NYPD Called; They Want their Equipment Back

Tonight I'm getting on a plane to fly 1,029 miles to Minnesota, and when I step off the plane I am being shuttled to the Metrodome to a Twins game. Of course, as a girl, this presents several problems not the least of which is WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR ON THE PLANE!? It has to serve the initial function of looking cute upon arrival, as well as looking practical i.e not overdressed for a baseball game but therefore cute enough to look somewhat human and fashionable when we go out to the bars afterwards. I know I know, my life is sooo difficult.

So during this fashion emergency I called in some of my coworkers to help me make the decision. I tried on three different outfits and listened as they sounded off with their opinions. Have I mentioned that I LOVE MY JOB! Anyway, the final vote was for skinny jeans and a navy vest however, this decision only came after the comments about the vest "not serving a purpose" were discussed, argued against and discussed some more; we then called for backup and discussed again. The guy who stated this is also the same guy who wears plaids that don't match and black shoes with blue pants. But I digress. In the end there were eight people gathered outside my office voicing their votes for what I should or should not wear and the pros to each outfit. The comment about fashion over function eventually came to a hilarious end when someone said:

"The only thing you need to know about a vest is does it protect your heart and is it bulletproof."

Endless Chances

I might
go back to school in pursuit of an MBA, perhaps another Masters this time in Art Education, I am a perpetual student with an unquenchable thirst for learning, for growing, for discovery, for loans and late nights, for not sleeping, for a silver desk lamp illuminating my future, my ideas spewing out only after the rest of the world has long gone to sleep; quit my job and spend a few months traveling to places hardly visible on the map, places nobody goes to, nobody runs from, to places I only see in my dreams, to places I can sink my toes into, my mind into; I might take off in a car, on a road trip in search of the truth, in search of nature, in search of another moment, of something I've not yet seen, felt or held, of something honest and true, of something better or something pure; tear down the wall to see the other side; I might run another marathon or three, one in Chicago and one abroad just to do it, just to see if I can; I might even decide to venture into a triathlon because running is a gateway drug; I just might give it up, walk away, throw myself into something else, something new; something bigger than myself; I might take a cooking class, go Vegan, learn to speak Spanish, teach myself sign language, hire a maid to do the cleaning, get to sleep before midnight and forget to dream until it's too late.

I might not
get out of bed on a rainy Sunday morning, instead turn off the alarm, roll over, snuggle with my dog and drift to the spaces between reality and the fog of dreams I hardly understand, the cacophony of drops upon the skylight, the fan doing its best to mimic a breeze; I might not save the notes, the flowers, the cards or the wrapping paper but wish I did; I might not always wash the dishes, put away the milk or close the cabinet doors, unplug the iron, put away the hair dryer, hang up my wet towels or listen to my parents; remember to take out the trash, take my medicine or take things seriously when I should or take too seriously the things I should not; be capable of letting it all go or of letting it all in, of washing away the dirt, of accepting things at face value or of seeing the truth when it's so totally different from the only one I've never known...

...but someday I know I will.

Summer Lovin'

• more hours of sunlight; late evening thunderstorms; sleeping without the A/C
• lucky bamboo; lilies
• fresh everything; dime-sized blueberries
• the return of eating tomatoes like apples
• linen spray; new couch smell; turning my apartment into a home
• laughter everyday
• strolls along the river; a corner of the grass; wandering along first avenue in the rain; skipping; humming; singing; dancing in the cross-walks
• rooftop bars; birthdays; open air restaurants; al fresco dining
• laying by a pool; classic rock
• BBQ chicken; grilled veggies; cricket pie
• a girls' weekend on the beach; a flag cake; SPF barely; striped towels; an orange bikini; a straw hat; a bendy straw
• lincoln park after dark; midnight at moscow; magenta on standby
• white, silver and gold sandals; flip flops; cotton skirts; throw-on, throw-over dresses with pockets, last minute clearance rack purchases
• wednesday morning hangovers
• three hour phone calls
• beginnings; spontaneity; magic; butterflies

Changing of the Guard

If the past few weeks are any indication of how my entire summer is going to pan out, I am super excited and quite possibly setting myself up for one of the best summers of my life. Of course, nothing can compare to long lazy days spent on the lake swimming, water skiing and playing tag with my brothers. Nothing ever will, but then, nothing really can. The days of summer when you are young and carefree will always be the best, the pinnacles of perfection.

This summer is the summer of the changing of the guard, of almost everything I've known until this point. My parents are moving in a month from the only house I've ever called home. Tomorrow, a friend I've known for ten years is adding her name to my mailbox and calling me a roommate. My brother and his wife are finally back in America for a few months at least, and in about a month will be parents, which inevitably changes everything. A few of my friends will marry and sadly one will even move on from her life in New York City; she will pick up and move her life to Colorado, start a family and never look back. And even though I've known her longer than I've known anyone (over 20 years) I somehow think things will never be the same. Nothing ever will, but then, nothing really can.

Some variables of my life will stay the same however; the intangible things I've unearthed over the past few months; things like rich laughter, happiness, inner peace and consummate joy; the things I'll look towards to keep me grounded when the world around me starts to shake.

Flood

I once read this book that said when you close a door or chapter in your life, the universe makes room for something else to come in and flood that vacant space. That sentence, I remember, resonated with me then and even now, several months later it reverberates within my soul like the beating of an African drum. Hindsight they say, is always 20/20 and in retrospect I know now what I needed to let go of, what door I needed to close and what memories I needed to clear from the cache.

Several months ago however, I didn't know what door to close and how to differentiate closing it from forgetting it. There is a fine line and sometimes, too often in fact, it's easy to mix up that just because I walked away doesn't mean I forgot and doesn't mean I won't always remember. I have a fear of forgetting. Or maybe it's a fear of remembering. Maybe it's a combination of both, that I can't chose what I remember. The good memories get pushed aside and replaced by newer, better, bigger, faster. Either way I only want to remember the good, to block out the tears and the pain. But sadly, I have to say it is quite the opposite, really. I think of you as a villain, as a disease that plagued my life and blocked my hallway to happiness. But I was young and it was fun and I just couldn't give up on the idea that we could make it work; that we could make us work; that our differences were not to much to overcome; that your anger and your disconnect wouldn't infiltrate and spread from my heart to my soul.

So here I am, after all these years and I realize that I was wrong. For me, there is nothing worse. There are few things harder than failing, than admitting I am wrong, than saying I'm sorry. These are the worst words to mutter, the easiest to forget, the most important to learn. And while I'm not going to apologize now or hold on to the fact that it's many years too late for I'm sorry and I was wrong, I am going to allow the universe to flood me with this one more chance and savor the current as it washes me away.

Blocked

One of my biggest fears used to be waking up and all the sudden not having the ability to create: to draw, to design, to make, to think outside "the box," mostly to have one more ah ha idea. I somehow got over it, I'm not quite sure when or how. But I did. Or so I thought...

I'm stuck right now and even though I've flipped through my usual sources of inspiration, this time it is not working. It could easily be because my brain is still on vacation, or fried from too much sun on said vacation but either way suddenly I'm back to having irrational fears of having already had my last good idea.

Sometimes I envy the people who don't have to rely on inspiration to make it through their day; sometimes I wish I could plug numbers into an Excel sheet or do something as equally left-brained. But then I remember, that too would probably make me feel insane, perhaps more insane than I feel right now. Plus, that's not why I went to graduate school, that's not the way I'm wired and aside from running, that's not what helps me sleep at night when I fear I've gone over the proverbial edge.

Back to the drawing board. Literally.