I Signed Up For This

I signed up for this. That is the refrain that moves through my mind almost daily now. This is the thing that I moved back to Kentucky to be close enough to do, this caring for my grandfather, this pitching in. The thing about it is that I don’t know if I actually believed that I would be called upon to pitch in, not for real. Not like this.

Maybe I thought I would move back to Kentucky and drive to Pikeville a couple of times a month and that would assuage my conscience. I wouldn’t feel that ache in my chest any longer every time I thought of my family and what I was missing by being so far away, not the way that I did while I lived in Florida.

The first month or two in Lexington were wonderful. Harry and I driving home to do the stuff that I wanted to, watching my nephew play ball, seeing my sister. Staying in Lexington otherwise to get settled in, stopping by to see Pap when I was in town, but doing none of the heavy lifting myself. Hell, rarely even seeing what the heavy lifting looked like.

It’s not that caring for my grandfather requires a lot. In reality, he is a low maintenance patient. He watches CNN for the majority of his day. He likes coffee in the morning with a bite of breakfast, doesn’t eat lunch, and then has his dinner around 7. Due to the Lewy Bodies symptoms, he needs help with walking, getting changed, personal issues, and into bed, but those are simple enough.

You would think so. Until you’re packing a bag at the beginning of every week to make the two and a half hour drive to the land of no phone service and 72 hours of putting your life on hold.

This undertaking is the hardest thing that I have ever done. Harder than graduating college, harder than moving across the country alone, and harder than getting sober. It is difficult in so many ways, ways that I never even considered when my uncle contacted me to say that they needed my help.

It is hard to leave the life that I am building with Harry in Lexington every single week. Our house is closer and closer to being done. Boxes unpacked, artwork on the walls, finally our home, and I want to enjoy it. Yet every Sunday or Monday I head to central Appalachia.

Watching the man that you thought was invincible deteriorate before your eyes is hard, especially when there are times when he doesn’t know who you are. Moving a 190-pound man takes a lot out of you. By the time that I get in the car to return I am emotionally and sometimes physically spent. It isn’t just the leaving that is difficult. It is the returning as well.

All that I want to do is curl up in bed for a day, maybe two, and ignore the world. I want to see my boyfriend and my dog, do my laundry to erase the smell of stale smoke and tend to the errands that have been neglected while I have been in Pikeville, like the grocery shopping and the meal prep, hopefully hitting the gym. This gets me to the weekend, where I start thinking about packing up my bag and heading back again. I have little energy left for friends and socializing. I simply want to sit on my couch with my tiny family.

Some weekends this desire wins out and I sink into Netflix and a warm fuzzy blanket, doing the absolute minimum that I can while still feeling like I’m not avoiding my responsibilities. Other weekends I do a little better and balance time spent with friends with my chill time at home. All of the time though, I wish that I had more of it, time that it is: more time to spend developing relationships in Lexington, more time to devote to my relationship with Harry, more time for self-care, just more time. Time is finite though, so I pack my bag and hit the Mountain Parkway again.

I signed up for this. This woman who shows up regardless of how badly she’d rather run, of how heavy her heart is, of how troubling her family can be. She is whom I have decided that I want to be. I am strong when I would rather crumble. I keep showing up. I do my best to be helpful. I try to do the things that no one else thinks to do and be useful in ways that are uniquely me. I keep my Grandmother’s spirit in all that I do. Then I return home and occasionally I fall apart. I hide in a serious Netflix binge or a flurry of reading. I accomplish what I can. I do my best to take care of my relationships and myself. I take small steps towards my future. And then I pack another bag because…

I signed up for this.


Mindfully in the Moment

Sitting here on my friend’s porch, post yoga, in the Florida humidity, I am grateful. I have been realizing over the last two weeks that I haven’t been present in my own life in a long while. I have had short periods over the last year of being in the moment, landing in a new city to do some exploring has a way of forcing you to be present, but if I am honest even then my mind has been elsewhere. When I am home I am usually playing catch up with schoolwork and housework, and trying to get my shit together for the next jaunt. I am planning the next trip, counting down the days until departure, or wishing I were already gone. This has made my life at home seem like one obligation after another. When you cram all of your responsibilities into four days, so that you can leave every weekend, life can seem a little hectic!

I am beginning to see that I have been running since May of last year. I haven’t been necessarily running away from anything so much as running towards something, that something being an understanding of myself, what I want, and what I need in this life. I have learned what I like in a city, that I can do anything alone, and that I still use all kinds of weird tools to escape from life, and that long-distance dating is really not great for me. The traveling has been very beneficial and so much fun, but I am looking forward to spending more time at home, to a slower pace, and maybe even some structure!

I am spending the next couple of months at home, except for one short trip, and I am looking forward to it. I had forgotten about how wonderful my life can be when I am an active participant in it. I have great people in my life from all over, but I have been sadly neglecting those close to home. I have been living selfishly. I fully believe that it was something that I had to do, but it is time for it to come to an end. I have spent the last two weeks being mindful of staying present. Life already looks remarkably different, in part because of my change of perception and in part because I am present to take an active role in what is happening around me. There are so many amazing things to see and experience in life, but only when you are present to do so!

Now is for New York


Last night I was lying in a bed in Brooklyn, wishing that I were home in Florida. What a difference a couple of weeks can make. All that I have thought about for months is escaping Florida and diving into the city. Now I cannot wait to fly home on Sunday and spend Memorial Day at the beach.


All of this may have a little something to do with the new man in my life, although new is kind of misleading. Truth be told, I was starting to question my decision to make the move come August even before he reappeared in my life. I had spent so much time on the road over the last year, that I had forgotten how much I really do enjoy my life in Florida, that is when I actually allow myself the time to enjoy it.


I consciously decided to spend my summer in Florida, other than this one trip to the city, to focus on some things that I have been neglecting. Within two full weeks of staying in one place, I really began to enjoy being home. I began to reconsider relocating; at least putting it off until after graduation and once I had found a job. I had even started to think that I should at least consider places other than New York City.


I had somehow convinced myself that what I am looking for could not possibly exist in Florida, since I had yet to find it. So I stopped looking in Florida. I looked elsewhere though. New York, Baton Rouge, even Long Island. Each of these searches ended with me disappointed and in tears. Tears of frustration mainly, as it was clear to me that I was setting myself up for this kind of let down. I decided to give up this search and focus on my life, where it is right now. I decided to firmly plant my feet in the present moment instead of somewhere off in the future or some other place.

It is amazing how quickly things can change when you allow yourself to actually be where you are. In reality, nothing changed, only my perception. My friends are no longer an obligation that I have to fit into the crammed 4 days that I spend at home getting ready for the next trip, they are a joy and a blessing. My house is no longer a war zone of travel bottles and dirty laundry waiting to be washed and repacked, but a welcoming home. All of a sudden I have the time to enjoy where I live because I am not cramming all of my responsibilities into too few days. Once I slowed down beautiful and amazing things started to unfold around me.

These things that are unfolding are both wonderful and a little scary. They are unfamiliar. Being in the present is still a challenge for me. I have to constantly pull myself out of the pretend worlds that I create in my mind. The payoff, I am finding, is more than I could have imagined. Things have happened that I would never have dreamed possible Being present has given me the opportunity to be available to receive the gifts that come along. It has allowed me to make conscientious decisions based on the reality of situations and not on what I would like them to be. It doesn’t mean that everything is smooth sailing; just that I can be present and breathe through whatever comes. And in this current moment, I am reminded that I am in my favorite city in the world with one of my favorite people. I have a full day left to enjoy and explore. Two more opportunities to start my day with a fresh bagel and a long walk with my adoptive dog. I have one and a half more days to eat like calories are a myth and it is Saturday in Brooklyn so Smorgasburg is on the agenda! Sunday evening and coming home to his smiling face will come soon enough. Now is for this moment. Now is for New York. ❤


FEAR – False Evidence Appearing Real or F@%k Everything And Run

I got called a “love pussy” the other day. I’ll admit that I had to ask for clarification as to what exactly that meant. The explanation I was given was, “you’re a pussy when every thing is perfect.” I was still a little confused. Sometimes I can be a little dense. She broke it down for me a little more, “you get scared.” Viola! I got it. Sadly, it is true. I can rush into a burning building, and have as a matter of fact, with minimal fear, but when everything seems to be moving along at an even keel and everything is good, I freak out!

I could probably go into about a million different reasons as to why I constantly expect the worst or how and by what life experiences I have been conditioned to do so. I think that they are valid reasons, but what I find most interesting and problematic is what goes on in my head on a regular basis, whether that other shoe is going to drop or not.  Sometimes these thoughts cause a lot more damage than if the shoe had actually fallen.

My mind can be an absolute torture chamber sometimes. I am not positive, but my guess is that it has always been this way. As a child, I was a constant worrier, terrified of everything. I remember having panic attacks during Desert Storm, just from watching the news. I would write letters to George Bush, imploring him to think about the ramifications of war. Hey, on the bright side, I was am activist! I was constantly working myself up into such a state that hyperventilation was a regular occurrence. I spent my fair share of time breathing into paper bags or with my head between my knees trying to gulp in air. It was a serious problem. I don’t think that my mom had any idea what to do with me.

Fast forward twenty-something years and you have a (kind of) grown woman who has learned to grit her teeth and face her fears, for the most part. I have learned over time, that if I just meet things head on, then the amount of agonizing is substantially less than if I hide from them. I know that it will have to be dealt with one way or another, so I might as well get it over with now. My threshold for discomfort is much lower than it once was. Thank God.

I am still scared or frightened by a lot of things, some real but most are imagined these days.  The fears are no longer paralyzing as they once were, but are just as disruptive. When I was a child, I would wake up from a bad dream and not be able to move. It would take what felt like minutes for me to gather the courage to scream for my mom. Those seconds after the scream before she answered are still burned into my mind as some of the most terrifying moments of my life. I do not know what exactly I was afraid of, but afraid I was. Now I just spin around inside my head until I have no idea what is true and what is false.

Today what I am left with is this mind that is an accomplished terrorist. It likes to scare the hell out of me! My mind looks for anything and everything with which it can unsettle me.  It looks for anything that it can grasp onto that could in one way or another be considered even remotely problematic.  It can locate and hone in on even the smallest negative and blow it completely out of proportion until it is the only thing that I can see, and then use it to terrorize me unceasingly until I am a basket case.

Over the last couple of years, I have been working to change these kinds of thought patterns. I am not sure how they were created in the first place, but they certainly do not serve me any longer. I have made progress, but there are days when I cannot get out of the loop. A day like last Friday happens and I am reminded that I have much more work to do.

It was a day just like any other, nothing much was going on and yet I was in complete fight or flight mode, as close to melting down as I get these days. Everything was/is going very well in my life, school is good, my internship is going well, my finances are stable. Hell, I am even making a dent in my minimal credit card debt, and there is this man who gives me butterflies. Everything sounds pretty great, right? Everything in reality is! It’s the imagined problems that are troublesome.

A friend of mine says that I like to collect evidence. It is completely true. Now, this wouldn’t be so bad if I collected only good evidence, or even any! That is not what I do though. If out of 300 things that happen in a given day, only three are bad, then those three will be the only ones that I will see and they will become larger than life. My mind only collects the evidence that proves my own misguided belief that I am not good enough. This is a belief system that has been very hard for me to disassemble. I keep chipping away at it, but it is pretty damn entrenched in me.

There was about eight years of my life where I lived in full on self-destruct mode. That time has given me plenty of evidence that proves these negative beliefs that I have about myself. There is almost as much time since that show me that I am a different person, yet somehow the good cannot outweigh the bad in my mind. My mind is a tricky adversary. The “you’ve done it again, why can’t you do better, you’re so selfish, he doesn’t really like you, you are making things up” thoughts are challenging to see around sometimes. And once I buy into just one of them, the downward spiral is quick and awful.

Luckily I have amazing women (and men) in my life, who I trust enough to share ALL of my crazy with. They don’t judge me too harshly and often laugh and remind me that I am, indeed, crazy when I cannot see the good, the truth, that is obvious to everyone but me. I have solutions that work more often than they do not, when I actually bother to use them. I know that these old patterns were some kind of weird coping mechanism that kept me alive when my life was a darker, sadder place. I also know that they do not serve me any longer and that I am letting them go bit by bit. I have learned that I can go to a yoga class and drop it all on my mat and leave a lighter, saner woman.  I am thankful for these things. I am also thankful that I have learned to see that these are only thoughts, that even when I am experiencing a day like Friday when I am full of fear, I can know logically that they are not real. Today I know that I am enough, exactly as I am. Maybe I can do better next time, or I am deluding myself, hell, maybe he doesn’t like me, but I know that if that is the case, there will be someone else who does. Everything is okay as it is. I know that God made me as I am and I know, without a doubt, that God does not make mistakes!

Wear My Heart On My Sleeve Or Take Off My Shirt?

I am a hopeless romantic. I am a seeker. I feel as if I am on a constant mission to find a man with whom I can share my life. This is something that I have been aware of for as long as I can remember. It as if it is already written and my soul knows the path that I am walking.

Most of the time I have real faith that eventually, when the time is right, I will find a person who will complement me, someone to be the yin to my yang, my partner in crime. Other times though, I fall into that pit of fear that exists inside me. The fear that my path does not include this kind of partnership pushes out the faith that I have. I think that maybe my God has other plans for me. I waffle between embracing my unfailing desire to find this individual, knowing that he awaits me at some point in my journey and hating that I cannot say, with complete honesty, that I am content to remain single forever.

Don’t get me wrong. My life is absolutely amazing. I often find myself in a moment observing the absolute perfection with which everything has unfolded around me. I have more friends than I have moments to share with them. My family is loving, supportive, and always there. I have a relationship with my creator that only strengthens and deepens with time. I have a yoga practice that blows my mind on a regular basis. I have a belief that everything happens for a reason and gratitude for the experiences that life has brought me. I have more than I need. I am truly blessed.

That being said, I often think that something is missing in my life. It manifests as a physical ache in my chest: it is longing, strong and sharp that cuts to the center of my being. It is a desire for a partner: someone to cook for and with, to fight with over the blankets and closet space, bicker with about whose turn it is to do the dishes, an accomplice for Home Depots runs, someone to come home to, and someone to make a home with.  I simply want to share these mundane tasks with someone on an intimate, daily basis.

This desire has brought some amazing men into my life over the years as well as some real jerks. Some of these men I still count as my closest friends and know that I can call on them anytime. They are a blessing.The others have shown me what I will and will not tolerate, how to communicate it, and how and when to set boundaries. These experiences have made me a stronger person. They have each taught me how to be a better partner and  a better friend.

This journey has taught me so much about honesty and open communication. It has taught me that love, whether brief or forever, is a gift that should be cherished. It has taught me to love myself a little more each time a “happily ever after” crashes down around me. Over time I have learned that relationships are challenging, but absolutely worth the effort. Romantic or platonic, these bonds are what this life is about.

Yet I sometimes wonder if life wouldn’t be simpler if I stopped the search and called it quits. It can bring a lot of pain along with the joy. Letting people in to end up disappointed, hurt, and feeling rejected can take a toll on the soul. The instinct is to show less of myself, to be less vulnerable, to put up a wall. This is what rationality tells me I should do: stop feeling so much and falling so fast, be careful, protect myself, be a watered down version of me. Thanks, but no thanks. I would rather stumble and fall than never run at all.

Today I choose to see dating as an adventure. I believe that the fall is exciting and beautiful even when it sometimes ends with me scraping myself up off of the floor. I have no plans to cease exploring every opportunity or close off my heart to the endless possibilities before me simply because I sometimes get hurt. I believe in love. And if I were to close myself off, even a little, I’d miss things that warm my heart, bring me joy, and make me laugh, like yesterday’s rapid fire texting with the charming #cajuncasanova, my frustrating twitter #luriatextcampaign, and all of the extensive and hilarious conversations that BH and I have about our own special kinds of crazy. And I ask, where would the fun be in that?!

Life is good my friends. You just have to take a risk and open your hearts to receive the gifts.

Be fearless and enjoy the ride.

Do It For You

Writing is a very new hobby of mine. I have always believed that I hated writing and thought of it as a chore. This blog and the occasional journaling kick have been the exceptions. I think it is because I get to write about things that matter to me and are directly related to my daily experiences. I put my heart into it and put my truth out there for others to see. It’s a bit unnerving at times but immensely rewarding.

Last week I was told that there was a group text between some guys making fun of my blog. Then when I mentioned it to a friend he made an offhand comment that those guys probably weren’t the only group making fun of it. I had gone into this expecting some flack from a certain group of people, but the idea that others were saying nasty things about me was really uncomfortable and something that I had never even considered.

There were a couple of breath-constricting moments where I tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me. I was unsuccessful. The tears started to well up in my eyes. This thing that I had seen as a challenge and a way to share myself was being mocked. Ouch. I picked up my phone and shot out a text to one of my closest friends. His response stopped my panic in its tracks. Don’t pay any mind to those people. You are amazing and I love your blog. Do it for you. Such simple words, yet they made all of the difference.

I would be lying if I claimed that my feelings weren’t hurt by people making fun of the things that I do. After all, I am a sensitive girl regardless of how tough I pretend to be. I’m just like everyone else. I want to be liked, respected, and loved.

Do it for you. It was exactly what I needed to hear. In that moment of panic I had forgotten why I do any of the things I do: travel, love, write, follow my heart, and open my life to all possibilities. These things are not done for other people, I do them for me. I do not do them to gain acceptance or love. I do them because they make my heart happy and fill my life with joy. I do them because they are challenging and help me to grow as a person. They build my character and they give me strength. They make me excited to wake up and in the morning and begrudge getting in bed at night because I want to experience more. They make me know that I am exactly where I should be. They make me someone that I have grown to respect and love.

What does it matter if others don’t understand me or judge the things that I do? It doesn’t, but it is hard to internalize this lesson. Thankfully I have reminders of how amazing life is all around me. I have a wonderful, loving group of friends spread out all over that I can count on to lift me up and encourage me. They are the ones whose opinions are important. Sometimes though, it is easy to forget about that amongst the fears and desires for acceptance. Then I get reminded, I am truly blessed. Even moments like these that are painful have their silver lining. They make me realize just how lucky I am, how full of love my life is. They also remind me of the kind of person I do not want  to be. If it weren’t for the moments of feeling hurt or judged, then maybe I wouldn’t appreciate living the life that I live or how beautiful it is to have the friends that I do. Even when I don’t see them they are there and it is nice to be reminded.

 strong peopl 2

Breaking Down Boxes: The Freedom to Become

The morning after I posted my last blog post my phone rang at around 7:30am. Let me be clear, I am NOT a morning person by nature. Regardless of the fact that I have been getting up for work before 6am for the past two years pretty regularly, I still hate that moment when the alarm buzzes. So when I answered my phone to discover my ex on the line, I wasn’t completely coherent.

“I figured out your problem! You are a lesbian!” This may or may not be what he said verbatim, but it is certainly the gist of it. Now let me say this, there is nothing wrong with being a lesbian, if you dig members of the same sex, that’s cool. Date whoever makes you happy. It just isn’t what floats my boat. I am perfectly content with my heterosexual status.  If you know me at all, then you know that I run toward the “boy crazy” end of the spectrum. I like men; I have dated quite a few of them in my 31 years, all shapes, sizes, and personalities. While I have finally learned that there are a couple of types that work best for me, I appreciate them all. I am clearly not a lesbian; therefore by his logic, I must be a fraud.

Now for the reasoning behind my ex’s proclamation. Apparently, this was brought on by the last topic or all topics that I write about here on Wandering Ginger. I am no longer the girl that he was in a relationship with through the years. His rationale is that I am either a) a lesbian or b) a fraud, writing about who I want to be rather than whom I am.

I can understand his confusion, or anyone’s really, over my transformation over the last few years. Especially if you only came to know me intimately over the first few years, I spent in Florida. I was just getting my life back together after quite a few years of utter chaos.  I was only interested in pulling things back together, in falling in line with the prevailing ideology of those around me, of the norms of upper-middle-class twenty-somethings.

Needless to say, I had certain ideas about how my life was supposed to look from the outside. Some of these things weren’t even possible at that exact moment – i.e. having a college degree – due to the choices I had made in my late teens and early twenties. The others, though, I emulated to the best of my ability.

To be fair, I was just getting to know myself, so it is not surprising that I had to try on a few different hats before I found the ones that fit me the best. “Housewife” with an education that I never had cause to use was one of the first stops on my journey from where I had come to where I am today. This is the hat that I wore for most of the time that he and I were together. It is the role that I tried the hardest to fit into, over and over and over again. I was hellbent on fitting that role no matter how many times I had to bang my head into the wall of failure. I was sure if I tried hard enough, if I just behaved myself and were a nice girl, I would be a happy homemaker, and we would live happily ever after. You know the type, nice home, expensive SUV, Lululemon filled closet (not that I don’t still LOVE Lulu), seeing a trainer several times a week, extensive travel, and a little help from a house cleaner.

Now there is nothing wrong with this picture. I really enjoyed it for a time and may or may not again in the future. I just couldn’t find fulfillment in that existence at that moment, so the ex and I would break up and makeup. I would run, or he would get tired of my bullshit. Yet, I couldn’t let go of the idea of what I thought we were and the ideas of what our future was supposed to be.

Let me say that I was intolerable a lot of the time. What I thought I wanted was utterly at war with what I needed to be happy. He was a good boyfriend and a great provider. I just needed things that he could not give. The final goodbye was one of the hardest things I have ever gone through. And occasionally I entertain the idea of trying it all over again.

The rest of the stops on the journey have been shorter, but just as important. There was my time as an inspiring college English professor. Getting my doctorate felt like the only way I could prove that I was successful until I realized that the idea of doing the work required to become a tenured professor followed by what the job actually entailed made me want to run screaming from campus. This was followed by my summer as a yogini in training, where I spent 9 weeks sans music, caffeine, loud noise, and meat, in hours of silent 6am meditation, and even more hours on my mat or teaching. This was great until I graduated and went back to my day-to-day life, which has little room for 30 hours of yoga a week. Next up was my stint as band groupie for Black Taxi, my favorite foursome! I’m pretty sure that this one ended only because they are currently spending all their time in the studio working on their new album. It is hard to follow a band if they aren’t touring. This leads to my latest phase, my wandering phase, where I cannot seem to sit in one place for very long at all.

All of these periods and the fears that have come along with them have been integral in shaping me. Some bits and pieces stick with me as I move from one phase to the next. I still love cooking, wearing Lulu, and expensive accessories, I wish that I had time for yoga and meditation, Black Taxi still makes me dance around my house alone and sing at the top of my lungs, I even try to see the guys anytime I visit NYC, I see as much live music as financially possible, and I clearly have no intent on staying put anytime soon. So you see, I am not a fraud, just a girl in evolution on her way to something unexpected and amazing.

I would really like to take exception to either of my ex’s assertions, but I find that I cannot. I am so much different than I was then, or at least who I thought I was. I think that his logic is interesting and understandable in a weird, not based in reality kind of way. It has given me cause to think about my own reactions over the years as I have noticed marked changes in the people that I have known well at one time or another.

Do I give people the freedom to change, to become whoever they desire, without my own judgments getting in the way? Or do I discredit these changes as my ex does, if people step too far out of the box in which I have placed them?

I would love to say that the answer is yes; of course, I allow people the room to change as they wish! I mean, I expect people to give me the freedom to change and grow into the person that I would one day like to be, so why wouldn’t I give them the same courtesy and understanding? I am afraid that I haven’t though. I get so caught up in the way that I think people should behave, in the way that they always have, that I cannot see beyond my own expectations. I feel let down when they show up differently or in ways that are unexpected.  I begin to question the validity of our previous interactions and sentiments towards one another. Sometimes I am angry with them for the differences I see.

I am happy for that 7:30 wake up call. It has brought to my attention the amount of rigidity I still exhibit in my relationships, both romantic and platonic. That is not the kind of person that I would like to be. It is something that I can work on though; it gives me an ideal to work towards.

I want to be the kind of woman who brings light, love, and understanding to those within her circle and even those outside it. I am intimately acquainted with the fear that goes along with breaking down the box, and I want to be someone who encourages people to make the change and face the fear.

Thanks, Stink, for the enlightenment and for always being there, even when it is begrudgingly. ILY.

And thank you @GatorFrank for being a source of inspiration this afternoon!

No Sleep or Dating ‘Till Brooklyn?

I had an afternoon coffee date last week. He was an attractive, ambitious, well spoken man. I found myself taking about my travels. The more I talked, the more that he looked at me like I was an alien. My sentences all began with “last weekend when I was in New York” or “when I got back from Europe” or even “when I was following Black Taxi a bit this summer.” These apparently are not normal conversation topics or relatable experiences. My priorities are not necessarily the norm.

I sometimes wonder if my capriciousness makes it harder for me to find people with whom I can really connect. Don’t get me wrong, I know that there are others out there who value travel, change, and experience as much or more than I do, I’ve met them, but we seem to be few and far between. Currently though, this difficulty in my dating life is a godsend. It looks as if I am going to be an extremely busy lady over the next year!

Up next on the eccentric Sarah front, my lofty idea of making the move to NYC. I am finding just the idea of the move, makes me giddy and tingly all over. I am so excited for what the future may hold, but I am a little nervous as well. What if I cannot get my family on board with the idea? What if my plan for a roommate falls through? What if I never even find an apartment in the first place? What if none of the graduate programs in the city accept me? Or if I cannot find an internship in the fall?

These are a lot of “what ifs” and pretty large ones. Luckily, I am quite convinced that this is the path that I am supposed to be on, which makes it easy to have hope and faith that it will all fall into place one way or another. These questions also make my drive to accomplish a great deal in the next seven months very strong. I am a force of nature if I want something bad enough. Now is time to harness all of that power in one direction. Look out! I may just conquer the world! 😉

Nothing in Moderation

I started an internship this week with a startup tech company in Miami. I have a title, Public Relations Associate, and a work email. It all feels very grown up. Did I mention that I have no idea what I am doing?

The commute from Lake Worth is atrocious, but I think that it it worth it. The company is in a very exciting phase and the team I am working with is great. My hope is that this experience will teach me a lot and look great on my master’s program applications!

The fact that I went from working one day in December and no more than 8 during each preceding month to working 36 hours a week with a 3 hours commute each day on top of my studies does not surprise me. I am an extremist.

Take my travels for example. I went to NYC for the first time in the end of October. I fell in love with the city. I have been back twice since that initial trip and I am in the process of planning a trip for the beginning of February.

Or my yoga journey. I wanted to find something to help me learn how to focus my mind. It was suggested that yoga and meditation would be helpful, so I began doing yoga in October of 2012. By June of 2013 I was in a 9 week intensive teacher training program that required me to put in between 30 and 40 hours a week, including daily 6am group meditation, as well as give up television, music, meat, caffeine, and loud places for the length of the training.

You can even look at my concert going and see this excessive trend. I mean, if one night at Madison Square Garden seeing Phish is good, then 3 is much better! Black Taxi in Tennessee? Sure! Five shows in one week across the state? Of course!

My point here is that balance is difficult. I find something I like and then I want to do, see, eat, listen to, play with only that thing. One day, hopefully, I will get the hang of that mysterious thing called balanced. Until then though, I think that I will just enjoy the ride!

2013: The Year of Discovery

As I lie here, dying on the couch, I think back on the amazing year that was 2013.  I saw so much this past year and learned so many things about myself and the things that give me joy. My life has gone in a direction that I never would have imagined.

This time last year, I was in Savannah Georgia, freezing and grumpy, trying to make something work that simply could not. I don’t find it odd in the least that 2013 came in with travel and went out the same way.  I have found that I am a wanderer by nature. That life, for me, is best when I am out of my comfort zone. I love the rush that comes from landing in an unfamiliar city, alone, and having nothing to rely on but myself.  The self confidence that is gained by traveling alone has been invaluable to me. I now know that I can handle any situation that I find myself in, regardless of how new or scary it may seem.

I have found that my life does not have to look like the lives of those around me. This was a hard lesson for me to learn, but an important one. This knowledge has given me the freedom to follow my bliss wherever it shall take me.

I traveled a lot this year, as most of you know. My travels took me to many places, but the most important was New York City. I now know where my place is and have the motivation to reach for the stars.

I saw a ton of live music as well. Travel and music seem to go hand in hand for me. The most influential band that I was introduced to this year was Black Taxi. They don’t know it, but their music has honestly changed my life. My relationship with those guys has given me the courage to dream the dreams that I was afraid to even admit to myself. I will be forever thankful.

I suppose this is enough for the first of hopefully many posts. Happy New Year, y’all!

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