you can't always get what you want

I have a bad habit of not getting what I want. I know, it sounds ridiculous but here’s what usually happens. 

• Step one: I order a juice at my local bodega.
• Step two: I get my juice and take a sip.
• Step three: It’s not what I ordered, not only that - it tastes really bad.
• Step four: I don’t say anything, I leave the bodega both unhappy with my bad tasting juice.
• Step five: I drink my bad tasting juice and regret it for hours and wonder why, I didn’t just ask for a new juice.

Does this happen to anyone else? You can apply it to any part of your life and maybe sometimes you just go with something and it’s not even what you want. The worst part is it’s always in my control, always. But rather than saying, “Excuse me, this is not what I ordered. May I please have a new juice?” I walk away feeling regretful and upset at myself for not speaking up. I’ve done this so many times that I’ve lost count. Most recently on a trip to Bloomingdale’s to purchase a new skincare product where I ended up with a different product than I went in to purchase, something I did not like, spent more money than I wanted and ended up with the same terrible regret. WHY DO I DO THIS?

Part one of the conclusions I've come to: I’m worried I’m going to hurt someone’s feelings.

I go see the bodega guy everyday. He is so happy and sweet. It gets very busy in there and sometimes people make mistakes. I also have witnessed people being so utterly rude at this place that I’m fearful that I too will look rude if I return my juice. Because they will then dump it out, waste all those vegetables and fruits, and next time I come in, I’ll wonder if they will then think of me as “the woman who returned her juice.” This is so beyond ridiculous.

Part two of the conclusions I've come to:  Everyone hates that picky, pushy person in line.

I’ve witnessed my fair share of people while living in NYC that are so beyond picky that it holds up the line and makes everyone else uncomfortable in a 10 feet radius. I know that by saying to my Bloomingdale’s beauty advisor, “No thank you, I came in for this product and am not interested in that product,” that she wouldn’t hate me or find me picky but at the end of the day, she’s supposed to be the expert. However, she is also a sales woman.

So here’s what I’m doing. 

I returned the skincare product and I’ve made a pact with myself to no longer expect bad juices. I trust that you can read between the lines here but if not - I won’t accept or allow people to talk me into things I do not want or did not ask for just because I feel bad or am worried about what they will think if I correct them. Because in the middle of the day when all I have time for is a juice, I do not want it to tastes like celery - I want carrot and I’m sure the bodega guy will understand.

adventures of standing on your head

So, we all are more than aware of my trip into the yoga universe. I've been practicing for 1.5 years and just about daily for the past 6 months. Yoga came into my life (as every person who practices yoga claims) when I needed it most. It "found" me and I "found" it. Clichés aside, it really did save me. A place to go everyday, poses to focus on and breath that didn't feel like a constant heart attack. I healed and while I was at it, lost some weight, gained strength both physically and emotionally and calmed the hell down. I realized, more than anything, that I couldn't solve the problems of the world or mine in a day. That everyday I needed to start fresh and work a little more. That there was always work to be done and that's okay because there is no deadline for growth or love. Then I went upside down into my daily headstand.

Then I fell, really hard. Every knuckle cracked, along with my neck. My body knew how to tuck and roll from years of falling out of tricks in gymnastics and horseback riding but my mind at that moment screamed panic. I'd like to say that the man next to me practicing scared the living daylights out of me and it's why I fell.  He came down out of his shoulder stand so fast I was sure I was doomed, however it wasn't really the case. What happened was, I got too cocky. I had been practicing for a few months for just about every single day and I had gotten so used to headstands that I got ahead of myself.  I forgot that I was standing on my head and that I needed to focus and breathe. My ego got the best of me and in turn, I almost broke my neck.

Instead of the normal annoyance that would come over me and gripping that waves over me when I do something imperfect, I calmly went into child's pose. I was however grinding my teeth so hard that I had to open my mouth for a few seconds so that I wouldn't chip a tooth. And then I laughed.

Because here I was thinking that I was golden. That I, Antoinette Marie, had basically conquered sirsasana and therefore all of yoga and I had done it in 3 months. Go deeper. My emotional self was walking around saying, "Oh I'm fine. That breakup? What breakup?" But the truth is, it'll always be with me. I'll always be working. On both my fears and concerns of love and headstands.

Last night and every night since I fell, I go into and come out of my headstand with absolute respect. I now understand that I can fall, and hurt myself at anytime. That no matter how many times I do any pose that I may lose my balance. I understand that this reflects me and the outside world. That I need to respect the love that I'm given by those around me because it can be taken away or betray me at a moments glance. I remember to breathe, I remember to stay focused. To not place blame on the person next to me because god knows there's always someone next to you doing something sort of stupid and scaring you. To have respect for all situations you find yourself in, good and bad. Accept that you will fall and don't take it so seriously. I will never be able to go into a headstand again without being a little bit afraid that I will fall. I try to ease my nerves with my breathe and build my strength by continuing to practice, regardless of my fears. I'm sure I'll fall again and again but isn't the most important part to know how to get back up? I'm getting back up.

morning rambles

This morning I had a thought.

It was a pretty standard morning for me. What used to seem like the great unknown of a new neighborhood and space, now feels comforting and peaceful. I pulled up the blinds to let what little winter light there was in, got ready, buttoned up, settled on an album to listen to and walked to the subway. My subway stop is above ground and goes over the WIlliamsburg Bridge. It's one of the best ways to start the day. I stood on the platform with my headphones in, gloves on, waiting for the train when I thought about my upcoming birthday. I ran down a list of sorts.

27. Female. Single. Average Height, Average Weight. Never been married. No Children. Can touch my toes. Cannot do a handstand (yet). Happy, yes.. I am happy. Brooklyn, New York. Blonde. Black boots. Overall comfortable.

And then I thought, how many of those things will change once I'm 28. How many will change in 5 years, 10 years. I remembered turning 27 and thinking about the year ahead but predicting nothing that had happened. There were some amazing things that happened and then there were some that I would have liked to fast-forward through but maybe not. 27 was a year of growing pains. Maybe it's a superstition but that odd number always did seem challenging to me and it did prove itself to be. I gained friends, I lost friends. I let go. I moved, twice. I ate too much then too little. Changed teams at work, changed again.

Someone recently asked me how I am.

"I'm well. I feel good. I'm trying to push myself a little more. Speak up, challenge myself. Go outside my comfort zone and be more daring."

They probably were just wondering if I was in a good or bad mood but hey, you asked.

Usually I make a list or goal for the year ahead when my birthday comes around. This year there won't be one. I want to live. I want to experience everything that comes my way. I want to open myself to everything that is coming. To not grip. To not wish and want but to be. Be happy and then be sad and then be happy again. Whatever comes will no matter what. I can't wait. 

Photo by Kate Diago

tomorrow's tomorrow

I have caught myself saying over and over, tomorrow. Tomorrow I will sort through those work forms, tomorrow I will grocery shop, tomorrow I will scrub the tub, tomorrow I will not procrastinate on everything I should be doing today.

I'm a chronic list maker. I make lists because crossing the items off feels like crossing the finish line first every time. Funny enough, lists don't have the same effect anymore. I have no problem making them and then letting them sit for say, weeks. This is very unlike me. It's odd enough that I'm not feeling the pressure of getting things finished and crossed off, it's even more surprising that my nonchalant attitude towards doing much of anything isn't bothering me one bit.

Is this what meditation does to someone? Am I now feeling the effects of the yoga marathon I've been participating in since August? On my way to work this morning I had a flutter of anxiety when I remembered that I didn't revise yet a project I had discussed with my directors last week. Then I took a really deep breath and thought to myself, "Well nothing to really do until I get to work. Better off just enjoying this book." This is not a thought, not a thought in a million years I would ever have had before.

I am meeting due dates, my bills are paid on time, I keep plans with friends and family but one big thing has shifted in me - the worrying about what I cannot control has started to dissipate. I make the lists but with the knowledge that it won't all get done at once and that's fine. This new self discovery bleeds into the self hate that I had when I couldn't get everything done that I had planned for that day. I've let go of having to get it all done and the most humorous part of that is when I learn half of what I wrote down gets done organically and better when I don't stress over it. So maybe it's okay to say tomorrow sometimes, mostly because 99% of everything can actually wait and with that I leave work because I can't wait to read and go to yoga, the things that I don't want to wait until tomorrow to complete.

the trees

"I feel very uncertain."

Amanda, October 30th

I feel very uncertain about this new stage of my life. I feel supported and loved in a way that I've never experienced before and I'm so blessed for that. But it's difficult right now. Everything is changing right? The weather and all. It's like all summer we were more free and open and now we're going inside. We're going inside physically and emotionally. It feels like we've lost something maybe? Do you feel like that? Like something's missing and there's this loneliness? Yeah.

Take the trees right? In the spring they blossom and everything has buds and little leaves. Come summer they are so full and shady and beautiful and lush. They come fall they change drastically into these insane colors, right? And it's just so amazing. And then all of a sudden fall comes and they give it all away. They just let their leaves go and it's like a gift. A gift to everyone with the colors and just shedding off and down. Maybe if we think of it more like a gift we are giving away and less like a loss it won't be so difficult to deal with? So as we go inside and start to spend more time in ourselves with the change of the season think of it like the trees. Because what comes after winter? Spring. We'll all bloom again.

the great plains

I went on a coastal roadtrip in 2012. We drove from Los Angeles to the Redwood forest and back. On the way there we crept along the cliffs, winding down roads. Sometimes I would sink low in my seat so I didn't have to see the upcoming twists and turns in the road. When you're in a car, this is easy. When this is your life, there's no sinking out of sight.

Then there was the drive back. Deciding that we had enough of the cliffs and the edge of what seemed to be the world, we took the straight and flat road home. We didn't see any accidents on our way up the coast but on that simple road, the wind whipped like hell against the car. So hard that I remember popping snacks in Matt's mouth for him because he couldn't take either hand off the wheel. There were a ton of accidents. We even saw some mini tornados out of dust and dirt. The cliffs were much more scary. At any point you felt like you were going to just tip off the edge. How funny that when everything was lain out simply before us that we were in much more danger.

I have arrived at the straight and simple. I'm not rising or falling. Much like a photograph that is unsaturated and flat, I keep flipping through the days, work, people, routines without much excitement or interest. I've lost interest in the organization of my things. My work seems to continue without any concern or creative satisfaction. Time moves and I watch it go. I sip water because nothing tastes particularly good or bad, mostly bland. I don't really watch out for cracks in the sidewalk. I haven't felt high or low but mostly medium. So where do I go from here knowing that if I take my hands from the wheel for one minute that I may flip over and end up worse off than where I begun.

I've seen the photos, I've heard the gossip. I knew it before I even discovered it. It dissolves in me and settles to the bottom. Nothing surprises me anymore because I've already imagined and reimagined it a million different ways. I saw you and it took me a full week to recover. I ended up flatter than before. More disinterested in what was around me, more disgusted with the situation.

I have a beautiful view of the city. I wake up around 4 or 5am everyday to the sun coming up over the city. My first thought is a split between how wonderful the colors are and how I don't understand how I got here. I haven't been here writing because I don't even have the real interest in putting it down anymore. After writing for days on ends, filling up notebooks and scribble pads with this and that I've run out. I got a cold and I ended up extremely exhausted. All the twists and turns were tiring and now that I'm on the flat, I'm more worried than ever.

yin

I hesitated with everything I felt and did. I anticipated pain the second I stopped moving. I cautiously sipped my coffee dreaming that it would be too hot and scorch my mouth. I questioned a coworker that he was about to tell me bad news when he was only sharing an invitation with me. I arrived on my mat already full of tears. This was my fifth or sixth yin class - I've never made it through an entire class, let along the first 30 minutes without tears coming. This was the first however that I was anticipating the pain, aches and flood of emotions so much that I was worked up even before I began.

I am today at 63 days straight of yoga. I feel like I'm in a program of sorts announcing something like that but maybe I am. I took Yin Yoga sort of by mistake. I enjoy the teacher in other practices so when I was out of options for that particular day I decided to try it out. It's a practice of clearing energetic blockages and improve the flow of qi. The positions are much like traditional vinyasa practice except you don't move seamlessly from one to another. You move into one and you stay, you stay for 5-10 minutes. Sitting still for that long of time is difficult enough. Dull aches arise and your mind starts pin-ponging from thought to thought, eventually landing on the thought that you've been avoiding all day, all week and here you are - facing it head on.

"When pain arises in the body, look to the mind. Where is that coming from? Where or what is causing the discomfort?"

And then I was there that first class. Laying on my back with my heels together and my hands on my stomach with tears pouring down my face. Physically I've collected enough strength in the past 63 days to push past the ache but emotionally I am not much farther from where I began. The teacher asked us all to not reject any pain that came to us, both physical or emotional but to look to it and allow it to come and then go. The pain was suffering caused by resistance.

There weren't any tears tonight. Once I began I accepted that I wasn't feeling as positive as I had been feeling yesterday but that was fine. I let it go. I didn't deny that my hips felt like they were breaking into pieces. I didn't deny that my heart ached to all ends and that I miss him like crazy. I sat there and saw the thoughts come and go. I saw that every time my pain increased it was because some memory was coming to me. His eyelids sleeping, a favorite pasta recipe.

I think tomorrow I will finally take a break. I attempted a break many times but haven't felt ready to let go of the practice that is physically bringing me back to the place where I feel confident that I can then build back my emotional self. There isn't anymore denial left in me. There's just time and space to move forward.

a new york heart

There are people everywhere. There is construction, shopping bags, fire hydrants, taxi cabs, traffic signs, mailboxes, pigeons and umbrellas. Bikers that race by, runners that clip your shoulder. Smokers who blow out just as you pass and dog owners that don't pick up droppings. No wonder New Yorkers walk around with their heads down, sunglasses on and rounded shoulders. We're constantly protecting ourselves from what is spinning around us.

This is the only city I've lived in but visiting others I've taken a few notes. Chicago's people walk around and smile at each other. Philadelphians puff their chests out in a very confident, "no-mess" attitude way. The people in Denver seem to move in slow motion with shoulders down and a heaviness to each step. Everyone in LA wears heels or sneakers so they seem to bounce along the sidewalks. New York stands alone with the curve of the spine, shoulders hunched and forward march look. This morning while riding the elevator up to the 16th floor in the Empire State Building where I work I suddenly had the urge to bend half way over on one foot and extend my hands towards the back wall. Otherwise known as warrior three in yoga.

Since my upswing of practice I've been noticing big and subtle differences in the way my body moves. One of the biggest changes however is my posture. I'm conscious to push my back into a chair and not slouch, to walk with shoulders down by back and not up to my ears, to look others in the eye and not avoid small smiles or conversation starters. But walking quickly into work this morning I arrived tense and protected, awaiting for someone to run into me or play dodge with tourists entering the building. I pulled my shoulders away from my ears and pressed my chest forward. Some of the most difficult situations we put ourselves in are when we are vulnerable. It's much easier to stay on guard and protect everything you have. However then you don't grow, you don't trip a little and know that next time you need to be more aware of your surroundings, you don't learn a thing.

As a very long, stressful week wraps up I move into the weekend which are typically harder for me than the week. Filling my time with work, yoga and errands seem to space out during Saturday and Sunday and leave me feeling vulnerable and like I have endless time on my hands. There's no need to protect myself from this feeling. Why are we so scared to be alone with ourselves? It's just you.

lucky

I walked down the subway steps at Marcy Avenue yesterday and caught the eye of a guy about my age. He was at the bottom clearly waiting for someone, something. He smiled - his whole body smiled. For a split second I thought that he was of course waiting for me but soon realized that I've never seen this person before. His girlfriend trotted down from the steps into his arms. The kissed in the way that seemed comfortable but also a bit passionate. I felt a bit embarrassed to witness their public display of affection. Maybe because I'm ultra sensitive to everything right now, especially people touching.

I thought it was so nice that he waited for her. A simple, small gesture. I know that I'm in this cycle of overanalyzing everything but I'm trying to just let thoughts come and go like my breath. Breathe in a bit of sadness because no one was waiting for me, breathe out acceptance of this time to build myself up a bit.

I got home and Jack followed me into my room. Jack is my roommates 85+ lb mastiff pitbull mix. He mostly represents a hippopotamus because he moves so slowly and stiffly. He looked at me and I told him we could hang out in the living room but not my room, I ran into the living room. Jack stiffly ran and half jumped onto the sofa and flipped himself into me and took half my arm into his mouth. He does this when he's so happy you are there that he wants to actually bite you but he's too gentle to actually cause harm. He made me feel a bit better. I went to yoga (yup, still at it daily) and settled into poses which were held for 5-8 minutes each. Something about bending over my knee made me cry. Tears trickled down my cheeks as my toes went numb and I breathed as deep as humanly possible. I kept coming back to the question of, "When will someone be waiting for me?"

My friends were waiting though after yoga. I collected them at a bar and we went to another to get burgers. We sat and talked about past jobs, current relationships and other people's love lives. It's hard to hear of unhappy relationships right now. I keep coming back to wondering if people know how lucky they are. I felt lucky every single day when I was in a relationship. It's easy to lose focus of that when you're arguing over who needs to take the trash out or if there are shoes on the floor that you tripped over or whatever else makes you annoyed with the other person.

The guy from the subway, he knew he was lucky and I think that's what pulled at my heart strings. Because no matter how lucky you are, sometimes things just don't work out. But the only thing you can do is go home, sit on the sofa with the dog, go to yoga, meet friends for burgers, go home and put yourself to bed. You need to keep going, but don't forget to remember how lucky you are. No matter what situation you find yourself in.

pretty little boxes

 need (noun): a requirement, necessary duty, or obligation.
want (verb): to wish, need, crave, demand or desire.

I've been placing my life into two categories. Two neat bins or boxes. I like to think of them sitting next to each other and placing physical notes in each when thoughts arise. White slips of paper with black ink. The box on the left reads, "want." The box on the right reads, "need."

As a thought arises, it gets written down and placed in its box. Sometimes the want items end up in the need box and later need to be sorted out. Sometimes the opposite happens. This breaks down to the most simple means of life lately. Do I need or want that second cup of coffee this morning? Do I need or want to pick up the phone and call him? Do I need or want that beautiful Helmut Lang jacket… well obviously that's a need.

Demand is such a jarring word. Jarred is such a wonderful description of what I feel right now. Demanding something from someone is so much different than getting something that is necessary. The definitions themselves speak volumes. Everything to describe "want" feels forced with an action that is against a will.

Maybe I didn't want to be sitting on the grass yesterday having a conversation with a friend about how hard things can be sometimes. How people get sick, relationships end, friendships become strained and uncontrollable shifts happen within ourselves. I didn't want to admit that this is maybe what I needed. I didn't want to make you a grass ring to put on your finger because I wanted it to be him and not you. But I needed to be sitting there and I needed you. I needed to have that conversation because I need to feel it all. Maybe I wanted something that I didn't need. Maybe you need something that you didn't want.

Thank you for helping me off the grass. Thank you for helping me place the slips of papers in their boxes.

the art of losing

I have a neurotic habit of placing the same items in the exact same spot. When I suddenly moved, all my places had to be re-established. Because nothing had a place or home I would lose things constantly. I lost my new apartment key for a day, lost by old apartment keys for 2 days, lose my phone on the daily and yesterday I lost a small notebook. I know that it seems trivial and that it'll show up eventually but for the time being, it really makes me feel a bit nutty and out of sorts.

I have been jotting notes down in that little book since I've moved. It's been home to grocery lists, inspiration for work, thoughts that flood my mind, quotes from friends, family and yoga teachers and daily ramblings that later turn into blog posts or questions to resolve later. Let me also say that I have an entire box of these notebooks. I have a notebook from high school, my first year in college, from my internship summer in NYC and well you get the point. I hardly ever throw them away because I can pick them up and take a glimpse into what was going on. What was I buying, worrying about, thinking about, where was I going and who was I with during these adventures?

I also feel that beginning a new notebook would mean that I've "given up" on my lost notebook which I'm not ready to do. So for a few days I'll make notes on random pieces of paper, my iPhone, whatever is available. If it comes to having to get a new book then I'll drag my butt downtown to pick out another which is a whole adventure in itself. For the day thus far here are my notes:

1. Find the notebook 2. Pay the dry cleaner 3. Nineteen 4. Call movers to confirm 5. Breathe deeply

fine

"I'm fine. When is this over?"

Paul, August 13th

Bend down and touch the ground with the palms of your hands. If you aren't a gymnast like most of us, use your fingertips. Are you there? Good, okay. Feel connected. How is it? Oh, fine? Fine, but when is this over? How many times a day do we say that? This is um, fine but when the fuck is this going to be over. It hurts? Why are you letting it hurt, you're doing it. Do something a bit more comfortable. We came here to work but we didn't come here to work in pain. Listen, most of us only get to practice yoga like what...once a week or whatever? Just enjoy it. Do it but enjoy it. Do it and don't think "oh this is fine." Because then it's not fine. Why don't you just do something that feels good and you enjoy. Do yoga, take drugs. I shouldn't say that but I'm more of a drug addict than anything but you know what I mean. We're all thinking everything is fine but - when the fuck is this over.

I actually was asleep 97% of this class. I let go so much that by the time I realized I was practicing yoga I was standing in front of the juice in the grocery store blocks away.

tried + true

When I was in middle school I realized pretty quickly that girls were complete bullshit.

They would tell me that they liked my jeans and two seconds later tell someone else how terribly they looked and how I thought I was cooler than everyone else. I developed a good sense of which girls were full of shit and which were going to stand by me.

Today, it's not really any different. I've met more people in my life that have stabbed me in the back than who have held my hand. I'm not going to deny that I've probably done it to a few as well. I never really felt like I had to belong to a clique. I was perfectly fine having fewer friends. I also realized that I preferred having guy friends because they didn't stab me in the back. If they were going to be jerks, it was straight forward and forgotten about 2 minutes later.

At 27 I overhead someone once tell another, "Toni doesn't have a lot of friends."

At 27 I felt like I was 12 because it made me terribly sad. I went home, shut the bathroom door and I let myself cry just for a second. Then I went back to bed and to sleep. I thought about it again over the weekend as I sat with a coworker and friend at my new apartment.

"I can't get over this view," she said.
"Well I had to lose everything to get it," I said.

But I didn't have to lose any friends. When I needed them, they were right there. An army of people who were fucking pissed off and ready to help in anyway they could. I always knew but I re-realized, I don't have many friends maybe by other people's standards but the friends I have are some of the most interesting, honest and beautiful people I've ever met. The saddest part is having to call on them for help when I should have been calling on them for happier reasons the whole time. We make time when it's convenient and when bad things happen but it's hard day in and day out when everything is going swimmingly to remember that these are the people that actually do mean the most. Everyone is guilty of it so nobody really blames anyone else. It's something to be conscious of, something to work on.

"We should do this more often," she said.
"We should have been doing this since the last time," I said.

Reach out to someone you haven't spoken to in a while today just to say hi. Because girls can be such bullshit but if you're lucky enough to have those in your life that will stand by you when you need them and when you don't, hang on, those are true blue best friends. I'm so proud of mine.

over the loudspeaker

There is not one person I know that isn't going through some sort of challenge in their life this year.

Before I hit "post" I usually ask myself why I'm writing what I am and why I am sharing it publicly. Some of you may feel that some information would be better kept private or within a relationship, friendship, family, etc. The truth of the matter is, every time I put myself out there it has the potential of reaching someone else who is going through a challenge in their own lives.

Maybe you've come here to look at a recipe, to stalk me a little, to get to know what's going on in my head or simply by mistake. Or maybe you come back because I'm here saying that sometimes shit is really fucked up and that makes you feel a little bit better.

To everyone who has ever sent me messages about the blog, thank you for reading. For those who haven't, thank you too for reading and sticking it out with me. Much love going into the weekend.

no-bake recipe

I haven't made anything in over 2 weeks. I step into the kitchen and the only thing I've been able to grasp is a glass of ice water. That's all I'm capable for right now. My love of cooking and baking blossomed over the past two years by trying new recipes, trusting that messing up is okay and let's be honest, having someone to help me and feed at the end of the day. I've stopped feeding myself by means of my kitchen.

I feed myself by waking up each day and smiling. Making myself smile first before anything else like a crazy person who has lost their damn mind. I smile no matter what - sun up, sun down, rain or shine. For a week I woke up at 4am everyday to smile. If I start with a smile, the day is already on its way up. It's my body saying, "Okay, another day. Be grateful, be honest. Try." It's my mind saying, "You're okay. Even if you aren't, that's okay. You'll get there."

I feed myself by riding my bike. The movement helps me. While everything around me seems to be shaky and scary I was able to do this thing. I was able to pedal my legs and trust that my body would take me there, even if my mind didn't want to. There is so much to be said about physically being able to do something that emotionally you can hardly handle.

I feed myself by practicing yoga. I practice breathing everyday, all day.

Others are feeding me. Friends who ask how I'm doing. Hugs and hellos stitch me together. Family to lean on. I have the strongest people around me, it's like being fed steak and potatoes everyday. Take a bite of their kind hearts and rebuild yourself.

I had a taste of a coworkers quiche yesterday and it made me long for the quiche I make myself. But I'm not going to force it. I'm not ready but when I am I know that the ingredients can be found and the time will be set aside. For now I'm working on my no-bake recipe.

your attention please

I saw you and you saw me. We've never met but we know each other. I don't know the sound of your voice or how you pronounce simple words like tomato or coffee. But for an instant, we saw each other and we couldn't figure out how we were connected - until we did.

Is there a name for this? Is this something that happens to most people now? We're so connected on a non-personal level that our personal face-to-face selves don't even have to say anything, we just keep going, keep walking, keep pedaling.

There was a conversation about continuous partial attention. I like to think of myself as a mega multi-tasker. I can organize a closet while designing a project in my head. I can go for a bike ride and map out the rest of the week and make a grocery list. The problem with this is I'm only partially connected to what I'm doing. My mind leaps from task to task without fully being engaged. One wave of thought crashes into another, while the other builds directly behind it. If I set aside time to organized the closet, then time to design a project - the two may turn out to be more enjoyable and effective. Not convinced?

I'm at dinner with a friend while texting another under the table. All while thinking of what I need to tell my mom when I'm done with dinner. I'm not fully engaged in the person in front of me who may really need that connection. I really need that connection but I'm so used to only being partially focused at any given time that I see this as multitasking, not as a problem to which there is a solution.

I knew you because I saw your photos online from a friend, of a friend, of a coworker, of a friend. How confusing. I'm not even sure how I got there. I know your name, I have already made up my mind of what sort of person you are, I have passed judgement about you and your friends simply because I scanned your gallery. I am partially connected to you, partially engaged. We will never meet, we will never have a conversation but as I passed you I knew you, and you knew me.

I'm working on not allowing my thoughts to leap from one to another so quickly. To sit down and finish a task before moving to another. To understand what it is to be flexible but to also understand what it is to be focused and engaged with my surroundings. Because I passed you and my mind flipped through a million ways that look could play out. I want to be conscious of myself - of others. Not to pass judgement and to have a steady stream of breath which allows myself to let things be as they are, the grace to accept and the confidence to let go.

to lose

 

"It's okay to completely lose your shit for a while. You'll get it back."

Mallory, August 2nd

a balancing act

There are things about us that are different. There are things about us that are the same.

I said, "I think it's a balance."
You said, "I don't want to be balanced."

It vibrates through me everyday. I fell to my knees in the street, I sat on a cool subway train and weep in the presence of strangers, I take unnecessary trips to the bathroom at work and sit a while until my flush face fades.

The hardest part of leaving is knowing that it may be the right thing. It doesn't make it hurt any less and it doesn't make it easier. I shifted closer, you further.

I fill my lungs with air and try to remember that I've been here. That my situation is not less or more challenging than of those around me. That daily life brings us challenges and every so often, heart break. I'm letting go of what I do not need while you find what you do. I hope you find it, I hope you fill the void. 

To those who know me personally, Thank you. You've gone to great lengths to pull me up as I fall down. I love you forever.

unmatch

There is a still-water moment that happens when you part ways from a significant other. No ripples, no waves, just stillness. For a bit of time, this is okay. It's nice to wade and to push and pull your limbs through the water feeling it's newness all over you. Then, for myself, the calm became questionable. The still, cool waters suddenly seemed dark and dangerous. Did something just touch my foot? GET OUT OF THE WATER SOMETHING JUST BRUSHED BY MY FOOT. And then, I joined match.com.

I feel like I can not go any farther without stating a sort of disclaimer to this post. I know many, many people who have met, dated, married and had children with significant others that they met online. Why else would I give it a try if not for the bountiful, happy experiences others have had. Now, with that said...

I was on match.com for a total of 20 hours. It was a very stressful 20 hours. I didn't tell anyone about my venture to online dating. At home one Friday night 2 spring seasons ago I felt optimistic and curious enough to check the site out. I wasn't dating anyone at the time and had 2 girlfriends who used the site to meet men in the area and who were "exploring" the idea to date some of them but none of them at the same time. I created my profile which felt a lot like filling out my first Facebook page years prior and waiting for a friend request or any activity to take place on the page. I clicked around some but had a lingering feeling of guilt as I would browse through men who my first and only impression was their photo and their username. I didn't want to marry bballstar4573 because god, what an awful monogram that would be (kidding.) and guy with that tunic-like shirt on the beach, you're screaming Ted Bundy to my woman spidey senses. Alas, I went to bed.

I woke up to emails, winks, messages and the most appalling attempts to get my attention via bad joke or dirty joke in the subject line. Suddenly I felt like these people were invading my space. It may help for you to know that I am not one of those people who see someone calling my phone and say, "Oh it's so-and-so I'll call them back." No. I pick up the phone and say, "Hi so-and-so I will call you back." I can't ignore people, I just cannot. So one by one, everyone got their messages answered usually with a creative response like, "Dear bballstar4573- I live in Manhattan therefore a Florida relationship is not currently in the cards for me. Best of luck, you'll find someone great. - Antoinette." It was overwhelming and eventually after an hour or so, I just logged out and off. But not before Troy sent me a message.

Troy was 30 something, seemed fit and friendly. He also was living in Chelsea and had a car (because he offered to pick me up for our date so I'm assuming) which I figured a good sign if you say you're doing okay professionally. I thought of all the tips and tricks I picked up on 60 seconds and Oprah like meet in public, have someone check in on you, keep it to 1-2 drinks max, etc. So aside from my overwhelming feeling that this wasn't for me I thought, you committed and maybe this is the man of your dreams, go on one date. Well…

Troy was nice. Polite. Tall and looked just as fit as his picture. But as we chatted I was having a hard time following really where he was going. I didn't feel like there were enough details in his descriptions or emotions in where he grew up or went to college. College by the way was Ohio State, downfall (PSU grad here) but at least we had the Big 10 in common. Did I mentioned he played football? Did I mention I secretly know a pretty good amount about college football? But Troy didn't know this so as he spoke I ran stats in my head and came up with nothing. Then the most fantastic thing ever happened, he asked me…

"Can I see your feet?"

I like to sometimes have Carrie moments (sex and the city) but keep them to myself but this one literally felt like it was a written tv set. My what? My who? Get me out of here. Troy and I never spoke again.

Sometimes when Chris has to work late I play a head game like I live in this apartment alone. My mind goes back to when I was single and living with a roommate and all the guys we talked about and those insane first dates which were 80% bad and 100% memorable. Here's what I always land on,

I can not wait until Chris gets home.

no place like home

I moved to New York City the summer of 2008. After graduation and a month or so of pool hopping and waitressing I took a job, found an apartment and never looked back. You hear different stories about people's first year or so living in the city. Going out until 5 am and spending the next day swearing you'll never do that again until you forget you have a birthday party or promised a friend you'd meet them for drinks. Working hard - 10 and sometimes 12 hour days because you feel like it's a rite of passage living here. Getting on the wrong train, meeting the most random people and spending way too much on cabs. You know what I remember the most though, being absolutely broke.

I had a roof over my head and clean clothes but that was only because I knew which deli had the cheapest ramen and yogurt. I ate a lot of eggs and toast to say the least but through all of it, I can't say that I never thought that enough was enough. I loved it here, I still love it here. Every paycheck felt like a blessing and while it was a bit of a struggle, much like the days spent working well into the night, it was another NYC rite of passage to me.

This city puts you through it's own fleet of tests. Even now when the temperatures have been hovering around 10 degrees with the occasional snowfall, I smile every time I walk through Madison Square Park. I cried in Whole Foods in Chelsea when I received my job offer. I fell in love, literally in the Empire State Building. Sometimes I think that little bit of hunger made me work that much harder to stay. Because even though this city can chew you up and spit you back out hungover, tired and overworked, it's breathtaking every time I walk down the street. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. This is my home.