You are currently browsing the tag archive for the 'Europe' tag.
After staying in hostels for 3 weeks in Europe, my standard for lodging has dropped. If there’s a bed, working bathroom and air condition, I’m relieved. So when Rachel, my partner in crime in Europe/quarterlife crisis, accepted a job the same day as me, we decided we had to have a last hurrah. Destin was our first thought, but with Fay running its way through Florida, we ditched that idea. Then we found out her dear grandmother had a free night at Beau Rivage in Mississippi (yeah yeah, not the ideal, but free night in a pretty posh place). Decision made!
On the way to Rachel’s, I had the feeling something was wrong with the brakes but forgot about it (I swear, I never learn to listen to the voice in my head). Of course, this haunted me later. On our happy blue sky way to Mississippi, I asked Rachel if she felt the road was slanted and how strange that was. She gave me a “you’re crazy” look and we kept on driving. But life likes to mess with me and a few minutes later, the car started vibrating and down goes my back left tire. I managed to pull over on a wide section of the shoulder and we both got out and stared at the horror of the tire rubber in pieces. As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t change a tire to save my life. I know the general procedure, but not confident enough to do it and feel safe driving. Two minutes later, a cop magically showed up and with no questions asked, changed our tire and we were on our way in 15. Talk about an angel! Didn’t hurt he wasn’t bad looking. I guess I just have horrible luck with road trip snafus. With the burning tire in the trunk, we headed to our destination.
Mrs. Sheila met us at the hotel and showed us our VIP room. It was massive with beautiful beds, large bathroom the size of some of our hostel room and a pretty flat screen. Apparently gambling a lot means a lot of free things and VIP treatment because after a swim in the pretty pool, free amazing buffet (you know, the casino kind where there’s EVERYTHING) and some gambling, we came back to a dimly lit room with music turned on, chocolates on our pillow and turn-down service.
After a relaxing night, we got in the car with the burning tire to find out that Gustav was headed our way. Sigh. Vacation over. After some obligatory joking, we faced the reality. The “good news” is I was moving to Austin this weekend anyway with little stress due to everything being still packed up. The bad news is if there’s an evacuation, the entire city is going to flee on the same day I leave. 5 hours to Houston turns into 15 and as much as I love road trips, sitting in the car at a standstill is not fun. Then came the realization that if I left early, I would also have to prep the house as if a hurricane was coming. Given that my parents are out of the country still and my sister isn’t the most responsible person, I suddenly realized I had to undergo my first evacuation alone (I was in St. Louis during Katrina).
Locating important documents, cleaning the back yard, moving things slightly higher and packing my car ended up sending me into a frozen state; for about three hours, I hid in my room to avoid the 94 degree sun and watched a movie. My neighbors already cornered me and demanded that I knock on their door if we needed anything (Mr. L started cutting our grass when my dad got sick). But it is what it is and part of being an adult is facing the reality of the situation, so I packed the car (fourth time this summer) and somehow managed to get everything done without having another breakdown.
So off I go to my new life tomorrow; I desperately hope I’ll have this life to return to. But like all true New Orleanians, I’m not going to worry until I have to worry. Most likely, it won’t hit or we’ll get some flooding, so until then, I’m going to take a breath and dive into the next chapter! Luck to all those leaving or staying. I’m sad to miss out on those hurricane parties. 
I forgot how hot New Orleans is in the summer. In the words of some guidebook I was thumbing through, the city is “steamy.” As equally hot as it gets in St. Louis, New Orleans doesn’t offer me the same shelter of a 9-5 free air-conditioned haven or my small apartment that circulates air just right. My childhood bedroom in the corner of the house gets very little and with an entire house to cool down and money tight, I’ve taken to standing in front of the fan half-naked.
Sometimes I wonder why I came home. Don’t get me wrong; I love New Orleans, but I also love it most during Christmas when all my friends are home and we haven’t seen each other in a year and life is filled with plans and parties and what I wished my social life was in St. Louis. I knew when I made the choice to come home that the possibility of getting restless existed, but I never thought it would be so soon.
Family-wise, things have been really rough. With my dad out of the country getting R&R and treatment, it’s been just my mom and sister handling everything here. She would never say it, but I think my mom is happy I’m hope for these few months just to help out with every day stresses. Financially, I can’t stop worrying. While I’m undergoing this quarterlife crisis, my dad has apparently decided to have a mid-life one. Finances are already tight, but he seems to have lost sight of that and spending money that we don’t have to the absolute frustrations of my poor mother. Watching her struggle every day with everything going on reminds me I made the right choice to come home.
My parents have always had a typical loving marriage, filled with funny bickering and usual fights, but the second cancer entered the picture, everything changed. How could it not? She can only argue so much with him in fear of disturbing his health, so the three of us are on the other side of the world trying to figure out how to fix the house and pay the bills. If anything, I’ve discovered that my sister and I have more in common than I realized (we’re not close at ALL). I’ve watched her take apart my childhood bed with just a wrench and fix things that my dad used to do for us. A friend that was over helping me paint commented, “Wow, you and your sister are both really good with power tools.” Part of that only added to my fueling anger at him for not being here, but the other half was proud of us for doing so much on our own.
So as messy and chaotic and unknown as my future is, it’s nothing compared to what my mother’s going through. And as strong as she is, she married in an time that the wife is dependent on the husband. She constantly worries I’m lonely being single, but she’s slowly starting to grasp that being independent has made me capable of doing things she was never able to. Their 28th anniversary is in a few weeks; my mom is flying overseas to be with him and hopefully smack him into sense. Funny thing is growing up, he’s always been the one to remember the anniversary and buy flowers. To this day, she still forgets. I know he’s happy where he is; he has his family around him that he doesn’t get to see a lot since we moved to the States, but I know my mom is at her wits end.
I haven’t breathed a word to any of my friends about this; not to say they wouldn’t understand, but something feels strange to bring it up. Whether they know or not hasn’t changed the fact they’ve been quietly there for me, often paying for little things when we’re out. For the first time, I’m the one without the job when I was always been the only one working and living on my own. Europe was incredibly good for my life; I no longer sleep past 10 even when I got to bed late. And while I never had that “aha!” moment (although E said she heard A-ha’s “Take On Me” in the department song and is counting it), I did realize that as much as I love order in my life, I really crave adventure.
But where do I find adventure and order and still fix everything that is going out of control?
And with a whirlwind, I’m back. The rest of the trip in Florence, Venice and Milan moved quickly and also sluggishly due to the beginning of summer, so much time in the heat of the afternoon was spent hiding in air-conditioned stores and walking in shade. After a rough stay in Milan and a bumpy flight back, I now have to face the real world of everything I ignored for 3 weeks. Maybe I should have just lied and told people I was gone till July.
While patiently enduring the woman punching my seat numerous times in the 11 hour flight, I compiled a list of lessons learned from Europe about traveling and myself:
1) Planning IS important and necessary, but always leave room for flexibility. R and I planned for months on this trip. On some days, up to 4-5 hours sitting on the phone/online researching the best places, the cheapest flights, hostels, tips, etc. We sketched the general schedule out with how many days in each city, booked all our hostels, but left the daily schedule completely open. The planning was torturous in the early months, but it paid off. We had little to think about when we arrived in each city in regards to lodging, and spent the day wandering the areas and really seeing Europe.
And although we regretted going to Milan (really, there is NOTHING other than the gorgeous duomo and a lot of expensive shopping and The Last Supper that has to be reserved months ahead of time to view) instead of Naples (a decision we made in February due to the time/money limit), we rectified the situation when we read a travel book in the store telling us about the lakes nearby. So in the middle of the afternoon on our last day, we grabbed a cheap ticket to Lake Como (we never did find George Clooney there) and had a great day away from the city.
2) Pack light, especially when backpacking. Everyone wasn’t kidding when they said this. When there’s often no chance of escalators or elevators, lugging a rolling suitcase is a nightmare. I’ve never been more relieved to validate the expensive backpack purchase. It was a mere 18 pounds so I made off great and if I could do it again, I would pack even lighter. When we hit the 90s near the end of the trip and had to walk a little bit to our hostel or train station, a light suitcase is your best friend (and sunblock)!
Don’t forget the little things, however. I got teased a lot for “being so prepared” with a makeshift ziplock bag of 1st aid and a swiss army knife, but it was used often for cutting feta, packages and opening wine at sunset. And as bulky as a queen sheet was, I saved $40 not buying a sheet sac from REI and just folding it over at night to make my own. Comfort from home, no bed bugs and instant lightweight cover.
3) The sites are important, of course, but the small towns and true Europe away from that are the most memorable. We lucked out in that my quarterlife crisis spit us out in June, because Greece was relatively light with tourism. Italy, however, was a mad house. We read up enough and talked to hostel owners to get enough tips to avoid most of the big crowds and found ways to see the real towns. Usually when traveling internationally, I’m with my family and we’re on a tour, but this time, it was all us and walking for miles and hating the large tour groups. Driving through the mountains of Naxos and seeing the small towns and old men outside talking is definitely something we would have missed on a bus.
4) Walking shoes will be your downfall or success. I fought for months not to bring my good running shoes; they’re heavy and hot and frankly, they look silly with a skirt. But my friend who spent the a semester abroad in Greece pushed forward, insisting that I would be walking up to 10 miles a day and climbing mountains. I laughed in her face, but guess what? I climbed a lot of mountains and hills and walked for 12 hours a day. And those shoes were awesome. As much as I wanted to bring the cuter lighter Sketchers, the thick padded running ones gave me pretty damn awesome calves and unshaky knees after a 588 step descent down.
5) Europeans don’t like the big bills. Anytime we went to an ATM, it would spit out 20s or 50s. Not a big deal in America, but try to pay for a 2 euro gelato with a 10 and you would get the look of annoyance from the vendor. They hated the paper and wanted the coins, but it proved to be difficult when no one would break anything. A lot of time was spent digging for change or someone paying for everything and trying to remember who owed what. Given that the dollar is bad right now, we struggled a bit with how expensive everything was. We went to the grocery as much as possible and picnicked on a bright pink dollar tablecloth we grabbed the night before we left. But it’s doable and all our parents kept saying, “You’re too young to worry so much about money. This is a trip of a lifetime! Don’t miss out due to worrying about money.” So we compromised what we spent money on. Near the end, we were museumed out and spent the money on riding the funicular up a mountain in Como or paying the extra euro to upgrade to first class on the train. And you know what? Once in awhile, it’s okay to grab McDonald’s. I feel no guilt in that. And I don’t even eat it in the states.
6) Water! Water! Water! Water is really expensive in Europe. No free water when you sit down for a meal. A lot of cities had free flowing fountains in the plazas with great drinking water, but some also had really bad tasting stuff (I grew up not drinking tap water and it’s a thing I’m trying to fix). But hydrating is crucial and some days, I drank 4-5 bottles.
7) Souvenirs are heavy and a bit cheesy, so send a postcard. I tried looking for gifts for people and myself, but everything seemed to fake and touristy. I ended up buying handmade jewelery for myself and was going to buy bags of pasta and chocolate for others, but the hotter the weather got, the less I wanted to carry more. So postcards was the way.
Group dynamics is more key than you realize. A friend’s boyfriend that had been traveling the world for months commented that if one person didn’t like a place, the traveling partners would end up not liking it either. Whether this was true or not since it seemed like an unanimous decision on dislike of Athens and Milan, I did find that group chemistry was important. One a leg of the trip that had 5 girls, cattiness and annoyance was highly possible, but never arrived and for that, I was relieved. Also, being an art school grad, my excitement level of finally see Santa Croce in Florence or Leonardo’s Adoration of the Magi at the Uffizi was higher than the others. So on occasion, we separated so I could fully take in what I had learned and read about for years. Other than that, there was no weak link and anytime we we would have a random insane idea, the entire group would go along.
As for the entire experience, I definitely have no regrets (except maybe Milan), but overall, one of the most amazing times of my life, and next April/May, we might just go to Ireland. Now I just got to find a job, get money, find time, get my life back together…
There’s something incredibly thrilling about being in Europe during the Europe Cup. Even more exciting is being in Rome during an Italy-France semifinals game! Getting out of Athens boosted my mood a little. When we arrived in Rome, I felt completely better, because let’s be honest, it’s ROMA! It’s everything I ever read, studied and dreamed about. The food is delicious, the little winding streets, the gelato, the art… it’s impossible to ever describe it and capture the full essence of Italy.
We stayed at a great little hostel called RetRome owned by 2 guys. It was like staying at a friend’s apartment that loves retro and vintage decor. We even had a Murphy bunk bed! On our last night, the hostel owner Moti took us out to an Irish pub to watch the game. What a different experience! So many different cultures mixing together – people from New Zealand, Australia, England, US, Russia, etc. I’m going to be a dork and admit I’ve always wanted to be in Europe for a big soccer game and it definitely lived up to my standards.
As for the other amazing sites of Rome, I was astounded by the sheer magnitude of every corner. The Colosseum was surreal, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps… but I think my favorite will always be the Vatican. Religious or not, it’s impossible NOT to appreciate the breadth of the architecture and art, especially in St. Peter’s. Incredible.
We made an attempt to get to the catacombs in the south of the city, but it was far out the way and we wandered for a bit and realized it was closed by the time we made it there. It was worth the trip just to see Appian Way, the street that is the basis for “All roads lead to Rome.” The sun was out after a light rain and we walked along where the chariots of ancient Rome used to go while peeking at the giant villas and rolling fields. We made up elaborate stories of a giant Italian family inviting us to dinner and meeting our future rich Italian husbands.
It was sad to leave Rome, but hopefully Florence will live up to its reputation. Part of me still seems to be unsettled, as if waiting for some “aha!” moment that has yet to arrive – like I’m looking for something, but I have no idea what…
*Until then, my apologies on the lack of replies to everyone’s blog! My Google Reader looks insane and I’m scared to even open it up to catch up.
Greetings from Greece! We’re alive!
3 of us left New Orleans Thursday morning and while we waited 2 hours in Atlanta, we ate our last American meal. And by American, I mean Panda Express. My fortune cookie read “It’s the time to create your own adventure.” I took it as a good sign of the upcoming few weeks. After a harrowing and uncomfortable flight on Delta (never flying them international again), we landed safely into Athens. We got no sleep on the plane due to Delta being crappy and jet lag (and bad food); the old stewardness was incredibly mean and kept glaring at us as if we personally offended her anytime we thanked her for something. In response, we hoarded the small free wine bottles into our luggage and have slowly drained them away in the last few days.
Still, no matter what people say about Athens and its dirt and not much to do, it’s still Europe and the second I walked out the airport and saw the gorgeous scenery and mountains, I knew I was in heaven. The weather has been a consistent sunny cloudless blue sky and 77 degrees. Talk about perfection.
Due to insane months of careful planning, there was little trouble finding the train and arriving at our first hostel. Great little place, but a little dark and sparse. They placed us on the 6th floor (a walk-up, of course) and when we entered our tiny 4-bedroom ensuite, we collapsed and then realized the tiny tiny bathroom with no real shower (just a shower head) had no light. Ah, the way of cheap living. I mean, how are you going to use the bathroom for number 2 in the dark?!
Smallbone arrived two hours later and bumped into us as we were walking out the hostel to go to the street market nearby. After introductions and hugging, we headed out to explore. The only huge downer was the severe jetlag we were all experiencing but since it was early in the day, we decided to power through until night. Bad idea. I mean, good in theory, but bad for all our moods. Until we found the “Happy Train” that for only 3 euros (we love being fake students despite graduating 3 years ago; keep that student ID!), took us around Athens on a slow little train. The sun was setting, the weather was perfect and I was finally at peace after months of turmoil.
We woke up this morning at 5am to find that the bathroom with no door stop or curtain had pushed the water out and right onto the floor under my baggage. Surprisingly, I found myself completely cool about it; annoyed, of course, but overall, didn’t feel much anger. Must be a sign of maturation? The young hostel owner felt incredibly bad, especially after telling me their dryer was broken, but I laughed it off and he put out a huge breakfast spread 2 hours early, just for us.
Despite Italy being my lifelong dream, I can say without a doubt that the Greek islands will always be my favorite. The ferry ride was long, but glorious and when we arrived in Naxos 5.5 hours later, I knew this would be somewhere I would find true peace and relaxation. The hostel owner picked us up in a van and as we drove up the small winding roads, we were in awe of the beautiful white and blue buildings. Our hostel, Soula Hotel, is a must-stay if you’re ever here. It’s quaint, clean, great hosts and the beach is RIGHT IN OUR BACKYARD. As in, look out our balcony and down the path, the beach is there. Incredible. The guys at the front desk, although they can’t speak English well, has been so helpful and anytime we’re up here to use the laptop, they continually offer us candy and the use of another laptop behind the desk.
Tomorrow, we’re going on my kind of adventure. We’re renting a car to drive around the entire island!
The downside? I’m broke. This trip is draining me of funds quickly. Food is too good! Can’t stop eating and we’re not even in Italy yet!
In exactly one month, I’ll be sitting on a plane to Europe. Athens, to be exact. I find this idea insane. Going to Europe has been a life-long dream of mine and to finally get to live it out seems almost unreal. And to go on my own terms and my own money and without a care in the world (well, except the whole jobless thing) just makes it all the more thrilling! If I really had the time and money, I would backpack for 2 months through all of Europe, but for now, it’ll be 3 weeks of Greece and Italy. The rest will be there for future trips. No worries! Blogging will continue whenever I can find an internet café. There’s no way I’m letting this trip go unrecorded, even if I have to go back to my hand-written journal.
Thinking of Europe got me remember some miscellaneous ridiculous dreams I’ve had:
1) Traveling all over the world and eating everything. And not gaining a pound.
2) Becoming an amazing chef
3) Concert pianist (for at least once night anyways…)
4) Stopping time
5) going to Hogwarts (like we’ve all haven’t thought of it for a second)
Ridiculous and unrealistic is the key, of course. The list is much longer than that, I’m sure (mixed in with realistic possible goals like camping for a week in the Grand Canyon). What are some of your funny dreams, dear readers?
May is moving quickly now, even for being only 5 days in. I reluctantly put my furniture on Craigslist after finding out one of those pods would cost me $4500. I laughed at the woman on the phone when she gave me the quote; after hearing that I was wandering this summer, she said she should get me together with another customer that was traveling the US looking for his perfect fishing lake. When he found it, they would mail his pod to him. I didn’t have heart to tell her there was probably a big age difference between us, but at the same time, I’m intrigued.
To my surprise, the furniture got 30 emails quickly and most of it sold in a day. For whatever reason, I was a bit attached to the furniture (like a bachelor is to his old comfortable armchair or futon), so it was a mixture of disbelief and relief when I sold them (luckily, I get them for a few weeks more). I’ll take it as a sign for me to finally get to go shop at Ikea!
Other than a few meals with friends and some shopping, I spent most of the weekend alone, watching the Cubs/Cards series and NBA playoffs and taking walks out in the gorgeous spring weather. I’m trying incredibly hard not to panic about everything that’s happening and living out every moment possible here before I leave. However the closer I get to the end of May, the more I know I’ve made the right choice. A summer in New Orleans will do wonders for me (and probably fatten me up with all the delicious food I will savor, especially with Nola).
Ah, 25th year, you better be good to me.
*Sorry this entry seemed to be boring and nothing exciting like Smallbone’s fun men adventures. I just had to mention that Europe was 30 days away!
I have a spending problem.
No, it’s not the normal kind of shopaholics, layaways or rich people. It’s some bizarre continual guilt about spending money or buying things. Ever since I was a child, I was always worried about money and I’m not sure why. I grew up in a typical middle-class family, was lucky enough to attend private schools and went to a great college. I never asked my parents for things and they always told me to stop worrying since it was their job to think about the finances. I don’t consider myself cheap (if anything, I spend more money on my friends than myself), but have always been frugal.
When I first started working after college, it took awhile to adjust to a higher income and the idea that quality is more important. In the last year, however, the guilt has increased. It nags and nags me and I have no idea how to quiet it down. Maybe it’s because I’m quitting a well-paying job with benefits for the heck of it and to go “discover myself” and explore this much-needed break. Maybe it’s guilt of having no income when I’m the only one supporting my family (let it be noted, I am no way bitter or angry or feel it a burden). My parents fully support my decision to make this giant change; in fact, they were the ones that encouraged me to relax and take some time out to travel. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
It’s driving me insane to have these constant feeling in my chest. It completely clashes against my love of adventure and trying new things. Guilt about dropping a load of money for a Europe ticket (even though it’s a life dream and I know it’s worth it), for a awesome backpack, for all the moving fees, for new tires on my car and now, new clothes.
I was part of a friend’s garage sale today and while going through everything, I managed to pack up 60% of my clothing. To most, this is a shocking thing for a girl to do, but I’m not lying when I say, even with that 60%, all my clothes could probably fit into 2 large suitcases. I only own about 10 pairs of shoes (half of these are probably flip flops/tennis shoes) and even fewer purses. For the longest time, I thought this was normal! But then I saw my friend’s pile at the garage sale and I was blown away. She was selling about 30 pairs of shoes and that barely made a dent in her collection that she was keeping. Same with purses and clothing. I must have missed out on some key gene for accessories. Or it was 12 years of Catholic school uniforms that has left me with the habit of a small wardrobe (personally, I love uniforms, but it did take awhile to get used to wearing “weekend clothes” daily when I got to college). Name brands mean nothing to me (unless it’s computer/tech equipment) and the most compliments I get about jewelry/clothing are usually things I’ve picked up at Target.
Don’t get me wrong, I like nice things. I’ll willingly spend money on things I know will go into use often (yes, I’ll still feel guilty). Skydiving would really be a thrill. I would love a new digital camera for Europe, but my current one works fine; I would love that new Apple MacBook, but my old school Powerbook is still ticking along. I’ll use things until their timely death, even a favorite tshirt with a hole. So the fact that I willingly gave away most of my clothes to the garage sale and Salvation Army (I only made $17, sadly) is a good sign I’m growing up. But the guilt! I had clothes that I still fit, but no longer wore and now I have a shrunken wardrobe and a much needed shopping trip. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
Maybe it’s Catholic guilt, even though eating dessert has nothing to do with religion. I had severe survivors’ guilt after Katrina; most of my friends lost everything and our house still stood with minimal flooding. Maybe the reason isn’t important. I don’t know. I’m too exhausted constantly worrying. Even my financial advisor said the fact I started saving at such a young age meant I would be fine by the time I retire. I have married friends that have yet to set up a savings account, but it’s fruitless to compare myself to others or say “Well, at least you don’t…”
Blah.
As I mentioned before, I absolutely hate exercising. So when the kickboxing session at the community center ended, I was surprised to find myself joining the Y for more classes. Not only that, I and J boldly joined TWO back-to-back. Anyone who knows me knows this is a milestone. I am actually giving up a good part of the “me and dinner and my favorite tv shows” time that I so look forward to at the end of a long work day. To top matters, I signed up to walk the St. Louis 5K. Clearly, someone has poisoned my hamburger.
The Y classes were vastly different from the ones at the community center. There, we had half of a crowded hot gym of basketball players with loud hyperactive techno remixes and an anorexic thin woman bouncing and yelling at us as we made faces behind her back.
It was a complete shift when I stepped into the small quiet studio with air-condition blasting and no bad music. A bigger surprise? Both instructors of the two classes (Y-Scuplt and Y-Step) were 50-year old overweight women! Both women proved their ability to kick our asses. The mirrors also threw me off; I could no longer make faces at J and instead was forced to look at myself hopping around (I later asked her if she thought the mirrors were skewed because we both seemed to be more slender. A close examination resulted that no, the mirrors were not angled, so it must be our black clothes).
The step class was so hard, so active and so exhilarating that I had the fleeting thought, “I think this instructor needs to be my life coach.” She was cheerful, but not in a peppy cheerleading way; frankly, it felt like a tougher version of Oprah or Mayo Angelou pushing us to our best. I also found out why the air-condition was blasting; we were all in a layer of sweat in 10 minutes. The group of people were also much more diverse; there was actually men stepping and jumping with us. And it wasn’t to pick-up girls; they were there with their wives working together to lose weight. Imagine that.
The pleasant surprises kept coming. In the last 5 minutes, she turned the music to jazz and we cooled down while listening to her soothing voice. In that moment, I reached some strange moment of zen/europhia. It rarely happens despite growing up in a hybrid of Catholicism and Buddahism. I was watching myself in the mirror and feeling like I was in the music montage during a movie and this feeling of absolute peace fell over me.
I’m hurdling through so much change right now that for a moment, I worried that it was a sign that I’m happy with this life in St. Louis. My new job has proven to be an amazing experience for my career growth, but also a really fun environment of great people (I came to this conclusion as I watched one of my bosses push around a stolen grocery cart with two trash cans of ice and beer to celebrate St. Patrick’s, but a minute later, stepped into a conference call with complete professionalism). With everything going so well here, why am I leaving?
I’m not going to lie; I panicked for a moment (my co-blogger Smallbone is going to smack me through her computer screen, all the way from NY). But no worries! I stayed firm on my decision to leave. New Orleans is waiting. Europe is waiting. A city TBD is waiting. My future is waiting. It’s ironic: everything that wasn’t working out that made me want to leave is working smoothly now. That’s the way life works out though, I guess.
So with a good deal of fear tinged with a dash of courage and excitement, I push forward. Now if only I could get a date.
Kidding. Kinda.
This is a follow-up on my previous post, The Art of Being Single.
Unlike my dear friend and co-author for this blog, Miss Smallbone, I’ve had a very quiet few months on the men front. Although I’ve been single for years, there’s always been some guy in and out that I’ve emotionally been struggling with. 2008 seems to have changed all that. In the last few months, other than a crush here or there, it’s been just me. No drama, no crying emotional toil, no guy that I have in mind when I take those stupid Cosmo quizzes while waiting at the airport.
I managed to leave work early (and by early, I mean at 5pm) yesterday for the first time since I started this job. It was glorious as I stepped outside into the bitter cold and then actually had the time to reflect on 2008 so far. To my surprise, I realized that in my resolution not to get tied up with men not good for me, I had made all these life-changing decisions. Whether those 2 factors are tied together is up for interpretation, but the bottom line is I seem to be really thinking about myself for once.
In 3 months, I’ve managed to end contact with 2 men that caused a lot of emotional drama, emotionally distanced myself from self-absorbed/selfish friend, finally make the decision to move out of St. Louis and go back to New Orleans for the summer, fulfill a life-long dream of backpacking in Europe, quit my job, got an offer on a really great new job and take a kickboxing class. Who knew that I would actually stick to my resolutions this year? This never happens! Of course, it’s been a tiny bit lonely, but overall, I find that I’ve been tackling all these changes head-on that I used to run from. So it begs the question if my attachment to guys is what was holding me back. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-relationships; I’m just pro-single. But until now, I never really reaped the benefits of truly doing things for the pure reason of wanting them for myself and my life.
I fully believe that relationships succeed when you find a person that challenges you to continue that search for yourself. A college professor told me that I should always reach for something bigger than myself so I would have room to grow, and I only hope that when I finally do find that guy willing to take on everything that is good and bad about me, he’ll push me to continue this quest to taste life.
But no rush. For now, I’m going to enjoy this “truly” being single thing and jump into everything head first, even if I’m about to throw up from fear.
