those thoughts

Even though I'm desperate to watch more Grey's Anatomy, after reading old posts- I owe it to myself to write. 

I'm honestly so FUCKING excited about my program. From the moment Dr. Lena knew who I was upon walking in the room and her looking each of us in the eyes as she scanned the room and assuring us that, "If there is ever a moment that you doubt your being here- come ask myself or Dr. Dubin. We will not hesitate to give you the exact answer." And I can feel it. These are people like me (for the most part)- eager to learn, open to people, ideas and experiences, but above all- they're KIND people. And god knows, that is my kind of people. Walking from class with Alice and and Alexis and I've never seen two people get SO excited when I simply mentioned that I wanted to be in London this summer (??). They both have lived in London and were eager to give me recommendations, find connections for me- you name it. How wonderful is that? Can we just take a moment to relish in that? And then commuting back home with Alexis. She has had such an awesome experience (worked at Christie's in London as a supervisor for 3 years) but yet she wants to know more, do more and do things that have meaning. She understands the need to merge business and art and the value of having both. And she couldn't agree more when I started talking about how this program just seems like a good... fit. So far.. so good. 

And honestly, New York is a good fit too. I feel like I'm on the cusp of something great every. single. day. And even if great is just hopping on the subway as soon as it pulls into the station, or great is feeling good about my outfit, or your professor remembering your name, or playing with lemons in class as a smaller metaphor to arts education, or even if great is feeling like little pieces of your life are starting to align- New York has found a way to give me some type of great every day. 

1) The pros (not cons...yet) of Graduate School

2) Thoughts on Shitty Relationships- Will I Be Able to Avoid Them?

Storms sometimes shake the soul, don't they? And I think the thunder and lightning outside my window has finally driven me to put a few things down on "paper" after what is now my fourth week in the Big Apple. I've been bed ridden all day with the flu, so no promises to (you) or myself that this will be a post of any insight or even length- but it's a start. And then you find out that your favorite playlist on Spotify just had 38 tracks added, fucking score. 

I'm truly in love with this city. It didn't take me as long to adjust as I thought- but then again it could be because I'm still in that beautiful honeymoon phase with New York. Our apartment is perfect and feels like home already. I love my big white iron bed, my big vanity, my collage wall and the almost studio like feel it has with its closeness to the living room, kitchen and bathroom. It's my first New York apartment and will always be. Remember painting the kitchen yellow with Emily, painting our chalkboard wall and hanging our New York posters. It was ours before we even moved in- at least I'd like to think so. Theres so many moments that I want to write about but they all seem to blend together.. the moments of mastering the subway, of having people over for the first time, getting ready and listening to Betty Who, triumphant and defeating moments at J. Crew and feeling at home in my Masters program. 

But of course there's only one thing I truly want to write about- and every good blog must start with one really good love story (for lack of better words where 'like' just wouldn't work). And I want to write about him because he's the only thing that has made me want to write, save the storm brewing outside my window. Sure, I've had moments that I've been like DAMN I need to cultivate this moment, this feeling and these thoughts but the guy from Chattanooga, Tennessee makes me want to write and write and write. So be it. 

It was supposed to be a BORING night. I didn't wear a cute bra and I only wore wedges because Kate said she was wearing hers. I planned on one drink after dinner and then an early night because of work the next day. He walked into the bar wearing a grey flannel, dark jeans and of course that beanie. Something told me that I needed to know him, not because I was attracted to you- but I think because he seemed so out of place and had that mysterious air to him that my soul craves in other people. He, Hugh, sat down and started conversation with the bartender and ordered a large sour beer that resembled a very nice Forty. For whatever reason, I introduced Kate and I and so it went. I remember kicking myself for not sitting in the seat Kate had because I wanted to be closer to him. We talked about our jobs, our artistic interests and traveling. He was in town on a shoot for your graphic design company (that he had started yourself after not wanting to be an accountant anymore). He kept the conversation going- asking me about my favorite parts of Italy, telling us about hi family and asking about my program. Honestly, I don't remember the conversation.. but I remember having to pinch myself on the way to the bathroom to keep myself from getting in over my head. As if it was possible to keep this from happening anyways. 

He asked if he could come with us to our next bar before the words could even get out of my mouth. We were walking up to the roof at the next bar and a guy started hitting on me and Hugh swoops in puts his arm around me and says "are you messing with my girl?"- It was the absolute funniest thing ever. He had this way of being so bold and funny and made friends with literally everyone we met. He put my social skills to shame. We sat for another two hours and just TALKED. It was crazy- I even showed him my damn bowl cut picture. It's like every thing we could possibly disagree on - we didn't and even if we did he wanted to know why I felt the way I did and found a reason to see my side, and mine his. When we got to Penny Farthing he was trying to set Kate up with someone and I literally have never laughed so much in my life with a guy. It was like we were playing this secret game and nobody else was allowed. We danced a lot and he finally kissed me. He came home with me, ate cereal in my bed and we talked for a long time- him exploring my room and my pictures and literally just shooting the shit. It didn't take long for things to progress, with him showing me his tattoo and slyly asking if he could "look for mine". The sex was good- shit, it was great. It was one of those nights of humor, sensuality, fucking and genuine emotion. 

And there are so many things I want to remember about him- his body, the perfect mix of built and lean. His tattoo. His american flag briefs. His messy hair that clearly hadn't been washed for a few days. The way he asked if he could "leave his beanie" and would make fun of me when my phone went off asking if it was "my Tinder boys". From the beginning, I knew it was not something that would last. I can remember after making plans to go home together I went to the bathroom and couldn't find him when I came back. I can remember know the feeling of doom that he had left me- only to find him on the dance floor with a group of people. It's that kind of instinct that takes over from the beginning that I should have known all along that the story wouldn't have a happy ending. 

It's a given that I feel sad about it, about probably never seeing him again. But after texting him (finally) and hearing his genuine response- I think I can let myself believe (but not too much) that he did truly enjoy my company. But it does warrant the question of whether I let myself feel too much- the never ending personal battle. But how can you use "too" if its just the way you are? Is it a fault? As Emily put it- he was my "white buffalo" - a rare occurrence, a chance encounter that reminded me that I was capable of being attractive, of attracting someone interesting and above all else- worthy. Because I think, more often than not, we forget just how worthy we are of LOVE. Of someone who makes us laugh, who makes us smile and who makes us feel as if everything is meant to eventually align. 

Though I feel silly writing about him in such an intense and personal way, I know that it needed to happen. He changed a part of my heart in such a quick and exciting way. Hopefully I won't be comparing to him for much longer. Hopefully I'll stop daydreaming of him wanting to see me again. Hopefully I'll meet a new "Hugh"- because maybe he wasn't real. Maybe what I thought was there wasn't. Or maybe it was just meant to remind me that love happens when we least expect it and that I will find someone one day and it may be as simple as a guy walking into a bar on 55th street at the right time and moment. 

Lists are powerful things. And power makes everyone feel better on their worst days. And the thought of "better" is on my mind a lot lately, special thanks to the song below by The Bleachers. Not better in the mental sense or success sense, I do not think that I am an awful person adorned with flaws. Rather, I find it motivating to think of the things that I want to "better" in my life, instead of change, get rid of, do away with or eliminate- actions that all derive their meaning from negativity. I feel like this post has been circulating in my brain for a while, while I'm in the shower scrubbing the body that I constantly find reasons to hate, when I'm googling things on the internet, cooking in the kitchen, bored at work or driving in my car. It's time I put these mental illustrations to "paper" and make something "better" of them: 

1) I want to eat better. Might as well just start there- reading 28toLife really got me thinking about the things I put into my body. I may not stick to it completely, but I think I can make a pure effort of really being conscious about what I am putting into my body. 

2) I want to be better at keeping my room clean. This is something I want to begin, continue and always do. I always have a more clear head when my room is clean- and lets face it..I ADORE my room. All of my little belongings, picture frames, my god damn perfect comforter, my tall leaning mirror and my Alex Prager film poster from the Corcoran. They are all little pieces of me that I love as a collection, so I want to make my collection better...by keeping it clean. Or at least in an organized state of minimal chaos. 

3) I want to make better playlists. Music is such a central factor of my life, so why don't I organize it in a way that shows how important it is to me? I get so stuck on a few songs and listen to them on repeat on a new Spotify playlist until I am numb to them and they have lost their appeal. I want to make playlists for cooking, for writing, for driving, for summer nights with good friends, for classic rock moods that remind me of home, for Firefly, for being sad, for cleaning my room (maybe this will help with #2) and the list goes on and on until my Spotify is a new collection of crafted playlists. 

4) I want to be better at saving MY money. I'm working hard for this money, but yet find myself squandering it away and wondering why the hell I bought a dress I'll probably only wear once or twice. I'm working 7 days a week this month and I want to come out of this month with something to show, money in my savings for New York City and a list of items that I can actually purchase and use often. A new rain jacket, things for my future apartment and a nice watch...to name a few. 

5) I want to write better posts. So many of my posts are long and drawn out, about overwhelming sadness, thoughts about future love or random musings. And while these are lovely, and always wonderful to read back over- I want to start writing more "themed" posts..much like this one. Posts that have a theme or something to be pondered or thought about and questioned...maybe even answered. I'm not trying to be "heard" per say.. maybe one day that would be fun..but I want to improve my writing and make it INTERESTING. I want to write things that anybody, not just the little voice in my head, can relate to on any given day. Thoughts on taking a creative writing class? 

6) I want to be better at taking deep breaths. Granted, I know how to breathe- and I know how to breathe deeply. But I want to be better at taking deep breaths when they matter the most- when I'm frustrated and about to say something mean about someone, when I'm annoyed by some silly pet peeve, when I'm rushing through my day like a maniac or when I get frustrated with my mom on the phone because she's nagging me about my budget, my diet or the same little things she does every single time we talk on the phone. I want to remember to take a deep breath when I'm lying in bed about to start my day at 6AM as a reminder that I'm alive and "fearfully and magnificently created" and capable of breathing. I want to be better at living in the moment, breathing in the moment and doing so in the deepest breath of life possible. 

7) I want to plan better for the PRESENT. The old cliche comes around again- live in the present, la la la la. BUT IT IS SO GOD DAMN TRUE. I probably spend half of my life visualizing, romanticizing or imagining scenarios, moments or situations that could maybe possibly maybe happen. Yes- I believe that it's healthy to have a vivid imagination..but not to the extent where it begins to change the way you view the present- where you let your heart and soul feel and create a situation in the future so perfectly that it becomes the present, it becomes reality and only leaves your heart longing and hurting for something that again...could maybe possibly maybe ever even happen. 

And finally,

If anything? It reminds you of our human ability to FEEL. To react immediately, fully and deeply. Questioning why we love sad books? Why we crave movies laced with sadness- and why I am more inclined to write after I've taken in moments such as this- because they're the moments that reconnect us, take us away from the mundane, make your heart skip and beat (and in the same way that a beautiful day can make you feel deeply) pure sadness reminds you that you're alive.