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Update Your Readers, Please!

June 22, 2010

Hello everyone! I finally figured out how to host my own blog so please make sure you’re going to http://www.sendmehomeat12.com for new posts.  Thanks for keeping up!

Back on Track

February 24, 2010

I have been feeling stuck in my career and money situation for a while now, for too long actually.  Things haven’t been clicking in to place for me, each path I tried to take seemed to be a dead-end or had too many obstacles for me to wrap my head around.  I decided to just take a break from everything and relax on the decision-making front, and whaddya know?  I seem to have come up with a plan, and as of yet the only obstacles I see are ones I feel confident in taking head-on.

I’m staying a little cryptic for now until I get everything set up and on its way, but finally I feel like there is a future in what I have been doing and it’s a not-too-shabby future at that.

I am getting excited for what I plan on making happen this year, finally!

Are you happy?

January 28, 2010

I’m a complainer.  I know, it’s one of my more attractive traits (sarcasm there for those who can’t tell through type).  I complain complain complain until even I get fed up and decide to make a change.  Don’t I just sound like an absolute peach to be around?

There’s a situation I’ve been in for a little while now that I’ve wanted to do something about but haven’t come up with a good solution.  So onward I go with the complaining until everyone gets sick of me and stops inviting me places.

Today I thought I’d stop by my mom’s place of business and say hi, maybe see what wisdom she could impart upon me.  Man, if you are in need of some motivation to get you going, let me know and I’ll give you her number.  Mom’s wisdom of the day:

Suck it up!

That was pretty much the jist of it.  It lasted a little longer than that, but yeesh.  Who needs to pay for life coaching when your mom can kick your butt for free?  And probably do a better job since she’s not getting paid by the hour for consultations and just wants  you to stop the damn complaining and do something already so she can get back to her day.

Stick in the Mud

January 19, 2010

The other day I was sitting with a group of people who were discussing where they wanted to travel in the next couple of years.  As I listened to each person describe the amazing adventure they want to go on I realized that while each one sounded amazing, I didn’t want to do any of them.

Now that was a pretty shocking realization, coming from the girl who moved 5,000 miles away from home for college, who obsessed over lists and plans for future trips, who actually made up complete itineraries for adventures that I hoped to go on.  I took travel writing classes so that I could get paid to travel and have a life that just oozed adventure.

And now… now I work in the same office every day, hang out at the same places every weekend, have no plans to even get on a plane in the next year.  What happened?

I have this dream of being paid to write about my ideas and thoughts, of working from wherever I want, of having control of my own schedule.  Somehow, I always thought this would just happen.  It would just be how it worked out for me.  Unfortunately, that’s not the way the working world works apparently and so now I am left feeling stuck.

I don’t know which way to move and so I end up not making any move at all.  I feel scattered.  Not the best way to feel when you’re trying to write coherent pieces.  I go back and forth — do I want to follow my dreams and just do the things that will get me to the lifestyle image I have in mind?  Or do I veer away from that image in an effort to find something that makes me money now?  Which is more important to me?

Actually, I know which one is more important to me.  I just haven’t found the, ahem, sponsor who will fund my desired lifestyle until I can fund it myself.  Know of anyone?

First Day of the Rest of Your Life

January 11, 2010

I never really talk about college anymore.  It’s hard to explain three years of growing up in a different country to people who weren’t there to see my go through it.  I’m going to try to write more about it because I’m sure there are plenty of stories from those years.  It’s just a matter of whether I want to re-live them or not, something I’m sure many people feel about their college years.

When I was 17 (okay, it was two weeks before I turned 18 so it’s not that big of a deal) I moved to Liverpool for college (excuse me, university for any British people reading).  It never really struck me as a crazy thing to do, or a brave thing.  It didn’t even strike me as a stressful thing to do until years later when I learned/realized what stress could actually do to someone’s body.  It was just something I wanted to do and so I did it.

I flew out to Manchester by myself with my two big rolling duffel bags (talk about a work-out, my arms doubled in strength each time I flew back and forth), got extremely lost and slightly panicked on arrival, eventually found the bus that was taking international students to the Liverpool campus, and attended a meet-and-greet type thing.  I don’t remember a lot of that event, I don’t remember who I talked to or where it was.  I do remember being exhausted and finally finding a taxi to take me to my dorms.  I walked about a mile in search of sheets and towels, I answered “Why would you come to Liverpool from L.A.?!” about 50 times (I’m pretty sure this is the number one question EVER asked me in my entire life, past, present, and future) from various university greeters and anyone else who noticed my accent, I found the shower on my floor and washed the plane grime off.  I don’t remember eating anything that day.

Only the international students were scheduled to move in that day, the rest of my dorm would fill up in the next two days, but that night it was just me. And I was okay with that, it was the first time I had done anything all on my own.  I relished in the success of making it out there alive and finding my destination without too much grief.

I’m surprised I remember that first day in as much detail as I do.  A lot of that first year is very hazy to me, a combination of pure shock, both cultural and otherwise, and too much partying, I think.  But that first day — I can remember how I felt, I can remember what the cab smelled like, I remember being on the bus and being flipped off (not me individually, the entire bus) with two fingers, instead of our just one, by some prepubescent pimply boys in true British fashion.

The moment I remember the most, probably the most out of my whole three years there, was walking through the courtyard in my dorm towards the door to my block.  I looked up at the red brick building and the sun was shining down in the perfect way that only happens for a brief moment when twilight hits.  My arms ached from carrying an entire bed set and towels on a mile-long walk.  My brain was fuzzy from traveling all night long and getting settled all day.  I was shy and nervous and running off pure adrenaline at that point.  But at that moment, I looked up and this feeling washed over me that I was here, exactly where I was supposed to be at exactly the right time.

There are a lot of things I regret doing and not doing in my three years abroad.  Despite that, there is no doubt in my mind that I did the right thing when I took off on that adventure.  It was just what I needed at that time and God knows I learned a lot about life that I would never have learned if I had stayed in Los Angeles doing the same thing I had been doing throughout high school.

What’s a moment that you’ve had where you realized you were absolutely doing the right thing for yourself?  I’d love to hear your stories.

Bring it, 2010.

December 31, 2009

So, I’m thinking that maybe the thing about New Year’s Eve is that the more awful the celebration is, the better year.  The better the celebration, the more awful the year.  I mean, last year we had an AWESOME New Year’s Eve and 2009 really just got worse with each passing month.  However, the year before I celebrated in Virginia (bad idea) at a club filled with sailors and Marines (really bad idea) and had way too many jagerbombs (really really bad idea), but 2008 turned out to only get better with each passing month.

The sickness in this household has gotten worse and New Year’s Eve has gone from “woooo! party! champagne! pretty dress!” to “woo. America’s Funniest Home Video marathon. Hot tea. Dirty sweats.”  It’s cool though, I’m sure flu or swine flu or just plain DEATH FLU on New Year’s Eve means that 2010 is going to kick super awesome ass.  Because, really, sitting on the couch in this germ-filled house, listening to J hack out these weird squeaky coughs and feeling like walking to the back of the house is equivalent to a marathon has GOT to count for something.  Like a winning lotto ticket, a book deal, a new car, SOMETHING.

So let’s toast the new year with a shot of Robitussin (you all can have the usual tequila or champagne, whatever)!  Come on 2010!

Death is Near (We Hope)

December 30, 2009

J and I have been lying around the house all day, wallowing in our respective illnesses.  Since J just got knocked on his ass by germs he claims he is the worse off between us, but whatever.  We all know men and their inability to man up when it comes to a little cough, ahem. So we’ve literally been on the couch all day watching crap TV, except for the couple of hours when I was able to snag the remote and got to watch The Closer instead of Most Shocking: Senior Smackdown.  We even tried to go to work this morning, I lasted about half an hour before giving up.  J didn’t even make it past pulling in to the parking lot before he turned around and crawled back to bed.

Of course this could have been a wonderfully productive day of writing and planning and blah blah blah.  Nothing got done except that I made the most awesome chicken tequila fettuccine (extra tequila, extra jalapeno – you know to get some flavor past the colds) AND I cleaned the kitchen afterwords, which I think is just going above and beyond, really.

The highlight of J being sick is that he has no sweatpants here to lounge in, so I let him borrow a pair of my workout pants.  HELLO, 80s Rockstar!  I would post a picture but a) it might shock my readers, and b) I would be found dead the next day.

I’m expecting my neighbors to come knocking on the door to complain, I can’t stand the sound of coughing or nose blowing anymore so I really bet they can’t.  Here’s to a new year and to no more hacking up lungs or whining about sore throats!

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