Finally Home

 Goodness. It would appear I have not blogged since moving. 

What must my public think??

Hello, old friend. 

I have gone through a kind of metamorphosis. I am in what I am calling: Phase 2.0. Long gone are the days (nights, rather) of me walking from the law firm to the bar to order a Negroni, unpack my backpack and retire at "my spot" in the corner. Today (actually: night, still) I am sitting in my / our apartment / the apartment he signed the lease for before he even reconnected with me and before we had any idea we would ever actually be together (this is so wild, this thought. For another time). He sleeps in our bedroom, in our bed. A favorite, easy song by Tash Saltana strums quietly from my charging phone. A teacup - mass-produced, but beautiful - happily emptied (still warm) of its Earl Grey contents. (Black. A sensible amount of white sugar. Two pours, one brew and one teabag - the first cup stronger and hotter than the second.) I feel warmth from the tea. From the blanket and stuffed animal by my side. From the peace that only true safety can bring. I am wearing whatever I want, leaving my phone and purse at my seat when I get up to use the restroom and most assuredly not looking over my shoulder. My beverages have been paid for before I even sit down and possibly most convenient of all: when I am tired (or simply done): I will walk from my seat to my bed and sleep. The walk will be warm. No one will bother me or even see me. I will be home. 

I forget if I have covered this already, but I would be lying if I said that I didn't have some concern over re-adopting old habits I no longer cared for / had (at one point) successfully grew out of. Coming back into town, I mean. Habits that I would categorize as "not cute" as a 35-year-old. But! So far so good. I have organically reconnected with some people that influence me in only the best of ways. Some from work, who show me stability and reality (and the importance of making a big deal out of Casual Friday). Some from downtown who show me how to enrich my days simply / effectively and how to look out for my community. And some from my family that show me how dynamic and beautiful people can be and how to slow down. (Not to mention I have never drank so little! It's healthier, better for my brain and it's saving me money, which I naturally adore.) 

I miss my babies in Rochester who gave me my childhood / teenhood / twentyhood experience that I certainly am better off knowing / experiencing. They made that city feel like my neighborhood; like any one of their homes was just a quick walk around the block. Just a bike ride away (and I don't even know how to ride a bike!). They taught me how to be young and adventure and take advantage of what you have. I am forever grateful for all of this.

I remember writing something in my last blog that pondered on whether or not I would miss my Rochester apartment building. Survey says: yes and no. I only miss the building because it led to my pocket of the world. The place where I would calmly and quietly read or write. The place filled with art and scents and items that I found to be lush and beautiful. The only place that was inherently "me". It is less of the actual items / products / physical building and such that I miss / more of the intention and feeling of it all. And even then: do I miss it? Or am I simply looking back on it fondly? Am I simply grateful / glad that I had it? I don't long for it. And certainly want nothing to do with it if it meant giving up anything I have now. What I have now is gold. Better. (What's better than gold? Ah, yes: this.)

I think: I miss my peeps. I loved my place. It was great. I am happy to be home. Scheduling chiro appointments, coffee dates and looking up things like "how many cups of tea is too much?"

SPEAKING of scheduling things: it hasn't all been exciting doctor's appointments. Already this year (since coming back) N/he has taken me to the local opera house to experience my FIRST OPERA (Aida! It was incredible). We also went to see Tom Segura (a slightly different experience from the opera, but still exciting) and we joined our gorgeous friend for a romp at a fantastic rented cabin (nothing spooky happened, which I am simultaneously grateful for and bummed about / would've made great writing material). We've been to countless beautiful restaurants on the water / in adorable towns (thank God he's good at finding them, because I gotta tell ya...). And to cap it all off: we are going to see Eddie Izzard in October!! UNREAL. I have learned his stand up, scoured pawn shops and record stores (and eventually: the internet) for his material. I have impersonated and quoted him relentlessly (sorry, Ma). I quoted him on this blog! I am sure of it. I can't believe it. The best part? N is going which means: we get another adventure / travel together. ^.^

Got my best friend, E, to travel with to our sweet baby's wedding, soon, too! (I am so happy for baby H. I want to buy her everything. Multiples of everything. At least six woks.) E and I are also going to Southern Maine in October to see Bob the Drag Queen - one of our absolute favorites! (Should I wear the jacket that I customized with one of her quotes? Would it be too on-the-nose?) Feels like we just got back from seeing Bianca Del Rio, for Pete's sake. I am certainly getting SPOILED this year. And loving it!

I have done it. I have reached a point where nothing is missing. It's incredible. It's everything you think it would be and more. It's a bunch of the best feelings you have ever had all at once. (You know what happened to the boy who got everything he wanted, don't you??) The thing no one tells you about is: once you are gifted with the best life ever imaginable / you get everything you have ever wanted / longed for is, you enjoy every damn lick of it while simultaneously experiencing a low hum of dread and quiet anxiety, thinking something akin to: 'this is not my beautiful wife'.

Don't get it twisted, sister: this is a small peril I will gladly live with / through to keep what I have, now. And I desperately hope the retired alley cat in me will keep me on the straight and narrow. Popping in every once in a while to remind me what life used to be like and to not take any of this for granted. 

4 Days: Unreal.

I am currently awaiting my second apartment showing to occur (this will be the last one before I leave, I think). The first showing (a day ago) came and left fairly quickly, so I am hoping this one will be similar. 

Upon re-entering my building, after a cigarette, I looked around. At the walls (not white, but not cream), at the mailboxes (more tinged, antique bronze than gold) and the carpet (levels above only the atrocious hallway carpeting of my Biddeford apartment). I wondered if I would miss it. I wondered if I had taken enough pictures and videos. Even then: if I had kept enough of them (I have a tendency to mass-delete in a kind of Spring Cleanup fashion every now and again). 

Thanks to Instagram (said no one, or at least not earnestly), I have documented my past well enough, so far. Starting with my first adult move to North Conway, New Hampshire. Pictures of my different friends, cars, pets, hair/makeup/fashion, jobs and apartments. Posted to the internet and shared to the world. Surviving even the worst / earliest / hastiest phone switch-overs. And then there are those pictures that will never see the light of social media: the ones that are none too spicy and, in fact, quite dull. Dull and not enough of anything to anyone else, but still enough representative of something / everything of that certain time for me. Of that event, of that night, that friend, that conversation, that laughing fit, that feeling. If I'm being honest, lately I've been torn between keeping them neatly organized within the recesses of my gallery files and printing them all out for my first, proper photo album. The thing with data is that it can be corrupted / deleted when you least expect it. The thing about material stuff is that you now have one more "thing" to keep track of / to keep safe / to treasure / to clean around and store / to grab before you run out of the burning building. I guess I haven't made my decision yet. And by my own rules: if I haven't made my decision of yes or no, it must mean I don't want it badly enough. 

I recall my mother's photo albums, painstakingly taken, developed, labeled, organized and kept. But without children, will there ever be a reason to have them? To liberate them from their shelf, blow the dust off and look through? I guess maybe not. Unless it's one of those older people things where, upon retiring, I will desperately wish I would have kept better log of my own life. I do try to, as previously blogged. As I am the only one who has stuck by my side enough to actually know anything about it. But maybe I'm just putting too much weight on the matter entirely. After all, I have yet to come across a picture of me where I go "Oh my God - that's right! I completely forgot about that!" (You think you have a shit memory until you really think about it.)

Plus, as much as I appreciate my past and all of the people in it: there is something to be said, I think, about letting go / not romanticizing / appreciating the present. Where is the line drawn? The line between keeping photos of current friends and loved ones hanging about your walls and stashing piles of water-damaged evidence holed away in your garage (should you be lucky enough to have one)? I guess I don't know. I guess it feels like one more of those things I just haven't grasped / just don't know how to do since I was born a bit too late. 

I do love seeing pictures of my best friend and I, though :) Couldn't imagine getting rid of those. Perhaps that's where I'll start, at least: printing off a couple of pictures from my best friend trove. If I'm being perfectly honest, I think he's the closest family I've got. 

Back to the time limit: 4 Days. 

I'm working for the majority of those days, leaving only one weekend day free. I would like to use that day to empty out the apartment as much as possible, I think. Maybe going out for a sensible evening if the weather's nice. I've really always hated the idea of a Farewell Party for me. I'm always moving / always doing something. It's never really been special to me in that way. The biggest reason I hate them is because: anyone who has moved can tell you the perils of it. The running around and appointment making and heavy lifting and transporting and connecting / orchestrating and weird sleeping arrangements on half-deflated air mattresses / floor mattresses / friend's couches / strange motels... The last fucking thing I want is another appointment / place I have to physically be / time constraint etc.

To quote myself, talking with my mother: "I'm not grumpy or rude, I just know what I want."

Speaking of which: she has suggested that such farewell parties are not for the person going away, but for the ones staying. Which, incidentally, is exactly how she describes funerals. Let it be known: Once I'm dead, my dearest loved ones can invite me to any party they see fit. I give my word: I shall not protest. (Perhaps this would be the opportune time to finally take me out to those hiking / camping trips I keep telling you I'm not interested in.)

I have had my birthday and it was the best one yet. Filled with only a few people that I was truly hoping to spend time with, full of love and ease. Lazy and luxurious. That can be my Farewell Party. 

What I am not opposed to is - once I'm re-settled back home - a kind of Welcome Back Party. And by Welcome Back Party, I mean: spending what time I can with the three people I've religiously kept in touch with throughout the three years of my absence. (I will be living with the fourth and will hopefully be able to spend time with him at some point before this.) It won't have to be all at once, it won't have to be in one specific place / at a specific time / with a specific dress code... I'm thinking:

Porch night and craft brew / CBD with one
Thai food and cackles with the second
Cigarettes and coffee with the third. 

And I always want these. These 3 events are exactly the reasons I kept coming back to visit. Why I asked for time off every March (as well as whenever else I possibly could). Why I carefully timed actions and packed bags and drove eight hours to and fro. (One of the eight through Massachusetts, if you can imagine!) 

The showing people have come and gone and now I am left with only the music playlist I started for background noise for them. (Why do I do this? Hosting must truly be in my blood. Even when - assuredly - no one cares.) "Nighttiming" by Coconut Records just came on - one of my favorites. As Jason Schwartzman sings on and shadow leaves dance and glimmer on my sills and surfaces, my mind wanders in peace. I picture the long drive back home. The feeling of welcomed finalization; that this will be the last drive of this nature. No more strange moves and solo missions. That I will have graduated from alley cat. That I will finally be home. For good. 

4 Days.

Planning, Lately

I love organizing and preparing. It can be hard work that comes in very long, patient, steady strings as opposed to quick shot bursts, but it brings me comfort. And it makes me feel like: "Welp, if something goes terribly wrong now, at least I know I tried my best / actually did my part / there was nothing I could have done / controlled".

This comes from needing to be very careful / being in charge of many important things for myself and others since I was... 15? Let's say mid-teens. (Disaster was not an option!) It's an attribute of mine that I do not resent. (Relaxation is overrated.)

However! I tend to do this thing where: as soon as I know I might be going in a certain direction / might need to plan a bit in the future, I start planning immediately. Which, in theory sounds great, but once I start planning, I do not stop. Blame it on nervousness, disorders, whatever you'd like - but it's a fact. And in doing so: I end up going through a few stages.

1.    EXCITEMENT and, knowing me, at least slight panic. 
2.    NOTEBOOKS diagrams, calendars / schedules, lists, charts. Careful curation. Keeping to myself. 
3.    REPETITION wherein I realize: there are many days between now and the goal / I just keep writing and charting the same five things and nothing is getting further planned / accomplished. I need to wait. 
4.    SHARING the information with anyone I like because even though they might not be interested in the least / it's so far out, there's no need to worry anyone about it / they'll surely forget, it scratches that itch of productivity while I wait for there to be an excuse to start planning again.
5.    THE SHIFT wherein I finally get super-realistic / maybe get a bit sick of being SO careful on/with/about the project and honestly: where I typically do my best work. 

Step 5 is also where - if I have been planning to move out - I finally get that quiet peace upon admitting: I actually don't care if any of my material "stuff" makes it. I just need to make sure I get to my destination in one piece / keep Jasper and Shake in one piece and hold onto important paperwork.

The way I see it (eventually!) is: I am not a collector. I don't own anything rare and fragile / precious in that way. There is nothing I own that I could not work toward having again, should I lose it. I can buy more plants, more books, more clothes and makeup... And I have been given, somehow, a total of 3 laptops in my lifespan. (One new, two used.)

At least I am only responsible for myself in this one. I love being on my own watch. It's so much easier than trying to juggle multiple people's priorities / sensitivities / abilities / times and schedules. Also: I hate being responsible for others, as crass as that might sound. I'm far more interested in minding my own business and only having my own variables to worry about.

Cerebral Satiation

I wish I could read a book and write a blog / creative write at the same time. 
Perhaps I've had too much redbull.

This weekend: is it the rest? The relaxation? The avalanche of CBD products imbibed? Or perhaps the complete and utter lack of social planning? I'm not sure. Lately (as I might have brought up / mentioned in a previous blog), I have been feeling more creative and artsy. I somewhat lost it last week and it's come back tenfold this weekend. I mentioned on my instagram today: 

"When I crave something for food / flavor, I find it easy to find the right food / solution. When I crave something cerebral...ly, I typically find it more difficult to satiate." 

I also mentioned that perhaps the secret weapon for creativity / a happy brain is to have less things. Less comforts. Less distractions. I have always joked with my best friend about my innate need to be less-than-perfectly-comfortable in a chair / sofa situation when socializing. I find the kind of seats that suck you in and pull you into a more lateral position to be quite distracting. It almost makes me panic. When I'm trying to socialize / keep my attention on my friends / whoever is speaking, I mean. I feel the same way about productivity. I love comfort. I love to revel in it. However, I find it to be the enemy of productivity / accomplishment. Also worth mentioning: I am addicted to accomplishment(s). So if there is even a chance to feel accomplished throughout the day, I will more than likely spend the day in a less-than-perfectly-comfortable position. (If I'm less comfortable on the sofa, scrolling through my phone, it will feel infinitely less tragic when I abandon said sofa to clean the kitchen.)

ANYway, I am feeling cerebrally under-satiated today and I have no idea how to feed it. I have already blogged twice, done yoga, journalled, did a strange little sewing project, downsized and reorganized / packed my makeup and jewelry, created a capsule wardrobe (for my last two weeks in town)... I would like to read my little mystery novel, but I also feel like it will make me restless. I am specifically in the mood to create, organize, be clever... do something. With my paws. Even if it is simply making silly little friendship bracelets or clacking on the keys. 

Wish me luck. And if I have even the slightest inspiration, you will see me later today. 

Spring Changes

Iiiiiiiit's my birthday month, baybee!!

I count March as "late winter" (even post-Ostara), but April? That's spring, all day, baby. We've had a little snow, but only very little. We've had a bit of rain and clouds and we've also had a decent amount of sun. I am so happy. Returning, once again, to the comfort of being tethered to me / my body / mind. Returning to life. No longer whipping around like a released balloon. 

Time to get back to things like reading and writing. And likely ease up on the cooking and baking a bit, as the appeal of socializing in restaurants will once more be upon me. (RIP, savings account.)

I wonder if I'll dye my hair, once the weather turns. I haven't dyed it since coming down here, nearly 3 years ago. Whatever I lacked in dye and bleach, I have more than made up for it in cuts and styles. I've had long blond, blond bob, grown the blond out and gotten a pixie, grown it all out into a shag kind of situation, shaved it bald for the first time, grown out a mohawk for the first time and now it's grown into a kind of pixie, again. (Wow. I really just went on for a paragraph about my hair. WOMEN, amIright??)

How exhilarating: going through a big move while the weather is changing for the better! (My move down here was October 2, 2021.) Historically speaking, I know a few of my big events have occurred between the span of my birthday and Mother's Day. In fact... let's take a quick peek at the highlights. 

Last May I started working on getting my new place / studio apartment - living on my own in the big... state... (Fuck ever living in New York City. Especially alone.)

2021 I reconnected (or, arguably connected in the first place) with my current partner ^.^

2020 I moved into an apartment with my best friend <3

2018 I left Southern Maine for Turner / Lewiston Maine 

2017 I had my last day at Marche (a place that no longer exists) and began my move to Southern Maine

2016 I left evil grandmother's house / got my mother her own / lived with her there
(bonus: this was my 27th birthday / my bday is the 27th so my friends and I ran off to stay on a houseboat in Florida for a little bit)

2015 I left North Conway, New Hampshire to return to Maine (living in Turner, working in Brunswick)

2014 I left (Auburn for work / Lewiston for living) Maine for North Conway, New Hampshire. 

...And if we're counting this one: May 2013 is when I finally got an instagram / my first post. 

All in late April, early May! So bizarre. I guess I never thought of it. Granted: other grand things have happened in plenty of other months in my life, but it is so interesting how the above all worked out. 

I wonder how much of it is simply how things turned out and how much of it is a deep craving for change, once spring comes along. 

March 2024

I am sitting at the desk my sous chef's wife gave me. 
On the folding chair I thrifted. 
Typing on the laptop my mother got me for Christmas (AGES ago).
Eating a baked good from the vegan restaurant across the street.
Sipping on an organic Pinot Noir from the liquor store that resides two tiny buildings away from mine. 

There were a few things in the air, making me anxious and pulling me away from the wonder of this life and now they are either completely solved or very-much-less in the air. Politely hovering just above ground. I know what happens when people relax too much / something gets forgotten / out of line in a way that would surely be the end of me, so I refuse to do so. However. I am trying to really not blow things out of proportion and actually relax a little and enjoy myself. A little. 

In a little while (great U2 track), I will no longer be down here and because of this, naturally it is my duty to be as present as possible and soak up all the goodness New York has to offer me. (It's not overwhelming by any means, this "goodness". But there is some. And that some is very lovely, indeed and I do not intend on taking it for granted.)

I wonder if life will never be as simple again. I wonder what will replace the simplicity. The simplicity one can only achieve when one is living in essential anonymity in a mystery state, far away from memories of who they always had been. Away from the responsibility / quiet obligation of being that person again. Those quiet obligations are, in reality, but whispering insecurities. One does not actually have to go back to who they once were. And I am hoping to be strong enough to trot confidently past such old habits and ways. I have grown and changed (after about 3 years, I would hope so) and really love who I've become throughout the interim. I would like to only continue growing from here. Hopefully I will be able to do so. 

I've finally done it: I've finally got the city studio in New York state. I've written here. I've created and adventured and made friends and created new habits. I have been able to wake up on my own time and decide - on a whim - to leave the apartment and take a walk for ice cream or food or a drink or meeting up with friends or to visit a used book shop. I have done it and now: I am done. Could I have done with more days like this? Sure, why not. But they are no longer necessary. And the things that are necessary are not here. And so: I am done. Time to move on. This is how I grow. 

It's been really cool seeing just what I am actually capable of. Living on my own in a state where I only know my ex / keeping up with finances just fine (a fact that shocked me but made my mother throw up her hands and say things like: "I dunno why you think you're not able to do things. You should know by now"). I have also learned: life is just SOOOO much better when I don't have to deal with customers for a living. There are customers (guests) in the restaurant that I work at, yes. But I do not actually have to interact with them. And that is solid gold. I have no idea what I'll be doing after I move, but I will say this: it's been really fucking nice. 

I have been creating like a wild woman lately (drawing / sketching / journaling / blogging / editing clothing / collaging...) and I had a paint project all lined up and thought out but... I already sent my precious paints away! So instead: I think for the remainder of the evening, I shall sip away at my Pinot Noir, read a bit and fall asleep to Drag Race. 

Solid. 

Mid-February / Winter Check-In

 It is currently what I would describe as the "wee hours of the morning". The snow is being violently wind whipped just outside my windows and I am writing by lantern light. Further proving I would make an excellent pioneer man. 

If you can't read my sense of humor by now, I need you to leave this blog and never come back.
No, wait - come back!

February is always the hardest month, weather-wise, for me. Because even if it isn't the most terrible temperatures of the season (which so far: it is), it's the last stretch of poo weather before Spring comes to save us all. (How about those people who LIKE winter? What are they called? Oh, yes: my enemies.) And this year February is even LONGER for me, as I am not-so-patiently awaiting my trip back home in March! I do this every year so that I am able to spend some birthday time with my best friend, yes. But now that there is another reason to visit: I am dying a slow and painful death about it and not being dramatic in the least. 

My mother, only just this year, asked me: my birthday is in February: why do you not come up to visit me for my birthday? 

To which I frankly answered: because, mother: it is February. 

I have a hard enough roll of the dice getting my ass outta bed for work during the thick of the winter season. You think an eight-hour solo mission to the COLD STATE is a viable option? God bless America. 

Otherwise? This winter has been downright manageable. I don't want to speak too soon, etc... but so far so good. I believe, ironically, the thing that is making February so torturous is the very same thing that is making the season in its entirety not seem so bad. <3 We've just gotta get through it and be very glad there is heat in the apartment. And that our car's engine keeps turning over when we need it to. 

("We" is ...likely me. You and me, perhaps? And if so: thanks for being so supportive.)

ALSO: I would like to throw back to my list of new winter tries!

   1. jazz hour
   2. a focus on lighting
   3. incense & holder
   4. skincare focus
   5. research 3 new recipes

And how have they gone, so far?

   Jazz hour has morphed into jazz hours, jazz spotify discoveries and even live jazz, at one point. I have also danced more in this stupid little studio apartment than ever before / taken stupid little videos and had so much fun throughout. 

   Lighting was / is essentially just one new amazon lantern thing (that I am currently writing by / see aforementioned pioneering) that was cheap, rechargeable and honestly: one of the best investments ever. It is mobile and lightweight and creates the loveliest soft light in this gentle yellow hue. I have used it not only in the main room / to read & journal by, but also multiple times in the bathroom for a very relaxing shower experience. Changes the whole vibe! In the words of Jenny Mustard: "Recommend, recommend."

   Incense & holder: you don't have time or energy to clean? You already have good lighting? The next best way to instantly cozy up your home is scent. When my two lovelies came over to help my purge my STUFF, the first thing I did was light some Nag Champa. So deliciously warm, spicy and inviting. 

   Skincare focus: my regime has never worked so well for me / I'm learning more and loving every minute of it. Also: my little paws are much less dry/cracked than they usually are by this point in the season. As is my nose!

   As far as researching 3 new recipes... Hm, let's see: I know I did that butter bean "alfredo sauce" pasta from Edgy Veg... I also made those Mexican chocolate cookies... that sage and tomato pasta was certainly a new fave. Oh, and that quick peanut butter-frosting-cake I tried (using seltzer water). All came out at least fine, some came out sinfully delicious (to quote the cocoa devil). Nice! I haven't the foggiest if all of those were discovered/tried at the time that could be considered "winter", but at least I tried them!

I think that was enough ramblings for one entry. Perhaps I should get a nap in before I tend to the fields. 
See you in the next!