#denim and supply
… it’s been a long three weeks back from roaming the streets of Florence, eating my weight in gelato and taking long exposure shots of the sunset without a care in the world. every last piece of me is exhausted. physically. mentally. emotionally. the effects of advertising are taking its toll in much more impactful ways than just the extra-strength dark eye circle cream i’m buying in bulk these days; is this what it means to feel burnt out? not even six months in and i feel as though i’ve aged the equivalent of my last six years in communications. yikes. there are days where i see a spark at the end of the tunnel, but more often than it’s a shroud of darkness; a shroud of darkness accompanied by the heavy, humid blanket of uncertainty and fear that leaves you hesitant to take another step forward. it feels like a dysfunctional love i’m determined to see through, but at what expense? no answers here, just ramblings. even the most difficult of experiences help shape us, so long as we let them. as was with the utter joy & happiness i felt leaving Rome, i want to remember this moment + this feeling. such is the balance of life.
Brutal tempo 10k through Central Park tonight with the crew. Knox had Nora, Jess, Erin & I push a sub 9-min pace for the first time. The hills were as steep (and long!) as ever & I can’t even remember the number of times I wanted to stop, but 3-4 miles in and I experienced the most tremendous moment of clarity. While my legs had numbed from lactic acid and cold, my breathing slowed and it felt as though I had just started the workout. This was my first time experiencing something like this. It was as if my body had just… let go. At that moment, I knew it would be a matter of mind over miles. So long as I kept my legs moving one step in front of the other and my breathing in rhythm, I could run harder. And so I did. Finished at 54:12, over three minutes faster than my PR 10k time in Puerto Rico. My legs are shot and my right butt cheek has decided to cramp up at random but I feel damn accomplished. Every day I’m stronger, faster and better than the day before. Every day I’m one step closer to being a proper athlete again. It makes all the pain worth it.
Pet Peeve #1
People who feel entitled, in any way shape or form. Work for what you have. And realize, even after all your labors, that you don’t deserve anything. This applies not only to work, but all aspects of life.
#file under reasons why new york wont ever be home
I enjoy indulging in the idea of wearing an outfit like this for work, but see no plausible way of pulling it off unless it’s for a meeting that involves car service to/from my destination and/or minions that carry me through the streets of New York.
In the last three weeks, I’ve drawn the following conclusions:
- 90% of the time, weather is too hot or too cold for just ‘a blazer’. currently i can barely stand to keep my hair down much less put on another layer
- anything remotely tight on humid days will likely be sweat-stained before the end of the day. anything remotely lose and sheer on frigid days will need to be layered… which means releasing your inner stripper in the subway or sweating your ass off after escaping the cold
- what purpose do “summer” scarves serve?! none. might as well buy a heat rash for your neck.
- cobblestones, potholes, subway stairs, sewer grates, etc are unkind to heels and heel wearers. cost TO wear may actually be higher than cost PER wear. (i know i’m not the only girl who rationalizes her shoe costs with this method)
- even still… teetering around the city? manageable. falling on your ass from the jerky motions of a train? not so much.
- but even IF you wear flats en route to work, WHEN/WHERE do you change into heels? in the elevator? the hall? en route to your desk? at the bathroom before arriving? at your desk? all these complications just to wear some stilts around a bland, cubical filled box? spare me.
It’s officially officially: I’ve moved to New York. The concrete jungle. Big apple. City that never sleeps. The unmistakable sinking feeling of real life versus dreams is crashing down and settling deep in the pit of my stomach like an forgettable kiss. It’s one thing to talk about moving cross-country for love, life & the betterment of self; it’s another to actually do it. While the notion has entertained my lips for months, hell, years on end, and been the topic of countless catch ups with friends, or small talk with strangers, it is no longer entertaining. It has happened.
Sure, I’m headed back in a few days to revisit our Angeleno counterparts and see one of my oldest friends off to med school but I can’t call the City of Angels home any longer. Like a relationship, the faster ties are cut, the lesser it’ll hurt. At least, that’s what they tell you right? But remnants of my past linger - shoes left to be shipped, dry cleaning left to be picked up… a dinner date forever rainchecked. I departed too quickly for any tears or a formal goodbye, but in the solace of a humid subway station awaiting the train ride home, my heart has finally caught up to me.
It’s been less than two weeks (I’ve spent “vacations” longer than that here), and already doubts have implanted themselves in the crevices of my determination. Hidden behind the mask of a bright smile and excited gushing, these doubts remind me that this city will never be what I need it to be. So… how long? How long before I’m chewed up and spit out? How long before I don’t feel like a failure or quitter and consider myself “made”? How long before the misery of perpetual heat and stench of rotting garbage and fear of subway rats finally breaks me down? How long before I say goodbye and we part our ways?
My heart aches for the sound of crashing waves; for the feeling of freedom while cruising up the PCH with all windows down and Nas on blast; for the sense of sanity that accompanies solitude. It aches for all things familiar, and for a feeling of belonging. Most of all, my heart aches for the what ifs that remain unfulfilled, and tie me back to the city I’ll forever call home.
'Honesty is a double edged sword.' My body shakes, not from the chill of the rainy day aftermath, but from the thoughts of what could have, would have and should have been. Finally, after two and a half years, the truth slowly seeps between the lines of the most honest conversation we've had yet. Your thoughts. Mine. Mirrored, like our lives in airports and out of suitcases. Conversations exchanged between packing for there, and a quick touchdown here. We’ve come full circle from those eventful nights in Hollyweird; from silence and forced distance to an intimate friendship and back. I never understood why you let me go, but I do now.
You’re ingrained in my memory as the epitome of perfection. While it will always be easier to see the flawless characteristics in someone other than yourself, know that this is true. Neither of us believe in ‘leagues,’ but this doesn’t change the notion (and my firm stance) that you are light-years out of mine. We will look back and laugh, as we always have, but the underlying truth is that we perceived the other to better than what we deserved. Perhaps not for forever, just for now.
And for now, we’ve both let go. The tickling edges of this unsheathed sword remind us that it will never be ‘all in the past,’ but we must keep on
keeping moving on.
Best part of working in New York? No matter how late I got up, how many wrap-up reports I need to prep before the day’s end, or how stressed work has made me… I still have three hours on my west coast counterparts. When I start my day in NY (5AM), my friends are just getting home from the club in LA. And by the time I’d usually be hitting the gym in LA (6AM), I’ve already knocked out half my to do list in NY.
Worst part of working in New York? 15-18hr days. 12 if I’m super duper lucky :/ Not sure if it’s just that my workload has quadrupled in the last two weeks and now I’m in a timezone where I “have” to work 15hrs (5AM or 6AM est - 7PM pst) or if I’m just really bad at prioritizing because I’m ahead of the curve. Either way, my body craves the gym, my mind is utterly exhausted and I can’t wait for the weekend. *cue Rebecca Black - Friday.
"I urge you not to lose sight of your resolve and your decision. Love and tears may blur your sight in the moment, but so long as you have a clear sense of where you want to go, you won’t be lost."
the first time i’ve heard my wonderful and brilliant rocket scientist turned computer engineer of a father speak on relationships.
"There are 36,000 high schools in this country. That means there are at least 36,000 valedictorians. They can’t all go to Brown."
Katherine Cohen is a very special, very expensive type of guidance counselor. For $40,000, Cohen offers full-service advice and guidance for parents who want to get their kids into Ivy League schools. Ever wondered what admissions officers at Brown, Yale or Harvard are looking for on a resume? This woman will tell you
. (via theweekmagazine
"Know who you are and what you want. Be calm, and trust your heart. Write in a journal so you don’t speak with anger. Most of all, never forget that you can find solace in my arms when everything feels lost."
#miss you mom
The words+images of the interwebz seem to be speaking to me this morning. Time to clean out my closet in more ways than one… the change begins now.
#note to self
the last few days, weeks, months have been in silence. silence only interrupted in brief spurts by the whir of airplane noise; white noise we’ve each individually grown so accustomed to that it has become a nightly routine. not “ocean waves” or “tropical rainforest”. no, just white noise. a fan. sportscenter turned so low that highlights are inaudible. the sound of breathing through wireless ports. white noise that has permeated every aspect of our lives, so much now that it’s just there. effortless, the way we’ve always been…