Cali Girl

Neatly folding my gauzy swimsuit coverup, I tucked it into the corner of the suitcase and sighed. I had done it. Every square inch of the oversized cheetah print rolling case was occupied by a perfectly coordinated sandal, blouse or handbag. 

The notion that I was overpacking briefly crossed my mind before fading away. Sure, I would only be in San Diego for a handful of days, but as I saw it, I had to be prepared for anything. After all, this was the trip I’d been pining for— a relaxing respite by the ocean. If I felt it necessary to cram every item I could think of into a suitcase that would consequently become too heavy to lug down the stairs, why not just go with it?

I laughed to myself as I riffled through the muck and mess of my desk drawer in search of a luggage lock. All this fuss over a trip I had not too long ago felt lukewarm about! It’s true; when the opportunity to travel to the all too familiar beach town was initially presented to me, I had accepted it, but not without strong apprehension. It was certainly no coincidence to be offered a free trip to California right on the heels of being instructed to “go home”, but this was also a trip I’d wished to avoid— permanently.

My relationship with my home state has been rocky for many years. Though it is the land of my birth, a physical manifestation of all that I hold dear, and the primary backdrop to my most treasured memories in life, it is also the final resting place of my naivety. It was during my last visit to the Golden State that I had my rose-colored glasses slapped clean off my face. My friends were not my friends. My family was not my family. My life, as I knew it, had been exposed as a well orchestrated lie. It hurt to finally see the truth about the people I loved, so I left, vowing to never return. 

Everything and everyone was gone. I was emotionally homeless. 

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Cold, Cold Porcelain

It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.

In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.

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Shame On You

“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.

For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…

… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.

There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.

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It’s Greener On The Side You’re On: Embrace Who You Are, Appreciate What You Have

Once upon a time in a place far, far away (okay, maybe it’s only the next state over), I used to save particularly funny AOL/Yahoo/MSN messenger chats I would have with my friends onto flash drives. Yes, chats. Meh. Okay, so I’m getting old. We’ll all get over this fact eventually.

The initial idea was that I would go back and laugh at these conversations one day. In reality, I forgot they existed as soon as I saved them. I actually have a terrible habit of losing my flash drives, which accounts for why I have so many of them. This doesn’t irk me normally, but last night was an unusual case. You see, I’d lost the latest typed copy of my novel…and it was on one of my many missing flash drives.

I think.

I know, I know. I’m not exactly sure how someone loses something as important as that, but we’ll just have to write it off as a highly exaggerated and most likely non-existent side effect of my aging. But that’s truly not the point here. The point is that I didn’t find my book, but I did stumble across my saved chats. Win-win.

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Best Friends For Never: Breaking Up With My BFF

It’s official: I am no longer friends with my best friend. That being said, I am currently taking applications for a replacement. Serious inquiries only.

I have wanted to post about this scenario for awhile now because I know bestie breakups happen all the time. It’s something others can surely identify with, so I thought it might be helpful to share my own experience with it. However, something has always stopped me.

For one, I was afraid that I would get super caught up in my feelings and struggle to tell the story without it turning into an entire weekend long seminar on the pitfalls of becoming friends with socially unaware narcissists. I mean, I know my rants can be funny and entertaining to read at times, but (hopefully) you guys don’t have time like all that.

Secondly, I am a huge believer in the power of words. What you open your mouth to say had better be exactly what you want to experience because thoughts become things. What you think (and especially speak) about, you bring about. In telling you that my long-time friendship has been kicked to the curb like last week’s garbage, I knew I’d be driving the last nail into the coffin. I’d be lowering it into the ground—everything would be well and truly over.

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Girl In Bloom: New Place, New Me

I’m finally able to see the finish line. There are only three days left until I can move into my new home.

Gosh, it feels so weird.

Tonight will actually be my final night here in the condo, and I’m surprisingly sad about it. If you would have talked to me back in February when I first arrived out here and told me that I’d end up hating to leave this place, I would have laughed in your face. I remember my first week like it was yesterday: I absolutely hated this place lol. Everything felt foreign. And I don’t mean foreign like “Oh, everything is new and I’m not sure where anything is”, but foreign as if I’d spent my entire life on Pluto—alone.

It took me a ridiculous amount of time to get accustomed to living here, but I’m not entirely sure why. I have moved an absurd amount of times throughout my life, so one would think that I could swap states like it’s nothing. Normally, this would totally be the case. I’ve always jumped at the opportunity to check out a new city and have new adventures, so I thought this move would be a cakewalk. Well, that isn’t exactly how the story went this time around. For the first time ever, moving to a new environment left me feeling vulnerable, out of place and…a little scared.

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It’s Storytime: I Had Never Been So Embarrassed In All My Life

When I think back over various events in my life, I often end up spending quite a bit of time strolling down memory lane. From the downright hilarious to the absolutely gut wrenching, I have had so many experiences etch an honorary and seemingly permanent place in my mind. Earlier today, I was randomly reminded of an experience I had many years ago. While I can look back and laugh now, it was hardly funny at the time. In fact, the scenario left me lost for words and sincerely mortified.

The interesting thing about this particular memory is that it was one of the very few times I can recall being embarrassed. Now, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I rarely do or say things that genuinely leave me feeling that way. If anything, I am usually embarrassed for other people. Well, I guess you can say the story I’m about to tell you fell precisely into this category, only this wasn’t a case of an adult behaving badly. No, this was a matter of a child sharing his own brutally honest (not to mention humiliating!) observations. Beforehand, I had heard that kids say some of the craziest things, but this really took the cake for me.

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30-Something, Single Female – So Sorry, I Am Not Anastasia Steele

I deleted the dating app about a week after installing it. It was such a relief.

I really don’t know what to say about the whole “dating in the digital age” thing. It is probably safe to say that it isn’t for me. Though I genuinely wasn’t looking for anything romantic in the first place (and I made that quite clear), I simply couldn’t contend with the unspoken (or not so unspoken) expectation of a hookup or FWB situationship. Whatever happened to just being friends?? Perhaps that is exactly my problem…the outdated desire for something strictly platonic with a member of the opposite sex. Stupid, stupid me.

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Nights Like This

I really don’t feel like writing right now, but it is because I feel this way that I should write. Mostly, I don’t particularly enjoy writing when my thoughts seem jumbled. Despite clearly feeling some type of way, I at the same time feel nothing at all. Disorganized numbness. That sounds about right to me.

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