One of Those.

I could feel her eyes on me as I applied an ungodly amount of dark blush on my cheeks, trying to hide the tear stains.  I reached for the mascara in my purse and when I looked up I caught her glance in the reflection of the mirror.  "It's just been one of those" I said quickly with a shrug, trying to prevent her from feeling too awkward for getting caught staring.  "Oh girl, I feel you" she responded with empathy while she washed her hands, "Trust me, I had a day like that last week.  Couldn't keep it together if I tried.  But hey just remember that whatever it is, it will pass, and in two weeks you'll forget that you were even in this bathroom reapplying your makeup".  I looked down at my hands and bit my lip, trying not to let the tears fall for the third time in twenty minutes.  "Thanks" I finally mustered as she threw her paper towel away and headed for the door.  "No problem, and cute shoes" was all I heard as the door shut and I was left with my reflection, my thoughts and enough makeup for a circus clown.

After she left, I felt thankful for the interaction, grateful that someone could at least try to relate. "Girl power" I thought as I reminded myself to pay it forward the next time I came across a crying girl in an unlikely place.  Yet regardless of the woman's kind words, I continued to feel sorry for myself as I looked deep into my own eyes, glassy and tired.  "What am I doing?" I thought quietly in the empty bathroom.  "What the hell am I doing here?"

Shaking my head, I realized it felt overly dramatic to be asking myself that question.  I mean to be honest, I was hiding in the bathroom at a dingy neighborhood bar, so it was pretty obvious that what the hell I was doing there was trying to drown my sorrows in half priced beer and chicken wings.   Work was shit, my life plans had somehow and unexpectedly spiraled out of my control and true story- that very afternoon I had received a breakup letter in the mail from a guy I wasn't even dating (talk about salt in the already gaping wound).  He had handwritten it, bought a stamp and even took the time to put the card in the mail, which was without a doubt, quite a bit more time dedicated to "us" than I had ever put in.  His words came in a card that was embossed with the crest of his alma mater on the front, which only led me to ponder how long he had been in possession of such cards and as I read, I found myself legitimately wondering whether he had purchased them with campus cash or not.  And while I found this particular mans efforts to end something that never exactly started, humorous and a bit presumptuous, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy over the fact that he knew exactly what he wanted, even if that meant it wasn't me.

Because besides acknowledging that I was trying to forget about my problems in a dark bar, I really knew nothing else about where my life was going.  I was at a crossroads and had no clue what lie on any of the roads in front of me.  I wanted someone, anyone to tell me what to do, where to go and what to expect next.  I needed someone to order me to stay or to go, to direct me on what my next move should be.  And as thankful as I was for my interaction with the lady in the bathroom, I found it extremely hard to imagine that she had ever been in this particular situation and I knew that it would take me a hell of a lot longer than two weeks to forget about this night, in this bathroom.  I had some serious decisions to make, and while I had always valued my independence and ability to make choices based on what makes me the happiest, I had never wanted direction more in my life.

Realizing that I had been in the bathroom for a worrisome amount of time, I took a deep breath and looked at my reflection once more in the mirror in front of me.  "It's just one of those" I told myself reassuringly.  "Tomorrow will be better, it has to be" and as I turned for the door, I looked back and added "cute shoes."

Carolina

It was late and the room was dark with the exception of the midnight moon which somehow found its way through a small break in the curtains.  The white glow cast shadows across the walls of the hotel room, creating the perfect silhouette of a man and woman who stood facing one another, barely a few inches apart.  She was in her head, mind racing as she silently cursed the moon.  In that moment, she wished with all of her being that it would go away and that the darkness would engulf the two of them so she could no longer see the flecks of gold in his eyes or the definition of his perfect jawline.  The girl fought with great difficulty, the urge to let her eyes meet his.  Meanwhile he was staring at her, desperately searching her face for answers or at least an indication of what his next move should be.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered after some time, her voice shaking and body trembling.  As if he was waiting for it, he reached up to touch her face, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, dropping his gaze to meet hers.  "I want you" he said simply, half-smiling and pulling her closer to him.  

"How the hell do I get myself into these situations?" she thought to herself angrily as he slid his hand into hers, finding that all too familiar place where it had rested so many times, so long ago.  

He was the only man in her 26 years and many failed relationships, that she ever actually saw herself ending up with.  Though it was never the most serious of partnerships nor the easiest for that matter, there was just something about him, some disarming quality that made her think about their future together instead of pulling away, which had up to that point, been her norm.  It was so uncharacteristic of her to fall for someone like him.  She had spent a lot of time fighting off the "good guys" in her past relationships, chalking them up to being too "simple" or accusing them of not wanting the same things that she wanted for her life.  Yet somehow with all of the odds stacked against them, she had found herself enamored with this man.  A man who could never give her the worldly experiences she craved, or the nomadic lifestyle she always imagined she would have.  He was stationary and always would be, yet for the first time in her life she accepted this and despite a deep inner struggle, was willing to give up her adventures and her dreams for him and the dreams that they could potentially create together.  

But that was then.  

The reality now was that she somehow, someway had ended up in a dimly lit hotel room alone with this man (who notably had a girlfriend), in a strange city, with a whole lot of feelings between them.  Two years had passed since their last fight- the fight that had ended it all.  It happened more suddenly than she had expected and looking back on it, she always wondered if she should have fought harder, if she should have for the first time ever, showed all of her cards.  He gave her an out that day- claiming that he could never give her all the things she wanted and would never ask her to give those things up for him, and though every bone in her body told her not to, she took it.  Selfishly, she took the out and then promptly spent the next two years trying to make sense of that decision.  He had moved on since then, and for all intents and purposes she had too. Yet here they were, the two of them alone in this room, so much history between them, fighting against every physical and emotional urge in their bodies.  

They lasted only a few minutes like this, in each others embrace, fighting hard to resist the pull that they felt for each other.  Until finally, he pulled her in as close as he possibly could.  And as their lips met, her head began to spin.  Memories of late nights and early mornings, stolen kisses and too many laughs clouded her mind as she found herself melting in to his all too familiar touch.  The passion between them was an unstoppable force and unlike anything she had ever felt.  Her heart was pounding and while they kissed, her thoughts went deeper as questions about the future began popping into her mind.  She wondered how it would feel to be kissed like this every single day, or if anyone would ever really know her like he did and then she questioned whether or not she could ever love someone this much.  In that moment, in that hotel room, it was nearly impossible for her to imagine feeling this way with anyone else on the entire planet.  

Yet as she felt her heart go to places it had never been before, her head rang loud between her ears.  "We can't" she said as she pulled away abruptly.  She stepped backwards, away from him and into the darkness, shielding her face from his view.  The hurt and confusion she saw in his eyes was almost too much to bear, but she quickly realized that it truly couldn't compare to the hurt in her heart when she mustered up all the courage in the world and repeated "We just can't".  Heading for the hotel room door, she was careful to keep the tears that steadily streamed down her face out of sight, as the glow of the moon projected a single shadow on the hotel room wall.  

It's Me.

"Hey, it's me.  Hope you had a good day, I'm thinking of you and I hope you're as excited as I am that it's almost the weekend.  Call me when you get a chance."

He sounded far away in his voicemail; far like, East Coast far.   But the time zones and the thousands of miles between them faded away quickly as a smile took over every inch of her body.  It was one of those smiles, one that starts from somewhere deep in your heart and finds its way to your mouth and eventually to your eyes, where it rests with satisfaction and unexpected happiness.  In that moment, she could care less that he was thinking of her or that he wanted her to call him.  "It's me" he said and after that she heard nothing else.

He had addressed her with such a feeling of familiarity and she couldn't remember the last time someone had said that and not been her mother, or grandmother or childhood best friend.  It was as if they had known each other forever, even though it had only been a few months.  It felt comfortable, even though she was still uncomfortable with the whole thing.  It somehow felt right, even though she didn't exactly know what that meant.

"It's me" he said, and she lost it.

Leaving a Mark.

The chardonnay went down easy.  It was crisp and cool and exactly what I needed on that cool, Spring afternoon.  I was sitting at my favorite table, in my favorite coffee shop that doubles as a wine bar, and I was thinking that it had been a long time since I had found myself at that particular table.    After settling in to the space, noticing the different artwork on the walls and the addition of a new lamp in the corner, I remembered that I had once met the girl who painted the table which I sat at.  She had pink in her hair and roughly five facial piercings that I could count at first glance.  Her name was Amber or something similar that started with an A and reminded me of the 90's.  The two of us got to talking about the table one cold fall afternoon when I found myself cozied up at the coffee shop, scouring the daily job postings online and sipping my vanilla latte.  "It started off a terrible brown" she explained.  "But then one day I was bored and had paints in my bag for school.  It was a slow day here at the shop and I figured I wouldn't be working this job forever, so I just took the table out back and spent an hour painting rainbows and flowers all over the top.  I guess I did it so that when I quit here I can leave my mark on the place."  I remember in that moment looking down at the surface, staring at her brush strokes with admiration and a deeper appreciation having heard the story behind them.


On this particular Spring afternoon at the coffee shop however, Amber was nowhere to be found.  Many seasons had come and gone and no longer was I desperately searching for a job or trying to become a regular at any place that would have me.  I was established in the city; I had a job and a house and friends to call for drinks or a group fitness class if I wanted.  I guess I should have felt good about those things, about being successful in a city where I once knew no one, during a time when I had nothing but a couple hundred dollars in my savings account.  So that night, when Amber's replacement came by the table and asked if I was okay or if I needed anything, I was surprised when I found myself wondering what else it was exactly that I needed besides another glass of chardonnay.


I looked out the window, watching a man and his dog play and I wondered what mark I would leave on this place, then I wondered if I ever would leave this place.  The city had become my home and with each year that passed I found myself breathing deeper the mountain air, letting it settle in my lungs and into my soul in a way that I never imagined it would.  We were in sync, the city and I.  We had a mutual understanding of one another, where we were going and who we wanted to be, or so I thought.


I guess sometimes all it takes is a few glasses of wine, a quiet evening alone and a familiar table at your favorite coffee shop to get you thinking, because as I sat there staring at the flowers and rainbows I couldn't help but wonder where the girl who once was a "regular" had gone.  There was a time when the coffee shop made me feel like I belonged, like I could be whatever version of myself I wanted to be, and more often than not it was the most creative, outgoing, and raw version that frequented the rainbow table.  Now, no one knew me here in this coffee shop, yet I had finally become "someone". I had finally achieved everything I ever thought I wanted in this city.  Even so,  with each sip of wine, waves of regret crashed over me as I realized that somewhere between working too many long hours and dating way too many of the wrong people, I had lost sight of the girl who had once noticed how many piercings her barista had.  I had let her go and I hadn't even realized it.  As my mind started racing with thoughts of new cities, new jobs and new people, I tried to focus.  I breathed in that fresh mountain air, reconnected with the city, and got lost in the brush strokes on the table, making a promise to myself that if I do ever leave, I will do it on my terms.  I will leave this city fulfilled, as the best version of myself and I will leave feeling like I can truly leave a mark that matters.  But until that time comes, I realized that it's past time for me to reclaim my favorite table in the corner with the window, it's time for me to become a regular again.

The One

"Can I get you girls anything?" the saleswoman asked the group as they settled into the blush colored couches.  Soft, early afternoon light flooded the room, casting shadows on the exposed brick walls, dancing across the floor and shining a perfectly placed natural spotlight on the dresses that hung from the rack in the corner.  The girls looked back and forth at each other anxiously and finally one piped up, "Is it alright if we open this in here?  We're just so excited, she's the first one to go through this!" Ten minutes later, glasses were filled and toasts were made.  "To finding the perfect one!" the friends exclaimed excitedly, sipping the champagne and adding to their Sunday morning brunch buzz.

The initial few she came out in were pretty, there was no doubt about that.  The group loved the lace fabric that made up the first dress, and they gawked at the flawless silhouette of the third, commenting on how it clung to her body in all the right places.  "I like it, but I don't love it" one friend commented on the fifth dress.  "It's beautiful but will you be able dance in it?" said another.
Thirty minutes later the saleswoman had just began to get a bit nervous about not finding the perfect fit, when the girl emerged from the fitting room and the peanut gallery fell silent.  The friends watched intently as the girl stepped in front of the full length mirror and they gasped as she released hold of the dress, letting the train fall the to the floor.

-----

"This will be me soon" she thought as she stared at her roommate and one of her closest friends. "I am making the right decision" she silently told herself when thinking about her upcoming move and the new job she had just accepted in another city and a completely different state.  "We will be good together" she reassured herself as the nerves associated with moving and moving in with her boyfriend surfaced.  They had met in this city and had been together two years, in a relationship that could be characterized as easy and more than anything else, simple.  However, during the previous two weeks they had engaged in more deep and real conversations than they had in the entirety of their relationship.  "If you follow me and we move in together, you know that means that we're really committing to be with each other, right?" she had asked him one night while they were discussing the impending move over pizza and wine.  "Well, I'm not going to marry you tomorrow, but ya, I get it.  I know" he had responded in true, 26 year old boy fashion.  "I'm next" she thought as she admired her friend in white.  "I'm next and I think I'm ready".

----

Though she was sitting on the blush colored couch next to her friends, admiring the perfection that was the bride-to-be in what was quite possibly the dress-to-be, her mind was elsewhere. She checked her phone for the forth time in ten minutes, hoping that there would be something from him, anything from him. "What am I doing?" she wondered as she realized how desperate she was to hear from a man she barely knew, a man who was certainly not the man that she was currently dating.  Her phone buzzed and she felt a pang of guilt when she read "can't wait to see you this week, babe".  Slipping her phone into her purse she scolded herself, "Dammit, this is the man I should be wanting to hear from, this is who I should be getting excited about.  He flies across the country to see me, he loves me whole-heartedly and if he knew I would let him, he would put a ring on my finger tomorrow and then I would be the one trying on these ridiculous white dresses like every girl dreams of doing".  But even with the feeling of guilt, her mind still wandered to the mystery man she had met during a chance encounter.  "He's the perfect stranger" she thought to herself, "keep him that way".  But as she recalled the conversation they had engaged in, the way she had opened up to him like no one before and the way he had really looked at her during their brief time together, she couldn't help but smile.  Their exchanges since that fateful day had been short but heavy, loaded with questions about fate and destiny,  yet lacking anything concrete or solid with regard to the future.  "What am I going to do?" she asked herself.  "Chris loves me, he would do anything for me.  He is the safe bet and  I could have all of this if I wanted it".  Focusing in on the white dress and the gorgeous girl wearing it, she was honest with herself for the first time in a long time and asked the question "But what if I don't want all this?".

-----
"What the fuck, Josh" she cursed in her head as she stared with envy at her beautiful friend in the beautiful dress.  Sunlight streamed through the window and landed on the back of the dress, catching one of the shiny rhinestone buttons, sending beams of bright light dancing across the room.  She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, reminding herself not to get too worked up.  "Two years you chased me" she thought angrily, "It took you two whole years to convince me that you would love me forever and when I finally let you in and finally gave you my heart, you shattered it.  Fuck you Josh, this was supposed to be me" She opened her eyes slowly and plastered a smile on her face, hoping that her outward expression showed the opposite of what she was feeling internally.  "One day I will have this" she told herself repeatedly, "One day someone will be worthy of my affection and when I give them my heart, they won't run.  They will stay."  And as she caught the eye of her friend in the reflection in the mirror she smiled a warm and heartfelt smile, nodding her head and telling herself, "I deserve this and sooner or later this will be me".

-----

"I've never seen something so beautiful" she realized as she gazed at the train falling perfectly around her feet.  It really did hug her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves yet complimenting her tiny waist.   She watched the light catch the rhinestones on the belt and admired the way the dress moved with her when she moved.  "I love this" she told herself,  "I've actually never loved any dress more".   Looking at her friends reassuring smiles in the reflection of the mirror she thought about how lucky she was to have such incredible people in her life, friends who would do anything for her.  Redirecting her attention to her own reflection in the mirror she could feel the tears start to well up.  "She's found the one!" she heard her friend say as the first tear rolled silently down her face, followed by many, many more.  The room erupted in applause and cheers as photos were snapped and hugs were given.  Her mind raced.  "How am I ever going to tell them?  How am I ever going to tell him?" she questioned as she removed herself mentally from the celebrations, looking deep into her own eyes and deep into herself in the beautiful white, floor length mirror.  "I can't do this" she thought, glancing through her tears at the diamond ring on her finger, "there's no way I can go through with this, he's just not the one."
-----

"How wonderful, it truly is perfect on you"  the saleswoman exclaimed as she wrote down the style number and color before running off to grab a celebratory bottle of champagne.

Keep The Change

There I was in my favorite coffee shop, on my favorite street, in my favorite city enjoying a relaxing morning and a much needed coffee date with myself, when I received a text from my roommate that read "Check your email".  

"What could she possibly be sending me right now?" I wondered as I finished my vanilla latte and logged into my gmail.  My eyes immediately rested on an email from our landlord and as I opened it and scanned the contents, my stomach dropped and a sharp pain spread from my finger tips to the depths of my heart.

"After much debate, we have decided to sell the house.  Thank you for being wonderful tenants and let's discuss a move out date soon" the email read simply.

My mind raced at a million miles an hour.  "They're selling the house?!?" I gasped, how could they do this to me?  That house on Hooker Street is the only place I've ever lived in Denver for gods sakes!  It's where we met the boys next door and subsequently, our first new friends in Denver.  It's where we threw one too many parties and consequently, many morning-after recap brunches.  It's where I was when I opened the email that informed me that I had gotten my first real career job.  It's where I experienced my second true heart break and attempted to mend it with endless red wine and black and white indie films.  It's where we planned our next vacations, our next dinner parties and our next steps in life.  That house is the first place that I have considered home since I left my parents house for the beaches of California and college in San Diego.  That house is my Denver.  How on earth could they be selling my house, my home?  

I spent the rest of the day crying on the couch, trying to wrap my head around the fact that in a few short months, I would be moving and leaving behind a chapter of my life that could easily be considered one of the best.  

"It's just a pile of bricks" my friend Ben told me as I desperately tried to explain my feelings to him over the phone that evening. "You have the memories and you'll have them forever.  Plus, you get to make another place in Denver your home.  And also, why is this such a big deal?  You love change." he concluded.  And as I sat there soaking in his honesty and his extremely rude comment about 2974 being just a "pile of bricks", I realized that I actually dislike change very much.  

Now, I understand that this notion of hating change seems extremely bizarre coming from a girl who has moved to new cities, states, and even countries at the drop of a hat. And I guess I should clarify that when I'm ready for it, I love change. I have a unique ability to leave places and people that I deeply care about behind, in order to seek out new destinations and new people to love elsewhere. I am fully capable of creating my my own future and changing my life to match what is important to me at a certain time. I embrace change on my own accord and pride myself on being able to adapt well when I hurl myself blindly into the unknown however, when it is decided for me, I have an extremely hard time accepting change.

I'm absolutely terrible at adapting to situations that I don't have control over.  I like deciding my own fate way too much.  Which in itself is an oxymoron I guess, because you can't decide your fate can you?  You can only make decisions that lead you down one path or the other and the rest, the rest is up to destiny.  

 So, after a couple days of wallowing in sadness and hating the forced change that is coming my way in a few short weeks, I picked up the pieces and began scouring craigslist for a new place to call home.   As I emailed various new landlords with questions regarding square footage and the "feel of the neighborhood", I finally came to terms  with the fact that so much of life is out of my reach.  Yesterday, as my roommate and I signed the lease for our new place, on a new street, symbolizing a new beginning in Denver, I realized that I must accept the things that I have no control over.  Because it is change that propels us forward and forces us to leave our comfort zones, whether we plan for it or not.  And in the end, isn't that what I have always craved the most? That feeling of newness, the ability to reinvent myself and the idea that I never have to settle.  

25 Things I've Learned Along The Way

- Know your worth

- Be kind to people and that same kindness will be returned to you

- Never underestimate the power of being honest

-- Shared silence is okay

- Becoming a citizen of the world is perhaps the best way to educate yourself

- Those who genuinely wish us well, want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey

- Everything will fall into place - it always does

- Being part of a community will make you feel as if you're a part of something bigger than yourself

- Just because you weren't born with real sisters, doesn't mean you can't pick up a few along the way

- Pay it forward.  Whenever possible, pay it forward

- Strangers give the best advice

- Family trumps all

- Surround yourself with people who want to end up in a similar place in life as you and you will get to that place faster

- Time heals wounds that you never thought could be healed

- Follow your heart, it somehow already knows where and who you should be

- Listen closely to your grandparents or the elders in your life, their wisdom is worth more than anything

- Make sure that you have purpose in your work.  Feel fulfilled by your job and if you don't - quit. 

- Do things as often as possible that challenge you to reach your full potential as a person

- Strive for balance in all areas of your life

- Always have a 5 year plan

- Travel to find culture, to find friends, to find God, to find yourself.

- You have the ability to design the life that you want to lead.  So do it. 

- Happiness is not a destination, it's a state of mind

- Do something nice for yourself every once in a while, you deserve it more than you realize

- And always, always remember to write thank you notes. 

Empty.

As the Uhaul packed full of her worldly possessions turned out of sight, I was left with my thoughts on the all too familiar, worn front steps.  After two incredible years living together, her room was empty, our house was empty, and my heart, felt the most empty.  

I tried to remember the sound of Saturday mornings.  Waking up to stories from the night before, sharing coffee on the back patio, talking life, loss and our latest crushes.  

I listened hard, hoping to hear the sound of her cooking up a storm in the kitchen or deep cleaning every inch of our old, brick home.  

I breathed in deep.  Soaking in every dinner party, every movie night, all the mornings we spent complaining about work and each and every dinner we shared accompanied of course, by our favorite red wine.  

And then I let it go.  

I let the emptiness fade. 

I closed the door on our chapter.  

And opened the door to the next.  

Not Right Now.

"I have the absolute WORST post-drinking guilt" my cousin's text read on a Sunday afternoon around 4pm.  She was flying home from a wedding in Chicago and I was nursing a hangover from a day long Cinco de Mayo party gone totally wrong.  "oh my god - chill out, you couldn't possibly have done something that bad, or at least nothing half as bad as what I did yesterday" I texted back from underneath the comfort and protection of the six blankets on my couch, that were physically and mentally "helping" me to block out any and all flash-backs from the previous nights debauchery.  "Well... I slapped the grooms ass on the dance floor, the bride's cousin saw it and tried to full on fight me mid- Macarena" she quickly responded.  While I couldn't help but laugh, I did actually feel for my cousin and the minor lapse in judgement she had made post champagne toasts, regardless of the fact that for some reason there actually does seem to be quite a bit of ass slapping at all weddings, or at least that's what I proceeded to tell her in an attempt to ease her pain.

"What the hell am I doing with my life?" she asked when we talked on the phone later that night.  "I mean, I think we're now at the age where we should start to get some things right, right?" she asked in the most serious of tones.
"Hell, I don't know... Are we?" was my only response and as I headed to bed that night I contemplated her question and wondered if I actually have reached the age where I should start to get some things right....

-------

"So if money wasn't an option and you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?"  I asked while shooting him an inquisitive glare over the rim of a glass half full of dark red wine.  He was perfect on paper - a southern gentleman who frequented Denver on business, wining and dining me every time he blew through town.  He had played basketball in the NBA post college, even did a stint playing in the European league before he landed back home in Houston, close to his mother's home cooking, his new niece and his passion.  "Well, if I could do anythannng" he replied with that southern drawl that originally caught my attention in a swanky downtown hotel bar the night we met, "I would fish.  I would hunt quite a bit too - but marlin fishing is the thing that makes me the happiest."

"Fair enough", I thought.  At least the man knows what he likes and thank the lord on high it's not gambling or god forbid- video games.  The next morning on the way to drop him off at his respective hotel before heading to work, I caught myself staring at him while stopped at a red light.  Here was this well-established, older, ridiculously handsome man who, for some god-forsaken reason had taken an interest in me - a clapped up mess of a 24 year old, yet somehow, I knew despite all of the great things about him, he just wasn't it.  I knew this thing between us wouldn't last and unlike most girls (ahem... blondes) who I'm sure consistently throw themselves at him, I just couldn't bring myself to actually believe that he was right for me or that he ever would be.  That said, even after the moment of clarity at the stop light and a few more moments after that- I continued to sit across from him, breaking bread, drinking wine and talking life whenever he came to town for months after.

It was also circa the time that the Texan and I were entertaining each other with monthly dinners and the excitement of random texts in between, that I decided to make a career move.  I had only been at my organization for one year and as much as I loved my job and my co-workers, I took a chance in applying for an incredible position that I felt I was highly under-qualified for, yet by some total grace of God, I landed the job.
"I hope you know how grateful I am for all of the opportunities that have been given to me here" I said, choking back tears in my boss's office giving her an elaborate speech that culminated in me putting in my two weeks notice.  "While I'm excited for you, I just hope you are making the right decision" she replied as I stood to go, only adding to the extreme anxiety and the nervousness that I felt in leaving the familiarity of my old job behind.  "Yeah, me too" I said quickly before running out of our office building in tears and straight into a mid-afternoon Colorado torrential downpour.  "fuck this." I thought as I looked up to the sky, letting the rain drops hit my face and smear my mascara for dramatic effect.
"the right decision?!?!  I'm only 24!!" I thought angrly to myself "how am I supposed to know what the right decision is??"

-------

A couple weeks into my new job and a couple weeks after the last time I had seen the Texan, I found myself digging through my enormous purse in my car that was parked outside of our local liquor store.  I was picking up beer for mid-week bbq that I had decided to attend instead of going to the gym, creating another excuse for the third day in a row.  "Why can't you get anything right??" I thought to myself while desperately searching for my misplaced ID.  I was muttering profanities out loud about how I should've just bit the bullet and gone to spinning instead of consuming ungodly amounts of calories in the beer and burgers I was about to chow down on, when a song came through the speakers that made me stop digging/cursing altogether.  I sat back in my seat and listened.  I closed my eyes and felt it.  And as the lyrics washed over me, I felt them sink in.  They sank down to the place where the uncertainties about the Texan or any current new man in my life lies, they sank deep into the insecurities about my new job and the new co-workers that I'm just not quite comfortable with yet.  The words sank into my post-drinking guilt and my recently horrid gym routine, they sank into all aspects of my life that haven't reached their full potential and at that moment, I realized that while I absolutely want to do right in life, I'm still getting there.   I'm still on the path to figuring out what those "right" things are.  Yes, i'll make some mistakes along the way, yes I'll take some wrong turns or accept some free dinners just because.  Hell who knows, maybe i'll even slap a grooms ass on the dance floor at a wedding (hoping that one never actually happens), but in all seriousness - its just not yet the time for me, not right now.  And as I shut my car door ID and cash in hand, I walked towards the liquor store feeling much lighter.

"How'd that white wine work out with the fish last week?" the all too familiar man behind the counter asked as I paid for the beers.  "eh, it wasn't the one, I should've picked the other bottle" I replied.  "Well Miss, you can't always pick the right one" he said with a wink as I breezed out the door.
Pulling out of the parking lot I found myself humming the song that had changed my perspective.  And as I turned onto my friends street for yet another night of drinking, laughing and not working out, I repeated the chorus of the song out loud and felt so very comforted in the lyrics and in that particular moment of clarity.

"I wanna do right, but not right now."  

"And don't worry about losing. If it's right, it happens -- The main thing is not to hurry.  Nothing good ever gets away."

A Running List....

"A third round, ladies?" He asked us in a hurried tone as the sun was slowly setting behind him, casting shadows across the rooftop patio that we were currently occupying. "Hell yes" we said in unison without a glimpse of hesitation, "And when you bring the drinks, we have a question for you..." I said in a serious tone that caught his attention before he took off towards the bar.

It was Wednesday and we were in a mid-week funk, struggling to make it through another work week and struggling to let go of the little things that were driving us absolutely crazy. She had come home in tears, frustrated with her boss who could quite easily be compared to the crazed Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada"... on a good day.

"I just don't understand how she can make me so unhappy" my roommate complained as I sat comatose on the couch, exhausted from another long day at the office. The sun was shining yet it was dark in our little white house on Hooker street and as I looked longly out the window of our sunroom I decided that we needed something. We needed a pick-me-up, we needed a drink and we needed to talk it out. So after ten minutes of back and forth, I finally convinced her to grab her coat while I stuffed my tattered and torn journal into my purse, leaving the house and heading to our favorite local bar with the best rooftop in all of Denver.

As the first glass of white wine went down smoothly (and quickly), we discussed the monotony that comes with having a desk job, we blabbed about our co-workers and their little nuances that drive us up the wall at times and we whined about having two work days left before getting the freedom that the weekend brings.

By the time the second round of wine had come, our conversation had evolved and we had moved on to the bigger picture. We were discussing our dream jobs and our dream lives and whether they were attainable or not. "I want to be a travel blogger" she exclaimed. "I want to live abroad and write books" I confessed. We threw ideas back and forth and the excitement of possibility began to stir within us. Where would be in five years? Ten years? Where would we be next year? These were questions that though unanswerable, brought us relief, in that the uncertainty and the opportunity to design the lives we want to lead felt freeing.

By the time our waiter had brought our third glasses of wine, my journal was out and my pen was in full movement. "Here we go ladies, and i'm here to answer your question... whatever it may be" he said as he set down the glasses and stood before us anxiously awaiting the topic of conversation. We looked from our running list to him and I asked him the most serious of tones "What makes you happy? We're making a list". The question caught him off guard, we could tell, as he adjusted his thick framed black glasses and looked to the sky before answering. "Well that wasn't exactly what I expected" he replied slowly, then followed confidently with "but the answer is easy - music, time to think and whiskey" he concluded, before turning on his heel and trotting off towards the kitchen without any response from us.

"Fair enough" I replied as we discussed his additions and went over our own items. And as the sun set and the last drop of wine was finished, we decided that even though brown liquor makes me absolutely bat-shit crazy, it was only right to add his items to our list, as he had provided us three rounds of one of our favorite things on the list that evening. "I needed that" she said as I put my car in park outside of our little white house. And looking back on that evening, I needed it as well, and I have a feeling that someday in the future we will look back on our list to remind ourselves of the little bursts of color in darker times, and as our lives continue to unfold our list continues to grow.... And so.....

Things That Make Us Happy

-good food

-good wine

-great conversation with incredible friends

-the community feeling of day drinking

-a nice rooftop on a warm day

-dancing

-painting our nails

-an awesome sunset

-friendly neighbors

-sipping jet-streams

-road trips with country playlists

-wedding videos

-midweek happy hours

-Sunday dinners

-city lights and country roads

-solid advice from perfect strangers

-a neighborhood dive bar

-sunshine

-a little scruff

-the color gold

-music

-time to think

and of course...

-whiskey

Holding On.

A letter to myself.

Stumbled upon this little gem of a note that I wrote to myself a year or so ago, hidden within the folds of my journal this morning. I found it to be extremely raw and real and exactly what I needed to read while sipping coffee on a date with myself this beautiful Sunday morning.

"Remember this time your life. Never forget how it feels to go to bed alone with your thoughts and to wake up with a clear conscience. Never forget the feeling of independence, the freedom that comes with only having yourself to worry about. Remember what it is like to put your friends first, yourself first and savor the time when this is still the case. Never forget these years when you are so perfectly content with you, your thoughts and your own dreams- dreams that are concocted by nothing but the brilliance of your own imagination. And most importantly, be satisfied and grateful for the realities that you and only you have created for yourself. Relish in the big and little daily decisions that have defined and directed the course of your life thus far.

Because at some point, things will change, and people will come and others will go. And one day you will wake up and this independence, this freedom- will be gone. And when that happens, as happy as you may be in your new shared life, there will be moments. Moments where you miss this. Where you miss the quiet or the simplicity. Moments when you miss playing a song on repeat just because it's how you feel. Moments when you miss going to bed alone, with your thoughts and the freedom that comes with only have yourself to worry about."

"And at once I knew I was not magnificent."

Seeing Color

...and just when I thought the grey mundaneness of winter would swallow me whole, I saw color again. Vibrant pinks and oranges in the sunsets, deep magnificent shades of turquoise in the water and brilliant light in the faces of those who literally have nothing, but a world full of color.

Belize 2012

Everyday.

"I love you" he said, his voice sounding farther away then ever. "I love you everyday" I responded before reluctantly hanging up the phone. Sitting in our sunroom, staring out into the dark Denver night I couldn't help but wonder when the next time I hear his voice will be. We already seem so far away and in a few short weeks- we will actually be worlds away.

It's been a little over a year and a half since our paths have crossed and with the new turn his life has taken, it is unclear when I will see him next. Our friendship however, has never been one based on close proximity- in fact we only ever lived in the same place for four months total. But that short time was all it took. Those four months were the start of our friendship, the beginning of a deep relationship and a lifetime of a mutual understanding. Our paths crossed and our lives were forever intertwined, regardless of where we are today and the extremely different paths that will get us to where we want to be in the end.

"I'm proud of you" he said after I detailed my life in Colorado, my job, the committees I sit on and my social life that never really seems to slow down. "and I'm proud of you" I responded as he explained his upcoming move, the choices that he's made for his family and the way his life has changed so quickly. As I sit and listened to the things he wants out of life (because somehow, we always find ourselves discussing these types of things), I couldn't help but realize that though our current lives, realities and responsibilities may be so very different right now, in the end- we want the same thing.

It is what brought us together in the beginning and it is what will continue to be the foundation of our friendship, whether we go a year without speaking or five years without seeing each other. We get it, and though we are taking different paths to get there, happiness is coming for the both of us.

"Isn't it funny where life takes us?" he asked as we were closing out the conversation. "Those signs in life that you follow, that you feel deep within you- really do lead you to where you belong"

And as I sat in the sunroom I remembered the signs that I felt before moving here. The license plate, the late nights on the rooftop dreaming of Colorado sunsets and the actual physical pull that I felt to this state and to the place that I now call home, all signs that I chose to follow. "When you feel a place deep within you, you know that it will be a part of you in some way forever" he finished. And as I agreed with him I couldn't help but feel that Colorado will definitely be a part of me forever in one way or another. Then I pictured him, bags packed, leaving for the place that he will put his roots down, the place that he will begin to call home and I couldn't be more proud and more excited for my friend and his next step towards happiness.

"I miss you" he said. And I responded with a simple yet very heavy, "I miss you everyday".

Things I Learned After a Weekend At Home.

• There is no such thing as too much wine


• No matter what - your parents are your biggest support system


• Your grandmother is not as naive and innocent as you think. Thus, listen to her carefully and take her advice. Her life experiences trump yours - ten fold.


• A full house is a happy house. And a house full of family is a house full of love


• Those friends who come over to say hi to your family and end up staying for hours, are the ones who will stay with you forever. They're the ones who are part of your family themselves.


• Traditions are a way for us to confirm our deepest values as a family, as a community


• No matter how hard you try, your mom's pumpkin bread always tastes better than yours


• You are the purest, most real version of yourself around your family


• There is something comforting about sleeping in your old room, surrounded by old memories - even if it means accepting the fact that your room has literally been untouched by the sands time


• As you get older, catching up with your cousins feels like reconnecting with best friends


• Noticing more grey hairs and wrinkles on your parents is no longer amusing, as the weight of their aging begins to really sink in.


• Sharing a silent ride to the airport with your dad at 4 am is the best way to decompress and end a solid weekend at home


• That being happy to return to your city, your job, your own home - means you are in the right place at the right time. And that in itself, is something to be thankful for.

Brunching Hard.

When I moved to the mile high city a little over a year ago, I was the farthest thing from a brunch person. Coming from Seattle I was accustomed to grabbing a quick Starbucks coffee and a bagel (or a pumpkin loaf, if I was feeling wild) to go each and every day of the week. Maybe it was the great sense of urgency I felt living there, the constant state of rush, the hurry up and get it done mentality - but rarely did I ever find myself sitting down to eat my first meal of the day, weekend or not.

Denver though, is different. There must be something in the air here that causes people to slow their roll, embrace their hangover and show their faces in public for multiple hours over an eggs benedict and a bloody mary any given day of the week. And as hard as it was to get used to in the beginning- the mid-morning socializing, the fact that my body now rejects coffee as a hangover cure and only permits vodka, as well as coming to terms with looking heinous whilst being out in public in morning- I, after a year here have become quite the brunch connoisseur.

I knew I had made it as in the big leagues not too long ago when I realized that I was able to break brunch down into four categories, all of which I or someone that I am close to has had first hand experience with.

The First: "Rally The Troops" Brunch

It's Saturday morning. 9:30 am. There's three people asleep in your living room and your best friend is passed out next to you fully clothed wearing her boots and cross body purse. You hear people moving around in the kitchen and you know it's time. You call the neighbors with your eyes still closed and beg them to bring you coffee. They refuse. Vodka is coming out of your eyeballs and you begin to get the feeling of impending doom. "If i don't get to brunch right now, I just may not make it" you think to yourself. An hour and nine haggard friends later - you find yourself at an oversized circular table ordering rounds of water, diet cokes and a make it or break it bloody mary. Your waitress hates you all because she's equally as hungover but has it much worse than you do because she's working on a Saturday morning. You hate her because she won't split up the bill. You find yourself inhaling your meal and the meal of the person next to you, only to feel worse than ever before. But the gossip from the previous night keeps your spirits high and you order another bloody. "what the hell else? it's Saturday and we're at brunch" you think. Three hours and six rounds later you're back where you started- in your house, wanting nothing more then to be horizontal, for the rest of your life. It was a successful morning, now you must sleep and regain your strength to hit the town for the second night in a row.

The Second: "This is how we do it in Denver" Brunch

Recently my cousins came to visit me from guess where? Seattle. And in planning out our weekend together and their first time to D-Town, I made sure to put two brunches on the weekend itinerary. When family or friends come and you're trying to impress them - you must take matters seriously and make a reservation somewhere. In this case, I reserved a table for five at a local favorite. We would never dare hit up this place on any old Sunday, as the line is always out the door and when you're hungover the last thing you want to do is sit and stare at people chowing down on french toast, likewise i'm pretty sure the last thing that they want to do, is watch you try to keep your shit together while waiting in line. Anyways, this is the type of brunch where you show off the local cuisine and you say things like "Oh my gosh, the crab cake benedict is to die for!" or "you must try their french press coffee, it's outstanding". Regardless of whether you're feeling hungover or not, you keep it together for the sake of you visitors. You limit yourself to one mimosa - you've got the Coors brewery tour next anyways, and you order mini scones as a pre-brunch snack. "Everyone in Denver goes to brunch" you tell them, and Monday morning you get a text from one of them that reads "my bagel just didn't cut it this morning." Right?! because that's how we DO it in Denver.

The Third: "Why Am I Sitting Across From You Right Now" Brunch

Not too long ago at a "Rally the Troops" brunch, I was enjoying my third trip to the bloody mary bar when a guy walked in followed by a girl that was clearly in her clothes from the night before. "Sucks to be her" we all said as we watched them awkwardly converse and try to stuff down food as quick as possible. "Why do you think she agreed to go to brunch?" we pondered, then we spent the next hour playing the guessing game on what they were talking about and feeling really bad for the poor girl who was in stiletto's and sparkly top. I guess the only thing to say next here is Karma is a bitch, because recently I found myself in a similar situation. Our paths crossed during a day of drinking and football, too much of both actually. Had I actually brunched before we went to a bar to drink and watch the football game, maybe I wouldn't have found myself spending far too much time with a guy who was wearing a camo hat that said "gut deer?" on it. Why "gut deer?" you ask? He went to school in Montana, he can't help it. Not to mention there's something about camouflage that unfortunately, gets me every gdamn time. So there I was, ten am at a bar drinking a bloody mary and breaking bread with this guy. He was wearing the "gut deer?" hat. I was wearing a scarlet letter and my clothes from the night before, wondering how many people in the bar were placing bets on what our conversation was about. It was a nice gesture, to buy my brunch I mean. He really did not have to do that, and in retrospect I most definitely did not have to accept his invitation. But somehow, the experience shed a whole new light on this aspect of brunching. Thus - I am forever indebted to "gut deer?" and though he actually refused to give me his hat at the end of our 24 hour date, I doubt I will ever forget him and if anything, at least now I know what people talk about during these type of brunches.

The Last and Very Well Respected: Date Brunch

Contrary to the third type of brunch, people here in Denver do actually date over brunch. Take for example, my friend Jenny who went on a brunch date not too long ago herself. A reservation is definitely needed in these instances, as is looking presentable and not smelling like day old booze. She met him at a conference, and being the doctor that he is, mornings worked best with his schedule. Thus, the brunch and the first and last of it's kind for those two. Though I was initially really perplexed by his early morning date offer, I now have come to the realization that morning dates may be the best kind. I mean, it's bright outside, there's natural light and you see things and people for what they really are, nothing is hidden by dimly lit corners, sexy candlelight or red wine. Also, your brain is freshest in the morning, making conversation easier and giving you the potential to seem smarter then you actually are. I've seen them before, these so called brunch dates. Two people, dressed cute yet casual, laughing and sharing a frittata and a seared egg sandwich, discussing their jobs, their dreams, their lives. They always look happy and for the most part genuinely interested in each other, and though I have yet to go on a brunch date of this kind - I get the appeal. And though it did not work out for Jenny and the shorty doctor that she met mid-conference in Kansas, I appreciate the change up and her attempt at early morning, completely sober conversation.

In conclusion, perhaps the best part about brunching is the fact that you're surrounded by people that all fall into one of these four categories. Someone is being rowdy in a corner, someone is showing off, another person is trying desperately to hide their face and that couple in the corner is falling in love over cappuccino's. And as a connoisseur now, I would have to say that being in one of these categories sure beats the hell out of getting a luke warm coffee, a half-toasted bagel, and a simple "good morning" on your daily Starbucks run. And that's how it's done in Denver.

Color Blocking.

3 Boys Who Said They'd Love Me Forever.

The Latin Lover

I was 16 and had been chosen as a delegate from my hometown to attend a international leadership conference in Washington D.C. the summer before my junior year of high school. I had been to both the city and statewide versions of the conference and while spending a week sans parents in the Nation's capital sounded fairly enticing- I couldn't imagine giving up an entire week of my summer with my friends and the 19 crushes I was pursuing at that time. After quite a few back and forth arguments with my mom, I agreed to take part in this "resume builder" and got on my first solo plane ride across the country.

It was just after the opening ceremony on the first night during one of many 'dances' at the conference, that I spotted him. "Umm that guy is staring at you" Dana from Georgia said as I returned the favor and flashed him my best sixteen year old version of a geisha glare. He was standing across the room surrounded by a posse of Puma wearing, dark haired and brown skinned friends, just staring at me. I guess you could say it was love at first sight and despite the extremely difficult language barrier, we spent the rest of the week wrapped up in each other's company. His name was Alfredo and he was a soccer player from Mexico, sent by his own school to better his English and represent his country. Alfredo and I spent hours together, post-conference sessions, just being together. I would watch him school his buddies in soccer and he would listen to me intently as I desperately tried to explain to him what fettucini alfredo is and why his name was so funny to me. At the end of our seven days in D.C. we had one final formal dance. Alfredo showed up at my door with flowers and a TY beanie baby dog, asking to escort me to the event. "He loves you, I can see it in those eyes" my roommate Shira from Israel said.

And, well it turns out he did. Or at least he said he did. That night Alfredo and I danced 'til dawn, we stayed up until my early morning flight in the dorm hallway holding hands, kissing and trying to make sense of our whirlwind romance and the deep feelings that had come from it. Upon my return home, I had 17 love interests waiting to be pursued and the flame that burned between Alfredo and I faded with time. He frequently expressed his feelings for me via AIM for months after the conference and I often times led him to believe that I still felt the same, though I really had no intention of trying to make an international relationship work, especially before Skype was even on anyone's radar.

Alfredo called me the summer after I graduated college, proving two things. One - yes, I still have the same phone number that I did when I was 16. And two, I found myself thinking that his love really was endless- that when he said he would never stop loving me, he meant it. It was endearing and made me feel needed, unforgettable even. That is, until last year when I hadn't heard from him in a while. I had been going through a dry spell and needed a little positive affirmation that I was still on someones (anyones) mind, so I bit the bullet and reached out to Alfredo via Facebook just to say hi, see how he was and to maybe check to see if the love was still there.  I dont exactly know what I was expecting him to say, after all- it had been years.  I guess I should have seen it coming when to my dismay, Alfredo wrote me back a four line message only to say that he was seeing someone new, they were in love and that he wished me a nice life. Right...he really let me down easy that Alfredo, and that was when I told myself that the language barrier we once encountered as love struck high schoolers, still existed.

The High School not-so Sweetheart

I met Dan at youth group during high school. Being the party loving jock that he was, i'm fairly certain his parents forced him to go every Wednesday and even more so- forced him to attend the spring break mission trip to Tijuana. We were in the same housing group in Mexico and became infatuated with each other while building a home for a family of four that greatly needed one. It was real love that we created while spending nights talking in the courtyard at the orphanage where we were staying. I say it was real because at the time, I had cornrows and neither of us had showered for the better part of a week. We were vulnerable, broken by the reality of the circumstances around us, we were open to the experience, to emotion and to each other. I loved the way he interacted with the kids at the building site and he loved watching me try to hammer something together, most always failing. We became inseparable that week and upon our return home, immediately began dating. Time passed, and unfortunately Mexico became a mere memory, the feelings became harder to conjure and with the pressures of modern day high school we began to encounter problems that any typical high school couple faces on the reg. He would drink and make out with other girls, I would drink and send him hate/breakup text messages, only to get back together with him days later. We struggled daily to get back to the place where we had started, to the realness we felt in Mexico and one rainy night we met in a parking lot, both knowing full well what was coming. We sat in my green Jetta and sighed as we both finally accepted the inevitable - it was over, we were done. And as he got out of my car to head home he said "I love you and always will". It was the first time he had ever said those words in such a way and for a moment I saw a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, that glimmer was short lived and I don't know why exactly I was the least bit surprised to hear that he had sucked face with some hussy that night at a party only hours after our break up and his confession of love, while I most definitely was simultaneously drowning my sorrows in a bucket of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream and a chick flick on my couch.

I went away to college soon after that and though our communication was sparse, it still existed at times. That is-until I got word that he had a new girlfriend, quit drinking and became the committed boyfriend that I had always wanted him to be. Dan sent me his personal statement to edit one day during my first semester at college, signing the email "can you edit this for me? love ya girl" and I edit it I did - rewriting everything and fixing the thousand or so grammatical errors found on the first page alone. I mailed it back to him, including a personal statement of my own, and never heard from him again. It's been six years since then and while I sometimes wonder where he ended up or who he loves now, I mostly just wonder if he used the personal statement that I wrote for him to get into his dream school.

The One That Went Away.

"You're going to be an actress someday Miss America" he used to say to me when we were riding through the orchards and hop vines in his white pick up truck. "You show all of your emotion through your eyes" he'd say smiling at me from the drivers side, chewing on his ever present toothpick. I would giggle and ask him if we could stop to pick an apple before heading home. Summertime was our time. Every year, my parents would drive me the three hours to my grandparents farm in central Washington only to leave me there for weeks at a time. It was during these summer visits that my grandpa taught me everything about life and it was during those life lessons, that I loved him the most.   He calmed me, he brought me back down to earth and he showed me that shared silence is powerful and more importantly, okay. We would drive through the hills, monitoring the harvest and sharing our favorite- peanut butter and honey sandwiches in complete silence. He would stop at the lake so I could run out my energy, then we'd head to his bird sanctuary to check on the soon to be hatched eggs before returning home for dinner. We would watch TV together, and plan out my life.   

Though we were close, my grandfather rarely told me he loved me, or anyone for that matter really. As much of a softy as he was, he had a hard time expressing his feelings and was very intentional when he did. When he got sick we made the all too familiar trek to the farm to visit him in the hospital. True to form, he made me laugh as I walked in the door, making faces at me and smiling through the tube that was placed down his throat. He communicated at that time through writing on a white board that was on the nightstand in his hospital room and while I was visiting we would play tic tac toe and draw pictures of the freaky nurse that was tending to him. But it was on the last day of my visit, just before I left that I told him how much I loved him and that I would see him soon. He then grabbed his mini white board and wrote "I love you always Miss America".

Weeks later, I gave the eulogy at his funeral. A young girl shaking at the microphone, I spoke to friends, workers and our extremely large family, reminding them of all the incredible attributes my grandfather possessed. Losing him was like losing a piece of myself, and I always wonder if he'd be proud of me today, if still thinks I should be an actress and if he could still read my emotion through my eyes.

*Though these three boys don't talk to me anymore by choice or by circumstance, they are all still very much a part of me. Whether they think of me on a random day and care what I am doing or not, or whether they even remember the time in their lives that they loved me, I remember them. Our timing may have been off or cut short, but at one time they made me happy and at one time they told me exactly the exact words that I needed to hear.