I'm Moving!

I have decided to focus all of my blogging energy on my Blog Cheers to the Journey

 

The new blog allows me to have more freedom in formatting. The layout is a little more user friendly, and it isn't as cluttered. I will slowly carry over my previous posts to the new site. I hope to see all of you on the new page! If you'd like to be notified of new posts, please subscribe. Cheers!

Cheers to the Journey!

"I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

~Robert Frost

I have faced crossroads in my life that I felt like I'd been slowly walking toward for years. As if somewhere in my backpack of life I had a guidebook that warned me about this place- "You will cross a river by foot, scale a large mountain, and walk approximately 56,938 miles before coming upon a stand still. At this point you must choose your path. No big deal. Don't worry yet, just start to consider your options." And those crossroads all came and went without much fuss. Because the truth that nobody will tell you is this: most of those choices don't matter. Most of the time, we make the same choice that we were always going to make no matter the circumstances. We believe we have free will, and to a large extent we do, but humans aren't particularly fantastic at taking advantage of that fact.

But then there are the crossroads that we never expect and cannot plan for. The tree that falls down on the trail and leaves you no option but to either climb over the tree or slice the damn thing in half. Or the storm that comes out of nowhere and forces you off the trail altogether. I have come to feel intense gratitude for these crossroads. There is no better way to intensely get to know yourself and what really matters to you than to be forced to decide RIGHT NOW what you are going to do. Which road will you run down full boar, knowing you will leave the other forever in your dust? Which wind will you catch? You don't get years to prepare. You don't get to weigh the options. You get to close your eyes, believe in yourself, and follow the only thing that gets to have a say: your heart. It is in these moments that we get to meet ourselves. It is in these moments that our fullest selves get to emerge and fully embrace us. It is in these moments that we are most free.

I have experienced only two of these moments in my life. One was when I learned that my father had fallen and had severe head trauma. He had only hours or days to live. He was unconscious. I would never talk to him again. I would never get closure for our relationship. He would never meet his grandchildren. I would never again celebrate a Father's Day. That moment shaped me immensely. I didn't have time to think about it. I didn't have time to prepare. That was simply my reality. My choices were to either accept it and survive, or deny it and exist. I chose life.

The second moment came last week. I had been dreadfully unhappy in my career for  years.  I was in a stable position at a reputable company (even if they were emotionally abusive, toxic, and horrific). I had a steady income and benefits. And yet, I knew that I would never be happy there. After a year long job search, I realized that I would never be happy anywhere. I had a fantastic interview with a wonderful company that gave me a momentary glimpse of a light at the end of the tunnel. I knew they wanted to hire me. I should have been thrilled! I was going to finally escape the hell that I had been surviving in. I had finally broken free of my cell. Surprisingly, all I felt was sadness. I called my husband to tell him that it went well and I would probably be hired. I told him I was sad and didn't know why.

He said "Nicole, you want to write, right?"

I thought for a moment and responded, "Yes."

"Then do that," he said. "You will never be happy until you really pursue that and give it a shot."

"Can I do that?" I asked. "I won't have an income. Can we live on yours?"

"We'll be fine. This is what you want to do. You've been wanting to write since I met you."

I paused for a long time, taking in my surroundings. I considered the option. I considered the alternatives. I thought about the shocked looks on my friends and family's faces. I thought about the money. I thought about the tremendous relief of knowing that I was finally going to be doing what I had wanted to do for the entirety of my life.

"Okay," I said. "Okay! I'm going to do it......holy shit.......I'm going to do it......."

"Great!" came the response from my husband. I realized in that moment (as I realize in many moments) how lucky I am to have married him. I know we talked more after that. I'm sure I said a few more expletives and yelled. I know I cried. But I don't remember anything else. I felt an overwhelming peace about it. As irrational and crazy as this was, it felt like the most sane decision I had ever made. There was no looking back. There was no re-considering. I had chosen the path. I had already sliced the tree in half. Nothing would put it back together.

 

And so, here I am. No more guidebook. No more trail. No more security or benefits. No more income (eek!). And most surprising of all? No more fear. No more agony and sadness. No more suffocation under the weight of what I would never be. No more shell. I am blazing a new trail for myself. And I am so freaking pumped about it!

 

Cheers to the journey, kids! It's gonna be a wild ride.

Restless

Today I find myself restless, which seems to be the only way I can find myself these days. I sit watching a movie I have seen many times before, look at the screen and say aloud and to nobody at all “Just do it.” I have no idea where it comes from; my heart or my throat, or what it’s for. But I take it to mean “go get in the shower and actually start your day.” And so I do. I shower, feeling the sting of the hot water splashing on my freezing toes, making them feel as if they might just break off. I dry my hair and get dressed; first in a red dress with brown tights, and then in my skinny jeans and a scarf. Nothing really seems to feel right today, but the jeans and scarf are familiar and so they are my choice. I slip on my boots and walk to my car. If I were awake I might notice the vibrant orange leaves crunching under my feet. I might feel the breeze and marvel at the beauty of it all, but I haven’t been awake for a while.  I don’t suspect I will wake up today. I drive to nowhere in particular. I just drive. Taking the turns that my car feels compelled to explore. Of course I find my Starbucks, because what good is a random wandering if it doesn’t take you home eventually?

As I sit here drinking my Gingerbread latte in a red, holiday cup, I have a sad and yet comforting realization. I have lived this day before. I have felt this emptiness and dull drumming of hunger at some other moment of my life. Perhaps it's been all I've ever known. Perhaps I will never wake from it. And yet, the strange thing is, I think I'm okay with that. I am comfortable with the warm dripping of espresso and the bleakness of a grey sky. I am happy to hear leaves crunching beneath my worn black boots and to feel the biting cold air on my nose and cheeks. I am somehow awake in this groggy slumber. 

I understand now that this is all there is. I will age. I will hear "I love you" and "Congratulations" and "I'm sorry." I will watch those I love pass away or move to other states. I will get hired, and I will quit. I will take up new hobbies and find things I think bring me happiness, and I will forget those things that I used to like, sometime ago just beyond the reach of my memory. What was the name of that friend I knew so well before? Oh it doesn't matter anymore....I will sometimes smile and I will sometimes cry. But crying doesn't bother me. When I cry, I am awake. I feel the sting of salt in small cuts in my lip from biting them too hard.

And through everything, I know I will come back here. I know I will come back to this place of quiet contemplation where everything seems so easy and clear. Where the worst and best thing are both the same: acceptance. I will revisit this forever. But for now, I have to leave. I have to walk back to my car, drive the familiar route that no longer requires my attention, and make my way to my home and rest. Because tomorrow I will wake up, and I will need my strength to do this again, one time more.

Magic and Pillows

I am kind of a nut for decorating. I think this love affair began as a child when I had to share a small bedroom with my sister. Fitting two twin beds, two dressers, and all of our assorted belongings into a small X tiny space proved to be a challenge. However, I was no ordinary six year old. I whipped that room into such great shape that we even had room to play pirate and Pocahontas. I was never allowed to be Pocahontas when we played because my name sounded too similar to Nicola. I was always the best friend…..I digress. I enjoyed moving the furniture frequently. By age 8 I could move an entire couch on my own. I believe the bulk of my upper Body strength was developed between the ages of 7 and 9.

When I was in High School, we moved to a new house. This was the first time I had full responsibility to decorate my room however I wanted. I wasted no time and immediately took to the walls. I painted one wall lime green and left the others white. I wrote my favorite poem in black paint on one the wall, and covered another with pictures. I adorned my closet doors with cards from family, friends, and ill-fated romances. This was also the start of my affinity for pillows of all shapes and sizes. This is a love that has only grown stronger over time.

It was my sister taught me the wide variety of uses for a closet. No longer a place for only clothes, I began to look at closets as something far more magical. She emptied hers completely, removed the sliding doors, and placed the head of her bed inside. She wrote “bless me in slumber” over the top of the closet, and hung drapes from the old beam. I loved it. It was a fairy land for her to hide in, a shelter from life.

When I moved into a college dorm, I stacked my bunkbeds criss-cross, allowing for extra space underneath my bed for a desk and refrigerator. I took the two armoirs and placed them facing one another so the doors opened into a sort-of blind. This became our changing area even if we had guests. The back of the armoir that faced the front door was not an eyesore because it was dressed up all fancy in pictures and signs.

Today, I have a new challenge. Living with a man for the first time in my life created a new vision of “home” in my head. No longer exclusively my own creation, I needed to consider someone else. I have learned that it’s okay to have a floor vase filled with flowers as long as it also contains bamboo. I have continued to incorporate brightly colored pillows (red and teal) against a tan couch. I swapped out my (still) favorite poster claiming “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle,” for new posters of my favorite city skylines and fun french cooking images.

Again not one to waste a closet on something as boring as clothes, we placed our dressers inside with the back facing the sides of the closet. In this way, we each have our own instant shelf space for things the other doesn’t care to see. This is where I keep my fish poster and assorted pictures from my childhood, and where he keeps Star Trek memorobilia. Don’t get me wrong, I like Star Trek but not enough to look into Spock’s eyes as I drift off to sleep…

Overall, I have gained so much through living in all kinds of different spaces with different challenges. I still have a lot to learn. But this is the kind of schooling that I hope will never end. Someday I will own my own home and have even more freedom. Some day I will have a pedestal bathtub and deep red walls. I will have sconce lighting and a large garden outside. But for now I will continue to come home every day to my own little oasis. My own little fairyland and shelter from life. Just like my sister created all those years ago.

Shame.....

Today I attempted to swing in a children's tire swing. Mark refused to push me out of utter shame, so I had to push myself until I went in circles. I pushed myself hard enough that I gained some sort of centripetal force and couldn't stop spinning. Mark didn't stop me, so I had to drag my feet and ever-so-slowly gain my equilibrium. I tried to get out, but alas, I was stuck......

In a children's tire swing.......

In a park full of children and their normal and not-socially-inept parents........

New low...,

La la la la pretty bubbles!

Sometimes I embarrass myself. And sometimes I am just so freaking psyched to be me that embarrassment is utterly impossible. Last night, while the rest of the world was judging me hardcore, was one of the latter times.

After a particularly long day of work where I ended up working overtime for a replacement who simply didn’t feel the need to show up, and being told by a 90 year old woman that I look “tacky” for not wearing nylons with my heels, I really needed some stress relief. My first course of action was mindless zoning out via Super Mario Brothers and Tetris. Mario always makes me think of the Big Bang Theory episode when Sheldon decides to “break out the redbull and rock Mario old school.” And I am tempted to say things like “hop you little plumber, hop!”

Once I had reached the brink of (relative) sanity, I ventured out to my neighborhood Safeway in search of bubble bath and wine. I did allof my usual shopping first and then started toward the bubble bath aisle. My boyfriend, far too manly to ever be seen near (gasp) bubble bath, chose to start looking for wine. I walked alone into the aisle among pretty pink bottles with grown-up ingredients like avocado and honey. There were three types of bubble bath to choose from. One was a classic bright pink bottle of Mr. Bubble. To the left of that, a bottle of luxurious vanilla scented bubbles, and finally a double sized, princess shaped, purple bottle with the Disney Princesses on the front. Two guesses for which one I picked.

I went skipping down the aisle, Disney Princess bottle in hand, until I arrived at my boyfriend. I may have loudly said things like “I am a PRINCESS!!!” and “Look at my super cool bubble bath! I’m the coolest in school!” While his face turned red, he couldn’t help but smile a little. This is what he signed up for when he decided to date me. I’m still about 7 years old half of the time.

Of course, I am not actually a fictional princess, and eventually I had to face reality. I got to the checkout with my two bottles of red wine, oversized Disney bubble bath, and 30 cans of wet cat food. I surveyed my purchase and proclaimed to the man standing in front of us, “it’s okay….even I judge me right now.”

A movie review: Friends with Kids

I saw "Friends with Kids" in the theater last night. Now I'll start by saying I really liked it, but coming fom me this isn't really saying a lot. I like almost everything I ever see. I am a bit of a movie zealot. I used to dream of a career as a film critic until I realized that I would never critique anything poorly, and nobody would ever believe me or care about my opinion. Now I'm not totally without standards. I have walked out of one movie in my life. I also dislike several films. And when I don't like a movie, I REALLY don't like it. Tropic Thunder, I'm talking to you.

In my book, a movie can be made great through a fantastic script, excellend cinematography. A movie can be RUINED through poor acting. If I can see the person acting, I'm done. And I don't treat all my "good" movies the same. I can articulate the difference between a fun rom-com that I enjoyed and a genuinely good movie. I saw Inception four times in the theater because my mind was so blown that I needed time to process the movie's greatness. I saw The Artist for the first time in a small independent New York theater and felt that it was so inventive and powerful that I forced my whole family to go see it with me. Truly great films can move me to tears or anger. They can invoke passion in me for things I didn't realize I even cared about. They can ignite my curiosity and make me question my world.

And then there are the brilliantly simple, "why hasn't anyone ever made this movie before?" kinds of movies. Those are the ones that seem so true to life, so utterly believable that the script doesn't sound scripted at all and the characters seem like your real life friends and co-workers. These are usually my favorite movies. They often don't end incredibly happily. Or rather, they end happily and sometimes as expected, but with a twist that makes them seem more lifelike. These are the movies I wish I'd written. These are movies like My Best Friend's Wedding where (spoiler alert) Julia Roberts doesn't get the guy in the end. Or Love Actually where people sometimes cheat or hurt one another, and life sometimes gets in the way of what we want.

Well, to get back on track from a serious tangent, I saw Friends with Kids this weekend. Thsi was one of those refreshingly real and unique movies. The basic plot (not to give anything away because I actually think you should go see it for yourself) is about two best friends who both want a baby, but without the drama of it potentially runining their romantic relationships with their future spouses. They decide to have a baby together, have split custody, and keep their friendship in tact. Meanwhile, their two sets of married friends slowly realize their relationships being tattered and strained by their children.

The plot seems simple enough (I'll leave it to you to guess the ending), but the brilliance doesn't come from the predictible story line. It comes from Jennifer Westfeldt's true to life writing. The precision of her characters and the relationships they share with one another feel like the relationships you have with your friends. These characters hurt and bruise one another. They love deeply and make mistakes. They say the wrong thing and have regrets. They struggle to find a balance between parenthood and love, often unsuccessfully. They come together and fall apart. It's destructive and beautiful.

I genuinely loved this movie. I laughed a bit, but not too hard. I sat quietly holding my breath for a moment to handle the tension on screen. I wanted things to work out well for these people whose lives were fictional, and yet so real.

If it's not yet clear, I would recommend you see it. I think there's always room for a movie that teaches a lesson and does so with heart and humanity. Friends with Kids certainly delivers.