domination.

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”—anais nin

Oh my, it’s just SO Christian Grey-like. And SO sa-woon worthy.

I apologize, I could not help but reference a little 50 Shades there. I mean, hello, she uses the word “dominated.” Grey gives that word a whole new meaning that’s for sure.

I know some of my friends are shocked to hear of my love of a little book called 50 Shades of Grey (you’ve heard of it, no?), and many of them are probably gasping that I do, indeed, love this fab quote by Nin. See, the thing is, I’ve always been a bit of a leader. When we were younger, my sister so nicely told me that I was even far beyond leader, and that I was actually bossy. Nowadays, I try to leave the bossiness up to Kelis, but I do still relish in leading every now and then.

When it comes to men, I’ve always been a bit of a strong-willed feminist, too. I tell my friends the importance of working and making your own money. I’ve thrown the phrase “once a cheater always a cheater” around a few times. I’m my mother’s daughter through and through and these are things she’s drilled into my head since I was a little babe.

 

However, this quote appeals to me because sometimes it's nice to be mindless. Especially when it comes to men. Though I have more guards around my heart than Buckingham Palace, I do long for the day that I'm willing to drop what one friend refers to as my Great Wall of China and allow a male to make me lose a little control. I recently had a conversation with two of my close friends (one male, one female) about how I need to let "go" a little more. Be a little more carefree. A little less controlled. The thing is, I want that also, but I never know quite how to achieve it. In my heart though, I know the right person will run right through my walls and scoop me and my control right off our cemented feet.

 

I also know that when that happens, I won't lose any part of who I am. Rather, I'll grow into a better me. A more relaxed, more carefree, happier me. My heart and the knots in my back can't wait for that moment.

 

Here's to a carefree someday.

anxiety.

This morning I had an 11 minute phone call with my mother that instantly raised my blood pressure and frayed my nerves. This was not my mother's fault. (entirely.) My mom is a planner. Her mind is constantly moving about 10 paces ahead of everyone else. She'll call me three weeks before an event to see what time I am going to get there or what outfit I am going to wear. Meanwhile, I get anxiety over planning something a week ahead. (Can you say commitment issues?) Not to mention the fact that being rushed is quite possibly the worst feeling in the world to me, so being rushed weeks ahead of something is traumatizing for a gal like me.

Anyways, this conversation and anxiety this morning was self inflicted because I called her to discuss important matters such as my big move next month to Washington D.C. for grad school. Instantly I felt my stomach do a little flip-flop that it must have learned while watching the Women's Gymnastics Olympic trials last week. And then on the eleventh minute and probably eleventh different question, I had enough. I do this thing where my body starts to tremble, I shake my head, and I use vague statements such as, "Ok it'll be fine," or "No problem, we can just figure it out later," and then immediately declare that I'm busy and have to get off the phone. Maybe I was an escape artist in a previous life? Anything's possible.

When I get these acrobatic stomach feelings though, I immediately dive into a deep nostalgic state. This time, I am nostalgic for my semester abroad in London during my junior year of college. I still look back on those three and half months as the happiest time of my life thus far. I don't think I've ever laughed as hard, smiled as big, or gawked as loud at the beautiful sights. Life was simple. I was disconnected from the rest of the world (minus Skype, Twitter, Facebook, and e-mail), and I indulged in utter, complete selfishness for probably the first time of my life. I spent a lot of time alone riding the Tube or sipping coffee before class in Starbucks. This allowed me to grow comfortably with my own thoughts and emotions.

(In the London Eye checking out my main man, Mr. Ben.)

In London I took risks. I branched out and made new friends. I drank Guinness. (woof.) I lived with a new family. I tasted new food. I conquered public transportation. I never cried. (You see, before I left, I made a personal No Crying in London Rule. I knew these months were precious, so why spend them sad?) I was mugged. I missed my family and friends. I tried new styles. I lived on a budget. I felt complete.

(Swoon central.)

Days before I left for London I was in an utter panic-stricken state. Change scares the hell out of me. (Hence this morning's minor freak out.) It was just then that God sent this angel of man to comfort me in a grocery store, nonetheless. He was a sweet elderly man who smiled with eyes as he asked my friends and I if we were in college. He then proceeded to ask about our courses which is when I shared that I'd be leaving to study in London in a few short days. That grin widened across his whole face as he mind traveled back to a time that he was there many years ago. He sighed and said, "Do everything you can there. Just literally step outside and walk. For miles and miles--just walk and take it all in. You will love it. If you don't love London, then you'll hate heaven." This was 100% exactly what I needed to hear, and I often replayed his words over and over again in mind during my semester there. And of course, London lived up to the heavenly category he placed it in.

(Taking one last spin around the city before we headed back to our homeland.)

So today, I'll sit and daydream about London. I'll remember the friends, the pubs, the entire experience. Maybe I'll even shed a tear or two, because after all I'm not actually IN London, so I'm allowed. But, today, I'll also pray for another angel. Another person to come along and ease my fears and anxieties for my future.

Here's to memories--to remembering them, and to making them.

breathing easy.

This last week was busy & chaotic. Miraculously, it was also relaxing and freeing. Last weekend was full of old friends and family which always fills my heart. And then around 6a.m. Sunday, I stealthily escaped my apartment with friends in tow and drove toward sea breezes and sandy shores. You see, I have this thing. This need to run away over my birthday. Ever since I was a little toddler I have loathed my birthday. I think it's the attention and the big spectacle part that I dislike, so my coping mechanism is escape. (Therapists would have a field day with me, I'm telling ya.) Anyways, I think everyone each year deserves a few days in the sun & sea, so these were mine to use up. And use them up I did, with some of my very best friends, too. I'll tell you what--I'm the luckiest newly 23 year old I know.

(beach after a big storm)

There is just something about the sound of sea gulls, relentless crashing of waves, sand between my toes, and smell of seafood that instantly raises the corners of my mouth. To experience this all with some of my best friends from college only enhanced my experience greatly. There were karaoke bar performances, cold beers, long, tasty dinners, silly games, and loads of laughs.

(motley crew.)

My escape from my birthday didn't work out too great, as my friends enjoyed telling everyone at the bar that it was my special day. My embarrasment levels seriously spiked during this trip, and I have my friends to thank for that. But still, it was a great escape, and I'm thankful we all still find the time to hang out with one another, embarrassing moments or not.

(sunrise courtesy of Dan. the rest of us were too sleepy to get out of bed.)

Here's to growing up, but not growing apart.

margaritas.

Last night I decided to live up to my promise from last week. Prepare yourselves--I actually went out on a Wednesday night with an old friend for drinks! And wait for it..I didn't get home until midnight! Yikes. I am one tired girl today; however, I am so happy I spent my time laughing with an old pal last night on a restaurant patio rather than sipping red wine alone on my couch while re-watching this weeks Real Housewives episodes.

(yum.)

Sometimes a step outside of my comfort zone is exactly what I need to remind me that this life is too short to waste it alone on my couch with Andy Cohen (or in bed reading Cohen's book like I did last week).

Here's to persistent, enabling, margarita-drinking old friends.

laughing professionally.

There have been a few times during this in-between year where I've caught myself walking across campus in my professional attire--heels, blazer, headband--on my way to a meeting, business luncheon, or event, and I suddenly begin to smirk. This usually turns into a chuckle, or depending on how many hours of sleep I got the night before, sometimes it's all-out roaring  laughter. Laughter at myself. You see, the thing that activates this tiny fit of giggles is the thought of what people must be thinking when they look at me. "Wow, that girl carrying the leather porfolio notebook looks serious." "She must think she's really important."

But then I trip, or I clink my fork too hard on my plate during someone's speech, or I peek into a mirror and realize the curling iron didn't actually reach the back of my head this morning. And suddenly, I'm me again. Another smirk commences and I breathe a deep sigh knowing that while I may dress up and try to act the part, I'll always be the same girl I've always been. A walking contradiction. A gregarious girl who prefers shopping alone. A free spirit who's afraid to break the rules. A homebody who loves to travel. A grown-up who drinks beer through a straw.

(old friends always bring you back down to earth)

It's humbling--laughing at yourself--and it always reminds me how important it is not to take myself too seriously, or to take this immense, encompassing life too seriously either.

Here's to laughing. At anyone at anything. Just laugh.

"life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about."

         --oscar wilde

mi padre.

(Dad & his 3 Musketeers)

        I spent my past weekend at home in order to attend a family friend's wedding, but, most importantly, to honor the lovely man on the right above on father's day.

       Let me tell you--my sister, brother, and I are pretty damn lucky to have such a fabulous father to honor. This guy is pretty much my super hero. He is a Jim of all Trades, and he has taught me everything from how to ski and drive a car, to the best way to flip an omelet or work a computer. He has got more patience than probably anyone I know, and I thank God for that, because I don't know many people who could put up with my siblings', mom's, or my antics as well as he does. And, he has lovingly provided us with pretty much anything we've asked for. From N*Sync concert tickets to semesters abroad, this man knows how to provide for his family.

        Thank you dad for always being supportive financially as well as emotionally, and for never giving up on your children. You pretty much just rock, and I love ya for it.

         Here's to Jimbo, and all of the doting dads out there.       

a fitzgerald kind of love.

“He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.”

–f. scott fitzgerald

I mean, seriously? What more could you want or need in life than someone who looks at you “with an irresistible prejudice in your favor.” Sa-woon the whole way to the moon.

So maybe I am a little bit obsessed with the Great Gatsby. And, maybe because of that, I’m just a tinge obsessed with Fitzgerald. Ok, (I’ll admit) so much so that I’ve considered naming my future son ten years from now—Fitz. (I promise that’s not also after Mr. Ezra Fitz from Pretty Little Liars. Though, he is pretty swoon-worthy himself.) Anyways, as of late I’ve become a bit of a Fitz nerd, but I just can’t quite help myself. Therefore, if you stick around, I’ll be sharing many more fab Fitzgerald quotes in the future.

This excerpt from Gatsby, though, is my ultimate fav. This is what I hope to find. This is where my hope lies. Sure, I’d love a tall, dark, and handsome Italian Stallion with green eyes who loves his mother. However, I don’t care what form he comes in as long as he understands me as far as I wish to be understood.

For some reason this reminds me of the quote in P.S. I Love You where the mom says, “I know what it is, not to feel like you're in the room, until he looks at you or touches your hand or even makes a joke at your expense, just to let everyone know... you're with him. You're his.”

Both of these are the kinds of things I seek out. It’s that overwhelming, undeniable connection that I crave. I feel liberated, loved, and needed whenever I am in a room full of people and someone makes a comment, joke, gesture, etc. and my eyes lock with another person’s. It’s that feeling of being understood like Fitz talks about. That reassuring smile that you weren’t the only one who picked up on it, or thought that last thought. Someone else got it. Someone else gets you.

Here’s to you, Fitz. (Francis Scott, Ezra, & the like.)

simpler times.

         My goodness has this past year been confusing. They say your early 20’s are supposed to be some of the best times of your life. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t have any fun this past year. I’d also be lying if I said that I never wondered who the hell said that your early 20’s are the most fun. Remember those summers spent swimming and playing freeze tag with all of the neighbor kids? Yeah, those were fun, and easy, and simple.

            I’ve been telling all of my friends this year that I miss the simpler times. The times we had one too many beers on a random Tuesday in college. That badass feeling in high school whenever we stayed out after the “Cinderella” license curfew. The summer days of sleeping until noon and then watching soap operas all day long. The time when bills referred to the Destiny’s Child song, rather than electric, gas, and cable. Life was sweet and simple then.

(beer. simple.)

            Now, after graduating from college in May of 2011 and watching my friends spread far and wide across this country to go accomplish great things, life has felt a bit more complicated. I have been calling it the “in between” time. And, to be honest, even that title makes me cringe a bit. When is it ever good to be in between something? Certainly not in a fight, or in the airplane middle seat, or during a game of Monkey in the Middle. Being “in between” usually means that you’re stuck or lost. Or maybe both. 

            Over the past year I have felt both stuck and lost. Accepting a yearlong job only an hour away from where I grew up has made me feel both stuck geographically, and stuck in the same position. (Due to my commitment-phobia this 1 year job is the longest commitment I’ve made in my life. Minus college. But, that’s just different.) I have also felt a bit lost. The first 22 years of my life I was constantly working toward a goal, usually with the next one already set for me. I had to complete elementary school to move to middle school, then to high school, then to college. But what about after you graduate college? What goal are you working to accomplish then? Hold up, you have to create your own? My indecisive self doesn’t sit very well with this notion. The world is vast and grand and beautiful. It is full of opportunities. “Carpe diem,” people say. But, what the heck should I seize today or the next day, and so on? Too many possibilities. One too many forks in the road.

            So, I turn to writing. And in that, I decide that while I’m stuck in the in-between, I’ll focus more on the figuring it out. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll delight in one too many Bud Light’s next Tuesday. Or, I’ll jam out to a little Destiny in my car past midnight on a work night. Gasp! I’m getting brave. But, I’ve realized lately that you seriously cannot plan and prioritize and overthink your whole life. You’ve just got to live. So that’s what I am going to try to do. And, I’ll figure out the rest as I go. Maybe I’ll even tell you a little about those discoveries on here if you’d like.

            Here’s to figuring out how to live simpler.

“-tomorrow is our permanent address

 and there they’ll scarcely find us (if they do,

 we’ll move away still further: into now”

--ee cummings