Why so comforting?

What is it about the past that makes it so comforting? Even the things that were difficult and hopeless, seem to turn into these nostalgic moments and suddenly, you forget how badly they sucked. It’s like getting punched in the gut and later, when you look back, you miss the sensation.

What the hell?

It sounds crazy, I know, but it happens. You may not even realize that it’s happened to you until you make yourself remember, really remember that memory or that person or time. Then, it’s like ohhhh yeahhh, that was awful.

nostalgia

I don’t know if it’s my impending birthday or just my lack of a love life in the past year – and interest in one for that matter – but I keep reminiscing over the past.  It’s almost like an ache for something that I once knew, something that once knew me I guess.

It’s also really annoying when I have to physically stop myself from repairing bridges I burned on purpose.  Um, yeah, there was a reason things changed and it was a damn good reason too.

Plus, I have all this anxiety and I’m not sure why exactly. Okay, so I’m going to be 28, it’s not the end of the world and I don’t feel like I’m freaking out over it. At least not more than I usually freak out. I mean I’m also stressing with school since I graduate in December, finally, with a B.A. in English Literature. I know, I should have a Ph.D with all the years I’ve spent in college but hey, life happens.

At least I’m going on a cruise in a few days, right?

It’s my first cruise ever, and it’s for seven days with stops in the Caribbean. I wouldn’t be stressing this trip at all, except the last time I was on a boat a few weeks ago I had my first experience with sea sickness and wanted to die. It was one of the worst four hours of my life, when I say I seriously considered swimming back to shore, I mean I SERIOUSLY considered it.  So now, I’m excited for the adventure, but terrified of sea sickness. I can’t wait to explore the ship, but get nauseous when I think about sleeping in a tiny room in the middle of the ocean.

Did I mention we’re going to zip-line? Right. See, I also have a minor fear of jumping off a cliff. There’s just something about jumping-over sharp rocks and through an uninhabited forest that makes me a little uneasy. Excited, but still, mainly uneasy.

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Umm, errr…aging

When you’re a teenager, and even well into your twenties, people always tell you how much you’re going to change when you get older. How you’ll think differently and mature, and even outgrow some of your relationships. But you never really believe them. You might nod, and smile, and tell them you’re sure they’re right, but in the back of your naïve little brain you’re thinking yeah right. Maybe they changed, but you’re different. Right.

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Except, well, you’re not.

At the end of the day all those annoying people, packed with age and wisdom, were right and you did change. It wasn’t even like you had a choice. You just woke up one day and BAM!, you were different. Your opinions were different, your tastes were different and suddenly, you started craving the musical tunes that fueled your youth. It was hellooo 90s and goodbyeee techno.

boy bands

At least that’s what happened to me.

I turned 25, and had a minor emotional meltdown, and suddenly the career that I had spent the better part of a decade chasing seemed so…so pointless. I had gone from writing about news to fashion to events, and then to actually putting those big events together for a newspaper. Don’t get me wrong, I chose to become a journalist because I had something to say. I had a different opinion that most people I knew, mainly the much older people, but still – I had an opinion. Except, I never considered that I’d have to write about what other people (editors) wanted to publish and mostly have to keep my opinions to myself.

Then, somewhere between 26 and 27, I got old. When I say old, I mean like the doorman tells Debbie in Knocked Up, “I can’t let you in cause you’re old as fuck. For this club, you know, not for the earth.” The man has a point. Granted, I’m not Debbie’s age, but I’ve been partying since I was 14 years old, and in a few weeks that’s going to mean that I’ve been partying for 14 YEARS. I’m kind of over it, you know, I want to do something else.

Anything else, and who knows, I might just love it.

Friends

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Sex With Friends.

I’ve always heard people say that being friends first is the key to any great relationship. But I’ve come to realize that sleeping with your existing friends may not be the best course to take.

Friendship can be such a tricky kind of relationship. Friends are more than just people you go out and have good times with. Your friends are people that you turn to when you’re in need of advice, when you make bad choices and need to clean it up, when you’re sad, when you’re upset and feel like bashing your ex and above all – these are people who you trust. They know your good AND your bad side. They’ve seen you through your ups, and remember your downs too. And those are just friends in general.

Now, friendships between men and women, those tend to pack a whole new suitcase full of complications. When I was younger, a good guy friend told me that a guy is only friends with a girl for one reason, and he’ll wait as long as he needs to get what he wants. I didn’t believe him, I mean we were friends at the time and nothing had ever happened between us or even come up in conversation. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when he did finally make a move a few months later, and a pretty bold one at that. Even then, I didn’t believe it. I kept thinking that people are friends because they enjoy each other’s company, regardless of their sex. It just had to be true.

For years, I maintained that belief. I incessantly argued for its validity, no matter what anyone else had to say or what their personal experiences were. I was right. I was right because I was younger, because I felt untainted by the world and because I considered their insights to be quite cynical to be honest.

You see, having grown up around boys, I had my fair share of male friends, and those friendships were strictly platonic. I had one friendship in particular that I always used as an example of two people that could be friends without any hint of sexual tension. That is, until my first longtime relationship ended, for good, and suddenly that friendship changed.

All of a sudden, in the midst of my heartbreak, my friend wanted to be more than just my friend. To say that this revelation threw me would be an understatement. But looking back, I feel pretty naïve to not have seen that coming, but I guess I was still pretty green at that point in my life…and pretty stubborn too.

So after a lot of time, and painfully drawn out conversations about the possibility of taking our friendship to the next level, we did. I thought who better to help me heal this broken heart than a close friend? Right?

Wrong.

The thing is, when you take an existing friendship that’s been in your life for over a decade, to that elusive “next level,” you taint it. You only have two places to go from there, you either get serious or you get awkward. And when you’re not sure of your feelings or if they exist or if it was just a part of your healing process, you complicate the situation and make it awkward enough for both of you.

Word of advice, if you’re going to take that step, think it through. Really think it through.

friends-man-woman-sex-flirting-ecards-someecards

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Motivation, Where’d You Go?

I can remember a time, not so long ago, when the words would just flow. A time when I had so much to say that I worried I would never have the time to get it all out. Where did that time go? I can’t remember when it went away. I can’t remember when I started to stumble on my own words. Somewhere along the line, somewhere along the progression of this life, I stopped speaking from my heart and started worrying with my mind.

Now, my words are blurred and often hidden behind walls of fear and judgement. Hidden even from me, from my own eyes. It’s as if this technological evolution we’ve found ourselves in is just another doubled edged sword we can’t seem to see. You’re damned if you share, you’re damned if you don’t.

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Rocking the Boat

In the chess game of life, when you think you’ve figured it out is actually when you have nothing figured out. Nothing at all. Sometimes, it feels like you’re on a wooden boat in the middle of a storm holding on for dear life. Or maybe, in a fast car just trying to keep the seatbelt tight enough. It’s as if every time you make a big move and start to adapt again, life makes an even bigger move and you’re just like, “touché life, touché.”

In reality, you can make all the plans you want. Do all the research you can manage. Carefully lay out your next steps over the next few years, but it doesn’t really matter. You can’t plan for the weather, no matter what the meteorologists say. Because how can you plan for what you can’t see coming?

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Being Bigger Than Your Pride

I was always raised to be very proud. To be proud of where I come from, to take pride in all that I do and to never allow anyone to treat me in a dis-respectful manner. But if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-seven short years, it’s that sometimes you have to follow your heart and put everything else on the shelf.

Sometimes being the bigger person isn’t about admitting fault or making a point, it’s simply about missing someone. It’s about missing them so much that you do whatever it takes just to have that person back in your life. It’s realizing that their presence in your world is much more valuable than the cold comfort of your pride. Eventually, reach that point where  who was at fault is completely irrelevant. Whether you were to blame or not.

Life is all about little moments. Little moments of happiness, of growth and of clarity. Those little moments are always so much more meaningful when you share them with people you love. So why do we continuously seem to forget that?

Hmm pride can be a bitch sometimes.

Love-Is-The-Answer

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Change Is Inevitable.

Someone close to me once told me that people never really think about how much their decisions can impact those around them. I was fine with giving this city a few more years. I had decided to get a few more things in order before making my way back into the world and, for the most part, I was okay with that decision.

I mean, I still missed home and felt that ghastly pang of guilt in my stomach every time I drove back to Naples, but it was my choice. I had chosen Naples for a while, and Miami was just not an option. At least not when I first moved back to Florida. I was still broken, I needed time. Time to heal, time to cope with my heartbreak and time to take in and adjust to all the changes that went down in the last few years.

That time turned into three years of me living in Naples. I stayed when my family moved back to Miami from LA a few months after I came back. I stayed when my Dad moved back to Miami and left my brother and me in Naples on our own. I even stayed when my brother and I stopped living together and I moved out on my own. Was it scary? Hell yeah.

But it was all a part of this whole new package that I had willingly gone along with. I had a great job at the local newspaper, working in events and marketing. I was back in school, changed my major a few times, only to wind up with what I had started with in the first place – Journalism. I even transferred to FGCU and took out a few student loans in the process.

All of these things were happening and it really felt like my life was on the right track, for once. Well, at least that’s how I justified my decision to stay, even when it felt like the wrong decision.

See, I worked in corporate America a while back but I was much younger and did not like the culture of it all. The bullshit, the back-stabbing nature of the game or the lack of loyalty in the people. Back then, I blamed it on my age, my lack of experience and maturity and I was convinced that with time, I would grow to love that kind of work environment. Now, the more I think about it, the more I think I may have had it all wrong.

While I loved working in marketing and events, and was surprised to actually be good at it too, I have to credit the bulk of that to the leadership I was under. I never had an interest in newspapers, I always felt like they glorified bad news and often swayed to the pull of that pretty penny. But I took the job anyways, not for the company, but to work under her. I knew I had a lot to learn from her the moment I met her, and about that, I could not have been more right.

So when my boss, my friend and above all, my mentor announced that she was leaving the company, it made me think about why I was really there. Still, I had school to think about and I loved the one-on-one attention I was getting at FGCU. But then, my favorite professor at FGCU gave his notice as well and announced that he was leaving the program. To say these two individuals shook my world would be an understatement.

Although my job was still something I highly enjoyed, I could foresee my education taking a backseat to my career once again and that was just not something I was willingly to do.  All of that, mixed in with how much I’ve missed my family and all the issues that go along with that made me sit and really evaluate the path my life was on. Besides, I think four years away from home is long enough.

Where I’ll end up, no one knows, but I can tell you one thing – it will be exactly where I’m meant to be.

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