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