and unknowingly helped me drop off baggage to the curb with every time he came through. He showed me what I deserved and that will always be cherished.
He also showed me what I wanted out of someone. In typical fashion, I had picked another emotionally unavailable boy. One who couldn’t nerve up and delete photos on Facebook of his ex, or post something on my wall in fear if what everyone thought of him, or most importantly be the one that says “I don’t want you to date anyone else”.

I waited for him, but as he opened up his heart, my fear set in. Did I want to be “that girl”-the one who waited? Or, did I want to be chased because I am worth it?
I gave him an ultimatum- one which I had hoped would shake him to his senses.
Instead, I came to mine.

Someone who’s not eager to lock you down doesn’t want to. Someone who waits three days to even give you a response doesn’t view you as a priority. If they don’t see it now, they probably won’t.

Yes, I’m complicated, messy, and a little bit of a hopeless romantic. I love that about me and accept all pieces. I know that I gave my whole heart, fought for potential, and do not regret it. Society will say that’s desperate or crazy. I say there’s not enough of us out there. To many cynics and damaged hearts who refuse to heal rotten the barrel of positive moments.

In the year 2013, I want romance. I want someone not afraid to hold my hand and waits for me. Someone who shares with me his past, because he hopes his future is with me. I know I deserve it, but I’m not going to look. It’ll come.

If all else fails, I have some if the best friends girl could ask for, parents with widespread arms I can get wrapped in, and a dog who understands human.
This time you have to suck it up, and hope there’s a later.

2013: Be selfish. Be happy.

——AUTHOR RETRACTION—–

–March—

I want to say that’s what happened, but that would be me lying, or wishing ill onto myself. One of the best things about optimism, is your constant faith in humanity. Just when I thought I was closing up and building that guard back up, people can surprise you in the best ways. It is those odd, “riding off into the sunset” moments that keeps you full of hope for the future, and not bitter and burned like many that live in New York City. I wrote that post a bit bleary eyed on a Greyhound bus ready for battle. It was my own cathartic goodbye.

What I had anticipated as a goodbye, was a goodbye to my harsh judgement. Yes, I expected him to clam up and wish me on my way. Yes, I am a hypocrite in the fact that although I preach someone respecting their own self-worth, I still forget that I am worth a whole lot too. What I had anticipated as heartbreak and the classic “Ice Queen” shut down that I was known for, was a new beginning filled with promise. Sometimes, standing up for yourself and taking the gamble on yourself is the best bet. Like Blackjack, sometimes you win, and sometimes the dealer does. This time, I got my romantic comedy.

I do not know what is to become or what will happen. I just have to take a leap and hope for the best.

What I do know is that I don’t fear. I stood up for myself, and I won’t regret what happens because I kept my self worth.

2013: Be Selfish and Be Happy

When the Glitz and Glamour Appears Tarnished

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Get us on the road

Pick any place to flee

This town just took another bite of me

We gotta leave and do it quietly

The city is asleep for now

It’s time to get away

—Midnight Spin’s “Colors”

One of the biggest decisions I battled internally for over the past year is whether New York City is the right place for me anymore. I grew up with ideas of the glitz, the glamour, and dreams to conquer the fashion world. I never thought 3 years later after I packed my bags and moved to the Upper East side, that I would be in this state of constant indecision. At one point, my dream was New York. I wanted my face on a magazine cover; to be heard and respected. I wanted to show my small town what i was capable of. I found my voice through writing, and it has helped be realize that my goals have changed. And that’s ok. I may not want that fashion high society lifestyle, but New York will always have a part of me.

It was about four years ago that I started to feel stuck. Like a constant weight on my chest, I felt my small town of Binghamton was a black hole that I couldn’t wait to leave. I searched high and low for an internship, and with fate it landed me a job. Now, three years later, I have started to feel the constant weight on my chest again. What does that mean? Where does that lead me?

When things out of my control like a natural disaster and higher company decision impacted me, New York City hasn’t felt the same. The sparkle has dulled, and the energy has zapped me dry. Granted, I have my moments when I remember why I moved here.

In a fitting moment of disparity after talking with my parents, I walked in the rain crosstown to the subway. I walked by the places that I have grown to love and know.

From Trailer Park, the redneck themed bar where I have had a margarita, or 5. On one Happy Hour evening, one of my best friends and I drank ourselves under the table and decided to go dancing. In what I refer to as the “Gansevort Buritto Incident”, I ended up taking a bath and eating a burrito at the same time to save time in my drunken state before dancing the night away at Gansevort Park.

…. I look at Eataly, my safe haven when I have had a rough day. I took my first cooking class there, and so began my love affair with polenta.

…..To Madison Square Park. One of my NYC acquired friends, Tim, loves to take a subway to his old “hood” and read a newspaper in Madison Square Park. I however, enjoy the first ever famous Shake Shack. Across from the park sits Live Bait, where they serve happy hour oyster specials, and make a punch that will knock you on your ass.

..To finally walking to the 23rd street 6 stop. There, I met another NYC acquired friend at the New York Sports Club across the street for early “painful to get out of bed” runs. We trained along the East Side for half marathons, getting in shape, and just to relieve stress.

As I got to the 23rd street stop and entered the station, my ipod started playing Midnight Spin’s “Colors”. In a fitting way, the song resonated with me, and that is where I made my next decision. The New York City band is soon to be famous, and I can give credit to my roommates in Brooklyn (especially since one is dating the drummer), for introducing me to the songs.

 

It’s time to get away

We’re beaten down and grey

I intend to return but I could use a day

Or two or three

Free of the energy

Outside of the island’s eye

No need to say a goodbye

Oh Brooklyn. My stay in another borough has opened me to different aspects of the city and it’s beauty. It has been my safe haven for all of the major shakeups that have happened in the past few months, and literally my safe haven during Hurricane Sandy. It was one of my current roommates, Lissie, that introduced me to the song “Colors”. It takes a nyc band to fully get the ups and downs in one of the greatest cities, and the song fully resonated in me. What was supposed to be short term ended up being a prolonged stay. I think a lot has to do with the company. Without my roommate Brennan, I don’t think I would have stayed in nyc past November. He has been my rock and my sunshine; something I will always thank him for.

I don’t know where my path is taking me, but soul searching is in order.

New York, I will always love you.

Riding Out the Waves of 2012

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Well my 8 month time frame to Happiness ended.
There I sat in early January, on Bondi Beach with two of my closest friends. I was using Char’s phone to “hot spot” wifi to my phone as I lightly chatted with the boy from back home and worked on by bronze goddess glow.
And then my phone went off.
“Deadline to Happiness” is all the notification said. Simple, cutting, and I knew it was filled with every ounce of Slovak guilt that I originally intended it to be filled with back in April. I have written about it, talked about it, and thought about my deadline. Filling pages of notebooks with bucket lists and “to do” lists with every ounce of potentially OCD qualities in me, I contemplated the last 2+ decades of my life in order to try to find something simple yet a stretch: happiness.

I sat in the 100+ degrees of heat thinking about the last 8 months. Who would of thought the chain of events that could lead me to laying on a beach in Australia, post celebrating two friends wedding, and contemplating my life?
Back in April, I was miserable with my job. I was under-payed working in the corporate fashion world as not much more than a data entry girl. I wanted creativity, and I craved to write. It was only until after my family vacation in March, where I realized that life in itself is an adventure. Why should i feel obligated to stay in one city; one island just because I came here for a dream? Why should anyone feel obligated to put their own spin on how my life should be? Why should I care if the the people around me are happy with my choices?
If your head isn’t spinning, mine definitely was with questions.
You live alone and you die alone. Your choices are decisions that you will have to live with inevitably. I have been living under the delusion that I have had to stick with the same career path for the title and glamorized idea of what NYC Fashion is. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice to come back to upstate be that big fish in the same pond. Anyone would have enjoyed the High School Revenge scenario of not only coming back and proving you did something with your life, but that you were living in the “golden years” instead of talking about the days of once was.
Back in April I made a decision to move to Australia for three months. I wanted to live the “college life”: working at a simple job and enjoying a simple life in the Australian heat. I figured I wasn’t happy at my job, and it would be the refresher that I needed.In April, I kept running into ghosts from exes past, but nothing had stuck into something with potential. The first boy I had ever loved had become one of my best friends, and was an easy shoulder to lean on. He was infatuated with his past, and my own guard made sure nothing moved forward because of the past him and I shared. So, with no one special to keep me grounded, no career path to get me excited about the future, I decided to take a leap and move to Australia.
I started making plans and accepting my timeline, but again the universe stepped in. An online recruiter had found my resume, and a simple email message would later become one of my most loved teams and positions in a company.
I finally had found a team, a position, and a career that I expected would last me for the next few years. It had alot of growth opportunity, and my boss supported me and taught me alot about the career I wanted to be in.
My website, NY Social Status, was rapidly growing, and I started to meet alot of great people and visit places around the city. I had lost track of the boy from back home, and I became fully committed to my New York life again.
July, August, and September flew by as I focused on a new job, new priorities, and commitments to the future. I was no longer moving to Australia for 3 months, but would travel for 2 weeks to celebrate and play tourist with my “aussies”. I dove into my marathon training, prepared for 11/4/2012; the day of the NYC Marathon.

When the first frost of October came, so did transition. I prepared to move out of the first place in NYC that had felt like home: my Upper East Side Apartment. Friends came and went, and I lost touch with the roommate who I viewed as a sister. After a killer halloween party, I left the UES and took a scared leap to an entirely different borough.
The move to Brooklyn, Hurricane Sandy happened, Halloween happened, the NYC Marathon was cancelled, and my company went under all within one week. Don’t worry, I’m not going to bitch about it. I already did in posts prior. It was the hardest weeks that I have ever gone through, but my experiences fell short to anyone that lost their homes/loved ones/etc to Sandy. I was so lucky to have such a strong support team, and without them I don’t think I would have been as strong.
November and December brought quiet, but also change. Change that I had to look for a new job. Again, I was contemplating a career change. However, with one miserable fashion industry job and another one that I loved, I needed a tiebreaker.
After running around November and December, sharing time between upstate and NYC, I finally came to clarity before I boarded that plane to Australia. I had a new job with a new company, and a fresh start in the New Year. I would be heading for 3 weeks for vacation, and I was starting to think that I might have had someone to come back to.
The year had brought alot of change, alot of pain, and alot of happiness. It still leaves me dumbstruck how things came about, and I am left with no doubt that it had to do with something more macrocosmic to my “To Do” lists. Each time I tried to make a plan, stick to it, and feel good about it, I was taught and retaught the lesson to just roll with it.
Our own paths are our own adventures, it just depends on how open you are to change.
Sometimes you have nothing else to do but let the waves take its course, crash, and roll away.
Just ride them out and you’ll be back to dry land soon enough.

They Call Me Houdini

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In my group of friends, it is known that after a few margaritas or cocktails from The Royalton, I lose inhibition. No, tequila doesn’t make my clothes come off. Instead, my tightly wound personality lets loose, and once I start to relax, emotions take over. If I’m tired, I leave the bar unexpectedly (sometimes without letting anyone know) because I want my bed. If I see or hear something I don’t like, I run from it. Hence, I was given the name Houdini.
No I am not proud of my nickname, but it has brought about some good stories. During a friend’s stay in my newly acquired Brooklyn “lair”, I challenged him to a running match. Against my usual practical mentality, I took off my heels on that cold November night and ran barefoot the block and a half down, ducking and dodging out of cars. I felt free, like a kid playing hide and seek. It was one of many memories I take away from the weekend, feeling like my old self again yet acquiring new stories of living in the moment. Houdini unfortunately lost her running title that night, but she did not get hepatitis (win).
The other side to my nickname is also my perception. After reading books, talking it out, and time, I still fear falling. I have leaped and explored hopeless romanticism in a way that only cheesy
RomComs could appreciate. However, too many times playing with fire can leave you badly burned. As adults, we start to fear more than when we were smaller. It could be because we know more of situations, or because we know what we have to lose. Whatever the case, I fear more now than I did a few years ago even. Houdini maybe fearless after a few cocktails when it comes to living in the “now”, but sober long lasting action does not happen. The second piece of the nickname, the sober part, is known that when I start to feel something towards someone, I self sabotage and run. Why? Because I know if I run, then I won’t have to risk them running first.
This train of thought has obviously not worked, as I still remain single (but fabulous) in New York City. It may be one of the greatest cities in the world, but it is also one of the loneliest. It can break you, make you lose faith, and become bittered by those who are surviving.
When it comes to anything but romance, I remain fearless. By the end of December, it led me out of my comfort zone to another hemisphere entirely for two of my closest friends’ wedding. Two years I have prepared for this wedding, and as I didn’t hesitate then, I didn’t hesitate this month to want to be apart of their journey. It didn’t hit me when I boarded the 40 hour flight, nor when I arrived to a screaming bachelorette running down a blacktop street to see me, that they were getting married. It didn’t hit me as we got our nails done, or did wedding errands, that this was really happening.

Playing Angus and Julia Stone’s “The Wedding Song”, the bridesmaids started to walk down the aisle. I first learned of the band through them two years ago during my last trip Down Under. The sun shining, the breeze blowing, and the quintessential quiet of the Botanic Gardens besides the slow strumming made the practice run so real.
Then I heard the lyrics.
We are gonna build a life together
You and I for ever and ever
Up until that moment, I was a robot. I didn’t believe it was here. I knew it was coming, but it seemed surreal. Attending day by day events, the bachelorette party, and activities, I held my Maid of Honor duties seriously. I didn’t account what was happening, as I was more focused on making sure the
future day was perfect.
Until at the rehearsal, standing in our practice run of walking down the aisle and listening to their carefully picked song, did it hit me like a tidal wave.

Do you know how lovely you are?
In the starlight, in the starlight of my heart
Do you know how lovely you are?
In the moonlight, in the moonlight of my heart

Watching these two gave me strength. Listening to the lyrics gave me hope. Hearing their practiced vows changed my views and made me crawl more away from the shell that I have been hiding in.

And I’ll smile inside to know you’re mine
Completely

I didn’t want to waste time on something I don’t want. No one should ever have to or feel the need to. I don’t want to settle for anything else less than butterflies.
I deserve my epic romance, whether it’s large action of a boy waiting for me to pick me up from an airport, or the peace knowing that his heart was completely mine. Every girl deserves her knight in shining armor, or her best friend to talk to throughout the day. Your life is what you make of it, and your love life is what you seek of it. I don’t intend to get married immediately, but the eventual idea doesn’t leave a sour taste anymore.
After seeing my two friends show their love and partnership, I now know why I was that hopeless romantic: because it’s possible.

Don’t become a cynic because you don’t know where else to look.

Everyone can be their own “houdini” and hide…they just need someone to make them want to stop.

Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

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Every storm runs, runs out of rain
Just like every dark night turns into day
Every heartache will fade away
Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain

-Gary Allan

In November, I again learned the lesson of not being able to control anything. Sometimes, you can work incredibly hard and still fall short. Other times, you can meet someone in a random fashion, and they can prove to shift your life towards another road.

I have always believed in fate. Call it being a hopeless romantic, or it’s because I am a writer, but I have always had the tendency to notice small details. Taking something so micro cosmic and making it a macro cosmic situation, can be either dramatic or appreciative depending on the situation entirely. Maybe it was because I was a product of the 80s, a middle school student who listened to boy band ballads and watched cheesy romantic comedies, and later the college student who voted for the passionate president who demanded Change. Our society can be at fault for contributing to my impassioned hope of what’s to come.

When I first moved here, I was a wide-eyed small town girl who thought she was tough. I had a lot to prove not only to myself, but to the demons of my past. I came to the city with determination and my “can do” attitude. Then I got knocked down. And knocked down again. New York City is filled with those that dream, those that have found success in their dreams, and those that dream to knock down other’s successes. It can be cruel and draining. But, it can also be uplifting.

I find that there is no other life “high” like a New York City achievement high. After being knocked down and fighting an uphill battle, I remember the stress pains from not knowing where my next pay check would come from. I am not ashamed to admit that during that summer as an unpaid intern, I went to great lengths to survive. I would scour when the PR teams were giving away free food, free store fashion events provided me with free booze/dinner, and a big thanks to Starbucks for supplying me with napkins and splenda for my office coffee mate beverage when I couldn’t afford to spend $4.84 on a medium skinny vanilla latte. It’s moments like those that I will remember for the rest of my life.

I never forgot when I received the call that I was hired for my first job. Or, when I got the e-mail from the recruiter for the second job. I learned in both situations to not focus on what you cannot control but focus on what you can. You can focus on your work ethic and your determination. You can have a “can do” attitude and never see an ending to your goals.

In November, I lost that wisdom. Losing your job is never an easy bullet to bite, especially if it was more about someone else’s pocket worth than your own work ethic. I had panic attacks, stress cries, and vented to friends about not understanding my lack of control. Everything that I had learned prior seemed to melt away as I was focusing on the “now”.

I don’t know when exactly I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, but around the same time I stopped trying to control everything. Caught between my want to move back to my hometown and my want to show everyone that I could be apart of the volatile world of fashion, I stood in the darkness of my driveway on one cold winter night. After a night of talking with my brother’s best friend post Thanksgiving gluttony, I was filled with want to come home as I waited for my mother to go Black Friday shopping. I knew I only had 4.5 paychecks left at my current job, and I could barely afford Christmas presents. I was having a panic attack waiting outside and looked up to try to focus on something else besides my impending failures.

Staring at the starred filled sky, I silently waved my white flag. I asked the universe to please help me choose a path. I thought of what would make me happy, and I came up with nothing. The indecision gave me a further panic attack, and I again waved the white flag of despair.

Someone must have heard me, because three weeks later I was offered another job. In the tumultuous world we live in “can” and “can’t” mentalities are what define us. If I gave up on my NYC life that night, I would have not known about the job position that opened up the following week. I could have regretted my decision forever, and became bitter for leaving before I was finished with the city. Or, I could have moved back home, and lived the small town life contently.

Our lives are what we make of it. Our paths are what we make of it. However, it’s never a sign of failure to ask for help. Even if it’s up to a silent starry night, it was the feeling of acknowledging my anxiety that comforted me.

Every storm runs out of rain…you just have to believe in yourself.

Happy 2nd Birthday STGATBC!

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It's been a great 2 years!

It’s been a great 2 years!

To my supporters,

I can’t believe two years has already passed since the day I opened up my laptop in a Starbucks, and decided to just “write it out”.  Thank you to all those that have listened to my stories, cheered with my lessons, and hopefully learned not to make some of the mistakes that I have. I cannot believe this is my third winter in New York City. It’s crazy to think that it has been almost three years since I picked up my life and decided to take a leap. So much has happened, and so much is more to come! Some people dream of success, while others stay away to achieve it. Don’t give up on what makes you happy…you never know what can happen!

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Some People Refuse to Settle for Anything Less Than Butterflies

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Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies“.

-Carrie Bradshaw (Sex and the City)

When you least expect it, you have stumbled into the dreaded Grey Area.

The grey area is that unbalanced frame of time where you go through an array of emotions. One day, you love how things are, and enjoy spending time with that special potential. The next day you’re angry and annoyed because you don’t understand why they won’t have the DTR (defining the relationship) conversation with you.

I wish at times we could go back to being the 5th grade confident/innocent self. When I was at the ripe “old age” of 11, I knew that if a boy spent time with you, he liked you. I knew once I got the super secret, carefully passed note with the “do you like me? Check yes/no message”, that a certain black ballpoint checkmark would give some sense to confusion.

More than a decade later, I feel less confident and more of an overthinker. After a series of failed and heartbreaking relationships, my heart is covered in bubble wrap, chains, and a cement wall. I think less about the opportunity and more about the expectation that I will probably sink, rather than swim.

So when do you take the chance? When do you leap? Many of us out there have leaped, and will continue to leap, but fall short. It’s a chance we have to take. It’s something significant to our life’s lessons that we must try it at least once.

By beginning of December, I found myself in the grey area. After months upon months of playing games, circling my “target” and waiting for something to fall short, I am suprised to say that it hasn’t. Things have somehow crept from “friends” to “friends with benefits” to “let’s see where this goes”. After learning in the past two months that I have no control, the lesson continues to hit me. I want to have the control. I want to choose how my life goes. No matter how many times I make plans, I make my standard “to do” lists, I set myself up, something drastically changes it. Whether for the better or for the worst, I know it’s directing me towards a specific way.

By the beginning of December, I knew I was in trouble. What at first was a revenge/therapy session to get over a deep dark hurt from high school year’s past, turned into a genuine friendship. We both grew up, we both changed, and we both appreciated our friendship. Any time we spent together was fun. He was able to take me out of my comfort zone, and I was able to forget relationships past. So what happens now?

Within 5 weeks, my entire life has changed. I had a new job, and then it was taken away when the company dissolved it. Something I trained for 2 years for was ripped away because of a natural disaster. Now, something that made me truly happy, I was beginning to question because I couldn’t define what it was. My entire life became a grey area. I don’t know where I will be in one month, rather than in one year. Yet, my type A personality is trying to define something that might not even be there to define.

Carrie Bradshaw once said “Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies“. Through the years, this has resonated with me and I continue to feel it applies to our generation. Maybe it’s the fact that two of my best friends are getting married in 3 weeks that I am placing pressure on something that should just come to surface itself. Maybe it’s the fact that my previous roommate moved in with her boyfriend, while I moved to Brooklyn with four new roommates.

Or, maybe that 13 year old girl knew what she wanted and never really got her heart back.

….if it was that easy I’d be in in the movie Sweet Home Alabama.

Time will only tell. For right now, I need to settle for anything less than butterflies.

Murphy’s Law

by

To say that I’m still not devastated over the beginning of November’s events, would still be putting it lightly. I have tried to write and rewrite this blog post for the past three weeks, and I could not manage to get past the first few sentences. In comparison to other people’s devastations, my issues are minimal. On a microcosmic level, I had many sleepless nights of broken dreams and an ache in my heart.

Last April, I clung to the tiny hope that I would give myself 8 months to happiness. I have written about it, wrote it in my post it notes of “To Dos”, and focused on my new life plan. Every time things started to go my way, my life got jolted against it. By August I had left my job, and embarked on a new path that left me excited for the future and looking forward to a new career. Over the past two years, I have been training for the “race of all races”: The NYC Marathon. Although it takes place every November in New York City, this year was my year.

By the end of October, I was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. My relationship with my roommate had soured, and I was looking forward to new possibilities across the river with one of my “soul mates”, my best guy friend. What should have been a joint party of celebration between my then roommate and myself of our past two years living together (her idea), was twisted into me being left to plan the entire thing and move to Brooklyn all in one weekend. Somehow, my wonderful friends came together, we danced the night away in my apartment, and the party became a celebration of new beginnings. I was dressed in a Pink Loofah Halloween costume, and like the item itself, I was slowly scrubbing away the bad blood in friendships and getting stronger.

As irony would not be lost on a writer, the day I moved to Brooklyn was the day before Hurricane Sandy. The skies were a murky green, and I was lucky that the clouds held off the rain until the last box was added into the apartment. As I settled into new space, I was surrounded by a fort of boxes, and at least a day off of work to sort through it due to the storm.

New job:check.

New home:check.

Marathon? Less than one week away.

If I could get through all of my life changes, I knew I was stronger than I had given myself credit. 

One day became two days off of work, and the devastation of Hurricane Sandy came through on the television. Childhood places such as the Jersey Shore were destroyed. Communities were wiped out, and New York City faced one of the worst natural disasters it had ever seen. My roommates and I were lucky to be untouched by the hurricane, and the close proximity to each other bonded us all. I felt as if I had known them for months and not a few days. The storm wrecked subway systems and transportation, and I was unable to go to work on Wednesday. On Thursday, it took me three hours each way to get home. I subdued the stress by heading to the Marathon Expo with my friends, and enjoyed a few cocktails to celebrate. The end was approaching, and I was looking forward to not worrying about long runs, injuries, or the stress of training.

Murphy’s Law kicked in on that Friday.

Thanks to my understanding boss, she allowed me to work from home Friday as long as I called into the 8am conference call. At 8:03am, it was announced the company had gone under, and we were all losing our jobs. My dream job, my dream team, everything I had worked for was gone. I sat there shaking in my bed, scared that the universe had thrown another curveball. Since the hurricane shut down much of Manhattan, I was lucky that my best friend was only a room away. My hands shook as I texted him that my company was no more. In a selfless flash he had jumped into my bed, and sat there as I quietly cried. For those of you who have lost your job or have ever been laid off before, my heart goes out to you. The anxiety and indecision are both heart wrenching and terrifying. You are forced to take a leap to the unknown, and you second guess previous decisions.

My heart was numb as I talked through it with HR and my boss. Both work partners were compassionate, but both told me to focus on other things, especially with the NYC Marathon 36 hours away. If I had anything to be strong for, it would be to not give up on a two year dream. I spent the rest of the day taking naps, drinking wine, and focusing on the Marathon.

Around 4pm, that goal came crumbling down. Mayor Bloomberg announced that for the first time in NYC Marathon history, it was cancelled. The devastation that hit NYC was beyond what they expected, and it wouldn’t be right to continue a race while those efforts/supplies can go out to those who need it. I respect their decision, and I applaud that they cancelled it. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it wouldn’t have been the race I wanted. When envisioning my first Marathon, I thought of people cheering, NYC celebrating, and it being a special moment. It just wasn’t my race to run.

Again, I think the universe was sympathetic. I didn’t hear the news by myself, but from my best friend who yelled at me to not look at my phone and broke the news gently. After a good long cry and a big margarita, I fell into a sleepless slumber.

When I think back to that Friday, almost four weeks ago, I think about timing. The pieces of news could have been any other day, but those curveballs hit me one after another. Adding to the exhaustion of moving, the wear of long commuting/Hurricane Sandy, and I was one screw from coming loose.

One of the biggest things I have learned in the past few weeks is that there is always a bigger plan in the works. I just needed to somehow find a way to let go and roll with the punches. Who knows if something greater is coming my way, or if my story is prepping me to deal with bigger battles along the road.

One of the best things you can do in situations you can’t control is to laugh. Laugh and laugh hard. Surround yourself with people who inspire you and uplift you. Take a moment to realize you will get back up, and you will eventually be able to appreciate why you were given this lesson. The lesson I keep receiving is to stop writing To Do lists. My OCD nature will not let me stop, but it also won’t let me quit.

I find it ironic that my last day at my dream job will be the exact day I am packing bags and going to Australia temporarily. 6 months ago, it was going to be a 3 month deal to overcome my funk. Instead, I chose work, and I am still ended up with the same result. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.

Is it a sign for me to move home? To try to achieve my other dream, of meeting someone, starting a business, and raising a family? OR is the universe telling me to toughen up and get ready to fight?

I’m not sure where my path takes me now. All I know is that I’m slowly standing up again.