I’ve been told I live a charmed life, and to some extent, I believe it. It amazes and surprises me how my life has just fallen into place perfectly over the past year. And this experience was no different.
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Life
I love to cook. I love to try new restaurants. I love to eat. And I’m blessed enough to have found someone who shares these same passions (among others) with me! By now, you all know my SF Bestie, Casi. Well, she and I created a beautiful lovechild.
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I have worked very hard to achieve my independence. As a woman, I am proud to say I am comfortable with being left in my own company. I am all right staying home on a Friday night, watching bad TV, by myself. I have never been more comfortably spontaneous in my life. Living free, with no restrictions or social obligations. I come and go as I please. I make plans, break plans, and choose what I want to do and whom I want to do it with. I report to no one.
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I know this sounds elementary. After all, we’re different human beings with different needs and desires. With different hopes and dreams. And different pain.
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Alice Sebold’s memoir, Lucky, is riveting, moving, terrifying and uplifting all at the same time. The subject matter of this book made it incredibly difficult to get through emotionally, however, I couldn’t stop turning the pages. I was encompassed by her seemingly triumphant yet blatantly torturous climb up from the rubble she was left in after her violent rape.
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I’ve always believed that people come into our lives for a season, a reason or a lifetime.
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It’s when you least expect it that you are vulnerable enough to be open to profound experiences. And for me, it seems to notoriously be on an airplane, crammed into a window, next to a stranger, attempting to quietly read a book.
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I’ve been thinking about Life Lists a lot lately. Not only do some of my favorite bloggers have them, I’m always looking for new things to do and new goals to reach, and I’ve been picking up several subliminal messages about starting a Life List of my own.
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Ever had one of those days where tasks just keep piling and piling and piling and you’d rather stab yourself in the face with a butter knife than even attempt to sort through all of them? You know, the days when a million different people are asking you to do a million different things and you don’t even know where to start so you just keep taking bathroom breaks in order to avoid the inevitable mound of work that’s piling up?
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This morning, I woke up to a Tweet. It wasn’t just the typical @reply or RT I usually wake up to. This Tweet lead me to a completely unexpected, unsolicited, but not at all unrequited #blogcrush post written by Elisa of Ophelia’s Webb.
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One year ago today I drove over the San Francisco Bay Bridge in a bright yellow Penske truck and lost my breath. As the skyline came into view, I thought to myself: “this is my new home – amidst the skyscrapers – this is my city.”
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I was a little late on the bandwagon of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love, but I did hop on. And it was quite a ride.
A brief synopsis: Elizabeth went through a terrible divorce, which she doesn’t divulge much about. It almost came across as if she woke up one morning crying in the bathroom and wanted a divorce. There is no backlog as to why this marriage was so miserable – but it laid the foundation for her journey around the world to find “a balance between worldly enjoyment and divine transcendence.”
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