what's yours is mine

In a hurry to get out of the apartment and to the gym before laziness sets in, I quickly nabbed a shirt from my dresser. Halfway down the hall and halfway on my body I realized that it wasn't my shirt. It was mine because it was in my room buried under sweaters and random gym attire but it was more a relic of the past.

More than once I've found items that once belonged to boyfriends. Shirts, socks and/or sweaters show up unannounced and at moments where I'd rather they stay hidden in my drawer. They are those pieces that I used to wear to brunch Sunday when I was too lazy to put on my own tighter, more "fashionable" clothes. Items that smelled familiar and warm. Memories of running to get ice cream in the middle of the night because it went well with the movie we were watching and dressing head to toe in his clothes.

I think one of the most ridiculous things about a breakup is the "getting together of the things." I've always thought to just leave them and forget about it but the thought of me leaving and my things remaining always felt awkward and wrong. I'd rather clear the cabinet out rather than someone else having to. The problem is you can never get rid of it all and much like the memories that remain so does that one shirt that you happen to grab on a day where you already weren't feeling up to par. Well whatever, I put it on anyway and even though it no longer smells like him and all I'm doing is running errands or to the gym at least I know that it still fits and maybe one day I'll return it. But then again, maybe not.

mr. & miss perfect

Picture your perfect someone. What they look like, how they speak, where they come from, what they do, how they smell, how they address you, how they interact with your friends and most importantly, your family. That person is put in front of you. They come with a full resume of ideas and skills that align with what you imagine to be your perfect match. No bullshit. No games. No second guesses.

They take you to the perfect restaurants. Pull out your chair, order the most delicious wine that compliments both the food, the atmosphere and somehow even your outfit. You do things like sit next to each other rather than across from each other. Something that before doing it yourself you thought was ridiculous but now it's totally grand because your next to your perfect person. You have conversations that lead to similar thoughts and interests of how things should be.

They're casual but confident and they choose you - and you are there faced with the easy task of nodding yes and being with that perfect someone that you've had your eye and heart out for all along. And then you realize that not only did you think up your perfect someone but also your perfect you.

You look down to see that your sock has a hole. Your hair is messy and unkempt from the day. Your nails are chipped. You have days where you'd rather not get out of bed and whole weeks were you struggle to keep it together. You spill things, you drop things...you constantly drop things. You're not perfect. You put so much thought into the perfect someone that you completely forgot that you are not.

I should have fessed up earlier but who doesn't love playing the most perfect rendition of themselves for the most perfect rendition of the one they know. When the shine wore off and the real shone through I wasn't so sure perfect would stick around so I made the choice for them. Who wants to be perfect anyway.

a week in brief

Stopping in briefly before I head into another meeting. The time between Halloween and New Years always flies by. Hopefully next week will be a little more calm and I can come back and blog about some things I've been thinking about. Here's a quick glimpse though of what I've been drinking, eating, listening to and smelling like. More soon, promise! Start right, top and go clockwise: Bottega Veneta, l'Occitane sheer butter hand cream, Softlips in Vanilla, San Pellegrino Spring Natural Mineral Water, "Sway" by The Kooks, Fage greek yogurt

google it

I google everything. If I don't know how to spell something, if I am at a fancy restaurant and want to know what the hell cardamom is, if I'm looking for a semi-specific place that's around the corner from that place I went once but don't know the name of. Anything and everything. You type it into the magic box and it appears uncomplicated at your finger tips. It's a blessing and a curse.

I remember arguing with my father about getting a smart phone. "Why do I need the internet on my phone, that's so unnecessary. Can we just pick one and go?" I loathe shopping for phones, it's the one thing that if you ask me to do that can bring me to tears within seconds. But now I realize that a smart phone = google, which means at any time I can figure out where I am in this city and how the hell to get home. I also love after an especially wonderful night out with friends looking back to my google history that has had little gems like "Miss Mary Mack Hand Clap."

Have you ever looking at your google history or tried to record it for the day? It's the most bizarre set of words and when you throw them all together it always sounds awkward and inappropriate. Or maybe that's me...

Today's google items thus far: marlboro, pigeon, fun house, the naked and famous - punching in a dream and prohibition

smoke signals

 I awoke with a thought and part of a dream - what if I sent smoke signals? 

I quickly feel back to sleep until my alarm buzzed again. The thought stayed with me throughout the day. A S.O.S. to friends, B.B.L. to roommates, I.L.Y to family and loved ones. But with all that smoke, my signal is sure to get lost and misinterpreted with the signals of others.

How do you signal complicated thoughts and messages? If you had to break down what you were trying to say to another person in the simplest form, would we all be better off? Less beating around the bush and straight to the point? Yes. No. Now. Later. Has making it easier to send messages via phone, text, email, tweet, etc. actually made it harder for us to communicate?

I'm working on simplifying my life. With materials things, with my friendships, relationships, my entire self. Let's get to the point. I can't help feel that with all these complicated signals flying around that I'm losing my message in all the smoke.

november

Always. Every year I think that I'm going to get through the entire month without falling into a sinkhole of bitterness and angst but November has proven me wrong again. It's been months since I've had the hole-in-my-chest-the-world-is-falling-apart feeling but I awoke with it Saturday night and haven't been able to kick it since. I felt it creeping in last weekend and tried to run it out of my system. 4 days and 20 miles later all I ended up with was extremely sore feet and an absurdly painful calf cramp. I almost made it the entire month. See you in December.

scrumptious scone

I've been busy catching up on my New York life since I've returned from my month of travels. Playing catch up means that I'm back to cooking and baking, or at least trying to. I'm good at pulling and saving recipes but that's often as far as it goes. This past Sunday I set out to make scones. I'm a breakfast/brunch fanatic so it only seemed fitting to learn how to bake the perfect scone. Originally the recipe came from Epicurious.com. With minor tweaks and a whole lot of mess, my scones came out semi-perfect. It is of my own belief that they would have been 100% perfect if I had more counter space to work in and an oven that wasn't comparable to Barbies. The recipe is below with my added changes. This weekend I hope to try a vanilla, blueberry batch. Cheers!

Lemon Cream Scones
Bon Appétit, May 1996

Ingredients
*revisions/tweaks I made
2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt
*3/4 cup chopped dried peaches (originally apricots)
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1 1/4 cups whipping cream
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
*1/2 lemon to squeeze into dough
   
Preparation
Preheat oven to 425°F. Mix 2 cups flour, 1/4 cup sugar, 1 tablespoon baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon salt in large bowl. Stir in apricots and 1 tablespoon lemon peel. Add whipping cream and stir just until dough forms. This is where I squeezed in some fresh lemon juice to add more lemon flavor. Turn dough out onto lightly floured surface. Knead gently just until dough holds together. Form dough into 10-inch-diameter, 1/2-inch-thick round. Cut into 12 wedges.

Transfer wedges to large baking sheet, spacing evenly. Combine remaining 2 tablespoons sugar and 1 teaspoon lemon peel in small bowl. Brush scones with melted butter. Sprinkle with sugar mixture. Bake scones until light golden brown, about 15 minutes. Transfer to rack and cool slightly. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cool completely. Wrap in foil; store at room temperature.) Serve scones warm or at room temperature.

ghouling good

Happy Halloween! I'm wishing everyone tricks and treats from NYC. I spent my weekend in California with both an old and now some new friends. The photo is of myself painted as a sugar skull. I've had an obsession with Día de los Muertos ever since high school. It's a tradition that I wish were celebrated here in the states. Wouldn't it be great to be able to dress up and celebrate the lives of those lost in a colorful, beautiful way? I love that the skulls represent the sweetness of life (sugar) and the sadness in death (skull). A big thanks to Matt for the photo and being the best California guide all weekend.

california dreaming

I have this idea in my head where I step off a plane and look immaculate. My hair is done, my makeup looks airbrushed, I'm in my suicide shoes (6" pumps) and my essentials are tucked perfectly into a small tote that is tossed ever so easily over my shoulder. I never, ever look like this. Surprisingly I am so excited about leaving for my weekend getaway that I don't have time for nerves yet. I'm more focused on packing and thinking about what I'm going to wear when I arrive to LA. This is my first trip to LA and California in general. Plans are set for food, hiking and a Halloween party and that sounds like a perfect weekend to me.

My imagination has me stepping off the plane and greeted with Katy Perry's "California Girls" and the entire cast from Laguna Beach. I know instead I will be greeted with matted hair, smudged makeup and a too heavy carry-on. Either way, off I go. Happy Halloween! <3

unplugged

In January I lost my phone. I left it in a bar while out with friends. I was sick of answering texts, set it on our table and slipped into the crowd only to find hours later that I was inconveniently disconnected to the world. I know it sounds dramatic but I had no way to reach my family, friends or the phone provider. I speak to my parents daily and often more than once. I knew that they had probably tried to call and had most likely gotten my voicemail. I had a feeling they were starting to worry. I couldn't contact my friends to see if many one of them grabbed it knowing it was mine before they left. I couldn't contact the phone provider to say my phone was missing and to please disconnect the line so that no one calls Asia or Australia, hacks my email or social media accounts. I promptly signed onto Facebook and twitter and messaged my sister and friends that my phone was gone, I was alive and to contact me by means of my roommate until further notice.

At first, this was such a pain in the ass. I didn't have Facebook at my fingertips. I couldn't tweet annoying things about what I was doing at that moment. I couldn't text anyone that I was running late and that I'd be there soon. What I learned was this; Facebook is a waste of time, twitter doesn't care what you are doing and sending a text for being late is a bad excuse for just taking too long in the shower. I realized that there is something really lovely about being disconnected from everything.

Fast forward to today. It's slow so I am doing minor projects to fill my time until I am briefed on the next project. I refresh my blog stats, my twitter feed, check my phone for texts and I absolutely hate it. I can't stand that I am so plugged in that I rely on these things during the day to keep myself entertained. I recently deactivated my personal Facebook account to help ease myself away from the social media bubble. I can't tell you how much drama that has saved me from in my life. Who cares about who went from in a relationship to single or posted photos from their drunken night out with people you barely know anymore. I know that there are benefits to being always in the loop but sometimes I wish that I weren't at all. That way I couldn't obsess over how many people are reading this post right now, where friends are having lunch via 4square or deciphering tweets and texts. Is it me or are we all just a little too plugged in to what everyone else is up to?

paper makes perfect

I collect things. One of those things is paper, more specifically notebooks. I buy them and then wait for the perfect project to fill the pages. Finding the perfect notebook for a project is like having a constant good luck charm with me. It sets the tone for what is to come. I am convinced that scribbling notes on a shitty notepad will make for a shitty outcome. This is also why I obsess over handwriting but that's another post, another therapy session all together. Currently I am coveting two items. The Kate Spade sister journal to my spade journal and the ridiculously priced Hermès coloring book. It's like the grown-up child in me is screaming to have this. I have $100 dollars on the fact that if I do end up with it, I'll never even color in the pages.

the space between

Living in a city where space is money, I've began to think at what age is it appropriate to still have a roommate? Isn't it sort of odd to think that you live on your own yet you still share a home with others that you are just friends with? In some sense, it's really nice. You can be single and still have the comfort in knowing that someone is there when you come home from work. In another view it seems very juvenile to have a "roomie" at age 25, 27 or 30. When does it cross over from being necessary to disheartening?

This stems from the fact that my current roommate will be moving out and into an apartment with her boyfriend come February. Aside from the sadness I feel in losing her as a roommate, I felt this odd sense of abandonment like we were breaking up. Who would wake me up after I accidentally turn my alarm off during the week? Who will make sure I make it home at night? Then my mind turned to the haunting thought of; will I ever want someone else in my space?

Let me define my interpretation of space. Space is both physical and emotional. If you are physically in my space this may be a problem because of the smallness of city apartments. I don't want to bump into you because this will cause both of us to become grouchy. If you are emotionally in my space it means that you are more than just a friend. You ask me where I was and what I am doing the second I walk in the door. Your energy directly effects me because I am emotionally involved with you. Can there be enough physical space for all the emotional space we together take up? Following me?

Much more than a roommate, when do you decide that it's actually time to move in with someone who is more than a friend. I'm left with this question because I've never had the mere thought of doing so with any of my previous boyfriends. Others say that it just happens and that it just seems to suddenly make sense. I cannot wrap my head around that. All I know is that I need a lot of physical space to hold all of the emotional space I take up. Maybe I should start thinking about moving to another borough.