It's Not You, It's Me

One month ago, I arrived in New York; and ever since that first moment when my feet hit the long stretch of concrete, my mind has been a complete mess of muddled mush.

Imagine the fastest, highest, wildest roller coaster ride you've ever been on in your life.  The world around you flashes by in an instant.  Strands of hair whip you across your face, whether it's your own hair or the person sitting next to you.  You have no idea what has possessed you to stand in line for what feels like an eternity, only to get whipped in the face, jerked from side to side and nearly losing your lunch.  

You step off the roller coaster and have absolutely no recollection of what you saw as you were being hurled through the air along the winding track, but you are fairly certain it was amazing because it felt amazing.  My friends, that is the only way I know how to describe the past four weeks of my life in New York City. 

Each day has been a surprise, an exercise, a conflict, a challenge, an enlightenment.  

I have felt happy, intimidated, courageous, lonely, afflicted, creative, tired, observant and every now and then: defeated.  

Every moment has demanded some measure of concentration: even if only to close my eyes and try to let go of the events of the given day.  In this city, while working full time at a new job and still living out of two suitcases, even the seemingly simple and natural act of sleeping requires a concentrated effort.  

My writing had been set aside these past few weeks, as I opted to take in what I saw, rather than share it with the world as I had been this past summer.  

The lack of stability and familiarity has burdened my thoughts and mind in such a way that is difficult to articulate.  And as I sat on the shore of the East River along Brooklyn's busy borough, I wondered; Am I happy?

And much like the meager attempt to enjoy the view from a speeding roller coaster, I began to see happiness in a similarly blurred and mysterious way.  I had ventured out of Manhattan in an effort to see the sunset; something that is very difficult to do in an otherwise completely vertical city. And as I sat there gazing across the river, I began to laugh a little as the sun sank behind the entire island of Manhattan, still blocked by the skyscrapers that line the entire radius of the city.

It was funny, because in that moment, I realized how much effort it is going to take to survive here.

Am I happy here?  Was I really ever happy anywhere?

For short stints of time, yes, I felt happy.  Skipping around from place to place trying to outrun, outsmart, outmaneuver myself.  But time and time again, the void followed.

And now, as I sit at my computer and finally bring myself back to my writing, I realize that the void is not where I reside, but rather what has always been residing within me.

It is terrifying to finally understand that I need to face my fears, and hopefully believe in myself enough to follow my dreams.

New York City is only the backdrop of this story I have decided to share with you.  And I will tell you this much; it is a character all its own.

Today:

Peach Bellini

Fresh Peach puree
Glass of Prosecco

Back to Work and Getting Settled!

I never thought I would be so excited to get back to work! Can you believe it?? After only four days in NYC, I am now employed and ready to serve up some drinks once again.  Talk about moving quickly!!

It's amazing how much better I felt when I woke up this morning.  It was like I could actually relax and go have a fun day of walking adventures.  Knowing that I have an income in the immediate future provides me tremendous relief.  

NYC is just one of those cities where you don't want to go broke.  

But to be perfectly honest, it's more than just a financial relief.  When you uproot your life and move to a huge city such as this, it is very unsettling to not have certain things in order.  It felt good to wake up today and know I have somewhere to be on Monday at a certain time.  To know that I fit in and that I am respected by managers and so on is something that brings me great contentment.  

It is a nice feeling to be able to meet new people and have something in common, even if it is only our place of employment.  It just feels good. 

I feel like I'm part of it now; like I'm really here.  

I know that the next major box to check off will be to actually find my very own room to rent.  But for now, I'm really happy.  

I can't even begin to describe how amazing it is to have good friends.  My almost instant transition to the city would not have been so seamless if it were not for my friends here in NY.  

These amazing individuals have been looking out for me, networking, calling, texting, e-mailing, sending out my resumes, apartment hunting and teaching me all about the public transit system.  I honestly don't know if I could have, or would have even wanted to do this without them. 

I think today I just feel so much gratitude.  I have the most loving friends and family.  I have a new job that will provide some stability.  And I have this great big delicious city, to dive into, head first.  

I just don't think I could ask for much more.  

Today:

Mint Chocolate Martini

1 1/2 oz Vodka

1 oz Chocolate Liqueur

1/2 oz Peppermint Schnapps 

Swirl of chocolate sauce in the glass. 

Shake and Strain into a martin glass. 

Serendipity

If I could describe my first day in New York, I would have to say that it has been nothing short of surreal.  I pretty much cannot emphasize that enough. If you read along, you'll no doubt agree.

What if I told you that on my very first day in Manhattan, I literally ran into someone I once loved very much? Someone I haven't seen for nearly fifteen years... Would you believe it? Yeah... I couldn't really either! But I did... and it may be one of the craziest experiences of my life.

Allow me to explain.

I woke up bright and early today in an attempt to tackle a very busy day in the city.  I had to meet up with my friend to grab his set of apartment keys and then get ready for my job interview.  I was way way ahead of schedule though; leaving me with a few extra hours to kill beforehand.

So I walked around the block to the Chelsea Market to grab a quick snack and say hello to my friend who works there, when I was suddenly caught off guard by a man who was giving me a very perplexing look.  The place was very crowded; people were everywhere.  But for one split second, it was just us. He stopped dead in his tracks: frozen, wide-eyed, hands visibly trembling.  It took a few moments, seconds really, to recognize each other.  And I could not believe my eyes.

Could this really be happening??

And there, in the middle of one of the busiest most crowded cities in the United States, I embraced one of the first guys I ever really loved.

I was sixteen years old when I first met him.  He was older (naturally)... and had that kind of edge about him that makes every good girl suddenly feel like a little rebel.

He was an artist, a poet and a musician; otherwise known as a triple threat.  He brought out creativity in me that I practice to this day. He also introduced me to Indian food, which is probably one of my favorite souvenirs from our time spent together.  It was so "mature."

It was a really dramatic break-up... as almost all teenage romances certainly are.  And I've often wondered what had become of this person who meant so much to me all those years ago.

If he hadn't seen me, I would have just missed it completely.  And now, a rather small conceived idea of killing some time, actually transpired to one of the most intense mind blowing, cataclysmic moments I have EVER experienced.

Everything that we've said to each other today is too personal to really share here; and anyway, the details wouldn't really make much sense to people who didn't know us when we were together so long ago.  We were so young when we last saw each other. But he was the kind of person who really stuck in my memory: he helped shape the artist, the writer and character I am even to this day.

I can hardly find the words to  describe what an amazing and life changing moment this was for me today, but the reality of this bizarre twist of fate has left me completely and utterly awe-stuck.  And dare I go so far as to say, inspired. 

I went about the rest of my day in an absolute haze.  I was abuzz with shock and bewilderment by this serendipitous encounter.

And as I lay my head down to wander away into a quiet reflection of the day, I  have made a rather startling discovery; there is magic in Manhattan. And I just got one huge, healthy serving of it.  

I'm certainly 'Not in Kansas anymore.'

Today:

Apple Martini

1 1/2 oz Vodka 
1 1/2 oz Sour Apple Pucker
Splash of Sour 

Shaken and served up.

I Couldn't Have Said it Better...

Theme From New York, New York

Click to Listen!! 

'Start spreadin' the news, I'm leavin' today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

I want to wake up, in a city that never sleeps
And find I'm king of the hill
Top of the heap

These little town blues, are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it
In old New York
If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you, New York..New York

New York...New York
I want to wake up, in a city that never sleeps
And find I'm A number one, top of the list
King of the hill, A number one....

These little town blues, are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it
In old New York
If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you, New York..New York New York!!!'

Wish me luck!!! 

Pushing Buttons

I once heard it said that 'it's our family who are the most capable of pushing our buttons, because they are the ones who installed them.'  I don't know about your family, but in mine, I would say this is quite true.  People tend to think of this phrase in a negative way, but I am fairly certain that my family's circuit boards are well equipped with all kinds of buttons: some extra sensitive, some are capable of great destruction, while others are mostly pushed to send a resurgence of warm thoughts, shared hopes and love.

It's funny how we tend to carry on whatever our parents, grandparents and favorite uncles instilled in us.  When we are young, we think we are so different from our parents.  And yet, as the years go by, the similarities creep in more and more.  I can only imagine how this will mold and shape the generations to come.

It can be a scary thought; passing along whatever nuggets of wisdom or peculiar traits we pick up from our upbringing.  How much do you borrow from your parents? And which things are you better off checking at the door??

Is it like a recipe that we feel the need to keep secret and follow to the very letter? Or, should we attempt to improve upon the recipe all together??

It's a sticky subject, but in this day and age, I think it is a rather necessary one to consider.

As a writer and storyteller, I tend to sit back at observe others whether I am consciously aware of it or not.  And I can't help but get some sort of bizarre satisfaction over the dialogue that I overhear on a daily basis.  The things people do and say while at work vs. their home environment is rather amusing.  And I am sure, the same can be true for my own little quirks and sense of humor.

Some characteristics are intensified while surrounded by my family.  And I truly believe it has a little something to do with those buttons I mentioned earlier...

The truth is, I think I've finally come to grips with how similar I am to various members of my family, and on the flip side, how very different I am as well.

The most unfortunate souvenir we carry along with us is this business of needling the people we love the most.  I am not sure who decided way back in the day that picking on their loved ones was some fascinating display of affection, but it seems quite common not only in my nuclear family, but also among other families and within relationships that I see all around me each and every single day. Maybe its the way we manage to stand the people we share our past, present and future histories with. Hmmmm...

But overall, I think we could really do without it.  I wouldn't mind if instead of needling one another, we tried harder instead to build each other up.  Now that is a button I wouldn't mind dusting off for the betterment of all our sanity.

Why not try a little harder to keep our hands to ourselves and leave other peoples'
(more sensitive) buttons the hell alone! Or in the very least, press some positive buttons to build each other up while your're on a roll...

I think that would be a refreshing change of pace for sure!

Today:

Gin & Tonic! 
1 oz Gin
Splash of Tonic 
On the Rocks with a Lime Wedge!!
Delicious, refreshing and so simple!!!

Here with my big brother... the ultimate picker and best friend!!!  

Below: Two future buttons pushers (my nieces)!!

A Case of Cold Feet

You can be sure it is going to be a rather stressful day when every thought that crosses your mind upon waking ends with a question mark.  

When am I going to come back from NYC? When am I going to see my dogs again? Will they miss me when I am traveling? Or will they forget all about me?? Where will I get a job? If I get a job, will I end up staying through the winter in New York? Or will I go back to California in January? How long before my funds run out? Am I making the wrong choice? Is this a crazy plan? What if...? Where to...?  How much...???? When??? Why??? How??? Where??? 

I have to tell you, this is not a great way to start out the morning.  I sat in bed for nearly an hour as these questions ran through my mind; similar to the way the numbers on the stock market ticker race by with endless flux. 

And I couldn't help but ask myself one last question before getting out of bed: 'Am I getting cold feet?'  

I've had months to plan this excursion.  I have had ample time to carefully deconstruct every nagging fear or question.  And yet, out of nowhere, I am suddenly overcome with nerves.  

With nearly one week left to go before my impending journey, I feel more anxious than ever about taking this trip.  I know it is going to be such a good thing for me to experience, but the weight of the unknowns is a heavy burden to lug around... along with my huge suitcases. 

All these questions simply cannot be answered until I get there.  

And so, with that in mind, I am trying to look at it as a long vacation...  I have no clue what I will want to do after I arrive.  I am not sure if staying for more than a month or two will pan out.  But how can I know? I simply can't from where I sit right now.  

I guess this is just how life goes.  You have to take some chances and just hope for the best.  We can't always have all the answers laid out perfectly before us on a silver tray, but we can do our best to handle whatever may come. 

I'm just going to have to double up on the socks and slippers this week, suck it up, take a deep breath, pack my yoga mat... and try to keep my feet roasty and toasty...

Getting all worked up over the many variables isn't really doing me any favors.  Time to live and let go.   Let go and let God.  The rest are just the details. And who needs them anyway? Oh shoot... another question mark! 

Guess my feet are still a little chilly after all. Oh well... Better just enjoy what I have right now in front of me; two warm little dogs who love nothing more than to make every moment count. They are the zen masters of living in the present moment. Their paws are always nice and warm. 

 Today:

Absolut Stress

1/2 oz Absolut Vodka

1/2 oz Malibu Rum

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps

Equal Parts Cranberry

Pineapple and Orange Juices

On the Rocks!

Something Out of Nothing

Guess what I am doing at this very moment? (Que Jeopardy music for a ten second pause.) Did you guess blogging?? Well duh.  Aside from the obvious answer, I am actually sitting in a Little Caesar's Pizzeria enjoying my very own large plain cheese.  I am a girl on a budget remember??

In a last ditch effort to shake the money tree, I have gotten fairly... ummmm -----.  Not desperate! No, no... CREATIVE!!  Yes, let's call it creative.

I rounded up about ten years worth of winter jackets, skin tight blue jeans, boots, wedges and host of other miscellaneous accessories and hauled them off to a resale clothing store.  They estimated that the sorting process would take roughly forty-five minutes and so I decided to kill a few birds with one stone.  Eat some lunch, write my blog and hopefully, turn a decades worth of laundry into some cold hard cash.

Let me tell you something folks; I'm getting really good at this part-time business of turning a little somethin' something out of a whole lot of nothing.  

Here's a few tips and tricks I have learned under the gun... or more specifically, a budget. 

1. Someone may actually pay you for those 6" high heels that were a complete mistake/impulse purchase.

2. Little Caesar's Pizza always sells "Hot 'n Ready" large pizzas for $5.00

3. If you want to insure that your $5.00 pizza is actually fresh, make sure to order a plain cheese pizza instead of the pepperoni.  They typically only have pepperonis sitting on stand by, and not plain cheese.  So if you have ten minutes to spare, then you will have a fresh large pizza right out of the oven for five bucks!

4. All that spare change stuck together in your vehicle's cup holders actually amount to something! And if you are patient, and can multitask while watching a movie, you can roll about six hundred pennies in about thirty minutes.  Well six bucks, may not seem like much, but it does buy you that large cheese pizza we were just talking about.

5. A smile and friendly small talk goes a long way.  (The lovely manager at the pizza shop threw in a free drink for me after I told her what a great job she was doing.)

Sometimes it really pays to get creative!!!

This summer I bought a brand new pair of running shoes, an airline ticket to NYC and a full tank of gas, all with the loose change I had stock piled around my apartment in jars, purses and yes, my car.

It just goes to show that you can make a little something out of what you may have thought was nothing.

So if you'll excuse me, I have to pack up the rest of this pizza and walk over to the resale shop and see how much all that loot has earned me!!!

Just one more small step on this road to the big city.

Count your pennies and your blessings!!!! And by all means, get creative!


Today:

Woo Woo

1 1/2 oz Vodka
1 1/2 oz Peach Schnapps
3 oz Cranberry juice
on the rocks!

Another Man's Treasure

All week long I have been dreading the task of going to the Social Security Administration.  Can you blame me?  It has been my own personal experience that any government run institution is a royal pain in the ass; long lines, unruly and impatient children and an either boiling hot or freezing cold climate.  Almost sounds like a dreaded trip to the Verizon Wireless store eh? 

Well anyway.... I finally mustered up the strength to tackle this errand head on today.  Having been fully caffeinated and determined to accomplish this task, I set out armed an ready for a long and unpleasant afternoon.  

When I walked into the local Social Security office I was surprised.  It wasn't nearly as treacherous as I had anticipated.  In fact, I was only one of three people waiting in line. Thank you God.  

"Number twenty-one please, " the man from behind the window called.  That's my number!!! 

After answering a few basic questions, the man looked down at the paperwork and sighed.  I must have looked concerned because he almost immediately explained his long winded exhale.  He looked at my former address and revealed how much he absolutely loved Nashville, TN.  

Before I knew it, we were engulfed in a conversation that reminded me of my own affection for my former residence.  He asked me why I would leave such an amazing city; what had brought me here, and if I ever thought of going back.  

And over the following few seconds, my entire Nashville experience flashed before my eyes.  I thought of my apartment, my favorite hangouts, my wonderful friends and even a few unforgettable memories.  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat as I suddenly remembered where I was: in a government office about a week and a half away from heading off to New York City.  

I suddenly felt a sinking feeling that I had no idea if I would ever have a real reason to go back to Nashville.  Of course I have about a hundred great reasons to visit.  But the thought of actually moving back there one day, washed over me in complete bewilderment.  

I looked up at the man on the opposite side of the counter and gave him the most honest answer I could think of on the fly; "I would have to have a really good reason."

This guy was enamored with and determined to move to the very city I had just departed.  And I couldn't help but hope the best for him.  See, I loved Nashville. I still do.  Perhaps I always will. 

Nashville is the kind of city you can simply exist within without having too much pressure or strain. It is a simpler kind of life.  There is plenty of the world's greatest entertainment, delicious food and some genuinely nice folks.  It is the kind of city that doesn't require much from its inhabitants.  And to be perfectly honest, that was precisely my angst. 

I am not ready to sit idle in a city that allows me to do so with relative ease.  

Perhaps one day, when I am tired of meeting the demands of the world, I will go running back to the South just as fast as my feet can carry me. And living there, I will feel very little push and stress from the rat race.  That isn't such a bad picture; sitting on the front porch in my later years, sipping on a sweet tea.  

But the conversation did refresh my memory of all that I loved about Tennessee.  And oddly enough, the brief exchange between two complete strangers is exactly why Nashville is such a treasure; it brings out the neighborliness in people... even government officials.  

Today was the first pleasant and dare I say, painless, experience I have ever had while at a government run institution.  It was even more pleasant than a trip to the dentist, which is shocking because I pretty much hate having metal tools anywhere near my tonsils. 

It just goes to show that one man's past, just may be another man's treasure.  It is comforting to know that there are always more people lined up eagerly to experience things I have held so dear.  And maybe, one day, I will go back there and have another go 'round of Southern Hospitality.  

In the meantime, I am hungry.  And I think a Big Apple a day is just the medicine I've needed for a long time.  Well that, and a social security card.  

When I turned around, there was suddenly a very long line behind me.  And I couldn't help but smile as I walked out the door,  having accomplished more than what I bargained for in record time. 

Today:

Mint Julep

2 1/2 oz Bourbon

4-5 Mint Sprigs

1/2 oz Simple Syrup

Muddle Mint and Syrup in a collins glass and then

fill the glass with Bourbon.  Stir with crushed ice. 

 

  

  

 

Baggage

Well, there is no mistaking it; I've got a lot of baggage.  Literally... As I look around the apartment at the three empty suitcases that I'll inevitably fill, I am suddenly overwhelmed.

Getting ready to go on a trip for an undetermined length of time is a somewhat daunting process.  Do I pack work clothes? Bedding? Winter boots, jackets and scarves?  Do I pack light and have some things shipped if I stay longer?? Oy...

Meanwhile, my poor little dogs are hovering around the luggage and pacing the apartment.  As soon as I pull out the suitcases, they look at them wide eyed and nervous: not this again.

I won't be able to take my dogs with me yet.  It would make the settling in process about a hundred times more difficult.  And if I can spare them the added anxiety of roommates, city traffic, and late nights, then there is no question that I ought to leave them behind... for now.

It's crazy.

I look around and see a patchwork quilt of my life, post graduation.  I feel lucky to have experienced so much over the past eleven years since high school.  What a wild ride.  From the West Coast to the  great Southwest, then down to the Mid South and up to the Midwest; my life looks more like a stack of postcards rather than the images I see in most of my peers' family albums.  But that's just me.  That is the nature of change and adapting to whatever circumstance I seem to be in the midst of. It's an amazing thing, to have had the good fortune of living life in so many wondrous places.

But the baggage I accumulated over the years is bulky, heavy and perhaps excessive. There are some things I am holding on to that may not serve me on the road ahead.  Like my wedding china for instance; someone please tell me what I am supposed to do with that??  The delicate place settings, serving bowls and coffee cups have lasted much longer than my marriage ever did.  And I carry the box around from state to state with precision and care... And I am over it.

Sometimes I imagine taking a trip to Greece, where upon arrival, I unwrap the delicate wedding china and hurl it at the pristine white floor and let it smash at my feet while shouting OPA!!! In this fantasy, I am dancing around the shattered pieces, wearing a crown of olive leaves and a sleek white dress similar to Aphrodite's.

Hummus anyone?

And what about the other items I have hauled around from place to place: pictures, dresses and books of poetry? Shall I stand at the mouth of the East River and toss it in as some sacrificial offering to Manhattan... to my future?? 

Or shall I continue to leave it happily collecting dust in my storage, as I have done for the past few years? The boxes are stacked high; one on top of the other... Talk about excess baggage.

I know that the day will surely come when I will know what to do.  I can sense that I am inching my way closer to the answer with each passing season.  I don't want this much baggage.

I don't need it either.

But the answer hasn't come to me yet.  But I have a hunch that it is waiting for me in this next place I explore: probably under a shady tree, speckled with October's rose and amber hues in the midst of Central Park. Perhaps then I will know what to do and how to shed these bulky items that are no longer serving me. Alas, I continue to pack.

*Note to self: have fun, work hard, be safe and travel light! 

Today:

Cape Cod

1 oz Vodka
2 oz Cranberry Juice
Garnish with a lime wedge
On the Rocks!

Muscle Memory

You know what is so funny?  I went a very long time without writing.  I think it was maybe the year after I graduated from college that I simply checked out creatively.  

I chose screenwriting for film and television as my major, and from that moment on, I was in a seemingly endless cycle of writing and rewriting.  While I loved the process very much indeed, I'll admit that I struggled with the most simple aspect of storytelling: what to write about.  

Some of my classmates made this look so easy.  I envied their ability to concoct wild stories of rescue or political satire.  I would read over their work, look up at them, then back to the page and think; Where the hell did that come from??

I have always had a very natural ease with writing. Whether a poem, an essay, a short story, a screenplay or even something in iambic pentameter, the words have made their way to page without much thought or mental editing.  

But when I sat down to write a screenplay for the first time, I was absolutely stuck.  Instead of just writing one scene, I would get caught up in how that scene would somehow affect the entire script and as a result, I would just sit there in bewilderment at the blank screen. 

Another problem I encountered with screenwriting was chopping out entire chunks of descriptive pros.   You have to switch off that part of your brain that desperately wants to dazzle the reader with delicate and beautiful sentences.  In fact, my professor would often tell us that screenplays should have mostly white on the page.  

So, with that in mind, I began strength training this muscle that I hadn't even known existed before.  It was an exercise in setting up meaningful and effective dialogue.  Writing for a visual medium, means that all those pretty little descriptive pros are actually replaced by everything you see on camera: courtesy of the cinematographer,  the actors and director.  

So when I graduated college, I felt numbed by the process of the rewrite.  Not only is writing challenging enough when you are having to consider its future offspring of film and television, but the aspect of a seemingly endless cycle of rewriting is enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and hibernate for about five years.  And so naturally, that is precisely what I did. 

Well, seven years to be exact.  I guess I needed to live a little and gather up some new material.   

And now, all these years later, sitting down to write is so natural it is almost scary.  It is like a muscle memory.  Without much thought at all, I sit down with my laptop and write.  Before I am even half-way through my first cup of coffee, I am more than half-way finished with my daily writing exercise.  

But I have to admit that I am still mesmerized by these writers who sit down and tell an entire story.  That is where I fear that I am a little... stuck. 

The past seven or eight years have provided me with a treasury of new material.  And that may be the very reason I began writing again a few months ago.  I had to put into words some of the harsh lessons I have learned.  And as I often do with most everything in life, I frequently opt to put a comical spin on it.  

But telling an entire story is something entirely different.  It is much more daunting than my daily challenge of writing something new just as soon as I wake up.  A novel? A screenplay? A plot? A theme? A hook? Red Herring? Chapters?? Act 1... Act 2... Act 3... Eh, I don't know...

I may not be ready to sit down for that quite yet, but I do feel that each and every day I write... I am sneaking up on the story that is just sitting up on top of my dusty shelf of a brain, just waiting to be told.

Until then, we'll just have to wait and see what happens next. 

Today:

Hemingway Special

2 oz White Rum

1/4 oz Maraschino liqueur

1 oz Grapefruit Juice

1/2 of a fresh squeezed lime

  

 

Sensory Under-load

The silence is deafening.  Have you ever experienced that kind of definitive quiet?  When I first arrived in Michigan three and a half months ago, I recall those first few nights as being a tough transition.  Everything about living in the woods is different.  It was a nice change from the little suburban life that had become too familiar to me in Franklin, Tn. 

I guess I am just the kind of person who needs to shake things up every few years.  Perhaps it is part of what stimulates my creativity and zest for life.  

So, after five years of living in Music City, USA, I came here to Traverse City for a short season of outdoorsy adventures, a slew of festivals and plenty of fresh air.  

I also took a summer job at a popular restaurant in town that boasts one of the best on the water dining experiences.  Since that seasonal job had come to an end as of two weeks ago, I have found myself a little more perplexed by the audible silence that insulates this entire property.  

When the wind blows at night, I welcome the clasping, chatter of the tree branches.  It is as if we are new neighbors, and they have thrown me a house warming party.  How thoughtful. 

Two days ago, I drove up the long and narrow stretch of road that leads to our gate.  At the entrance were three deer.  There was a mama deer and her two spotted twins. It was the sweetest sight.  A few days before that, a family of wild turkeys gathered in the front yard.  They weren't very much interested in sticking around though.  They were just passing through. 

As much as I love being outdoors and taking in all the serene nature that is around me each and every day, I can't help but feel a little... uhh, brainless these days.  La dee daa... there's a deer.  Tweedle dee dee, a turkey passing by.  Hmmm... I'd better get that turtle to cross the road.  Oh, wow, I had no idea Bluejays sounded like that!  Doot doo doot, time for bed....

And round and round I go.  Two weeks of pure wilderness, with the occasional night out on the town, has me going a bit stir crazy.  In fact, my lack of real life human interaction has me a bit short of emotional or intellectual stimuli.  

I sit quietly to myself and stare blankly for an unmeasurable amount of time.  I think of things like: trees, nachos, getting back in shape, and even, an ex-boyfriend or two.  Huh, I guess I have been single now for a year... Oh look, a field of bunny rabbits. 

When you live in the forest, the various woodland creatures are your main source of entertainment.  I have given each of them, a troubled backstory.  Bambi's long lost half sister who got knocked up after running away from home when her step mom was shot by hunters long ago.  And Bambi?? Well, he never visits anymore...  Thumper has sixteen children to provide for and they are all plotting against him in hopes to take over everything he has worked so hard for.  Not familiar with Bambi or Thumper?? Well, I'm sorry... but don't worry, my version is far more entertaining. 

Yes folks, I hate to break it to you but these are the kinds of thoughts a writer endures while unemployed and living in the wilderness of northern Michigan.  

I am about to force myself back into society, as I have come to the sad realization of my current state of sensory under-load.  

Under-stimulated.  Underwhelmed... And under the influence of the day in and day out bleakness of the deafening quiet.  

I guess there is only so much peace and quiet I can take.  

I know that I am in for a harsh change in the coming weeks.  When I arrive in New York City on October 1st, I will probably long for the days when I had a quiet night's rest, and for that matter, my own room/bed.  But such is life. 

I guess that is how it goes.  Everything looks better or maybe just clearer in hindsight.  Sometimes I feel that this stage of my life, we will call it 'the early years,' is some kind of calm preparation before being catapulted into whatever it is that I will one day... do.  

I imagine that all this stillness is like the calm before the storm.  You think?  

Well who knows.  It's not like the past ten years have been all that calm or uneventful.  Quite the contrary.  But I suppose it just goes to show that there is just a certain amount of chaotic energy that I crave in order to feel stimulated creatively.  When I don't have it, I feel the need to invent it; unfairly characterizing the poor turkeys as mafia gangsters whether they want it or not...  Boredom for me, is no bueno. 

Alas... I write.  

Michigan (for an extended period of time) may be a bit of a sensory under-load.  While New York City no doubt, promises to be the complete opposite.  Who needs to invent crazy backstories for the woodland creatures, when the crazies that roam the streets of NYC are vying to tell you all about their actual past lives??

Obviously, I am currently suffering from an acute case of cabin fever.  On that note, I think it's time to go into town today, if only to remind myself what the muffled consistency of traffic sounds like.  

Yes, I think that is exactly what the doctor ordered.  

Today:

Bambi's Iced Tea

1 oz Vodka

1 oz Sweet and Sour Mix

Equal parts Coca Cola and Sprite

On the rocks, in a highball glass. 

Divided We Stand

I must say, last night's presidential address from the White House couldn't have come at a worse time.  And from what I gathered from his speech, it would seem as though that is the overwhelming consensus of our nation.  On the eve of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that occurred over a decade ago, killing so many Americans, I couldn't help but sit and watch the address and cringe at the thought of yet another war.  

No matter which side of the debate you stand, you can't help but feel the weight of the September 2001 attacks.  It is as if the ashes and dust from the fallen two towers still waft and linger in the air: it just hasn't settled yet.  

For a moment, I almost imagined that I was seemingly the only one still greatly affected by that horrifying day.  How naive. 

I walked into a small market yesterday afternoon and overheard a few employees gathered around the register reminiscing the day that our country changed forever.  As is almost a cliche anymore, they asked one another a very common question;"Where were you?"  They each had a different story, but each person remembered that morning with absolute precision and clarity.  

And I couldn't help but remember too.  

I think what is so unfortunate all these years later, aside from the glaringly obvious loss of so many human beings no matter their nationality, is that we cannot seem to move past the climate of terror at home and abroad.  

I remember the thousands of posters and flags that were proudly displayed almost instantaneously after 9/11 and how so many boasted a common slogan of patriotism: 'United We Stand'. 

How far from that sentiment we are today.  We are a nation fiercely divided.  And as much as we bicker amongst ourselves and split hairs over the future of our country, it seems more apparent than ever before that we are at war, with each other.  

I really don't like to dwell on the negative.  In fact, most of the time I am hard pressed against taking jabs at the "other side."  I'm just not a fan of political satire, because at the heart of almost everything comical in life, is a deeply rooted undercurrent of heartbreak and disjointed, opposing ideals.  Kind of like a comedian who pokes fun at the most depressing aspects of humanity.  We are divided.  

And I am not sure how to begin working to close that divide.  I may not agree with everything that is happening in our country, but who is??? Can everyone be satisfied? When has it ever been possible to make everyone happy?? 

Perhaps the only thing we can agree on, is that we aren't over what happened on this day in Manhattan, twelve years ago. I do not want to go backwards.  That is the honest truth. 

I know it may be wishful thinking, but I certainly do not want our country to enter into yet another war.  At the same time, I am horrified at the thought of what other human beings are enduring abroad.  

I don't have the answers, and I will not pretend to fully understand the various negative implications on either side of the debate, or for that matter, even the positive ones.  

But I do understand enough about the art of war to know that a divided front is much easier to manipulate and attack than a united one.  We are not standing together.  At least we can agree on that.  

It is as though we are in the greatest identity crisis of our time.  Who are 'Americans' anymore?? What do we stand for? How brave are we? Is corrupt intent of greed operating under a mask of 'bravery'?  Are we the world's policemen?  Do we want that job? 

We cannot seem to agree on any of those answers.  And yet, we must continue to live our lives.  We may have just so happened to have been born a U.S. citizen... But is citizenship born or made?  Both perhaps?? 

I'm sad today.  

I'm sad because I feel at odds politically with some of the people I love and admire the most; my friends and family.  Is that what makes our country weak or unique?  Hmmm, I just don't know anymore. 

I am slow to want to define myself on this issue because I do not see a clear picture on either side.  I do not see positive or constructive resolve either way the political wind is blowing.  

I just see my friends and fellow citizens at odds.  And all I can be sure of is that we are very far from where I hoped we would be.  

Today, I just hope that while we "Never Forget" what happened, or what could happen, I hope we also never forget how fortunate we are to simply be alive.  No matter what country you call home.  No matter where you live, what you do, who you imagine yourself to be; if your stomach is full today and you are able to mindlessly enjoy the warmth of a cup of coffee, well then we can agree that life is pretty good. 

Let's please, practice compassion and an act of kindness on this day, so that we may stand united, if only from that shared sentiment and action.  

Today:

Red, White, Blue

1/2 oz Grenadine

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps or Vodka

1/2 oz Blue Curacao

Layered in a shot glass! 

Salute and shoot! 

Live a Little

You know how people have bucket lists; all the things to see and do before you die?  I often wonder how mine would compare to someone else's.  Would it seem unrealistic or crazy?  Probably not.  I guess to my way of thinking, it is really quite simple.  I don't really have items to check off that are super dangerous or exotic.  In fact, you might even say it was kind of... a short list.

A short bucket list.  Huh.  Well I suppose that is the good news...  Shouldn't be too difficult to accomplish, right?  Eh, wrong! 

I may not have any desire to climb Everest, parachute from a plane, or anything extreme like that, but I do want to live a little.  

The older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is to accomplish all the things you imagined for your life, when you were young.  And although I am not old per se, I am old enough to understand that my bucket list may be a lot more difficult to execute than I had initially anticipated.  

Not every item on the list is something solely within my own power to procure.  Having a family for instance; it all sounds pretty simple, but it isn't something totally in my power or control.  Or is it?  You know, I will have to cycle back around to that one later.

In any case, having a basic outline of things you wish to see, do, experience or accomplish in your life is a good thing.  Checking those things off, is even better. 

In some ways, it's deflating to recognize how little I have actually done thus far to check off this list.  The Seven Wonders of the World for instance, may take years to see.  Seven widely distant, far off places; all requiring time, money and a current passport (if you want to see them all).  Anyway, you get the picture. 

After much consideration, I have made a minor tweak to my list.  I simply challenge myself to experience life (a little) outside of my comfort zone.  You know; try eating weird things with squishy textures, stay out walking with friends until sunrise, wear red lipstick like a fearless fashionista, audition for a broadway play, paint a portrait in the gardens of Versailles or Central Park, eat gelato on the back of a speeding scooter through Rome, or maybe even go on a blind date... 

I think it's time to savor the sweetness of life.  I've been a little scared.  I've been cautious. Because I have already fell on my face financially and romantically a few times this past decade, this shouldn't be too difficult a task.  

Life is for the living.  And I do believe that while we certainly cannot control much, we can do what is within our power to expand our horizons and push our own perceived limitations.  I think it's time to get out there and live life... if only just a little.

There's no time like the present.

Today:

Dirty Gin Martini (one of my favorites)

2 1/2 oz Hendricks Gin
Splash of Olive Juice
Swirl and strain into a chilled martini glass
Garnish with three olives.

Bucket List: Live in an Airstream

Fearlessly Eat Exotic/Squishy Foods

Have a little fun...

  

The Compassion Complex

It is so strange; sitting here today in the comfort of a quiet home and an otherwise simple life.  My worries, relatively speaking, are quite small and insignificant.  I look around, and I see abundance.  When I read the news, I see despair.

It is difficult to express the impact those images have on my heart.  The pain I feel for those in need, who are suffering and fighting to survive, cannot adequately be surmised.  But I can assure you, it is a heartbreak unlike any other.

The long lines of refugees wandering through the harsh desert in search of some shelter and safety is an image that I awoke to this morning.  They walk along, carrying very few belongings.  Most women hold the hands of their small children who are sprayed and whipped by the blowing sands.  How can I not weep at the sight?

They are homeless.  They are terrified.  They are human beings.  And I am never so ignorant to think for one second that their fate couldn't someday be ours too.

'Us' and 'them.'  'They' and 'we.'  'You' and 'I.'  I beg for all of us to foster acceptance and compassion. We are only separated by geography.  We have different cultures of course, and perhaps we pray much differently from one another.  But your faith is not much different than mine; when it is the only thing getting you through the otherwise sleepless night. 

I never really know what I will write about each day.  It isn't something overly planned or thought out.  But no matter what it happens to be about from day to day, there is some common thread; they are some basic daily offerings of who I am and how I perceive the world around me.

I love life.  Even on the worst days, I genuinely love and appreciate my life.  And even on the worst days, I appreciate yours too.

Sometimes I fear that I am losing that sensitivity.  The world is home to the corrupt as well as the compassionate.  And while it would be nice to hear of all the wonderful acts of generosity and kindness that are surely operating in various parts of the world on a daily basis, I wonder if it would make a difference?

The horrific acts of terror abroad, as well as the grotesque violence in our own country, all have a way of overshadowing the most heroic of efforts.  While we [Americans] may judge the chaos of warfare abroad, I wonder how it is that our own country can be so overly wrought with senseless acts of violence, rape and murder.  And for what?? What cause, other than some twisted pleasure or selfishness could these mongrels have? I've said it before and I will say it again: hate begets hate.  But violence doesn't necessarily have to beget violence.  There is always a choice.  

We are indeed a nation of plenty, and with that, it seems that there are some barriers as to how we relate to one another; whether in a foreign land, or the neighboring state.

Thank God, I don't understand the nature of killing.  I don't understand how more killing, could improve any situation.  But perhaps that is why I am not at the table making those types of decisions.

But it doesn't mean that I have to be immune to it either.

I'm sure by tomorrow, I shall resume my otherwise comical, insightful, quirky hopes and diatribes about my own daily pursuit of all that I desire for my time here on earth.  Wait a second... this is still an essay serving that aim. 

Compassion serves the dream.  

If I ever wake up one day and find myself too numb to shed a tear at the sight of mass graves in a foreign country, then I will be truly ashamed.  To feel sorrow, only if it is happening directly to ourselves, is a tragic loss of empathy and compassion.

It is important to strike a balance in life; think of it as the Compassion Complex.  You cannot get so affected that you stop living your life.  But immunity and numbness are not compassionate either. To those who are suffering: I am not immune to your pain.  I am so sorry for all that you are faced with today.

I recognize that this life is a gift and with that comes an obligation to honor it; getting up each day and living life to the fullest in the face of despair. That is what I will continue to do.  Press on.  The fact that I have been so blessed to only write about what I see, and not actually be stranded in the desert, means that I owe it to the very breath of life to keep on believing, dreaming and living each day with gratitude and courage.

And one day, perhaps in some unexpected way, I too could have changed the world for the better.  To have shed compassion and hope: I couldn't ask for much greater purpose than that.


Today:

White Russian

1 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Kahlua
Splash of Cream
On the Rocks